The outfit was modest and practical, but she looked far from dowdy. The skirt displayed her well-shaped calves and gave brief flashes of a little thigh. But it was her face that captivated Rhys. Not a classically beautiful face, but she had sweetness to her features, full lips, a small pert nose and those huge eyes. Her eyes alone were enough to hold him spellbound.
He frowned. No mortal in his two hundred years had held so much interest for him. He supposed it must be the fact that she was so obviously out of place that intrigued him. Or maybe because she reminded him of the place where he’d once come from—where people were good and kind and loved one another.
The bartender returned to her with the shot, a slice of lime in another shot glass and a shaker of salt.
The pixie stared at the objects with obvious confusion. She glanced around, her eyes stopping on him for a moment. She immediately looked away.
After another moment, she took the lime from the glass.
She frowned at the segment,
then
started to squeeze it into the shot of liquor.
A masculine hand clasped hers, stopping her.
“Hi there,” the boyish-faced ex-convict said. “Want me to show you how to do that?”
The pixie hesitated again, and Rhys sensed her wariness.
Smart girl.
But then she straightened and nodded. “Yes. Please.”
The ex-convict raised a hand and called to the bartender for a shot for himself.
Rhys watched as the ex-convict demonstrated the proper way to do the shot. Lick, salt, lick, shot,
then
lime. The pixie mimicked him, except she sputtered and coughed around her slice of lime.
“Not bad,” the man told her, once she’d stopped gagging. His eyes roamed over her, and Rhys could tell that the comment was as much about the woman herself as her drinking style.
The ex-convict’s eyes lingered on her legs, and that suggestion of lovely thigh. Lust mixed with violence quivered just under the surface of his friendly good looks.
Rhys suppressed a wave of irritation—aimed as much toward the woman as the convict. Why was she here? She should be with her family in front of a twinkling Christmas tree, singing carols. Hell, what he wouldn’t give to be with his family one more time.
The ex-convict snapped his fingers and requested two more shots.
Rhys shifted on his seat. He should step in. Instead he sipped his own drink. He remembered the prostitutes. He’d done his good deed for this year. With a few days to spare, even.
“Hey, Joey, you gonna spend the night
scammin
‘ on
chicks, or are you going to hang with your boys?”
Joey gave the pixie a sheepish look. He was as deceptive and dangerous as any of
Rhys’s
kind. “Sorry, I’ve got money on this game.”
The woman nodded. “That’s fine. T
hank
s for the instruction.”
Joey’s smile deepened; arousal laced with a cruelty flashed in his eyes. “No problem. And who knows, maybe you can show me a trick or
two yourself
sometime?”
“Okay,” she agreed, completely missing the innuendo in his words.
Joey returned to his buddies, and Rhys made up his mind that the ex-convict would be his Christmas dinner.
The bartender arrived with the two shots Joey had ordered, placing them before the pixie.
She opened her mouth as if she was going to tell him to take the drinks back, but instead she sighed and then, almost reluctantly, licked the expanse of skin between her forefinger and thumb. She dashed a liberal amount of salt to the wetted area.
Rhys watched as her small, pink tongue reappeared and lapped over her skin, and for the first time in a long time, desire unrelated to
the hunger
shot through him.
She swallowed the shot, managing to down all the golden liquid with only a violent shudder as she reached for the lime.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed him staring at her. With the lime still in her mouth, she turned to frown at him. Her eyes showed only the briefest flash of wariness before she glared at him.
“What are you looking at?” she demanded, after she had plucked the citrus fruit out of her mouth.
His eyes moved from her lips, glistening with juice, and he shook his head. He returned his attention to his drink, although his body was still fixating on how that mouth would feel sucking on him.
What the hell had gotten into him tonight?
Jane Mary Harrison could not believe she had just yelled at a complete stranger. She’d never been that rude in her entire life. But then, she’d never been in a big city either.
Or in a bar.
Or done tequila shots.
Oh, the difference a day makes.
And what a day she’d had. She’d been in
New York City
only one day, and in that time, she’d lost the job she’d just gotten, which in turn caused her to lose the apartment she had lined up. When she was leaving the realtor’s office, some man had stolen her purse, and she’d had to spend nearly six hours in a police station with all sorts of frightening people, waiting to place a report with a very uninterested officer. If she was going to start doing tequila shots, this seemed like the time.
Today was supposed to be the beginning of her new, adventuresome and fun life. So far, it had been long on adventure, and very, very short on fun.
But she was determined to have a little fun tonight. It was Christmas Eve, for heavens sake. And, t
hank
fully, she’d had the foresight to put
traveler’s
checks in her suitcase, so she wasn’t destitute—yet.
She looked at the one full and three empty shot glasses in front of her. Was she going to have to spend her precious money on four shots? Three of which she didn’t order.
She sighed. Ah, well. At least Joey had been nice—the nicest person she’d met so far in the Big Apple. She glanced at him, leaning over the pool table, lining up a shot. He was sort of cute, too. And he’d flirted with her—at least, she thought he’d flirted.
Her eyes darted briefly to the man sitting beside her. He wasn’t flirting with her. In fact, he’d done nothing but cast her cool looks since she entered the bar. And she would never describe him as cute. She’d be willing to bet that cute wasn’t even used to describe him as a child. No, he was stunningly, dauntingly beautiful. She couldn’t recall ever seeing anyone that—perfect.
He had long hair that just brushed his broad shoulders. She’d never been that crazy about long hair, but on this man, it looked amazing. Glossy and thick in shades of sable threaded with burnished gold.
In profile, she could see the cut of his
jawline
, the wide, sculpted shape of his lips and slight arrogant flare of his nose. But it had been his peculiar eyes like whiskey in flickering firelight that had taken her breath away. They were so beautiful, so intense—almost predatory.
He was gorgeous.
She cast him another furtive look. In his black turtleneck sweater and black trousers, he didn’t seem to fit in here any more than she did, although not for the same reasons. He looked too affluent for a place like this.
Too cultured.
But under all that beauty and urbaneness, she still sensed something dangerous about him—that feral quality that lurked in his strange eyes.
She snorted quietly. The stress of today must be addling her mind. She was sure the only thing this man would be dangerous to was the female heart. With those looks, he was the definition of a heartbreaker.
She regarded the full shot glass in front of her. Her throat still burned, but she was starting
to
feel a nice, soothing heat in her limbs. Who would think such a small amount of that stuff could make her feel so much more relaxed. And after the day she’d had, she needed to relax.
She reached for the salt shaker.
The third shot went down so smoothly, she grinned with pride. For a
nondrinker
, she was a pro.
She lined the glasses up in front of her and tried to decide what to do next. She didn’t want to go back to her hotel. But she didn’t exactly feel comfortable here.
Plus, she kept having this uncontrollable urge to look at the man beside her. She shifted on her stool, peeking at him quickly. Maybe she should apologize to him.
“Oh, baby”—Joey suddenly reappeared at her side, startling her—“you drank my shot.”
She looked at the empty glasses guiltily. “I did. I’m sorry.”
“Well, I guess we just have to order another round.”
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” a deep, husky voice said from beside her.
She blinked up at the beautiful stranger. He leaned toward her, those peculiar eyes burning into hers.
“Why don’t you mind your own business, buddy,” Joey said, irritated. Then his voice became soft, cajoling, as he asked her, “You aren’t going to let this jerk ruin our fun, are you, baby?”
Jane tore her gaze from the beautiful stranger to look at Joey. “No,” she said, although she knew her response sounded more than a little unsure.
Suddenly loud music began to play, and Jane noticed a blond woman adding money to a jukebox in the corner. Between the two men looming over her, the sudden thumping beat of the music and the alcohol coursing through her, her head began to spin.
“Can I get two tequilas down here,” Joey called to the bartender.
Jane
stood,
her legs unstable. The beautiful stranger caught her arm and steadied her. His hand was strong and felt good, even through her blazer. Her head swam.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She nodded, taking a deep breath. “I think I just need a little fresh air.”
He started to stand, when Joey caught her other arm. “Baby, let me take you outside.”
Jane looked at the beautiful stranger. His hand still held her arm, his strength clear even in the gentle hold. His eyes blazed with something she couldn’t quite read, but she did know that she needed to get away from his touch. It was doing crazy things to her insides.
She tugged her arm free from him and allowed Joey to lead her to the door.
Right before she stepped outside, she glanced over her shoulder. The beautiful stranger watched her with those predatory eyes.
The chill of the winter air on her face and in her lungs immediately made Jane feel less light-headed. She closed her eyes and lifted her head toward the sky. After another couple deep breaths, she felt almost normal.
“That better?” Joey asked, standing close to her.
She opened her eyes and smiled at him gratefully. “Yes. I don’t usually drink.”
He left her side and peered down the alley that ran along the side of the bar. “There’s some stairs down this way. Why don’t we sit for a few?”
Jane wandered over to him, following his gaze. The alley was a long, dark tunnel except for one dim light bulb in the center illuminating a set of concrete stairs. Trash cans stood beside the stairs, open, spilling over with garbage.
“I think maybe I should just head back to my hotel,” she decided.
“Hotel?”
She nodded. “Yes, just got here yesterday afternoon.”
He gave her a disbelieving look. “That’s crazy. I just got here yesterday, too. I used to live here, but I’ve been away.”
She smiled.
“Come on. Come sit for a few minutes.”
She hesitated, but his smile was so charming, she finally agreed.
The cement steps were cold and mottled with stains of God knew what. Jane opted to lean against the wall. Joey didn’t seem to have the same qualms about the stairs.
They were quiet for a few seconds.
“So where did you live before you came back here?” Jane asked.
“A place in
Jersey
.”
“Oh, I’ve never been to
He stood up, shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and kicked an empty can down the alley. The metallic sound echoed off the concrete walls surrounding them. “I can’t say I was too fond of it. My life there was really—confining.”
Jane could understand that. “I grew up in
Never.”
Joey walked toward her, and for the first time, she realized he was rather big. His boyish face gave the impression he would be thin, lanky, but he was actually quite broad and muscular.
“Now, you see, I get that. I’ve been labeled myself.” He stepped closer, stopping only inches from her. “You know, baby, you are really a pretty lady.”
“No,” she denied, her skin heating even in the cold. Even though she didn’t know Joey, the flattery was nice. She’d never had a man say that to her.
“I haven’t seen a lady as pretty as you for a long time.”