Deadworld (27 page)

“Thought you might’ve fallen asleep in there,” he said.

“That’s a cute look for you. Are you generally so domestic?”
Be better without the clothes though.
Jackie blinked away the thought.
God, let’s not go there, thank you very much.

He picked up a basket of garlic bread off the stove top and set it between the plates. “I find cooking is a good stress reliever. Have a seat. Please.”

Jackie moved around the counter to the bar stools and sat down. The kitchen, she noticed, looked like it had not ever been used.
Clean as you go. Man like that would be handy to have around.
She picked up the coffee cup and sipped, finding it overwhelmingly strong, with hints of citrus and something almost flowery. “Wow. Where did you get this coffee? It’s amazing.”

“Starbucks, I believe,” he said. “I like it.”

She could feel the caffeine flowing through her veins. “You know, you make coffee stronger than anyone I’ve ever met.”
Christ! Why am I being so damn chatty? The ass basically forced me to stay here, and now I’m acting like it’s a fucking date.
She poked her fork at the pasta, spearing prosciutto, rotini, and what looked to be roasted pepper, all held together by a white sauce that turned out to be heavily laced with gorgonzola. Her mouth was watering before it even managed to get in her mouth.

Jackie groaned with delight, her stomach rumbling for more, and Nick cracked a smile and sat down next to her. “To your liking, I take it? It’s my favorite pasta dish.”

She nodded, her mouth already full with the second bite. Not only did it taste like heaven, but every texture caressed her tongue—the slippery softness of the pasta, the smoothness of the gorgonzola cheese—making everything else she had ever eaten pale by comparison.
Men who cook like this do not need to look or smell good, and this guy is all of the above. It’s almost better than sex.
“It’s not fair to cook food this good.”

Nick cracked a smile, or at least half a one, revealing the faint crinkle of lines around his eyes and laugh lines around his mouth. Jackie could picture him, if he actually would ever provide the whole thing, with a wide, toothy smile, full of amusement.

“Easy to make, too.” He paused, chewing a mouthful of bread, pointing at her with his fork. “You okay? You’re looking a little flush.”

Does freaky vampire goo in the veins count?
The warm tide had pushed up into her chest now, and she did indeed feel like she was running a low temp, but Jackie shook her head. “Maybe a little, but this is actually the best I’ve felt since . . . a couple days ago.”
Fuck, I can’t even say it. Laurel died! Laurel died!
Jackie pulled the coffee cup to her lips to hide her annoyance.

“It gets easier,” he said, reading her thoughts. “It never goes away though.”

“I don’t want it to get easier,” she snapped. “I just want her back.”

Nick nodded. “Yeah. I wish they were all back.”

The words hit Jackie, and she realized again how old Nick really was. “You can’t blame yourself for all their deaths you know. You didn’t kill them.”

He gave her a wistful smile and took a big drink from his coffee mug. “Does it matter?”

“No point in needlessly torturing yourself, is there?”

“Exactly.” He smiled and picked up their bowls. “Still hungry?”

Jackie stared at him, her own annoyance quickly transferred. “Bastard. You set me up for that.”

“Maybe, but true nonetheless. It’s an easy thing to do when you’re in the business of finding justice. Ice cream?” He turned on the sink and began to wash the dishes.

Ice cream. If it’s anything double chocolate, I might have to actually be nice to him.
“I have a shrink to play mind games with, thank you very much. How about we change the conversation to something less case oriented, and what flavor?”

Nick opened the freezer, reaching for a pint-size container. “Oh, you mean like real people do?” He gave her a snarky half smile. “Why, Ms. Rutledge, that would almost be like we were acquaintances or friends or something.” Pulling a spoon out of a drawer, Nick handed both to Jackie. “I keep this around for Shelby. She calls it ‘woman’s best friend.’”

Triple chocolate. Damn him.
“You just keep this around to lure women in, I’ll bet.” Jackie took a bite and closed her eyes.
Oh, man! Now this is like eating sex.
Shelby’s words reverberated in her head once again, but along with them came the image of Nick standing naked in the dark at the edge of his pond. She nearly gagged on the spoon.
What is wrong with me? That blow to the head has fucked with my brain.

“Shelby is the only woman I keep food around for.”

Only woman. He made it sound like she was the only woman, period. “So what is the deal with you and Shelby anyway?”

Nick set two wineglasses on the counter and spoke as he looked through an assortment of wines in an under-counter rack. “Deal? Are we asking personal questions now?”

“Does it matter?”

He chuckled. “Fair enough. Shelby and I are friends, former lovers, almost-married business partners. Our situation makes us unique, I’d guess you could say. Mostly, we’re just friends who are there for each other because nobody else understands—or would want to, for that matter.” He poured a white wine into each of the glasses and slid one over to her. “I owe her a lot and probably would have given up on this whole charade a long time ago, if not for her.”

Jackie agreed. She had seen enough of Shelby to get that impression. The woman defined stability and a kick-ass sensibility. “I like her. She’s a strong woman.”

“Too much at times,” he said. “Much like you.”

She snorted, nearly spitting ice cream back into the carton. “You comparing me and Shelby? There’s a laugh.”

“And why not? You are both tenacious and headstrong, independent, a bit self-righteous, and fiercely devoted to those you care about.”

Nothing witty came to mind for her to come back with. Her face abruptly felt warmer. “You know, you don’t have to be nice to me. You’re protecting the agent who thought you were a murderer a couple days ago. I haven’t been very nice to you at all.”

“I’ve got nothing against you, Jackie, other than wishing you had decided to stay out of things. Besides, life has been kicking you around enough lately.”

God, where’s the tequila when you want it? I’m usually drunk off my ass with most guys at this point. Hell, we aren’t usually in the kitchen unless it’s naked on the floor.
“Okay, so now what? I should probably give Gamble a call and see what’s up.”

“He’ll call if anything develops. I think he’s afraid of what you’d do to him if he didn’t.” He laughed softly. “Generally, though, vampires watch TV, read books, or maybe go for swims like everyone else around here.”

Jackie had no need to look to know her face had turned a shade redder.
I just got that damn image out of my head, too.
“You always such an ass?”

“Usually,” he said, heading toward the kitchen door. “How about some piano? That’s always relaxing for me. I’m curious about what drives you to play because I’d not really pictured you as the type.”

Jackie hurried after him. “And what sort of woman do you picture playing the piano?”

Nick began ascending the stairs to the loft without turning to speak. “It’s not a male-female thing. I just didn’t see you as the creative type, that’s all.”

She couldn’t tell if it was a subtle slap or a backhanded compliment. “That sort of stuff doesn’t come out as an FBI agent.”
Why the hell am I defending myself to him? This is ridiculous. I should just march back to the bedroom and lock the door until morning, or, better yet, get him to drive me back home. I’ve got no business being with this piano-playing, gourmet-cooking, blood-sucking, heavenly coffee-brewing vampire sheriff.
Jackie stared at her feet, watching them step one after the other up the stairs.
Fuck. You’re an idiot, Jackie.

“I have to agree,” Nick said, setting his wine down on a coaster atop the piano. “You’re all hard lines and sharp edges on the job. I see a different person now.”

Jackie laughed. “Now that I’ve been clubbed in the head and nearly had my knee torn out?”

He gave her a pained smile. “No, not that. Please. Sit down.”

Jackie stared down at the other half of the bench seat, which actually amounted to about a third of the space. She would be right up against him then. The smell of leather would be far stronger. The musk scent of his Mennen Speed Stick would be mere inches away, and those damn eyes would be right there, sneaking sideways glances at her while she played.

“I’d rather just watch you play, if you don’t mind.”

Nick eyed her for a moment. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”

“I said I was fine, damnit, just a little warm, is all.”

“All right then, sit. I insist,” he said, patting the seat.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Insist? You really think you’re in a position to insist on anything from me, Sheriff?”

Nick rolled his eyes at her. “Christ. Sit down and play the piano with me. It’ll relax those frenetic nerves you have going and maybe ease the pain in your heart for just a few minutes.”

Fucker. How am I supposed to say no to that?
Jackie found herself sitting down before her mind had finished deliberating the subject. “I don’t play nearly as good as you do.”

“Does it matter?”

“No, I guess not.” She stared at the keys, feeling his gaze on her, the closeness of his body. She could not make herself look at those eyes. “What shall we play?”

“You choose,” he replied. “I’m not particular, and as long as it’s someone known, I’ll pick up on it.”

“You memorize a lot of songs after a hundred years, I suppose.” Jackie laid her hands out over the keys.
Duet. Do I even know one? Will my memory even function to make my fingers play it?
The warm, syrupy feeling had swelled into her head now, leaving an odd, tangy, metallic taste in the back of her mouth. The wine did nothing to get rid of it. It felt like her head floated just above the rest of her body, barely attached. She wanted Nick’s cool hands on her face, bringing her mind and body back into one piece.

“You pick,” she said, pulling her hands back. “I can’t think of anything.”

“All right. How about this?”

His fingers moved with deft surety, but with a touch light and soft as a feather. Jackie thought she knew the song, but the notes ringing out of the piano filled her head with color, sound, smells, and the bittersweet taste of tears. Abruptly, the sweet melancholy of the song came to an end.

“Jackie?”

She rubbed her clammy hands on her pants.
Oh, my God, what was that?
“Keep playing. That was so sad and wonderful.”

Nick’s cool fingertips brushed against Jackie’s cheek, and she realized she had begun to cry. Without thinking, Jackie leaned into the touch, and the fingers slid down to cup her chin. He turned her head toward him. “Jackie?”

“What?”
Goddamnit, if you don’t kiss me now, I will show you what sharp lines and hard edges are all about.

“Look at me,” he said, voice firm.

Jackie brought her gaze up at last to meet his, locked on like a moth to the flame, charming and deadly both. She could taste his lips against her own, crushing and soft.
I wonder if his tongue is as cool as his hands? Could he make me into his slave if he wanted? Unable to resist his every whim? Fuck, Nick! Kiss me or let go before I do something stupid.

“Did Shelby do anything to you? Anything to make you feel better?”

She swore she could feel his pulse through the tips of his fingers, picking up pace against her skin. She nodded. “Said it would have me back on my feet by morning.”

He snorted and shook his head. “Probably said you looked good enough to eat as well.”

You could eat me right now, Sheriff. Just lay me down on this beautiful, polished piano and eat me right up.
Jackie nodded slowly, feeling as if too much movement might indeed make her head float away from her body. “She did.” Jackie held up her hands to him, some part of her brain that was normally restrained from active duty brought to the surface on a warm seepage of vampiric goo. “What’s the matter, Nick? My blood not good enough for you?”

He leaned back a few inches. “What? That’s not even an issue here.”

“Shelby wanted it. Why don’t you, Nick?”

“She wasn’t referring to your blood, Jackie. She had, well, other things in mind.”

Jackie wondered if she stood up and sat on the piano keys there before him if he might have a little more compunction to rip her pants off and fuck her brains out.
Just a little. I only need a little. Make me feel so much better.
Some little part of Jackie’s mind screamed at her, insisting she get the hell out of there, lock herself in a closet until things settled down, but, apparently, the willpower to use it had gone back down to the kitchen for more ice cream.

“Nick,” she said, laying her hand against the rough stubble of his jaw. “I know exactly what she meant, and that’s exactly what I want, what I need right now.”

He reached up and took her hand off his face. “You’re really warm. Shelby did this, damnit. I’m going to kill her.”

Jackie guided his hand down to her breast. “She knows what I need, Nick. Is it really that hard? Am I so undesirable?”

“No, it’s not that, Jackie. This just isn’t the real you here. Shelby did this, filled you with some extra energy to help you heal. It has certain . . . effects.” He cleared his throat and removed his hand from her breast.

Jackie stood up and stepped over Nick’s legs so that she stood astride him. The keys chimed together in a disharmonious clamor when her butt leaned back into them. “Does it matter?” She laid her hands on his shoulders, squeezing the firm muscle beneath, and found herself strangely and pleasantly oblivious to his fathomless, glowing stare. “I get the impression you don’t sleep around much, Nick. When’s the last time you had a nice, hard fuck?”

“This isn’t the time or place for this discussion, Jackie.”