Stealing Time (3 page)

“My pleasure.” He studied me for a moment and took the empty glass over to the sink to wash it, a small smile on his lips.

“Did I just drink what I think I did?” My voice sounded a trifle unsteady.

He turned toward me and leaned against the counter, his eyes cautious. “Yes. But it wasn’t from a human.”

“So it’s true? I’m a…?”

“Vampire. Yes.”

“Umm…” The world had turned upside-down and I’d become a walking myth.

What the hell do I do with that?

In need of a distraction, I looked at the gleaming commercial range and refrigerator, granite countertops, and a bewildering array of culinary gadgets. “What’s all this?”

“Must keep up appearances,” he chuckled. “Nothing screams ‘vampire’ so much as a home without a kitchen.”

I absorbed his casual use of the word, and images of ravenous movie creatures filled my mind. His beauty and the absolute grace with which he moved negated those images.

“A coffin or two might tip folks off…” I muttered and he laughed outright. The instinctive part of me that monitored my surroundings relaxed at the sound of his laughter. Curious, I concentrated on this feeling and realized I was scanning his behavior for aggression.

James disappeared into an enormous pantry and I left the barstool to tour the kitchen, amazed at the quality around me.

Walking felt strange, but how to describe it? I was acutely aware of the way my muscles moved and how my skin flowed over them, of the sway of my long hair across my shoulders, and of the steady beat of my heart, the flow of blood in my veins. Taken altogether, it felt as if I were vibrating from barely contained energy, like I was little more than a vessel for hundreds of thousands of volts of electricity.

It was so much more than that, though. My brain was filled with a million tiny details about the room around me, the flow of air, the myriad scents, the sound of my footsteps, the little noises James was making in the pantry, the
tick-tick-ticking
of the refrigerator, the hum of the air conditioner…even the
shush
of air whispering through the ducts inside the walls.

Just getting all the way across the kitchen at a walk took an act of will.

As I passed the enormous glass-faced microwave, I saw an image that arrested my attention and realized it was my own reflection. Because it was glass, the image wasn’t perfect, but it was sufficient to bring a gasp from me.

James was immediately by my side and, upon seeing what I was staring at, said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t think. Come with me.” He led the way down another hall, through the huge master suite and into a spacious bathroom.

I froze when I saw the image in the mirror. Turning my head, I confirmed that James was standing next to me, watchful. My gaze returned to the mirror and I could only stare. The woman there was me, yet…
not
. I was naturally pale, but the perfection of my skin was new. The small scar I’d had since I was a child, high on my left cheek, had disappeared. The little freckle by my mouth was gone. I’d always had slight shadows under my eyes, even before I was sick. But not anymore.

My lips were full and had become a soft shade of rose, as if I had applied the sheerest of lipstick. I stared, mesmerized, thinking of all the years of effort applying makeup.

My eyes had been an unexceptional gray, appearing a faint blue or green if I wore either color. Now, however, they were a gorgeous, sparkling slate with flecks of silver throughout. My lashes were dark and thick, as no amount of mascara had ever been able to make them. Reflexively, I smiled and
oh!
the perfection of my teeth. The orthodontist who’d put me in braces as a teenager—twice—would have wept to see such results.

And my hair—I’d always thought of it simply as brown, but not anymore. Glints of deep copper and rich, warm chestnut shimmered, each strand gleaming in the overhead lights.

I realized I was holding my breath and let it out. “I’m…
beautiful.
”

James’s reflection moved to stand behind mine, and the defensive instinct settled as it identified the harmlessness of his action. Another instinct stirred, startling in its intensity, and it was all about James and his proximity.

His hand reached toward me, but didn’t make contact. “You always were.”

I shook my head. He frowned but remained silent.

I’d never thought about my looks, not beyond making sure I was professional, presentable. Because of my young age, because I’m female, and because newspapers remain one of the last bastions of male dominance, I’d always had to work twice as hard to be taken half as seriously. And there was also the real need to be sure that the lowlife dirtbags I interviewed had less to distract them.

James’s words suddenly registered. “What do you mean, I always was?”

He met my gaze. “You are not a stranger to me, Evie.”

I edged away from him. “Explain.”

He hesitated. “Why don’t we return to the sofa and get comfortable? There is a great deal that I must tell you.”

I allowed him to lead the way back to the, what? “Living room” was inadequate for the grandeur of the room where I awakened. With its soaring ceiling, ornate fireplace, crown molding and gorgeous Oriental carpets, “great room” seemed far more appropriate.

He waited for me to sit before joining me, close but not touching. Drawing a breath, he seemed to collect his thoughts. “I have been following you for most of the last year.”

“Following me? Why?” The urge to be across the room was strong and it took an effort to remain still.

“I have no idea,” he answered, obviously bewildered. “But we crossed paths in Chicago, eight months ago. There was something most intriguing about you.”

“Chicago?” I realized I sounded like a parrot and shook it off.

“Yes. I was there for personal reasons when I learned of several suspicious deaths and—”

I interrupted in surprise, “Are you some kind of vampire cop or something?”

He laughed. “No. But we all keep an eye on crime and look into sloppy kills that could alert humans to our existence. I just happened to be in Chicago when the Goth murders began. It turned out no vampires were involved, but I didn’t know that when I went to the warehouse to examine the scene myself. That’s where I saw you, talking to a detective.”

I thought out loud. “I was there because of a possible tie to a Dallas official.” The day was memorable, both for the grisly evidence of multiple exsanguinations—which I assumed was what drew James’s suspicion a vampire might be involved—and for the cop’s persistent and annoying efforts to get a date.

“I never saw you.” I searched my memories of Chicago, but could not place James.

“No, I did not want you to. I followed you to your hotel and asked the clerk for your name. They are not supposed to give such information, but a vampire’s will is very persuasive,” he grinned, “and the clerk was accommodating.”

“Oh?” Until this moment, it hadn’t registered that he’d called me by name several times.

“Yes, Evelyn Virginia Reed,” he answered, clearly pleased with himself. I started to correct him and he interjected, “You prefer Evie.”

Embarrassed that I’d had no idea I had a shadow—and considering the dirtbags I investigated, this was a big deal—I snapped, “You blew eight months following me? Don’t you have anything better to do with your time?”

A small smile played at his lips. “Better? No.”

Nonplussed, I looked away. That Chicago trip was memorable for another reason—it was my last investigation before being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and going on sabbatical.

I said as much and he replied, “Yes, I could sense the illness in you.”

I breathed in and out a few times, thinking about this. “You knew I was terminal?”

His expression softened. “Yes.” He seemed to debate with himself. “I decided to wait and see if the last specialist would be able to help you. I was pleased that he had offices here in New York.”

“Dr. Katzen,” I mumbled. “And when he could not?”

“I would offer my assistance.”

“But what happened? We never met.”

“I planned to introduce myself when you reached your hotel, but you never made it there. I saw the dump truck hit your cab.” Shame crossed his features. “My apologies, Evie, I was too far away to intercede and you were harmed.”

“You could have interceded with a dump truck?”

James just looked at me and I swallowed hard as it occurred to me that the crazy power zinging through my body might be more than just a sensation.

“Your cab braked suddenly and the truck driver couldn’t stop in time.”

I winced. “That was my fault. Was the cabbie okay?”

“It was an old taxi and didn’t have airbags, so his head hit the steering wheel and he lost consciousness. He’ll be okay, but his cab was totaled. The truck flipped it and came to rest on the back half, crushing the backseat. You were thrown to the floorboard or it would have killed you outright.”

My eyes widened. “You saved my life.”

“Not exactly.” He seemed to choose his words with care. “The human part is gone. You are a vampire now and there is a great deal that you must learn. It is my responsibility, and my honor, to teach you.”

“But why would you go to such trouble?” It surprised me that I didn’t mind being followed. I’d led such a solitary life that it was oddly comforting to know that, even when I was so alone and frightened, someone was watching over me. Still, I needed to know why.

His expression smoothed. “Is it not enough to want to help a person I have come to admire?”

“Tell me why,” I insisted, not sure he was going to answer and stubbornly determined to wait him out.

“I have been alone for one hundred fifty years.” James paused, his eyes downcast for a moment before meeting my gaze. “And when I saw you that day in Chicago, it was as if something about you called to me. As if I were meant to follow you, to…involve myself in your situation, your well-being. I cannot explain it any other way.”

As he spoke, I sensed his pain and, without thinking, reached out to touch his hand. He looked surprised but did not pull back.

“Aren’t there others like you?”

“Us,” he corrected gently. “Yes, but most are nomadic and solitary.”

Realizing I still held his hand, I released it and joked, “So if vampires are real, what else is?”

He grinned. “It’s a whole other world.”

My jaw fell. This was a topic I’d save for another day—there was only so much I could absorb at the moment.

I knew that I was dancing all around the edges of what happened to me, of facing what I had become. Flustered, I plucked at the belt of my robe.

Wait a second.
My robe?

I raised my eyes to James and waved the end of the terrycloth belt, my brows near my hairline. As bizarre as it sounds, this was the first time I noticed what I was wearing. After doing a quick mental inventory, I was relieved to realize I wasn’t naked underneath the thick gray terry.

He squirmed. “Forgive me, Evie. Your clothes were unsalvageable after the accident. Their condition would have made things very painful for you upon waking and I wished to spare you the experience.”

I winced. “Blood?”

“Quite a lot.”

Remembering the prior condition of my throat, I didn’t even want to think about what that would have been like. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” was his automatic response.

“Oh?” I was a modest person and this was uncomfortable.

James’s eyes flashed to my face. “I didn’t peek,” he said, and suddenly I was unsure whether I should feel relieved or insulted—I didn’t have a lot of experience with men to go on. He amended his comment. “Well…
much.
”

“And?” I asked archly.

His grin was wicked. “My pleasure.”

“Mmm. Well. Okay.” I’d gotten the answer I’d sort of hoped for, I just didn’t know what to do with it.

He rescued me by changing the subject. “While you were lost to the change, I called a store and had a few sets of clothes delivered for you.”

“You did?”

“Yes, just a couple of sweaters and jeans, and a pair of tennis shoes.” He shrugged. “It’s not much. But I knew you would need something and, well, the style was one I’ve seen you wear before. So I thought…”

It was my turn to rescue him. “Thank you for doing that.”

He shrugged again. “The saleswoman guessed your size from my description. I hope everything fits. If you are not pleased with them, we could have something else sent…”

“I’m sure whatever you got will be fine. That was very kind of you.”

He quit squirming and flashed a smile. “Would you like to change?”

At my nod, James stood and led the way to a beautiful bedroom whose décor somehow balanced richness with comfort, heavy tapestry fabrics with overstuffed, inviting chairs. A collection of stretchy jeans and Henley sweaters lay folded on the huge, canopied bed, and canvas sneakers were on the floor next to it.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it.” He began to turn away.

“James?”

He turned back. “Yes?”

I hesitated a second. “It’s just…I wanted to say…” Standing on tiptoes, I kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

His eyes widened and I swear he blushed. “My pleasure.”

I smiled and closed the door. Gratefully shucking the robe, I selected a pair of jeans and a dark gray sweater to put on. The sneakers were a little spacious, but not uncomfortable. There was a cheval mirror in the corner and I walked over to see how I looked. The jeans and sweater were slim-fitting, but I liked the result. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if James would.

I went into the palatial dressing area off the bedroom and was touched to see a new Mason Pearson hairbrush, a comb, toothpaste and a toothbrush on the counter. Curious, I went into the bathroom and opened the shower door—a fresh washcloth and an unopened bar of French milled soap lay on a built-in seat. I’d always loved long, hot showers and was pleased to see that, apparently, vampires were hygienic. It figured that there wasn’t any toilet paper by the commode and I wondered if it even worked. From what little I knew of James, it probably did.