Bitten by Cupid (24 page)

The food arrived, and she dug into her fettuccini Alfredo. Twirling the strands around her fork was a challenge.
Way to go
,
pick a sloppy meal
,
Kristy.
When she looked up at him, he was watching her. Not in an amused or
God
,
what was I thinking taking this woman out to eat?
way but like he was a million miles away worrying about someone he cared about.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

He blinked, as though rousing himself from a shadowy thought. “Fine.” He picked at his chicken Parmesan. He did not look like the type of guy who picked at his food. “I’m going to ask the staff to give your samples a read tonight and give me their thoughts tomorrow. What’s your schedule look like in the next few days?”

Hm
,
learning about serial killers. Worrying about being the next victim. Trying not to get killed.
She gave him a perky smile. “I’m mostly free.”

“Great. I want to get together and go over the particulars of the assignment I mentioned.”

“You’re pretty optimistic that Owen’s going to like my stuff.”

He gave her a heart-stopping smile. “I usually get my way.”

Uh-huh, she bet he did. They passed on dessert once the waiter had cleared the table. When he brought the check, Adrian reached for it. So did she.

She tugged it out of his hand. “My treat. This is a business lunch.” Even though, for a few moments there, it had felt suspiciously like a date. She slapped her credit card on the little tray and handed it to the waiter. Her smile was as coy as the one Adrian had given her. “I’m good at getting my way, too.”

Chapter Four

After lunch, Adrian helped Kristy into her coat, his big hands resting on her shoulders for a second. She felt the tips of his fingers at her back as they wound their way around the tables to the entrance. He grabbed a couple of mints from the glass bowl and handed one to her. She slipped it into her mouth and crunched it as he held the door for her. She stepped out into the windy afternoon, he right behind her. Dark clouds scudded across the sky. Her hair whipped around her face, and she twisted it into a ponytail and held it in one hand.

“Are you taking the subway?” he asked. “I’ll walk you to the entrance.”

“Thanks.”

As they started walking down the sidewalk, a whirlwind of dirt and garbage swirled around them, making her cover her eyes.

“Let’s duck in here.” He took her arm and pulled her into an alcove of a store that had closed. “That cold front is moving in. I’m going to call my car service. You don’t want to be walking in this. It’s only going to get worse.” Before she could say
That’s not necessary,
he was on his cell phone. He must have had the number in his speed dial. He gave someone an address and hung up. “They’ll send a car in fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you.”

Wind and dirt blinded the people they saw braving the gusts, but they were protected in the alcove.

“You should start writing again,” she said. “I read some of your earlier pieces on your Web site.”

“I’d love to, but there’s too much managing to do.”

“I love what I’m doing. I can’t imagine giving that up for anything.”

“The last time I left for a week, Owen nearly ran off half the staff. I know it’s hard to believe,” he added with a wry smile, “but he’s not very personable.” Cold mist hung on his words.

How unsocial was he? There were so many questions she wanted to ask but couldn’t without sounding hinky. “Is he just not good with people?”

“He’s more of a loner personality.” Adrian was being diplomatic. A good friend for Owen, not helpful for her investigation.

He reached toward her neck with one hand. She thought he might cup her cheek, which was icy cold. He held up one of her earbuds, and she heard the tinny sound of music floating out.

“What are you listening to?”

“I forgot to put them away.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “I usually tuck them out of sight.” She was so used to hearing it, she hadn’t even noticed.

“I saw you coming down the sidewalk earlier, bouncing away.”

She rolled her eyes. “I can’t not move. I must look like a dweeb.”

“You looked charming, actually.” He tucked one of the buds into his ear. She took the other and put it in hers to see what was playing.

“Puscifer,” she said in answer to his earlier question. “I’ve gotten hooked on what I call punky alternative rock.” She gave him a serious look. “I don’t think they use cellos.”

“I doubt it.”

The song was “The Mission,” from last year and still one of her faves. She thought he might turn his nose up at her music, but he was smiling and even…yes, bobbing his head a bit.

And he was very close, his nose nearly brushing hers, his mouth only a couple of inches away.
I’m too close to landing this gig to mess it up right now by kissing him, but oh my Lord, do I want to.

His gaze slipped down to her mouth but lifted back to her eyes. “I have a personal rule about getting involved with people I work with,” he said, though he hadn’t moved away.

“That’s probably a good idea.” Her breathy voice didn’t sound exactly convincing.

“I’ve worked with attractive women before. It’s never been a problem.” He lowered his head. “I’ve never wanted to break my rule before…until now. I’ve never met someone who mesmerized and enchanted me as completely as you have.”

She felt her heart hitch, but words weren’t even thinking of coming out.

“I want you to write for my magazine.”

She met his eyes, hers feeling heavy at their closeness. “I want to write for your magazine, too.”

“I want you.”

He leaned close and kissed her. First a gentle, soft kiss. He was looking at her, gauging her reaction.
Okay, forget all that safe thinking, forget the ramifications.
She kissed him back, closing her eyes and sinking into it. And she couldn’t hear his thoughts. No running commentary, no critiques, just her thoughts and the feeling of his mouth sliding against hers, taking his time, toying with her.

Sinking? No, she was falling. She parted her lips, and he took the invitation and dipped into her mouth with his tongue. Her heart was beating at a pulse point at her throat, and she felt a delicious thrum throughout her body. She put her hands on his shoulders and pulled him closer. She had to lean her head back to kiss him, which reminded her how tall he was, how big and strong, and what a turn-on that was.

He slid his hand behind her neck, rubbing it in slow, languid movements. His mouth tasted fresh and minty. He must have crunched his mint, too, because she didn’t feel it as her tongue explored him. His kiss was deep and slow and playful, and she couldn’t help but think he probably made love the same way.

Groan.

The ache for a sensual touch washed over her. To be held, to feel his hands on her body, everywhere, his naked body against hers, to feel every inch of him…

Groooaaannn.

All those long-neglected parts of her body weren’t actually dead to the world like she’d thought. They sprang to life with painful heat. Would she seem slutty if she suggested they go back to his place right this second?

Yes
,
yes
,
yes…uh
,
what was the question?

Just as she was drowning, a picture in her mind jarred her completely out of the moment. Like the flash of a scene from a movie, she saw a woman lying naked on the floor. A dark ring of bruising around her neck. Her eyes lifeless. A lipstick kiss on the creamy white skin of her stomach. Those horrid words written in bloodred.

Oh, God. Me.

She pushed back with a gasp.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Did I hurt you?” But he looked startled, too, as though she’d just up and smacked him in the face with her purse.

“I…saw something.” She rubbed her mouth, stunned by the image now seared into her brain. She couldn’t hear Adrian’s thoughts…but she’d just
seen
them. That was the only explanation. With wide eyes she backed away from him. “You’re him. Kiss and Kill Cupid. I saw…I have to go.”

He pulled her back, pinning her against the glass door. “What did you see, Kristy? You have to tell me, because I saw something, too, when we were kissing.”

The fear in his eyes was nearly as intense as what she was feeling. “I saw myself dead. The lipstick message on my body.”

He nodded. “That’s what I saw. I’m not the killer, Kristy. But you’re his next victim.” He released her and took a step back. “This is going to sound crazy. Bear with me. Sometimes I see things. Images, visions. The first time it knocked me sideways. I was fifteen. I shook hands with this man, a friend of my parents, and
saw
him in a hospital with tubes and wires coming out of him. He looked healthy in person. I thought,
Man
,
did someone slip something into my drink at that party last night?

“A couple of days later I heard my parents talking about the man, saying he was in the hospital, and my mom was upset after they’d gone to visit him. You guessed it: he was hooked up to machines. He suffered another heart attack a day later and died. I was freaked out. And I couldn’t tell anyone about it. My parents, they’re open-minded, but not
that
open-minded. It’s happened a few times in the last eight years. Sometimes I see the person dead, no clue as to how it happened. That’s the most frustrating.” He saw the shocked expression on her face. “I know, you think I’m nuts, and you want to hightail it out of here. But for the sake of your life, you have to take me seriously.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. No, she could believe it. He’d started getting these visions at around the same age as she started hearing thoughts. That was way more coincidental than their wearing the same fragrance. “I don’t want to hightail it out of here.”

That seemed to surprise him. “Really?”

“Really. I’m just trying to get my head around it. You saw my death when we met at the coffee shop?”

“No, that was the weirdest part. I saw it after I read your article. One second I was thinking I liked your writing and maybe your style would work for the magazine, then I saw your picture and thought,
Damn
,
and she’s beautiful
,
too
, and then I saw you…dead.” His face paled at that. “I saw the lipstick kiss and, with all the publicity recently, I remembered how Kiss and Kill Cupid leaves that and his signature on his victims’ bodies. I had to do something. I had intended to contact you anyway, but this made it urgent. I figured I’d either send you out on assignment on Valentine’s Day or ask you out so I could protect you.”

What he’d told her hit her in several ways. He’d liked her writing
before
he’d seen her picture. That was good. His wanting to protect her was nice, too. “So the kiss…that was all part of your plan?”

He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “That wasn’t planned at all. I never dreamed the moment I laid eyes on you I’d be knocked flat. I’ve never felt like this with anyone. And now you think I’m nuts, and I don’t blame you if you never want to see me again, but you’ve got to let me be your bodyguard on Valentine’s Day.”

She tilted her head, still taking in everything he’d said. “I believe you. And I don’t think you’re crazy.” Something bright and shiny was growing inside her. He possessed the same kind of ability she did. She had met the only person whom she could tell the truth and not risk being called crazy. The only person who could understand.

He stared at her, dumbstruck. “Seriously? Just like that?”

She smiled. “Seriously. I know Kiss and Kill Cupid has targeted me.” And she told him about her own strange ability and what had happened at the coffee shop.

“No shi—sorry. This is incredible that we both have some kind of psychic ability. Maybe that’s why I feel so connected to you.”

She smiled. “I feel that, too.”

Now it looked as though he were trying to wrap
his
mind around it all. “So you can…read my thoughts?”

“Not yours. For some reason, you’re exempt.”

A car horn honked. Adrian looked over at the black Lincoln parked at the curb. “That’s the car I called for you. I want to talk more about this. I want to see you tonight.”

I want you.
His earlier words still tingled through her.

“I can’t. I’ve got a family obligation: dinner at my parents’. Kiss and Kill Cupid only strikes on Valentine’s Day. I’m safe until then. I’ll see you tomorrow at the office. You can tell me what the others thought of my articles. And we can talk more.”

She felt the urge to kiss him good-bye and pushed past it. They weren’t there yet. They had a lot of things to sort out. But one thing she knew for sure: she
would
kiss him again.

Kristy didn’t return to her apartment until eleven that night. Surprisingly, her roommate was home, shut in her bedroom with the television blaring. The place smelled like tofu and curry. Kristy wrinkled her nose. The kitchen was sparkling clean, and Berta had left a sticky note for her:

Found coffee grounds on the counter! Clean
,
clean
,
clean!

Berta described herself as “lovably chunky.” In her early twenties, she had pretty brown eyes nearly hidden by a fringe of black bangs and thick eyebrows. She’d taken one look at Kristy and proclaimed that she didn’t want a buddy, especially not a skinny blonde one—just a roommate. And that had been that. Whenever they did cross paths, Berta would invariably look her up and down and sniff. Whatever that meant. Her only clue was that once Berta had rolled her eyes, and uttered, “
Pink
.” This from a woman who wore black all the time.

Kristy wasn’t particularly fond of Berta, but the apartment was nice, close to the subway, a small park, and the best sushi restaurant in the city, at least in her opinion. She poured herself a half glass of white wine and closed herself in her room.