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.”