His eyes crinkled in a smile. “Had to cut the other one to make sure Bell didn’t break your skin when he bit you. No idea what effect his truly screwed up parasite could have on a normal one.” He shrugged. “Maybe nothing, but if he’d drawn blood I’d have found a way to get word to Dr. Nikas, just in case.”
“Thanks,” I said. “You didn’t have to get me a new one.” Then I grinned. “But I also won’t let you take it back now.”
He let out a bark of laughter. “A scuffle on the front porch could be entertainment for your party.”
“It would give the neighbors something to call the cops on us for,” I said with amusement. “They don’t know what to make of the new, outwardly-respectable Crawfords.”
Philip lifted a hand to my cheek and looked into my eyes, smiled gently as he leaned down. For an instant I was absolutely positive that he intended to kiss me—and almost absolutely positive that I wouldn’t do a damn thing to stop him.
But he simply laid a gentle kiss on my forehead and straightened, though his hand lingered on my cheek.
“I don’t know about them,” he said, voice soft, “but I’m pretty impressed by the inward respectability of Ms. Angel Crawford.”
My heart thudded erratically as I struggled to come up with something to say in response to all of that. “Um. Thanks,” I managed.
Smiling still, he withdrew his hand. “Come on, Zombie-Mama,” he said. “You have a house to warm, and I have beer to look at longingly.”
Chuckling, I tucked the box and jacket under my arm. “Best zombie-kid ever.”
Also by Diana Rowland:
SECRETS OF THE DEMON
SINS OF THE DEMON
TOUCH OF THE DEMON
FURY OF THE DEMON
MY LIFE AS A WHITE TRASH ZOMBIE
EVEN WHITE TRASH ZOMBIES GET THE BLUES
WHITE TRASH ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE