Better off Dead A Lucy Hart, Deathdealer - By Eva Sloan Page 0,70
plastered on her face the entire time she spent getting ready. The effort she put into choosing the right outfit, shoes, makeup and what earrings she’d where—the same pair she had on last night…the same perfume too—said she was way too eager to see him again.
Guilt splashed cold water on her face every time thoughts of Gabe made her a little too happy. She kept trying to remind herself that only a day ago she hadn’t liked Gabriel at all. The thought that she would actually be feeling something warm and gushy for him twenty-four hours later would’ve made her laugh.
But that was yesterday. Unfortunately, Lucy hadn’t felt this sinking, overwhelming guilt yesterday either. Two new, nearly equally matched intense emotions thundered in her head, her chest and belly, and roiled just under her flesh. It wasn’t funny.
Lucy found herself sitting out on the front porch, trying to inhale enough fresh air to drown out her conflicting emotions. It wasn’t working. She checked her watch: it was twenty minutes after six—He’s late, she thought with more than a little annoyance.
Rich or werewolf or amazingly hot...where does he get off making me wait?
The annoyed feeling was so nostalgically welcome that Lucy embraced it with open arms, and reveled in how it made me feel. A bit of the old Lucy…the entitled Lucy.
And then a really expensive looking car rolled down the block toward Lucy’s house: a midnight blue Jaguar XP. It swung into the vacant space at the front of the house. Lucy wasn’t surprised to see Gabriel climb out of the driver’s seat. What did surprise her was how her annoyance with him vanished in the blink of an eye, replaced instead with an intense, rather enjoyable tingling that played up her spine, settling in the back of her neck, and then started to give off heat.
She stood and watched Gabriel throw on his sport jacket, and walk up the sidewalk to the porch steps. The look in his eyes as he looked up at Lucy didn’t help at all. There was definite heat, and hunger in those dark, melted chocolate eyes. And he was very happy to see her. She knew the look well, and would never have thought Gabriel would ever be beaming it at her. But she also wouldn’t have imagined that that look would make her skin turn hot enough to make her yearn for a bucket of ice.
Wonder if he’d rub some ice over my skin? Lucy found Gabriel smiling up at her, and she suddenly wanted to be the one rubbing ice over his flesh. Or maybe my tongue…
“Am I late?” he finally asked.
Lucy shook her head, feeling a little dizzy as she stared into his eyes. “Gram just put the rolls in the oven, so you’re…good.”
He licked his lips, unconsciously, but it made Lucy’s knees shake. She wanted to taste those lips again, and the look on his face said he was thinking the same thing. She was in trouble and sinking fast.
And then an annoying thought crossed her mind. Sure, they had that one really hot kiss, and it was just last night…and he’d risked his rather pretty hide to save her from his homicidal girlfriend—but how could he be looking at her like he was, after what he’d said to Delia. They weren’t just words, but a declaration of love.
At least they should have been. They had sounded so sincere. They had felt so true when he’d said them to Delia. So true and so real that Lucy had felt the sting of jealousy. And yet there he was, looking at Lucy with just as much affection—maybe more?—and she found herself wondering what kind of guy could…could…the mere act of trying to give the lecherous way he was behaving towards both of them was pissing her off.
What kind of ass is this guy? What kind of man could profess his love to one girl and the next day be giving another girl the eye? What kind of man is he?
She turned in a huff and walked back into the house, leaving him standing there at the bottom of the porch stairs. She hoped that he couldn’t enter the house without an invitation, even if he wasn’t a vampire, and she really didn’t know if that bit of Buffy folklore was true, but she hoped it was.
“He’s here, Gram!” She hollered toward the kitchen, heading up the stairs. She was no longer in the mood to look pretty for Gabriel Enoch. She