The Bite Before Christmas - Argeneau Series - Book 15.5 Page 0,3

all she knew.

“That sounds a sensible idea, young lady. But I guess I’d best introduce myself properly then.” He held out one gloved hand. “My name is Theodore Brunswick. I’m police chief of a small town called Port Henry down south.”

She stared blankly for a moment and then her lips widened. “That’s so sweet.”

Teddy blinked in confusion, not sure what the hell was sweet about his being police chief of Port Henry. It was a small town, but—

“You’re trying to reassure me I’m safe with you,” she explained. “That’s really very sweet. Thank you.”

“Oh.” Teddy felt his face burning and knew it wasn’t the cold air. He was blushing like a schoolboy, he realized with disgust and hoped to hell she put down any redness in his face to the cold. Retrieving his hand, he muttered, “Well, young women can’t be too careful when they’re on their own nowadays and I didn’t want you worrying that I might be dangerous.”

“You’re right, of course,” she said solemnly, and then pointed out cheerfully, “Of course, a rapist or serial killer would hardly introduce himself as one. In fact, claiming to be a cop would probably be the one thing most likely to lull a gal into feeling safe and give the creep an advantage.”

Teddy’s eyes widened and he turned fretfully to glance toward his cottage, saying, “I have my badge in the cottage. I can show it to you and my gun and—” He paused and glanced back as she began to chuckle.

“It’s all right, I believe you,” she assured him with a grin. “Why don’t you go get that fire started while I fetch us some food from my cottage?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Teddy muttered, feeling a bit off balance. There was just something about the girl . . . He watched her start away, envying the seeming ease with which she moved through the snow.

“Theodore?”

He raised his eyes to her face as she glanced back over her shoulder, noting the twinkle in her eyes and the naughty tilt to her grin. His voice was gruff as he said, “Call me Teddy.”

“Teddy,” she murmured as if tasting the word. Apparently, she liked it, because her smile widened, the naughtiness he’d noted now seeming to bloom until it completely took over her expression as her eyes drifted down over his figure to the groin of his jeans. She drawled, “I think I’d really like to see that gun of yours later.”

Teddy felt his jaw drop, and gaped after her when she turned and continued away. Had she just— Surely she hadn’t meant what he thought she—

“No,” Teddy muttered, shaking his head. She hadn’t meant what he thought. He was an old man, for Christ’s sake, and she was a pretty young thing: young enough to be his granddaughter. Of course, she might not realize that yet. He was all bundled up against the cold, with little but his eyes and nose showing.

Teddy turned and started up his own driveway, reassuring himself that she wouldn’t be interested once she got a look at his old mug. In fact, the poor girl would probably be embarrassed then, he thought with a wry chuckle. He was halfway back to the cottage before he realized she’d never told him her name.

Katricia whistled happily as she grabbed dried and canned food and packed it in the two empty boxes she’d found in a corner of the pantry. She wasn’t really paying attention to what she was choosing, but then she had no idea what Teddy Brunswick would like—or what she herself would like, for that matter. It had been centuries since she’d bothered with mortal food.

“Katricia Argeneau Brunswick.” It had a nice ring to it, she decided with a smile.

“Katricia and Teddy Argeneau Brunswick.” Even better, she thought and sighed dreamily as she packed another can in the box.

Damn. She’d met her life mate. Katricia savored the thought. There was nothing in the world more important to an immortal than a life mate. It was what every one of them wanted and waited for, sometimes for centuries, sometimes even longer. Some never found one at all. But if they did, it was the most important moment in their life, finding that one person in the world, mortal or immortal, whom they couldn’t read or control and with whom they could share their long life. It wasn’t what Katricia had expected when she’d driven up here yesterday from Toronto. Though she probably should have, she acknowledged. Marguerite’s matchmaking