have two tables full, believe it or not.”
Therese hurried with the shoe change, swapping her heavy treads for black server shoes, and then she took what he gave her, folding and tying the apron around her waist and tucking everything in correctly so that her formal bow tie, white pressed shirt, black slacks, and the overlay were all smooth and orderly.
“How do I look?” she asked on the fly.
When there was a pause, she glanced at the human. His lids had lowered and a flush had come out on his cheeks.
Emile cleared his throat. “You’re beautiful.”
Therese opened her mouth to downplay everything—the moment, the attraction he was feeling, the subtle question that was in his stare but that had not yet come out of his mouth—but then she froze.
A Shadow loomed behind the man.
Therese’s pulse quickened, her body responding in a rush. And as the shift in her attention was noted, Emile pivoted around.
“Oh, hello, Mr. Latimer,” the human man said. “I was… er, I was just leaving.”
Emile glanced back at her, and there was regret in his face. As if he knew things he wished he didn’t. “I’ll see you out on the floor, Therese.”
“Thanks, Emile.”
After the human left, she looked up, way up, into the eyes of a male that she had not been able to get out of her mind. Trez Latimer was more than a vampire. He was a Shadow, his dark skin and black eyes integral to the venerable heritage of the s’Hisbe, his heavy shoulders and long powerful legs the kind of thing you never saw except in warriors.
He was extraordinary. In all ways.
And he was staring at her with a kind of intensity that she had never understood, but certainly could not question. From the moment he had first seen her, he had appeared to be captivated—which made no sense at all. Therese was a middle-of-the-road female, neither beautiful nor ugly, neither fat nor thin, neither brilliant nor stupid.
Yet to this incredible male, she seemed to be of unusual interest.
There had to be a reason. But self-preservation dictated that she not go any further with him. God knew she had enough on her plate already.
“Hi,” she said softly. “I wondered if you would be here tonight.”
CHAPTER FOUR
And I wondered if you were dead, Trez thought to himself.
But that was hardly the kind of opener he wanted to lead with. For one, as a vampire, Therese wouldn’t have been stupid like him and taken a car through the storm. She would have dematerialized here. For another, she was not his responsibility. Really. No, really, she was not.
And likewise he was not her curse.
Just because this female and his beloved Selena looked so completely similar did not give him the right to be behave as if Therese was his beloved shellan. So whether she was late to work on a snowy night, or if she didn’t come in at all, or if she were early or on time, none of this was his problem, his fault, or his concern. And for crissakes, this paranoia he was rocking with regard to her safety was annoying.
Come on, not every female he met or came into contact with was going to die on him.
If that were true, the Black Dagger Brotherhood would all be widowers by now.
Trez cursed and looked away. Looked back. Tried not to re-memorize that which had never left his mind.
“Yes, I’m here,” he heard himself say.
“Are you okay?”
Nope. Not even close. “I was just worried about you.”
Yeah, wow. That pep talk he’d given himself had really stuck, hadn’t it.
“That’s really kind of you.”
“The weather’s bad out tonight.” His voice sounded strange to his own ears. Tense and low. “Because of the snow.”
Plus, there’s that disaster zone you’re living in, he tacked on in his head. And God, he really had to shut up here. He was just digging a hole he wasn’t going to be able to climb out of.
“Oh, I’m fine.” She made a dismissive motion with her hand. “I’m self-sufficient.”
Next up: strained silence.
As the quiet persisted, Trez was aware he was staring, but his eyes refused to go anywhere else. Every time he saw this female, he found himself compulsively checking to see if he was right about what she looked like. To see if he had somehow misinterpreted something about her. And the fucked-up thing was that he couldn’t decide whether he wanted his perception to be right or wrong—although it wasn’t like he got a vote on that.
The likeness was