Just months before I start medical school in Boston, I decide to let loose for one night. A dark club, a loud band, strong drinks--and the attention of a dangerous-looking man who says he's in the city for only a week.
I know exactly what he is: a...
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I didn't think Evangeline would show up, but here she is in my foyer, all wide eyes and rosy cheeks. Heartbreakingly beautiful would be the way I would describe her, but I can't get trapped in the superficial. Not now, not while I'm so close to getting what I need.
"Is this a good time? I'm not interrupting anything, am I? I got your note and..."
Her voice fades when I lean down and kiss her right cheek, then her left, like we do in Italy. Now her cheeks are even rosier, which makes me grin.
"It was an open invitation. I was on my early morning walk and got the idea to invite you over." No need to explain that I was up all night, as usual, because I sleep during the afternoon, if at all. Or that I was wandering the dark streets of Boston for hours in the cold, thinking about her, and her brother.
Now that she's here, I need to pour on the charm. It won't be difficult, because she's so gorgeous. If only she was related to anyone but John Ransom.
"May I take your coat? And what's this?" I tap the plastic top of her coffee cup.
"Oh, I stopped at a convenience store. Can't live without my coffee, you know?" Her laugh is a little too forced and shrill.
This elicits a genuine chuckle from me. "My dear, sweet girl. Give that to me and I'll make you some real coffee."
"Uh, okay." I take the offending cup from her and set it on a side table.
She shrugs out of her heavy wool jacket, and I carefully hang it on a hook in the foyer.
"This is a beautiful house." She rubs her upper arms and that's when I notice a lock of her hair is frozen solid. I reach over and take it in my fingers, wanting to snap it in two.
"Wet hair? Icy hair?"
She nods. "I didn't have time to dry it this morning."
"You're going to get pneumonia. Let's go to the library. I have a fire started."
Normally I'd never light a fire—there's no need, since I'm impervious to cold. But since I suspected, well, hoped, she'd come by, I built a beautiful stack of wood to blaze in the hearth. I have to admit, the aesthetic of the fire in the book-filled room is quite beautiful.
Sensual, even.
"Come." I put my hand on the small of her back and propel her down the hall.
She leans into me and I capture her scent in my nose. I can smell her blood, a rich, heady fragrance. It's so much more evident today, now that she's not awash in perfume and cigarette smoke from that club last night.
"Wow, this home is incredible. They don't make them like this anymore. Greek Revival, right?"
Impressive that such a young woman would even know that term. "Yes. But it's not mine. It's a dear friend's house, and I use it whenever I visit Boston."
