Truth or Demon nov-5

by Kathy Love

  Eye on the goal.

  They would just know.

  Poppy told herself not to be offended. After all, she didn’t want to be seen as his girlfriend. She didn’t want to go at all.

  “I can’t go,” she told him, starting to move away from him. She needed to get away. She didn’t like where any of her thoughts and feelings were going at the moment.

  “Well,” he said with a big sigh, “I guess if you won’t go, I won’t either.”

  No! That wasn’t good. She needed this man to be involved with someone for her own sanity.

  She paused, struggling with the urge to growl in frustration. But instead she said, “Fine, I’ll go.”

  Killian smiled. A breathtaking, stunningly beautiful smile.

  Oh, she so needed him otherwise involved, and a night out was hardly a huge sacrifice to see that happen. Like it would take him more than a night to find a woman.

  “See you at seven,” he said again, and headed down the hall. She watched him leave, then hurried back to her apartment.

  Once inside, she told herself to force all thoughts of Killian and tonight out of her head. She had work to do.

  Without further thought, she went to the kitchen and filled her favorite oversize mug with coffee. She added her usual abundance of cream and sugar.

  Mug in hand, she went to her desk. She sat down and set the cup to her right within easy reach. Then she tidied up the chapters still askew from her attempt to work in bed. The papers clacked on the desktop as she lined up the edges, then she placed them directly in front of her. She lined up her red pencils. She liked to have three of them. That way if the tip broke, or got dull, she didn’t have to stop to sharpen it. She just reached for another.

  With everything situated, she could now work. And not think about—anything else.

  She took a sip of her coffee, picked up her pencil, then focused on the last portion of the manuscript she’d read, Title Risk and Insurable Interests.

  She tossed down the pencil.

  Really! How could he be so darned certain she’d be only seen as his friend by other women? Was she not attractive enough to be his girlfriend? Not interesting enough? Did they really look so unlikely to be together?

  Okay, she knew that she wasn’t his usual style. She looked down at her baggy, ripped jeans. Jeans she wore because she worked at home, and what was the point of getting all dressed up to sit at a desk in her own place? They were comfy. And her shirt—she grimaced slightly as she realized that she was wearing her vintage Atari T-shirt—which was admittedly a little geeky. But she’d had the tee for years. Adam had been into vintage video games, so she’d bought it because she knew he’d like it.

  She sighed. Okay, maybe she should part with this particular shirt. But overall her clothing was practical for her life. And she didn’t have a life that merited designer clothes.

  Then she touched her hair, knotted on top of her head in her usual messy bun. But again, that was just sensible. She hated her long hair getting in her face when she worked.

  And makeup. Well, there was no point at all in bothering with that.

  So she didn’t sport the female equivalent of his style. But would a whole room of women honestly rule her out as his girlfriend?

  She groaned at herself. Why did it matter? He was attractive, so she was naturally attracted to him, but she didn’t want him.

  “He’s arrogant. Just look at the ‘friends’ comment. And he’s shallow. Look at how Old Navy threw him. And he can be totally rude.”

  And you, my friend, are totally talking to yourself.

  She was willing to bet crazy cat ladies always talked to themselves. She grimaced. Maybe Daisy had a valid reason for concern. Maybe she did need to get out there and meet people. Maybe half her reason for being so attracted to Killian was because he was actually the first man she’d done something with since … well, in a really long time.

  Maybe tonight was the perfect time for her to meet some single men too. It certainly wouldn’t hurt her to mingle with them. To remember how to be comfortable around them. Then she wouldn’t focus all of her thoughts on a man who was so not her type. Yeah, why was she worried about being his type? He wasn’t hers.

  “And we’ll see who’s mistaken for the friend.”

  * * *

  Poppy came out of her bedroom, tugging on the form-fitting turtleneck sweater. Now she remembered why it had sat in her dresser, unworn, for so long.

  “Wow, you look great.”

  Poppy looked up from frowning down at the snug garment.

  “You really think so?”

  “Trés chic,” Daisy said, and Poppy noticed her sister was working on her French homework.

  “Nice.” But Poppy did smile. Daisy went back to conjugating obliger—to make someone do something. Which seemed apropos, although Poppy had no idea who was making whom go on this outing tonight.

  Or what had made her decide to wear these clothes. She also wore a new pair of jeans, which just reminded her why she loved her old, worn ones. She felt more like a trussed chicken than a fashionista.

  “Don’t look so miserable,” Daisy said. “You look fabulous.”

  Poppy appreciated her sister’s compliments, but somehow they made her want to back out of this whole night even more. What if Daisy was just being kind and she looked … well, silly?

  “Are you sure you are okay with me going out?”

  “I’m fine,” Daisy said, shaking her head as if she knew Poppy was looking for an excuse to stay home.

  A knock rattled the door, startling Poppy. She hesitated, tugging at her sweater again.

  “Go answer the door,” Daisy told her with an encouraging smile.

  Poppy nodded, then strode down that hallway in a pair of boots she’d only worn once, the heels clacking on the hardwood with an assertiveness she didn’t feel. Taking a calming breath, she opened the door.

  Killian stood on the other side, looking like he had just walked off the set of a modeling shoot. He just wore jeans and the white shirt from yesterday, but he still managed to look stunning. His hair was still a little damp from his shower, flipping at the ends in an attractively tousled way. And he’d shaved, leaving only a patch of hair under his lower lip. The look accentuated his sculpted lips and added a little edginess to his beauty. He looked sexy and naughty and …

  She was staring.

  Her eyes moved up to meet his, only to discover he was doing his own inventory of her. His golden gaze roamed over her until she had to brace her muscles to stop the shiver his heated perusal created.

  “You look fantastic.” His voice was low, velvety and so sexy.

  She pulled in another breath, losing herself to a shiver. “You too.”

  He smiled then, and her limbs turned to jelly.

  It was the lack of oxygen from her tight clothing, she told herself. But then she managed to get enough to her brain to invite him in.

  Killian told himself to stop staring, but as he followed Poppy down the hall, his eyes were locked on her. Or more accurately, at this moment, her rear end.

  The jeans she wore were dyed dark blue and fit her to a tee, the material emphasizing her legs and the curve of her perfect little butt.

  When they reached the living room, he managed to tear his stare away, but he wasn’t certain it was before Daisy noticed the direction of his look.

  She gave him a glance he couldn’t quite read, but then smiled. “You two look ready for a fun night.”

  Killian nodded, not that he was sure what this night would be like. As he glanced back over to Poppy, he knew with her looking like that, he wasn’t going to have any trouble finding her a boyfriend.

  “Daisy, really, if you are nervous being alone, I can stay home.”

  Killian could hear an almost pleading quality in Poppy’s voice, but he knew she was begging the wrong person. Daisy was a girl with a mission.

  “I’m almost sixteen, Poppy. I will be fine. And if I need anything I can go to Madison
’s or Emma’s or any of the neighbors’. Plus, I could just call you. You’ll only be a couple blocks away.”

  Poppy nodded, but she was noticeably disappointed. “I know.” Then she seemed to brace herself as if she was getting ready to go get a root canal rather than going out to a ladies’ night.

  “Let me just get my coat.” She disappeared from the room.

  As soon as she was gone, Daisy set her schoolbook aside and scooted across the couch to get closer to him.

  “I think your plan is a good one,” she whispered.

  Killian frowned and shook his head, not sure what plan she was referring to.

  “That you are taking your time finding her a guy,” Daisy said. “She hasn’t been with anyone since her last boyfriend. She really thought he was the one. But he wasn’t all that.”

  Rather than making him feel good, Daisy’s comment bothered Killian. Poppy was still pining for her ex. The guy didn’t deserve that kind of mourning as far as Killian was concerned.

  Apparently, Daisy felt the same. “Adam was a musician, and he thought he was so cool, but he was really just a pretentious jerk. He really, really hurt her.”

  Poppy hadn’t said that when she’d spoken of him, but he’d gotten that impression anyway.

  “This time, I want her to have someone really good for her. Someone who will treat her the way she deserves. Someone perfect.”

  Killian nodded, although he didn’t know anything about perfect. Perfection wasn’t what got people into his world. Imperfection, shortcomings and failings were what he understood.

  But if Mr. Perfect was out there, then Poppy deserved him.

  As if on cue, Poppy walked back into the room. She’d added a tailored gray peacoat and a red-gray-and-black plaid scarf to her outfit.

  The combination of colors made her skin look as flawless and pale as a china doll’s. Her eyes looked dark and soulful. Her brown hair was down, glossy and straight. She looked … ethereal … he pulled in a slow breath. Maybe perfection did exist, he realized.

  “Ready?” she said.

  He straightened. “Yes.”

  Daisy rose from the sofa to follow them to the door.

  After they stepped out into the hallway, Poppy turned back, mouth open, but Daisy cut her off, “I’m fine. Go have fun. And don’t worry.”

  Poppy hesitated, then nodded, but she couldn’t contain one last maternal worry.

  “Make sure you lock the door.”

  Daisy rolled her eyes but smiled. “I will.”

  Killian didn’t move once the door closed, knowing Poppy wouldn’t leave until she heard the dead bolt click into place.

  It did, and he placed a hand on her arm. She started at the touch, but didn’t pull away.

  “Ready to do this?” he asked

  She nodded, but he had no doubt she wanted to say, “no.” Instead, she said nothing as they made their way out of the building.

  Once on the sidewalk, he looked up and down the street. “Which way are we headed?”

  “This way.” She pointed to the right, and they fell into step, although he noticed he had to modify his stride more than usual. For the boots, he realized, as he watched her picking her way around the cracks in the pavement. They looked great on her, but clearly they weren’t comfortable.

  “So what exactly happens at a ‘ladies’ night?’” he asked, deciding maybe taking her mind off her feet might help.

  She glanced at him, surprise clear in her eyes. “You’ve never been to a ladies’ night at a bar?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe, but I wasn’t aware of it if I was.”

  “Well—” She glanced at him again, but her thought was cut short as her heel slipped in a crack and her ankle twisted. Instantly, Killian caught her, catching most of her weight before it could land on the turned ankle.

  She clung to his arm, accepting his help. That was until she was able to balance herself. Then she dropped her hands from him.

  “Sorry,” she said, her cheeks flushed. “This is why I wear sneakers. I can’t even manage three-inch heels.”

  “I couldn’t either,” he assured her. Then he offered his elbow. She stared at his proffered arm as if it were a snake ready to strike. But after a moment, she looped her arm through his.

  At least his touch was better than a twisted or broken ankle. The lesser of two evils, as they say.

  “So,” he said once they started walking again, her body much closer than before. He could feel her heat and smell something deliciously spicy like cinnamon on her skin, “You were going to tell me what happens at a ladies’ night.”

  She didn’t answer for a moment.

  “Well, I haven’t been to a bar for years,” she said. “But usually they have half-price drinks for the ladies. No cover charge for them if there’s a band. Maybe some discounts on food.”

  “And that’s enough to draw in women?”

  Poppy actually found herself laughing at his dry query. Which surprised her, because she was altogether too aware of him being so close. Her shoulder brushed his arm as they walked. Their arms entwined. Her fingers rested on his forearm.

  “It isn’t the discounts that lures them in,” she said. “It’s the hope of meeting someone like you.”

  “Me?”

  “A hot, single guy looking for a real relationship,” Poppy said, then realized she’d said too much. And Killian didn’t miss it.

  “So I’m hot, huh?”

  Like he ever doubted it, but she was saved from having to answer. “We’re here.”

  She gestured to the bar, which appeared to be relatively busy. Not packed, but then it was early yet. As she recalled from her younger days, things didn’t really get hopping at the bars until after nine or so. She dropped her arm away from his, walked into the small courtyard area where café tables and chairs were set up in the warmer months.

  But before she reached the concrete steps that led up to the entrance, Killian’s hand was back, cupping her elbow.

  She glanced at his hand, raising an eyebrow. “I’m just going up some steps, I should be fine.”

  He smiled. “Better safe than sorry, right?”

  “But aren’t you afraid we’ll be mistaken for a couple?” Then she stopped and gave him a pointed look. “Wait, you said no one would make that mistake, didn’t you?”

  CHAPTER 19

  Why had she said that? Her comment sounded petty and jealous. Or worse yet, like some sort of challenge.

  But it was out now, so all she could do was focus on why they were here. Finding him a woman. And maybe—maybe, chatting with a few men herself.

  She looked around the pub, surveying the place. She’d walked by many times, but had never been inside. The atmosphere was quaint with brick walls and molded tin ceilings. A long bar made of glossy stained wood took up most of one wall. There were tables and chairs littering the rest of the room. At the far end was a spot for a band to play.

  But the only music was from a CD jukebox mounted on the wall in the far corner.

  And there was one thing there was no shortage of—women.

  A large table surrounded by women was centered in the middle of the pub. And they had already spotted Killian, eyeing him like predators stalking their prey, hopeful and hungry.

  Several leaned closer to say something, clearly about him. Then they smiled, white teeth and glossed lips glistening in the low light.

  Poppy knew this was why he was here, why she was here with him, but she still found the ladies rather disturbing.

  She glanced at him and found he was looking around, seemingly oblivious to the stir he was causing.

  Then he touched her arm.

  “Table or bar?”

  Poppy blinked. He really hadn’t even noticed the pack of women licking their chops and getting ready to bring him down like a felled buck.

  “Umm …” she said, noticing that the nearest empty table was dangerously close to the women.

  “There are two seats right there.” She pointed t
o a couple of vacant stools at the end of the bar. “How about the bar?”

  They would be a safe distance away from the waiting vultures.

  He nodded and led her toward them. This time, he placed his hand on the small of her back, and even though she wore her jacket, she would swear she could feel the heat of his hand.

  Imagination, she told herself, even as she shivered from the sensation.

  “Cold?”

  Not at all, but she nodded. “A little.”

  Relief flooded her as she slid onto the barstool and away from his touch.

  A bartender appeared.

  Killian gestured for her to order first.

  She was usually more of a coffee and tea drinker, but she did have the occasional wine with dinner. And tonight seemed like a good time for wine too. If she was going to have to watch scads of women vie for Killian’s attention, then she needed something to take the edge off.

  “A pinot noir.”

  The bartender listed a few brands.

  “The first one,” Poppy said with a slightly embarrassed smile.

  “And I’ll try the pale ale,” Killian said. He smiled when the bartender left. “Not a wine aficionado, huh?”

  She smiled back, still feeling a little self-conscious. “Not really. I usually buy whatever wine has the prettiest or most interesting label.”

  Killian chuckled, the sound rich and low. An amazing laugh.

  “Yeah, I don’t know much about wine myself. I’m more of a scotch drinker.”

  “Scotch—” She shuddered. “Now that I couldn’t handle at all.”

  He laughed again, and Poppy was willing to bet the women at the table behind them would swoon at the sound of it. Poppy certainly felt a little light-headed.

  And then there was his smile. No! This was exactly why she was here. So he could find someone, and she could forget how amazing his smile was.

  The bartender returned with their drinks, and she took a large gulp of the wine. Not her usual way of enjoying a glass of vino, but her nerves were already frayed. And they just got here.

  “So, I think you have your pick tonight,” she said, turning on her stool to face the rest of the room. He did the same.