Dark Time: Mortal Path by Dakota Banks

“One of them was when we first saw each other, and the next one’s right now. If either of us wants to stop now, we can take the off ramp. The bill’s paid”—she gestured toward her plate—“and that’s that. I report back to Randy that you were a nice man but we didn’t have much in common.”
    “No phone numbers exchanged.”
    “We’d regret having put on expensive lingerie. Well, one of us would.”
    She’d been waiting for him to check her out. Unlike most men, so far he’d kept his gaze on her face, but the lingerie remark triggered the visual assessment. He took his time with it, letting her see the appreciation on his face.
    No shy boy here.
    “Ready for the off ramp?” she asked. Neither of them moved. “Okay. Tell me a little about yourself.”
    “Thirty-two years old. Nonsmoker, social drinker. I’m devoted to my job. This is the first real date I’ve been on in a year, mostly due to the job. I like cats and classical music. I dread long walks on the beach and I fucking never walk in the rain. Is that enough?”
    “Good start. I’m a nonsmoker, social drinker. I’m more of a leopard person myself, and I’ve loved classical music, well, a long time.”
    Back when it was just music and hadn’t become classical yet.
    “What about the beaches and rain?”
    “I’ve had my fill of rain. Beaches are a different story. No long walks, but I’ve been known to pick up men in skimpy swimsuits and fuck their brains out all night.”
    Jake’s eyes blinked as he processed this. “What beaches? I’ll be there.”
    Another good answer.
    Two hours later, the diner had cleared out after lunch, but Jake and Maliha were still sitting there.
    His hand rested familiarly over hers on the table. Their conversation was low and cozy, creating a sphere of personal space with room for two.
    “When will I see you again?” Jake asked.
    “If we stay here long enough, we can just order dinner.”
    “I’m game, but I have some work to do. How about dinner around seven? At my place?”
    “I need to make a trip out of town for a few days. How about Friday at eight?”
    He took out one of his business cards and wrote his address on the back. “Shall I pick you up?”
    “Do I look like I’ve fallen?”
    He laughed and smiled. “I only mention it because my neighborhood isn’t what you’re used to, being a famous novelist.”
    “So I’ll beat off the muggers with my books. I’ll be fine.”
    They both rose from the table, and Maliha came around to stand next to him, leaving the next move up to him.
    He gently tilted her face up and kissed her. The touch of his lips thrilled her. He put his arms around her and pulled her to him. She rested there comfortably, their bodies in full contact, with her cheek against his chest. He bent toward her ear, and she thought he was going to whisper something sweet.
    “You taste like hot sauce,” he said. “I just missed all the off ramps for this date.”
    A customer came in, and they broke apart.
    “Don’t stop on my account,” the man said. “I like watching.”
    Out on the sidewalk, he kissed her again, lightly, as if to seal some private arrangement between them.
    37 z 138
    2009-08-25 02:50

    Best Italian beef I’ve ever had.

Chapter Thirteen
    W atcher saw her arrive in a taxi at the building she lived in. He was familiar with taxis—driven by arrogant men who rarely bothered to talk in the local language, except when they stuck their hands out to be paid extra for mediocre service.
    He always made it a point to learn some of the local language, even when it twisted his tongue and made his head ache to do it.
    She said good night to the door guard. He smiled at her in a way that set Watcher on edge.
    It had been easy to get her address. He followed her home to find out the building. Waylaying a cleaning woman on her way home, he half bribed, half threatened her to find out Marsha’s room number and provide it to him. The next day she did, and he paid her two