Blood Red. Heather Graham
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“You have to leave.”
“Oh, please,” Deanna said impatiently.
“I’ll pay you for the damages,” Heidi said, starting to sound irritated.
“You came for readings. You’ve had them, and now you have to leave,” Susan said.
Heidi pulled out her wallet and tried to give Susan money, but the woman only backed away. Heidi set the money on the table, shaking her head. Then she linked arms with Lauren, pulling her away. “You do not get to pick the fortune-teller anymore,” she said, dragging her along.
As they put some distance between themselves and the Square, Deanna burst into laughter. “Didn’t you feel as if we had just walked into an old horror flick?”
“I’m sure she was going to tell us to beware the bite of a werewolf any second,” Heidi agreed, and then she, too, burst into laughter.
“And you! You fell for all her tricks,” Heidi told Lauren.
“I did not,” Lauren protested, but silently she was thinking, Yes, I did. It was creepy as hell in there.
She felt like an idiot now, though, as they passed Royal Street, nearly at Bourbon. Bands were playing loudly from several corners, the sound of jazz mixing with rock.
“We need a drink,” Heidi said. “Name your poison.”
“Meow,” Deanna said.
“What?”
“The Cat’s Meow. Karaoke,” Deanna said.
“You must be joking. We suck,” Heidi said.
“And that’s why we’re perfect for karaoke,” Deanna said happily.
“I need a lot more to drink for this,” Lauren said. The two of them had her laughing, buit karaoke was no more her style than mystical readings. “Wait!” she said, stopping in her tracks and forcing the others to stop, too.
“What?” Deanna asked.
“I’m only Heidi’s slave. Heidi, you don’t really want to sing karaoke, do you?”
“You bet I do!” Heidi said.
Groaning, Lauren found herself dragged into the bar.
It wasn’t that bad. The host was a handsome, well-built black man with an exceptional voice. His choice of music was great; the place was hopping. The entire room actually seemed to enjoy the rendition of “Summer Nights” that Heidi and Deanna laughed their way through.
But when the two of them left the stage, Lauren was glad to see that they were feeling the effects of the noise and the crush of humanity, and were ready to go before she had to make a fool of herself in public. They left the club and headed for a darker place with soft jazz that was just down the street.
“Order me another one of those fizzy things I was drinking,” Lauren said to Deanna when they had found a table. “I’m off to find the restroom.”
She left her friends and made her way through the tables. When she reached the hallway that led to the facilities, she was startled when she ran straight into a man. She hadn’t even realized she’d been walking with her head down, deep in thought. Still, she wasn’t sure where he’d come from as she plowed straight into him.
Apologizing, looking up at last, she backed away.
He was tall, two or three inches over six feet, and definitely well built—she had almost bounced off the muscles of his chest. His hair was dark, a moderate length, and even in the shadowy hallway, it was apparent that his eyes were a deep and striking blue. She thought he was somewhere around thirty, with ruggedly striking chiseled features: high cheekbones, a long, straight nose, determined jawline and a high forehead. His mouth was generous, the kind that could harden into a thin line or curve into a quick smile.
He wasn’t model-pretty. He had the look of a man who lived, and lived by his own rules, heedless of others’ opinions.
“I’m sorry,” she said, realizing that she was staring at him.
But then again, he was also staring at her.
“Kate,” he murmured.
“Pardon?”
He took a step back, deep eyes almost burning into her. “No, I’m sorry,” he said. “You reminded me of someone. My mistake. Sorry,” he said again. But he didn’t move, and he was still staring at her.
As if he really did know her.
But he couldn’t possibly. She would have remembered if she had ever crossed paths with him before.
“I…uh, need to get by,” she said softly.
“Of course,” he said.
But he was still staring, and she felt a blush rising to her cheeks.
She didn’t know him, she was certain.
But she would like to.
She could introduce herself, of course. They were in a bar. People did things like that in bars. Some of them even went to bars specifically for the purpose of meeting people.
Some people did things like that, but she didn’t. She hadn’t dated in…well, only once since Ken had died. She hadn’t been able to work up any interest in the print shop owner Deanna had decided she had to meet. She just hadn’t been attracted to him. Maybe her feelings had still been too raw, the sense of loss too new. She had been completely in love with her finance. He had made her smile, made her laugh. And she had been attracted to him from the start. There had been nothing wrong with the print shop owner. He just hadn’t been Ken. She just hadn’t been attracted to him.
But this stranger staring at her, this man she didn’t know from Adam?. She was attracted to him.
She flushed at her own thoughts. Some people picked up strangers in bars. She didn’t, not at this stage of her life. She was here for Heidi.
She smiled. “Honestly, I didn’t mean to ram you. And I do need to get by.”
“Right. Sorry” He stepped aside.
She walked past him, heading for the door marked “Madames.” She couldn’t help but turn back.
He was still watching her.
Great. She was heading into a ladies room in a dimly lit corridor and a good looking but possibly very weird guy was watching her.
She entered, closed the door and leaned against it. There was no lock on the door, only on the three individual stalls.
I should go back, make Heidi or Deanna come with me, she thought. I’m going to be attacked in a restroom on Bourbon Street.
She was being ridiculous, she told herself. It was just