Fangs For The Memories. Kathy Love

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don’t you mind your own business, buddy,” Joey said, irritated. Then his voice became soft, cajoling, as he asked her, “You aren’t going to let this jerk ruin our fun, are you, baby?”

      Jane tore her gaze from the beautiful stranger to look at Joey. “No,” she said, although she knew her response sounded more than a little unsure.

      Suddenly loud music began to play, and Jane noticed a blond woman adding money to a jukebox in the corner. Between the two men looming over her, the sudden thumping beat of the music and the alcohol coursing through her, her head began to spin.

      “Can I get two tequilas down here,” Joey called to the bartender.

      Jane stood, her legs unstable. The beautiful stranger caught her arm and steadied her. His hand was strong and felt good, even through her blazer. Her head swam.

      “Are you okay?” he asked.

      She nodded, taking a deep breath. “I think I just need a little fresh air.”

      He started to stand, when Joey caught her other arm. “Baby, let me take you outside.”

      Jane looked at the beautiful stranger. His hand still held her arm, his strength clear even in the gentle hold. His eyes blazed with something she couldn’t quite read, but she did know that she needed to get away from his touch. It was doing crazy things to her insides.

      She tugged her arm free from him and allowed Joey to lead her to the door.

      Right before she stepped outside, she glanced over her shoulder. The beautiful stranger watched her with those predatory eyes.

      Chapter 2

      The chill of the winter air on her face and in her lungs immediately made Jane feel less light-headed. She closed her eyes and lifted her head toward the sky. After another couple deep breaths, she felt almost normal.

      “That better?” Joey asked, standing close to her.

      She opened her eyes and smiled at him gratefully. “Yes. I don’t usually drink.”

      He left her side and peered down the alley that ran along the side of the bar. “There’s some stairs down this way. Why don’t we sit for a few?”

      Jane wandered over to him, following his gaze. The alley was a long, dark tunnel except for one dim light-bulb in the center illuminating a set of concrete stairs. Trash cans stood beside the stairs, open, spilling over with garbage.

      “I think maybe I should just head back to my hotel,” she decided.

      “Hotel?”

      She nodded. “Yes, just got here yesterday afternoon.”

      He gave her a disbelieving look. “That’s crazy. I just got here yesterday, too. I used to live here, but I’ve been away.”

      She smiled.

      “Come on. Come sit for a few minutes.”

      She hesitated, but his smile was so charming, she finally agreed.

      The cement steps were cold and mottled with stains of God knew what. Jane opted to lean against the wall. Joey didn’t seem to have the same qualms about the stairs.

      They were quiet for a few seconds.

      “So where did you live before you came back here?” Jane asked.

      “A place in Jersey.”

      “Oh, I’ve never been to New Jersey.”

      He stood up, shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and kicked an empty can down the alley. The metallic sound echoed off the concrete walls surrounding them. “I can’t say I was too fond of it. My life there was really—confining.”

      Jane could understand that. “I grew up in Maine, which is a beautiful state, but the town I grew up in was too small, too suffocating. People got labeled at a young age, and they could never escape that label. Never.”

      Joey walked toward her, and for the first time, she realized he was rather big. His boyish face gave the impression he would be thin, lanky, but he was actually quite broad and muscular.

      “Now, you see, I get that. I’ve been labeled myself.” He stepped closer, stopping only inches from her. “You know, baby, you are really a pretty lady.”

      “No,” she denied, her skin heating even in the cold. Even though she didn’t know Joey, the flattery was nice. She’d never had a man say that to her.

      “I haven’t seen a lady as pretty as you for a long time.”

      Again the flattery made her chest swell. She didn’t quite believe him, but the words were nice to hear.

      He stepped a little closer—still not touching her but making it clear he wanted to.

      She liked his compliments, but she wasn’t willing to kiss him. She didn’t know him. And she just wasn’t the type of woman to do such a thing.

      Then again she was in New York City to start a new life. To find some excitement.

      Was she really considering kissing a stranger? No. Then the beautiful stranger popped into her head. Would she kiss him?

      What was she thinking? She must be drunk. She giggled.

      “What?” Joey asked, leaning a hand on the wall so that if Jane moved she’d brush against him.

      She sobered. She didn’t want to give him the impression she was interested. She shifted down the wall a bit.

      “I was just thinking what a crazy day I’ve had.” Maybe if she kept talking, he’d get the idea.

      “Oh, yeah?” He moved toward her again.

      She swallowed. Maybe she should just leave. Something in his eyes suddenly made her nervous.

      “What happened?” he asked, and she decided it was possible she was just being paranoid. She told him about her job and apartment and then her hours in the police station.

      “Man, I hate police stations. I’ve spent way too much time there myself.”

      “Really?”

      He nodded. He stepped closer, and his hand came up to hold her waist, then slid down to cup her derriere.

      She jumped, and he chuckled. “Skittish, eh?”

      She swallowed. She was in way over her head. She didn’t know how to handle alcohol or men or life in the city. All she knew how to deal with was grieving families and funeral arrangements. And not one of the funeral mourners had ever touched her bottom!

      “I think I may have given you the wrong idea. I think I should go back inside.”

      He didn’t remove his hand. “Oh, no, baby, you have been giving me all kinds of good ideas.”

      His

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