Winter's Touch (Immortal Touch Series) (19 page)

She puckered her
glossed lips into a pout. He used to find it cute when she did that, but lately it just irritated him. “I do
not
,” she whined.

“I’m trying to watch the game, Michelle.” To make his point, he aimed the remote at the TV and turned up the volume. She took the hint and wandered off into the kitchen, most likely to graze on more potato chips. She
’d been getting a little chubby even before the pregnancy. Maybe he should ask her obstetrician to put her on a diet.

Or maybe he should
just spend some after-hours time with his sexy new receptionist and forget about everything else.

~
*~*~

It was warm inside the Cherokee. As she’d already suspected, there was nothing whatsoever wrong with the heater.
“Do we have to go straight home? I mean...back to your house?”

Julian took his eyes off the road long enough to look sidelong at his passenger. “Where would you have me take you, Eva?”

“I don’t know. I’m just not ready to go back yet.”

“Shall I just drive aimlessly around until I run out of petrol?”

She gave him a look that suggested his humor was not appreciated. “No, smartass. I just...I want to talk to you.” As long as he was in the Jeep with her, he was a captive audience. And he seemed so laid-back and relaxed tonight, it was the perfect opportunity to try to reason with him.

“I’m listening.”

How to even begin? She didn’t have much time, so it was probably best to be direct. Gently, trying to keep any trace of reproach out of her voice, she said, “You know you can’t keep me here forever, Julian.”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel, but she couldn’t make out his expression in the darkness.

“How long is forever to you, Eva?” he questioned, his voice revealing nothing.

Another cryptic response. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“It means that your version of forever is considerably shorter than mine. So you’re quite correct, it is true that I can’t keep you here forever. But I
can
keep you here until I am good and damn well done with you. That could be tomorrow, or it could be fifty years from now. Whatever the case, the decision is mine and mine alone to make. Your future is in my hands, and I will be the one to decide your fate. I thought I had already made that clear to you.”

“You promised you wouldn’t kill me. Remember?” she reminded him feebly.

“I have no desire to kill you. If I did, you would already be dead.”

“You
will
kill me, if you keep draining my blood! A person wasn’t meant to consistently lose...”

“I admit I overdid it last time.
That won’t happen again. Trust me.”

Trust him. The very idea was laughable.
And yet, what choice did she have? He would either kill her or he wouldn’t, and nothing she said or did would make any difference.

~
*~*~

December arrived with a bang, as the National Weather Service in
Portland warned of the imminent approach of a massive winter storm. Eva was tidying up the kitchen while listening to the news on a small portable radio and wondering what sort of preparations needed to be made, if any. Somehow she couldn’t envision Julian being terribly concerned about something as mundane as the weather. Then again, he didn’t seem to concern himself with much of anything. She was just debating whether to go find him and ask when he nonchalantly strolled in to pluck an apple from a basket on the table.

“
And what are your plans for the day, little miss?” he asked, biting into the apple.

She gave him a
n exasperated look. “The same as every other day, what do you think?”

“A bit snippy today, are
n’t we?” He leaned against the counter and gave her his all-too-familiar arrogant smirk.

“All right then. If you
really
must know, I have a manicure scheduled for this afternoon, then I have to get my hair done because I have tickets to the opera tonight. After that I thought I’d hit a few dance clubs with some celebrities. Care to join me?”

“Mm. I have a better idea. Would you mind listening for the door? I’m having some groceries delivered and I can’t hear very well from the conservatory.”

“You want me to come get you when they arrive?”

“That isn’t necessary. Just let
the boy in, please, and give him this check. Tell him his tip is on there as well.” He pulled a folded check from his shirt pocket and handed it to her.

“Okay.” Eva tried not to let her voice betray the
anticipation that was tentatively building within her. Was he really going to leave her alone with another person? Had he grown that secure in his dominance of her? Now
here
was an opportunity that could not be squandered, and any scheme attempted must be executed to perfection. Her mind raced with the various possibilities.

She unfolded the check and looked at it. “Julian
R. Winter. What does the
R
stand for?”

“Radley.
It means ‘from the red meadow’. I’m sure you’ll find the satire in that.”

“Are you sure it doesn’t mean ‘smarmy British cannibal’?”

“Don’t be repugnant.” He took another bite of apple as he ambled away, pausing at the door to ask, “Have you been taking your vitamins?”

“Every day.”

Nodding his satisfaction, he left Eva alone in the kitchen to formulate her strategy.

Obviously
, trying to explain her situation to the delivery boy was out of the question. It would be difficult to convince him of her sincerity, and who could foresee how he might react? No doubt it would seem unbelievable that she was being kept here against her will.

A note, perhaps
. Yes, that might work. If she folded it in with the check, it might remain unnoticed until he returned to town...

Scurrying up the stairs and into her room, she tore a small scrap of paper from the stationery Julian had brought her, then located a pen. Now what to write? What could she possibly say that would be taken seriously?
How on earth did one put into words something so incredibly bizarre?

Time was not her friend. While she stood contemplating, a sudden
rap at the front door filled her with panicked dismay. She hadn’t even heard anyone drive up, and now there was no time left to think. Blast it! Well, she’d just have to improvise. There was nothing else she could do.

She opened the door to a teenage
boy who looked awkwardly down at the box in his hands when he saw her. “Um...I got some stuff here for Mr. Winter.”

“Okay. Come on in.”

He followed her into the kitchen and plunked the box down on the counter. “There’s another one out in the truck. I’ll be right back,” he mumbled.

“Do you need any help?” she offered.

“Nah, I got it.” The boy pushed up the glasses that were sliding down the bridge of his nose and disappeared outside, returning a minute later with more groceries that he added to the counter. Pulling a crumpled invoice from the pocket of his faded jeans, he handed it to her wordlessly while managing to look in every direction other than directly at her. Apparently this one was nervous around females. She couldn’t help but find his gawky discomfort touching. The dirty-blond hair was in desperate need of a haircut, and some maternal part of her wanted to brush it out of his eyes.

Stall
, a voice inside her whispered.

“So is that your truck?” She’d caught a glimpse of
the antique pickup truck he was driving. Teenage boys were always eager to talk about their rides, for some reason she’d never been able to figure out.

“Yeah.” He glanced at her, then looked away quickly. “It’s
...yeah, it’s mine.” He coughed. Poor kid sounded a little congested.

“Nice. What year is it?”

“It’s a ’57 Chevy.”

“Wow. I can’t believe it still runs. Did you restore it yourself?”

He granted her a shy grin. “Yeah, mostly. My dad helped. It was my granddad’s truck. Has most of the original parts. I just got a new paint job not long ago.”

“
Is that right?” Inspiration struck her. “Can I see it?”

The boy’s face lit up as
brightly as if she’d just offered him a lap dance and an early diploma. “Yeah! Okay.”

She followed
him, closing the front door quietly behind her. As long as Julian stayed in the conservatory, she might have a prayer.

The sharp wind sent icy needles through her sweater dress as
if it was made of tissue rather than wool, and her breath hung like smoke in the frigid air. She should have grabbed her coat. The temperature was dropping remarkably fast.

“Nice paint job,” she commented, unsure
of what to say. She didn’t know the first thing about restored trucks.

“I kept it the original color.” The boy reached inside and pulled something from the glove
box. “Check this out,” he said, showing her an old photograph.

She took the photo from him and
examined it. There was the very same pickup truck, and a young man sporting a buzz cut posed beside it, one foot propped on the stepside.

“My granddad,” he told her.

She smiled wistfully. “Cool. Is he still around?”

“Yeah. He’s in a
nursing home now though.” The boy sneezed, then wiped his nose on the sleeve of his jacket.

She handed the picture back to him. “You must be really proud of this truck. Has a lot of sentimental value to you, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it does.” He fingered the photograph nervously.

“What’s your name, anyway?”

“Dane.”

“Well, Dane, my name’s Eva.
I’m really glad to have met you.” She handed him Julian’s check. “Oh, your tip’s included on there, by the way.”

“Thanks.” He stuffed it
clumsily into his pocket. “So, um...are you like, Mr. Winter’s girlfriend or something?” His cheeks turned pink.

Eva felt her own cheeks grow warm. After a moment’s hesitation, she merely said, “It’s complicated.”

He nodded. “Gotcha.”

“Do you live in Brightwood?”

“Yeah, we’ve been renting a place. My parents are looking to buy a house in Government Camp, though. My dad works at Timberline.”

She had no earthly idea where
that was, nor did it matter. She still hadn’t figured out what to do, and time was running out.

“Well
...I better get going. I gotta make some more deliveries before the storm hits. So I guess I’ll, you know, see you around or whatever.” He climbed into the truck.

“Wait a second.” She touched his arm and looked up at his surprised face. She had to say something, now. He couldn’t leave. He might be her only hope.

Dane waited to see what she had to say. She stared at him, her mouth half open as she tried to speak, as she struggled to tell him that he had to help her, to save her, to take her away from the man who wasn’t really a man but something else entirely. The words were there, ready to be verbalized. And she found that she couldn’t do it.

She couldn’t betray him. She just couldn’t.

“Drive carefully in this weather,” she said instead while stepping backwards, suddenly feeling emotionally exhausted.

“Will do.” With a last friendly grin, her teenage savior was gone.

Eva trudged back into the house. She wasn’t one bit surprised to see Julian leaning against the banister in the living room, arms folded across his chest.

“Charming the locals, I see.” His tone was teasing rather than mocking, which was something she hadn’t
counted on.

“I didn’t tell him anything
,” she said dully.

“I know you didn’t.”

“And I suppose you had something to do with that.” He was probably screwing with her mind again, damn him. No wonder she’d been unable to communicate.

“Just what is it you think I did, Eva?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know. Mind control or something. You’ve done it before.”

“I see.”

Eva pushed the hair back from her temples, feeling frustrated and confused. It was all his fault, all of it. He was putting her emotions through the wringer. She didn’t know up from down anymore.

Julian unfolded his arms and slowly came to stand in front of her
, so near that she could barely breathe. He didn’t touch her, instead leaning in to whisper softly against her cheek, “I did nothing. You protected me of your own free will.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

If Wine is Bottled Poetry, Then What is Vodka?

Eva paced the living room anxiously. She hadn’t seen Julian since their brief altercation the day before, and he hadn’t come down to eat anything all day. Which
, knowing his habits, could only mean one thing.