Myths, Murder & Love

Chapter 8

Leon Argos had lived long enough to learn that patience usually served him well.

Tonight, it was beginning to irritate him.

He turned his glass slowly against the polished bar, sending the remaining ice around the bottom with a quiet clink.

Three hours.

He'd stopped to see Lydia that morning, and she'd looked up from the pastry dough beneath her hands with that distant look in her eyes.

"Go to Moab." That had been it. Leon had asked why.

Lydia had gone back to her pastry dough. He had asked when. She'd told him he would know.

A lifetime of knowing Lydia had taught Leon better than to argue when she looked at him that way. He trusted her instincts, even when she refused to explain them.

So he'd gone to Moab. He'd waited. And now he was watching a woman in a turquoise dress eat a cheeseburger.

Leon smiled into his iced tea.

At the moment, he didn't think Lydia had been wrong.

He had noticed the woman the moment she'd entered the Red Coyote. That much had been unavoidable.

What he hadn't expected was the strange pull that followed. Attraction was hardly unfamiliar to him. Leon had known beautiful women. He had courted a few, loved some, and learned that desire could be powerful without being permanent.

This felt different and he couldn't have explained how. That bothered him. Leon was accustomed to understanding his own mind.

Nikki stopped beside the woman's table with a glass of water and pulled an order pad from her apron. "Have you decided?"

The woman closed the menu. "Maria at my motel gave me very specific instructions to order a hamburger."

Nikki grinned. "Gray hair? About this tall? Looks at you like she already knows what you're going to say?"

The woman's laugh carried across the room. "That's her."

Leon smiled before he could stop himself.

Nikki tapped her order pad. "Then you'd better listen to Maria. How do you want it?"

The woman glanced at the menu. "Medium. Cheese, everything on it, and fries."

Nikki finished writing the order. “Something to drink?”

The woman hesitated.

Her gaze wandered toward the bottles behind the bar before returning to Nikki.

She gave a small shrug. “I don't drink much, but I'd like something with flavor. Nothing so strong I forget where my motel is.”

Nikki considered the options behind the bar. “Do you like peaches?”

The woman's face brightened. “I love peaches.”

Nikki nodded toward the bartender. “He makes a peach mule with ginger beer and lime. I can tell him to go easy on the vodka.”

The woman's smile brightened. "That sounds perfect."

Nikki leaned closer. “We'll make it the polite version.”

The woman laughed again. “One Polite Peach Mule, then.”

Nikki tucked the order pad against her apron. “Coming up.”

Leon watched Nikki walk away.

He still didn't know the woman's name, but he'd already learned several things about her.

She was traveling alone. She didn't drink much. She loved peaches.

And she had a laugh he wanted to hear again. That last thought caught him off guard.

Leon lifted his iced tea and took a slow drink.

She'd already caught him watching her once. Twice, actually.

The second time, she hadn't looked away quite as quickly, which was interesting.

Nikki returned carrying a copper mug beaded with condensation. A peach slice rested against the rim beside a curl of lime. "Your Polite Peach Mule."

The woman lifted the mug and took a cautious sip.

Her eyes widened. "That is dangerous."

Nikki laughed. "It tastes friendlier than it is."

The woman took another sip. "I'll remember that."

Nikki left her with the drink. The woman took another sip and looked toward the dance floor.

Leon followed her gaze. Two couples had taken advantage of the band's latest song. One moved easily together while the other appeared to be negotiating every step.

When Leon looked back, the woman was still watching them.

There was something in her expression now. Longing. Then she looked at him. Leon didn't move. Neither did she.

Her gaze held his for several seconds before dropping to the copper mug in front of her. His mouth curved. All right, maybe Lydia's instructions had been more specific than he'd given her credit for.

A few minutes later, Nikki returned with the hamburger.

The woman looked at the plate and laughed.

Leon couldn't hear what she said, but Nikki answered before walking away.

The woman picked up the burger with both hands and took a bite. Her eyes closed. Leon chuckled quietly. There was nothing restrained about the pleasure on her face.

When her eyes opened again, they went almost immediately to the dance floor. Then to him. Each time she looked away a little more slowly. Leon had no intention of rushing her.

Lydia had told him to come to Moab. She had told him he would know when he got there. He was beginning to believe he did.

The woman took another bite of her hamburger before wiping her fingers on her napkin.

Her attention returned to the dancers. Leon watched her expression change. She wanted to dance. That much was easy to read.

Then she looked at him. Ah. That was far more interesting.

She took another drink from the copper mug. The drink seemed to lend her just enough courage to try again.

Leon lowered his gaze to hide his smile. When he looked again, she was watching the dance floor. Then him. Then the dance floor again.

Her shoulders shifted. One hand settled against the table. She drew one foot beneath her chair.

She was going to stand.

Anticipation tightened pleasantly in Leon's chest.

He remained where he was. He wanted to cross the room, but there was something rather wonderful about realizing she might cross it first.

Her eyes met his again. Leon let her see the answer before she ever asked the question.

Come here.

For one heartbeat, he thought she would. Then something changed. The confidence remained, as did the interest, but the hand against the table relaxed and her foot moved back.

She reached for her drink instead. Leon watched her take another sip. A moment later, she gave the smallest shake of her head, as though answering a question only she could hear.

Then she turned away from him.

Leon set down his glass. He'd waited long enough.

Thallia stared at the dance floor and tried not to be annoyed with herself. This was ridiculous. She was a grown woman.

She had crossed half the country alone. She'd walked out of a career that had been quietly stolen from her and climbed through a seventh-floor window rather than let Trevor keep her trapped in an apartment long enough to explain why she shouldn't leave him.

She could ask a man to dance.

She'd almost done it. Twice. But now that the moment had passed, crossing the room felt much harder than it had a few seconds ago.

Maybe tonight, almost was enough.

Tomorrow she would drive to Olympia Springs.

Tonight she would finish an excellent hamburger, enjoy her dangerously polite Peach Mule, listen to the band, and congratulate herself for having briefly considered doing something completely unlike the woman she'd become over the last few years.

That counted for something. Probably.

Thallia reached for her copper mug and took another sip. She turned her attention toward the band, determined to enjoy the music instead.

A movement beside her table caught her attention.

She looked up.

The man from the bar was standing beside her. Thallia froze, the copper mug still halfway to her lips. How had he crossed the room without her noticing?

Up close, his eyes were even more extraordinary than she'd realized.

Hazel wasn't enough to describe them. Green edged the irises while warm gold caught the amber light from above.

And he was looking directly at her. Not past her or around her, but at her. Thallia's heart gave one hard, traitorous thump.

His mouth curved. "I've spent the last several minutes hoping you would look at me one more time."

Oh… Well… That was certainly one way to introduce yourself.

Thallia tightened her fingers around the copper mug, fighting the smile threatening her mouth. "Have you?"

"I have." There wasn't a trace of embarrassment in the admission.

The man glanced toward the dance floor and then back at her.

Thallia had the unnerving sensation that he'd been standing at the bar listening to every argument she'd just had with herself.

His gaze dropped briefly to the hand she'd placed against the table. Then returned to her face.

He knew. There was no possible way he could know, but he knew.

Thallia narrowed her eyes. "Were you watching me?"

His smile deepened. "You were watching me."

Heat rushed into her cheeks. "That wasn't an answer."

His eyes warmed with unmistakable amusement. "No, but it seemed worth mentioning."

Thallia laughed despite herself. The sound appeared to please him.

He stepped closer, but stopped with enough distance between them that she never felt crowded.

Then he held out his hand. "But I'm done making you wonder whether I want you to."

Her laughter disappeared, and for a moment she could only look at him. The words weren't coy. There was no challenge hidden inside them.

He simply wanted her to know. His hand remained steady between them, giving her the choice.

"Dance with me."

Thallia looked from his hand to his face. "You don't even know my name."

His smile remained easy. "I don't know it yet."

Thallia studied him. "That doesn't bother you?"

"At the moment?" His gaze held hers. "Not nearly as much as missing this dance would."

His interest couldn't have been clearer, and he made no attempt to hide it.

And heaven help her, she liked it.

Thallia glanced toward the dance floor. Then back at him.

Twenty-four hours ago she'd been standing in Chicago while Trevor tried to convince her that the betrayal had been for her own good.

Tonight a stranger with impossible eyes was standing in front of her making no attempt to hide the fact that he wanted to dance with her.

Thallia was tired of measuring what she wanted against someone else's opinion.

She set down her Peach Mule. "All right."

His smile changed, not dramatically, but something in it became warmer.

Thallia placed her hand in his. The instant their palms touched, warmth rushed along her fingers and up her arm.

She stopped and so did he. Their eyes met.

For the briefest moment, the easy confidence disappeared from his expression. He had felt it. Whatever ‘it’ was.

Thallia was certain of that. Then his fingers closed gently around hers.

"You all right?" he asked.

She should have pulled her hand away.

Instead, her fingers settled more comfortably against his. "Ask me after the dance."

A quiet laugh escaped him. "I can do that."

He led her toward the floor.