Eternal by V. Forrest (new reading TXT) 📗

her? That made him go against everything he knew, everything that was easy and comfortable?

“It was too easy,” he said slowly, thinking his way through the words, trying hard not to get dragged down by the emotion that accompanied them. “Too comfortable. Too…boring, I suppose. I loved her, but I didn’t love her. Not deeply. Not madly, insanely, like I couldn’t get enough of her.” He paused. “It sounds…sappy. But you know what I mean?”

The corner of Fia’s sensual mouth turned up. “I know what you mean.”

“Do you?”

She looked down, then back up at him. The ice clinked in her glass. “I do.”

“That experience talking?”

“Let’s just say I’ve been in both seats, yours and hers.”

She spoke slowly, her voice husky. He sensed this wasn’t easy for her, talking about personal things. But the fact that she was willing to share that tiny bit of private information only strengthened his conviction. He’d done the right thing leaving Baltimore and Stacy. Coming here. Even if things didn’t work out between him and Fia.

“So…” she said.

“So…”

She made him smile. Made him think. Made him feel. And that was why he’d come to Philly, really. That was it in a nutshell. She made him step outside his carefully constructed box.

“Hey,” he said on impulse. What was that old saying, in for a penny, in for a pound? “You want to have dinner?” He motioned over his shoulder to the tables behind them.

She looked in the direction of the restaurant area beyond the bar and back at him. “Dinner?”

It almost seemed as if it were a foreign idea to her.

“Yeah. You know. Sit down. Have something to eat. Converse.”

She hesitated, but it was a good hesitation. As if she was surprised he would ask her. Again, the genuine smile. “Dinner would be good.”

Fia stayed at the pub with Glen far longer than she’d intended. They had dinner. Dessert. He had another beer. They’d lingered long after he’d taken the bill out from under her hand and paid for it. They talked about Stacy. About his new job and the government’s war against terrorism. About the office and the guys he’d be working with. They talked a little about the cases in Clare Point.

Before Fia realized it, it was after eleven and the restaurant was closing. Their waiter offered to find them a seat at the bar. Fia thought that if she’d agreed, Glen would have gone along with it.

He was definitely interested in her. And it wasn’t a post-breakup interest. In fact, although he didn’t come out and say so, she got the distinct impression that she had something to do with the breakup. Or at least his realization that he didn’t want to marry Stacy.

But afraid that too much of a good thing might somehow curse their relationship before it ever really got started, Fia said good night at the table. Glen walked her back to her car and she said good night again. No good-night kiss, but there was definite curbside chemistry going on.

All the way home Fia thought about Glen, about how nice it had been to just sit and talk, have dinner, laugh. Not just meaningless chat on a bar stool. Meaningless sex afterward. Or worse, meaningless bloodletting in a seedy alley. It had been a real date. That was what it had been.

And it wasn’t until Fia was greeting her purring cat that she realized this was the first night in a very long time that she had not gone out stalking, or at least wanted to. Tonight she’d come home without taking human blood, but instead of being filled with the longing emptiness she often returned with, she found herself content.

Later in the week, humming to herself, Fia stood in line at the Starbucks a block from the office. She and Glen had agreed to meet this morning in the conference room on her floor, just to touch base on the Clare Point cases. There was nothing new in either case and both knew it. It was just an excuse to see each other and the idea that he thought he needed an excuse to see her made her foolishly happy.

She was picking up coffee and tea for them. She knew what kind of coffee Glen liked because the morning after dinner together, his first day at the office, he’d brought her tea from Starbucks and had been drinking black coffee with caramel syrup in it. She’d played it cool yesterday, fighting the urge to bring him a coffee, but this was it, this was the morning.

The line crawled as men and women in suits ordered drinks Fia couldn’t even identify. She glanced at her wristwatch. The coffee was a good idea. Being late to meet Glen wouldn’t be.

“Ah, I’ll have a double latte with a shot of hemoglobin.”

Joseph’s voice in her ear startled her, and she jerked around to see him standing behind her. “What are you doing here?”

“Same as you.” He nodded toward the counter. “Waiting in line.” He frowned. “Since when did you start drinking coffee?”

“Since when did you start frequenting the Arch Street Starbucks? What do you want?”

“Line’s moving.” He pointed at the space ahead of her.

She walked forward. “I’m serious. What are you doing here? You can’t be here,” she said under her breath.

“What? I can’t be at Starbucks now? You’re the gatekeeper of the city and Starbucks?” He chuckled. “I’m just getting coffee, Fee. Quit being so suspicious. I’m meeting a realtor a block from here in fifteen minutes. Checking out some office space.”

Fia groaned, seriously considering just walking out of the shop. There were still at least six people ahead of her in line.

“So, how’s business?” he asked congenially.

He was dressed in a sharp navy blue suit and brown wing tips. Only Joseph could get away with brown wing tips.

“Mafia, terrorists, bank robbers, and pedophiles keeping you busy?” he asked.

“Please lower your voice.”

The scowl that followed somehow made him even better looking. “No one’s listening to us. Everyone’s too wrapped up in