And then another voice chimed in. The truth was that he scared her. And maybe he scared her just because she felt such a strong sense of attraction to him.
Would she have been so afraid if it hadn’t been for what had happened in the Square, the crystal ball and the illusion of genuine danger?
“Wow,” he murmured, and she realized that he was looking at her sketch. “That’s magnificent.”
“I don’t know about magnificent,” she murmured, embarrassed.
He never actually asked if he could join her, and she never suggested that he do so, but he drew out the chair across from her anyway and sat down.
She was glad, she realized. She liked having him there, liked talking with him. Liked feeling his eyes on her appreciatively.
And yet she was still…wary.
Scared.
Something wasn’t right.
“You’re quite an artist,” he said.
“It’s a living,” she replied.
He flashed her a smile. A very attractive smile. “Not everyone is good enough to make a living at it.”
“I’ve been lucky.”
“Are your friends artists, too?”
“Yes. Artists, graphic designers.”
“You do logos, fliers, that type of thing?” he inquired politely.
“Yes, and ad layouts and so on,” she agreed.
She didn’t want him to leave, she realized.
What the hell was it about him that appealed to her so strongly? She wanted to touch him, make sure he was real, stroke the contours of his face, feel his heart beat under her palm.
He tapped the table near the sketch. “I’ve seen her. It’s an incredible likeness. There’s a touch of magic to her, and you’ve captured it.”
“Thanks.” She hesitated. “So you…know her?”
He shook his head. “I saw her when I was walking around. She’s so unusual, so arresting, that you feel compelled to look at her. You’ve caught all that in this sketch.”
“Thanks,” she murmured.
“So you all had your fortunes told?”
“Yes.”
“And?” His tone was teasing, his smile captivating.
And yet, despite his teasing tone, did she sense a note of seriousness behind it? Did he suspect that she had seen a strange vision?
Of course not.
“We’re all going to live long, happy lives,” she lied.
“Wonderful So where are your friends now? Did they get lost in New Orleans?” he asked, a slight frow creasing his brow, though he still spoke lightly.
“They’re not lost,” she said, then added, “I’ve simply misplaced them.”
“Worrying nonetheless,” he said
“It’s broad daylight, and there are tons of people around,” she countered.
A waitress came by. “I’d love a tea, too,” he said, then looked at Lauren. “May I buy you lunch?”
“I should really wait.”
“Until your misplaced friends are located?”
She turned her attention to the street momentarily, then looked back at him. She was startled when he set a hand over hers. Pinpricks of sensation seemed to leap like fire across her flesh, pass into her bloodstream and balloon at the center of her being like a flow of lava. She was tempted to pull her hand away, then realized that would be far too indicative of her feelings.
She stared at him instead, slowly arching a brow.
Suddenly his expression grew serious, and his tone matched it when he spoke. “Please, you may think I’m insane for saying this, but I promise you, I’m not. I’m afraid that you and your friends are in danger here.”
Yes, there
“Oh, please,” she said, closing her eyes for a moment against her disappointment that he’d turned out to be a loon. “Not this again.”
