Ravenous

house, hound dog.'

Mac laughed as Suki sailed away, green spikes lurid in the potlights.

Good things like this just don't happen to me. An odd tingling in his stomach— something between hunger and anticipation—made him squirm on the vinyl-padded chair. Jenny, eh? An old-fashioned name. Nice. He wanted to devour her with his mouth, with his eyes, with his lovemaking.

'The server seems to think you need congratulating,' Jenny said. She sounded almost formal, the way he remembered the supersmart girls in English lit class used to talk.

'I think I do. In the last sixty seconds I've gone from lonely man at the bar to man at a table with a lovely lady. And a beer.' Even if he was on duty and couldn't drink it.

'What are you hoping for in the next minute?'

'Dinner. I'm a simple man. How about you?'

'I don't know. Company, I suppose.'

'You've got that.'

'And you have your food. The star of our fortunes sails to its zenith.'

Okay, she's read waaay too much Shakespeare. But Mac was distracted by the arrival of his steak sandwich, still sizzling from the grill. 'Aren't you eating?'

'Not yet, but you go ahead.'

He did, his mouth watering in anticipation of the garlic pepper sauce. As he chewed, she snitched a slice of pickle from the edge of his plate and popped it into her mouth. There was a kittenish mischief in the gesture, as if she were bad but knew he would forgive her.

He watched the deliberate naughtiness, idly wondering where it might lead. She grinned, and he was caught by the way the candlelight shone on her perfectly formed teeth. And the perfectly smooth skin in the low neckline of her sweater. That was one fine neckline.

Having finished with the pickle, she took a sip of her cream-topped coffee, then made a face. 'Not a good taste combination.'

She licked the white cream froth from her lips with the tip of a tiny, pink tongue. A dusting of sugar had fallen from the rim of her cup into the hollow between her breasts, and all Mac could think of was taking his own tongue to that softly sculpted region.

'Hold still.' He picked up his napkin and dabbed at a smudge of cream at the corner of her mouth. She tipped up her face, studying him from under lowered lashes.

'You have lovely manners,' she said, then dipped her finger into the cream. She licked it off, her tongue swiping around the neatly rounded nail. 'Are you proposing to make me presentable with each sip?'

'There are worse ways to spend an evening, honey,' Mac replied, 'but I'll need something better than a paper napkin for the job.'

'Not a good napkin if it can't handle a bit of cream.' She took another sip, the rich froth clinging to her lips. She looked like a greedy little girl.

'I am sure you can, uh, encourage it to keep its shape.'

She caught his gaze and held it for a long moment.

'You use this pickup routine often?' Mac asked.

One corner of her mouth curled up in a salacious quirk. 'Why not? It works.'

Every instinct Mac had screamed that Jenny was trouble, but wow. He couldn't help wondering whether she had any solicitation arrests. Vice might know.

She did the dip-and-lick routine again, that same circular swipe of her tongue over the nail. His eyes fixed on her lips closing around the dollop of cream. Mac loosened his tie and cleared his throat. What was the matter with him? He'd forgotten about his sandwich, and he had to get back to work. He looked at his watch. Then he looked at Jenny.

Man, I've been a good boy way too long. I so need to have some time off.

'I can see you have to leave,' she said sadly. 'And we've not even had a chance to talk.'

'Duty calls.'

'This late at night?'

'I'm a cop,' he said, waiting for the inevitable golly-I'll-pay-those-parking-tickets face.

She merely lifted one eyebrow. 'What kind of cop?'

'Right now I'm working homicides.'

'Fancy that,' she said. 'Can I call you? You're clearly busy now, but maybe later?'

'Oh, yeah,' he said quickly, whipping out his card.

He held it out to her, but she grabbed his tie like a handle and, half rising, leaned across the table to plant a hard kiss on his lips. Her mouth was sweet with sugar and cream, but there was urgency in her tongue, as if he were the meal she had come for. He could feel her teeth crease the tender flesh inside his lower lip, and a sudden trickle of blood.

Mac thought he might have gasped. He wasn't a hearts-and-flowers kinda guy, but even he liked to warm up his engines first.

And then the burn started, somewhere near the backs of his knees. A wave of heat crawled up his body, arousing the flesh as it came, then leaving it exhausted as it passed.

A ripple of life passed from his mouth to hers. It was an orgasm of taking, with nothing of sowing. He shuddered, as if the icy finger of the Reaper had slithered up his spine. Mac fell back in his chair, all but paralyzed. His heart was pounding light and fast, like a bird beating its wings against a window, doing its damnedest to escape.

Jenny stood, and for the first time he really saw her clothes. She wore a skirt and sweater, but they were shabby and didn't quite fit. He knew the look. Stolen. Maybe stolen off the dead.

She dumped a handful of loose change on the table without counting it.

'I'll call you,' she said, edging out from behind the table. Her manner was natural, just an old friend saying good-bye till next time.

Next time? No effing way! He couldn't move, either held by some unseen force or else too weak to turn and watch as she pushed open the door and left. He felt the blast of air on his cheek as rain-soaked wind blew in from the parking lot. Then the door clunked shut.

Mac drew in a long, shaking breath, now finding he could drag himself upright in his chair. His head felt too large, inflated to a hyperalert awareness of his surroundings.

How had she done that? What the hell was she?

With horror, he felt the pricking of frightened tears. Get a grip!

And then suddenly his appetite was back, and he dove at his sandwich with Cro-Magnon table manners. The bun had gone soggy, but he didn't care. The food filled his universe, the only important act making sure he devoured every last scrap.

He started as Suki appeared at his elbow.

'So,' she chirped, 'you guys gonna hook up and have some fun?'

'I sure as hell hope not,' he said, his mouth full. He took a long swig of the forbidden Guinness.

Suki fingered her nose ring. 'Huh. Yeah, I hate dating, too.'

Chapter 11

When well-meaning people say romantic train wrecks will look better in the morning, they lie. Ben was gone, and so was the future Holly had planned with him.

She turned off the shower and groped for a towel. Blotting her face dry, Holly looked in the mirror. She looked drawn, her eyes puffy from crying in her sleep. It was bad enough feeling like something scraped from the back of the vegetable crisper; she hated looking the part as well.

There was nothing she could do. Someday she would meet a man who didn't mind a little witch in his woman. Or a lot of witch. With a giant demon mouse stalking her. So the demon problem is a buzz