His hand paused. “What did he say to you?”
“He said that there are eyes in the shadows,” Nadine said. “He said I c-couldimagine. Just like you did.”
Cal’s eyes flickered. “He didn’t see us,” he said, with a strange emphasis Nadine didn’t understand. “But you should stay away from him.” He paused again. “You should stay away from me, too.”
She looked away, and then back at his face. “In the car,” she said haltingly, “you said you were dangerous.”
“I am.”
“You don’t seem dangerous.”
He looked at her mouth and she felt him grip her hand more firmly “I thought we’d dispensed with lying,” he said, and a frisson of heat rippled down her spine.
When she inhaled, she could taste the fumes of the alcohol coming off his lips.He’s going to kiss me, she thought, and reached for him—for his face. But he caught her hand before it could make contact, gripping her just hard enough that she couldn’t pull away.
“What am I going to do with you?” he murmured.
Everything, that voice in her head whispered, and it was like he’d heard every wicked thought in her head, because his eyes went to her mouth again.
“When’s your birthday?” she blurted.
He blinked. “What?”
“Your birthday. When is it?”
Cal leaned back, releasing her fingers, though he left his other hand on her leg. “March thirteenth.” He took a bracing sip of sake. “Why?”
“Just curious.”Just trying to distract you.
He was frowning now. “When’s yours?”
“October. Just a few days before Halloween.”
“The scorpion.”
“Scorpio,” she corrected, surprised. “Yes. You’re into horoscopes?”
“No.” He sounded distant again, the way he had when he parked the car. “Odessa is.”
He was painfully attractive when he was trying to be, but he was even better looking when he wasn’t. With his wet, messy hair and thoughtful frown, he looked almost approachable.
Which really did make him dangerous, because Nadine knew he wasn’t.
“You seem close to your sister,” she said, a little hesitantly.
“As close as one can be in our family, yes. I suppose I am.” His eyes became distant. “Did you ever hear that story of the frog and the scorpion?”
“No.”
“It goes something like this. There was once a scorpion and a frog. The scorpion wanted to cross a river and asked the frog if he could ride across on the frog’s back. The frog replied that she was afraid the scorpion would sting her. The scorpion argued that that would be foolish, because if he did, they would both drown. The frog decided this sounded reasonable and ferried them both across the stream, but halfway there, the scorpion lashed out, piercing the frog with its sting.
“As the frog and the scorpion were both dying, the frog asked, ‘Why did you do that to me? Now you’ve killed us both.’ And the scorpion replied, ‘I’m sorry; it’s my nature.’”
“What a terrible story,” said Nadine. “No, nobody ever read me that at bedtime.”
“Mm, well, I can’t say it was ever my favorite, either.”
“What’s the point of it? Or is there one?”
