They didn’t.
They pretended nothing untoward happened and moved on.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He cocked his head and studied her as if she were a foreign species. And perhaps to him, she was. Based on his accent, he wasn’t American by birth. Although for the life of her, she couldn’t place his origin.
Another set of headlights swept the two of them, and a soft scarlet glow reflected back from his shadowy gaze. All the terrifying images of being murdered flooded back.
The red flare had to be a trick of the light, right?
Her mind immediately went to vampires and other horrifying things that went bump in the night. No more scary flicks for her. Starting now!
She was quickly losing the battle not to freak right the fuck out.
“Um, if you d-don’t mind, I need to be g-going,” she stammered.
“I thought you were lost,” he replied, his voice heavy with amusement.
Well, yeah, there was that one pesky detail.
“What is the address you are looking for?” he asked kindly.
“Sixteen-eleven Livingston Street.”
“I was heading that way. I would be happy to escort you.”
Should she stay in this man’s presence for another second? What she could see of his wicked smile was doing weird things to her internal wiring. Part of her wanted to throw herself in his arms for saving her, but she wasn’t quite sure he had. He could be in league with her stalker.
Another set of headlights showed the concerned expression on his chiseled features.
The war waged inside: to trust or not to trust, that was the question.
Surely, anyone who looked like him wasn’t a serial killer, right?
Remember Ted Bundy, Nadia. He had charm as well as looks.
The stranger’s lips tightened, and he cast his eyes skyward.
Heat flooded her cheeks. She’d always been told her thoughts were written all over her face, and she was reasonably certain her serial-killer conflict had been reflected there as well.
No doubt, he was having an inward laugh at her expense.
“What’s your name?” She’d read attacks were less likely if you befriended a potential assailant. Although unsure if it was true, Nadia decided it couldn’t hurt to try.
He tilted his head. The action caused his hair to swing forward. It brought with it the scent of apples, cinnamon, and heavenly spices.
Nadia inhaled deeply.
The man smelled like warm apple pie—her favorite.
“Luc.”
“Huh?”
“My name is Luc.”
“Oh! Yeah, I’m Nadia.”
