Still Lake - Anne Stuart [92]
“Delicious,” he said, his voice low and beguiling. “Utterly succulent.”
“I hadn’t heard the Northeast Kingdom murderer was a cannibal,” she said.
“Not in the traditional sense of the word. What can I say? You make me hungry.”
She shivered, and she wasn’t sure why. It was an unseasonably warm night, and she felt hot and breathless in the car. And chilled. She needed to get home, make sure Grace and Marty were all right. She needed to cool down, strip off her layers of clothes. She looked at him sitting on the porch in the moonlight, obviously amused by her. Oh, my God, she’d had sex with a murderer! And even worse, she wanted to again.
“If you’re the Northeast Kingdom murderer, how many people did you kill?” she demanded. He still hadn’t moved, he just sat there watching her. Like a chef, trying to decide exactly what he was going to do with a plump young hen.
“I was convicted of killing one woman, and I spent five years in prison,” he said in his cool, emotionless voice. “They overturned it on a technicality, set me free and didn’t bother to give me a new trial. I’d been working toward my law degree while I was in jail and they knew they’d be screwed if they tried anything.”
“A felon can’t have a license to practice law.”
“Very informed, aren’t you? But I wasn’t a convicted felon—it was overturned, remember.”
“So you only killed that one girl?”
“I don’t know what I did. I had a blackout that night, and I’ve never remembered what happened. That’s why I came back here—to see if I could find out what really happened. To find out whether or not I really murdered anyone.”
“And what have you found out?”
“Not much. How much do you trust me, Sophie? Not very much, I expect. For all you know you could be my next victim.”
“How reassuring.” She felt slightly faint.
His smile was oddly self-deprecating. “I can give you a ten-minute head start. I’ll promise to stay on the porch long enough for you to get home safely.”
“And I’m supposed to trust you?”
“You don’t have much choice. There are problems with that scenario, though. What if I’m not the killer? What if someone else is lurking in the woods around Still Lake? Waiting to catch you alone?”
“I think I’ll take my chances.”
Why did he have to have such a sexy mouth, particularly when he smiled that rueful smile? “There’s another thing, too.”
“And that is?”
“You don’t want to go home. You want to trust me.”
She laughed at that. “I’m not that much of an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot at all. Your instincts tell you to trust me. Your brain tells you to run.”
“So it looks like a draw.”
He shook his head. “Throw in your hormones, and the answer is clear. Get out of the damned car and come upstairs.”
“Upstairs? You’re out of your mind,” she said flatly. “You tell me you’ve been lying to me ever since you met me, you tell me you may be a mass murderer, and you expect me to sleep with you?”
“You already knew I was lying. You already slept with me. I haven’t quite figured out why, but you want me almost as much as I want you. Which, trust me, is a hell of a lot. I’m here for a reason, and I don’t need distractions, and yet all I can think about is you. So get out of the fucking car and come upstairs with me.”
“I thought you said I could go home if I want.”
“You can. I just don’t think you want to.”
“Watch me.” She unlocked the door, half expecting him to jump her.
He didn’t move from his spot on the porch, his long legs still propped on the railing. He just watched her out of dark, hooded eyes.
She opened the door, stepping out on the weed-choked driveway. He wasn’t coming after her, she knew. He wasn’t going to touch her, coerce her, force her.
“You know, if you’re a serial rapist and killer, then you’re doing a piss-poor job of it,” she said, closing the door behind her. “You’re not supposed to give your victims a chance.”
“Maybe I like the idea of a chase. I only said I’d give you ten minutes.”
She blinked. He sounded so calm, so matter of fact. She was standing in the middle of a deserted clearing with a man who’d been convicted of killing at least one woman,