The Unquiet - J. D. Robb [118]
Bree took her time setting out a place mat, arranging her dishes and flatware, before cutting into the pastry and filling her plate. While she ate, Jamie’s eyes took on a wolfish look as he stared at her from across the table.
With each bite, his gaze narrowed, and she could swear he was actually tasting the food, chewing, swallowing, right along with her. Though it was unnerving, it was also extremely intimate, and she found herself chewing slower, taking the time to really savor the delicate flavor of the chicken and vegetables swimming in broth.
“Is it as good as it smells?”
“It is.” She nodded, before a sudden thought struck. “If you can smell, why can’t you taste?”
“I believe I can. I think I can actually taste it, or else I have a memory of the way potpie tastes.”
“Would you like to try a bite?”
He shook his head. “I’m beyond human pleasures.”
“Now, why do you say that?”
He shrugged. “It is the way of it.”
“If that’s so, how do you explain your anger? Isn’t that a purely human emotion?”
“What an odd question.” He arched a brow, as though he’d experienced a sudden epiphany. “Are you saying that, though I’m a spirit, I’m also still human?”
“Are you sure you aren’t? If you can smell, you ought to be able to taste.” She pinned him with a look. “If you can feel anger, then surely you can feel joy.”
“ ’Tis true. I can feel.” He spoke the words with a sense of awe.
“It would seem so.”
They both fell silent, remembering the almost unbearable arousal they’d shared under cover of darkness. The feelings, at least for Bree, had been deeply intense. From the look on Jamie’s face, she had an idea that he’d experienced something similar.
He stood and began to pace, hands linked behind his back, deep in thought, wearing the familiar scowl.
Uncomfortable with the silence, Bree felt the need to say something. “After your reaction to my plans for an inn, I wasn’t looking forward to sharing them with Gwynn and Duncan.” She sat back, sipping her tea. “But they couldn’t have been more excited.”
He stopped his pacing to stare at her. “Aye. I saw how eager they are to be of help to you. You must be very persuasive to bring those two old harpies around.”
“They’re good people. They’ve missed this place since moving to the village. They spent the night in their old apartments, in case . . .” She paused, realizing what she’d been about to say, and amended quickly, “In case I needed them.”
“You mean, in case the evil spirit of the cottage drove you away screaming into the night.”
Bree smiled. “I told them that you and I had met, and had come to an understanding.”
“And what would that be?” His scowl deepened.
“Since neither of us is willing to turn this place over to the other, we’ll simply have to find a way to coexist here.”
“Coexist.” He spat out the word.
“Tolerate, then. I’m afraid you’ll have to tolerate my presence here, since I have no intention of leaving.”
“Not even when the inn is ready for guests?”
She shook her head. “Now that I have their word that Gwynn and Duncan are eager to be a part of this, I’d prefer to live here and let them take over their old apartment in the inn.” She looked around, as though assessing her surroundings. “Once the contractors are finished in the manor house, maybe I’ll have them make a few improvements here as well.”
“I should have known.” He threw up his hands and stormed out of the room. Over his shoulder he shouted, “Leave it to a female to think of a score of ways to add to my torment and make my life as miserable as possible. Workmen,” he shouted. “Here. Underfoot all the day. Woman, I’ll not be lulled into . . . coexisting with the likes of you.”
Bree sat very still, listening to the sound of doors being slammed while the lights flickered on and off. She could hear the breaking of glass as he took out his anger on the few remaining vases left in the bedroom.
Instead of fear, she felt only disgust. He was going to have to learn to curb that nasty temper, or he’d feel the sting of hers.
As she set about clearing the table