Highlander's Need: Winter Solestice (Against All Odds Series 4) Page 10

  Oh, no. Please, God, Satan, anyone who might be listening, make it so that he’s going after someone else. Unmoved by her prayer, the man kept coming toward Jasmine’s seat, treating her with the sight of his own set of sparse, yellow teeth along the way.

  “Well, well, ‘twas about time for you to give me the eye, pur’ty thing,” the intruder bellowed out, the rough, gravelly tone of his voice somehow cutting through the omnipresent racket with little effort.

  Seems like nobody’s listening after all, Jasmine concluded, donning the least friendly expression she could instead of replying to the older man’s greeting.

  “Always knew ya had a thing for meh, little miss Paulson.” He kept on talking despite the complete lack of reaction on Jasmine’s part. Taking his unpleasantness to another level, he pulled out a chair before sitting down directly opposite the obviously uninterested woman.

  “All’a you’s the same, y’know? Yo’ time comes, you ain’t so pretty no more, them young’uns don’t chase you around th’ way they used to.” He practically spat the words out. It was remarkable how repugnant he was.

  Does he really approach girls with that attitude? Or is this his special routine, prepared just for me? Involuntarily, the woman chuckled. She regretted it immediately afterward.

  “Ah’m right, aren’t I?” The intruder seemed pleased with himself, not giving Jasmine the chance to respond before continuing with his act. Visibly swaying due to intoxication, he bent his torso over the table, now barely more than a foot away from her face. “Don’t take much to figure out. When it comes down to it, all’a ya want th’ same thing.”

  “If there is in fact one need common to all women, I’m sure that it’s to be as far away from you possible,” said another voice, interrupting whatever the older man was about to do, its origin obscured from Jasmine’s view by the interposing body. It was a deep baritone that by all means should have been drowned out by the bass of the music, but somehow managed to remain clear and understandable.

  Like a spring, the old intruder jerked himself back into a standing position, immediately turning around to face this stranger. There was strength in those old bones yet; that much was apparent from the motion, but it all evaporated completely once the older man got a sight of whom he was facing.

  Easily over six-foot-one and built like an athlete, the deep-voiced man towered over most of the bar’s patrons. The crimson shirt he wore over his black pants was slightly unbuttoned at the top, letting everyone know just how well chiseled the upper parts of his pectoral muscles were. His hair was dark and wavy, closely cropped at the back of his head but significantly longer at the top. Adding a curious vibe to this generous display of resplendent masculinity was a pair of sunglasses he wore over his eyes. They were red, and far more reflective than was the norm for shades of that color.

  For several seconds the woman and her unwanted company stared at the new arrival, both surprised for different reasons. Not willing to let the silence go on for much longer, the handsome stranger took a deep breath and spoke again, the tone of his voice still astoundingly clear.

  “The lady does not enjoy your company, sir. It would be best for you to step away right now.” The tone was strangely threatening, but the mysterious man’s posture was anything but—relaxed, slightly bent to the right, his hands resting within the pockets in the side of his pants.

  “She didn’t say a word ‘bout dat!” the older man argued, his left hand dramatically extended toward Jasmine’s part of the table. Noting her lack of confirmation, he sighed, the frustration quickly turning into anger. Now having formed fists with both of his hands, the unwelcome man started yelling at the stranger, the gravelly tone of his voice becoming even less pleasant.

  “You think you’re the shiyet, don’t you? Young, rich an’ good-looking as you are, ya waltz up ‘ere an’ take what’s not yours. Dangnabbit, I was ‘ere first, ya no-good scum-sucking son of a-“

  “It doesn’t matter that she didn’t say it, sir. What matters is that I said it, if you catch my drift.” The mysterious individual interrupted the older one’s ranting with no effort whatsoever, all while raising his right hand toward the upper rim of his glasses. In but a single motion, he lowered them ever so slightly, enough for the standing local to see what lay behind, but insufficient for Jasmine to catch a glimpse.

  Now rendered completely speechless, the unwelcome older man relaxed his body completely, allowing his hands to drop to his sides. Defeated by something Jasmine could not comprehend, he turned toward his right and left their company, avoiding touching or even looking upon the stranger again.

  “That coot won’t bother you again,” the dark-haired man said as he placed his sunglasses. “At least, not anytime soon,” he continued, dazzling Jasmine with a smile full of porcelain-white teeth.

  “Mind if I sit down?” The stranger appeared to have asked only as a formality, having occupied the seat before Jasmine had a chance to respond in any way. Not that she’d have refused such a breath of fresh air.

  “Not at all,” Jasmine replied, a smile unexpectedly creeping across her expression. “Although I find it amusing that you’ve taken the liberty to do so before I even gave you my approval, mister…?”

  “James,” the dark-haired stranger finally introduced himself, still smiling. “James Ackerman, at your service. And if you are not interested in my company, miss, all you need to do is ask and I will be gone as fast as I came.”

  “There’ll be no need for that, thank you.” Surprised by the mysterious man’s skill at grabbing her attention, Jasmine could not help but keep grinning. “You’ve made it abundantly clear that you’re a cut above the rest, at least as far as first impressions go,” she proceeded. “Though we’ll see how things go from there.”

  “We could start with you introducing yourself,” James retorted, giving off the impression of an intense stare even through those non-transparent shades. “I’d hate to have to call you “miss” or “lady” all through the night.”

  “Oh, all through the night, you say?” Jasmine reached for her drink, downing it in a single motion before gazing into her reflection within the stranger’s shades. “Kind of presumptuous of you to assume that we will keep each other company for that long, don’t you think?” She smiled again, the better to take some edge off her words.

  “Not at all,” the man kept smiling back. “I’m that good.”

  A bit of an ego on this one, Jasmine concluded, scanning the man’s features once again, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll bite.

  “Jasmine Paulson, pleased to meet you.” Gracefully, she extended her hand over the table and the stranger responded in kind.

  “A pretty name for a pretty woman,” he commented, the firm yet gentle touch of his palm inviting her to learn more, while not indicating a violent or predatory disposition.

  “Tell me, Jasmine,” James inquired as he released her palm, “What is a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

  "Well, James, I’d ask you the same thing, but I’m afraid you don’t completely fit the question.” She grinned, lowering her view toward where his nether region would be.

  “I am serious,” he replied, the smile disappearing from his face. “You are beautiful, obviously highly educated, and it’s pretty apparent that you’re not quite happy. Why are you here, Jasmine?”

  Initially, Jasmine wanted to keep playing the flirting game. Tell him that she was here waiting for the perfect man. Do a witty word-twister. What little of her rational mind was left by the schnapps wanted to keep this stranger at a distance for at least a little while longer. But the way the man looked, acted and talked, combined with the change of tone in his voice, somehow compelled her to say the truth instead.

  “What else is there to do?” Jasmine finally replied after several long seconds of silence. “When you’ve been in this backwater for as long as I have, you’ve met everyone you’re ever going to meet. Nights like this are the height of my day. To be frank, you’re the most int
eresting thing that’s happened to me in years.”

  Now deprived of her own smile, Jasmine lifted her empty glass for James to see. “It all goes downhill after this.”

  “So I see.” It was amazing how intense a gaze the man could pull off while revealing absolutely no part of his eyes. “That still doesn’t answer my question. This town is not for you. Why live here?”

  “It started out as a sense of obligation, I guess.” Jasmine lowered her glass onto the table, staring into it for a little bit before meeting her reflection again. “My folks were poor, and they didn’t have any children other than me. I was a good student, graduated with a degree in biology fairly quickly; drained my parents’ wallets even quicker, though.”

  Feeling something tighten around her heart, she stopped talking for a moment. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed by the time she was ready to speak again, but if the stranger felt anything akin to annoyance, he most certainly didn’t show it.

  “I needed to get a job. We needed me to get a job. There was an opening in the local high school, and I grabbed it immediately. It isn’t too bad. Working with children is fun for the most part.”

  “Was it worth it?” James inquired as if he was questioning the woman rather than merely getting to know her.

  “Of course not,” Jasmine replied, the grief apparent in her eyes. “My folks died pretty soon anyway, and I’m still here, a decade older, doors rapidly closing around me. But that’s life, I guess.”

  “But enough about me, I think,” her expression brightened on the prospect of changing the subject. “I’d like to know more about you, James. Who are you? Why are you here?”

  “Well, normally I’d open up by saying that I’m not from around here.” James lifted his brow as a grin crept back onto his face. “But you already know that, so I’ll just skip to the next part.

  “I am a geneticist, actually,” he continued, still fixated on Jasmine while gesturing for the barmaid to come and take his order. “So you see, we have even more in common than you thought. Genetics and biology go hand in hand. You think the two of us might get to that level in the future?”

  Oh, he’s a charmer, this one. Jasmine felt herself grin unintentionally again.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” she retorted as she gauged his reaction. There was no chink in that impenetrable mantle of self-confidence. “But I do know that you are right about one thing, Mr. Ackerman.”

  “And what would that be?” James smiled, visibly amused.

  “You are most definitely good at whatever it is that you do. Not everyone can drag a smile out of me when I’m down in the dumps like that, and I mean it. This is a touchy subject for me… one that causes me a lot of pain, and for some reason I can open up to you about it without trouble. Best of all, with your help, I can snap back from that state of mind pretty fast. That’s a gift.”

  “I’m flattered that you think so,” James replied, apparently still waiting for her to continue. “You’re not the first person to do so. But on the other hand, you are the most beautiful.”

  God, he is so skilled with words. Jasmine felt herself getting lost in the display that the dark-haired man put before her, wondering what else he was skilled at. Everything about him radiated power: the posture, the facial gestures, the muscles… even the verbosity. It was all spot on. The perfect man sat right next to her, and for some reason was showing interest in her.

  Something is wrong here, though. Her instincts suddenly turned vocal, but she immediately drowned them out. What’s the worst that can happen? She argued with her inner voice, intent on not missing the opportunity to better know this fascinating individual. Even if the stranger turned out to be some sort of homicidal maniac, at least that’d be a change from the slow death she had to face while holed up in this place.

  Alright, let’s give this a shot, she concluded, so lost in thought she didn’t even register the serving girl.

  “Miss Paulson,” James’ voice pierced through her hazy awareness as well as it did through the racket. “This lovely little barmaid is here to take our orders. Another blackberry schnapps, am I right?”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Jasmine replied, snapping back into awareness as the bar employee jotted it down on a piece of paper and retreated back to the counter. “I lost myself a little back there, sorry.”

  “And here I thought you got captivated by my presence and couldn’t speak for a while,” James retorted, his grin making light of the ego that bled from that sentence.

  Only half-true, actually. The accuracy of your assumptions is slipping, James.

  “I was actually wondering about those shades. What’s the deal with them? Those can’t be pleasant at this time of night. Why do you wear them? Also, you didn’t tell me what you were doing here yet. Care to elaborate, James?”

  “Of course, Jasmine, it’ll be my pleasure. I am actually doing a study about genetic variability in American small towns. I travel the countryside in my car, talk to people, assess their physical and mental traits and take notes. Then, I proceed to phase two, which is something I can’t disclose.” Slowly, he zipped his lips. “The rest of it is top secret, I’m afraid.”

  “What are you studying? On the off chance that it’s inbreeding, we’ve got that in droves out here. Not that it’s that difficult to believe.” Jasmine gestured toward her surroundings, her displeasure clearly visible.

  “Among other things, yes.” James nodded, amused by the woman’s gesturing. “But it goes beyond that. Beyond any study ever performed on this soil.” For a second, the man’s smile was gone and he appeared gravely serious, as if his job meant the difference between life and death. Then, as quickly as it had disappeared, his mirthful disposition resurfaced again and he changed the subject. “That is not a story fit for this conversation, or this atmosphere, I’m afraid. We might talk about it at some other time, if we stay in touch. Which I hope we will, given how fascinating of a woman you are, Jasmine.”

  A man of mystery, I see. This keeps getting better and better.

  “As for why I wear these, I must disappoint you. They are merely a personal choice. Don’t they go well with the rest of me?” He widened his grin, and Jasmine couldn’t help but respond in kind.

  To say that he is hiding something would be an understatement, but what could it be? He’s obviously not blind. Is he?

  “Are you - ?” Jasmine blurted out, just about when the serving girl was back with their drinks.

  “Am I what? Attracted to you? Is that not obvious?” James retorted, jumping at the chance to turn the conversation to his advantage. The barmaid, obviously surprised by the attention this man was displaying toward Jasmine, quickly regained control of her expression and placed the orders at their respective places before disappearing without a word.

  Yeah, she’s jealous, alright.

  “I wanted to ask you if you were blind,” Jasmine commented while observing the serving girl’s mincing steps. “More as a joke than anything else, actually, but she burst that bubble before it even got the chance to inflate properly.”

  “She has something against you?”

  “Everyone has something against me, Mr. Ackerman. Or have you not noticed?” The female patron was still smiling, but now it was more ironic than sincere. “I’m well into my thirties, still not married, and teach these people’s children the theory of evolution. The only way they’d like me less would be if I dated other women.” Not beating around the bush, Jasmine grabbed her glass, emptying its contents into her mouth before James had a chance to say a word. “Given the alternatives, I might try even that in the near future…” she grumbled, more to herself than toward him. “Just kidding, really, I’m not into that kind of thing. But you are really good at making accurate conclusions, Mr. Ackerman. I really, really don’t fit in here. And the locals feel the same.” She chuckled for a bit, again trying to see what was behind those shades before giving up and finishing her speech. “If they could drive me off, I’m sure they would h
ave by now. But no one else is insane enough to come to work in this gutter, so I guess we’re stuck with each other, this town and I.”

  “So you do not originate from this place?” James appeared occupied by his thoughts for a second before asking her a similar question. “Your family line, it is not originally from here?”

  “Whatever gave you that idea? The proud town of Wayward”—the woman made a mock gesture, as of a royal when talking about his or her roots—“has been the home of my line for generations. At least that’s what I’ve been told.”

  “Good to know,” James said, fumbling with something under the table with his right hand. Carefully, and before Jasmine had a chance to point it out, he pulled out a small item from beneath and placed it onto the flat surface between them.

  What in the world is this? The object was smooth and shaped like a slightly flattened egg. Vertical, bent lines appeared throughout its chrome surface, giving the thing a weird symmetry. It didn’t look like anything she’d ever seen.

  “That would be one fine-looking cell phone, if only it had some buttons or a screen,” Jasmine commented, driving the dark-haired man to almost break into laughter himself, despite the serious attitude he obviously tried to maintain.

  “That is no cell phone, Miss Paulson,” James replied, “but rather the instrument of my trade. You will be given a chance to help me with my work, as I’m sure a woman of your profession would. Am I right?”

  So all he ever wanted me for was to be a test subject…

  “So let me get this straight, you’ve let this conversation come this far, all as an overture for whatever you’re going to do with this thing?” Jasmine’s lips tightened, her gaze no longer mirthful. “You’re not really interested in me, are you? What you want is only to continue your work? Starting with me, right?”

  “I fail to see how one excludes the other,” he retorted, still grinning in his own charming way. The charm, however, now seemed more horrifying than alluring, similar to a cat’s expression before it pounced onto a mouse. “I would like you to be one of my subjects, yes, but that does not mean that I am not romantically interested in you. In fact, the sooner we get this little thing out of the way, the sooner we can—“