He scratched behind his ear. “Yes, but could we work up to the reason?”
“Sure.” She breathed a laugh. “Lovely fall weather we’re having, isn’t it?”
“It is. I finally broke out the winter sweaters.” He gestured to the ribbed, woolen top he wore. “Might have been a mistake, because I’m definitely sweating and perspiration definitely doesn’t mix well with wool…odor wise.” Finally, he ceased his pacing. “Why am I telling you this?”
“No judgments here. I smell a little like embalming fluid.”
A dreamy smile broke across Gordon’s face. “You’re so kind. Hardly anyone is kind anymore.” He tugged on the neck of his sweater. “And I think you smell amazing.”
Once again, the lights flickered, dimming the room, before brightening it to the extreme and leaving it like a giant, glowing x-ray machine.
Ginny laughed nervously.
“Is there something wrong with the wiring?” Gordon turned in an observant circle. “I have an uncle that could take a look.”
“That won’t be necessary, but thank you.”
As a matter of fact, she was getting semi-annoyed at the gall it took on Jonas’s part to tamper with her electricity in what she was fast beginning to suspect translated to a fit of jealousy.
If he wanted Ginny so badly, he had a funny way of showing it, considering he planned on absconding with her memories of him and moving on, as soon as she was free of danger. Once she no longer knew Jonas, she might choose to date and there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing he would do about it. Were these light flickering antics a classic example of not wanting someone, but not wanting anyone else to have them, either?
Maybe men were the same, human or vampire.
Ginny crossed her arms and glared at a trembling sconce.
Annoyed or not, maybe it was best to get Gordon out of harm’s way.
“Gordon, I’m so glad you stopped by, but I’m in the middle of an embalmment—”
“Your birthday is tomorrow,” he blurted, drawing her up short. “I…this is so embarrassing, but you have a Facebook profile and you never post there. Or anything.” He let out a rush of breath. “But it does have a blurry picture of you and your date of birth, so that’s how I knew. I didn’t hire an investigator or…anything like that.”
“Of course not.”
“I’m just explaining how I knew.” He muttered for a moment under his breath about sounding like a psychopath. “Long story short. I came to see if, um…do you have plans for your birthday?”
The front door of P. Lynn flew open, allowing in a mighty gust of wind carrying leaves, abandoned Metrocards and moisture from God knew where. Ginny lunged out of the line of fire, taking Gordon with her. “Wow,” she called over the noise. “The weather really took a turn. You should get home before it gets worse.”
“Yeah,” Gordon hedged. “About your birthday—”
The door slammed hard and one by one, the light sockets started to explode in the lobby, pop pop pop.
“Gordon, you need to go,” she urged, hustling him toward the door.
“No way, Ginny,” he sputtered. “I-I can’t leave you here. It’s unsafe.”
P. Lynn’s front door opened a final time and Gordon’s body moved backward, seemingly on its own—though, Ginny knew different—and in seconds, he was on the stoop of the funeral home, the door cracking shut on his stunned expression.
“Jonas Cantrell,” she gasped, searching the dark lobby for his figure and finding nothing in the pitch blackness. “I hope you plan on cleaning up this mess and replacing these lights. Kristof’s wake is in the morn—”
Ginny’s feet were swept out from beneath her and then she was face down, thrown over Jonas’s now-familiar shoulder. “She talks to me of lights,” he growled.
Uncoordinated as her movements might have been, she tried to wrestle her way off his shoulder and perhaps for the first time, she realized how truly, inhumanly strong Jonas was. Exerting the effort to break his hold winded her in seconds. “Where are you taking me?” she asked, listening carefully to his crisp footsteps to determine if they were on hardwood or carpet. “You might have mentioned up front that you can move objects and explode things.”
No answer.
A door closed—forcefully.
Ginny’s world turned right side up again, her bottom landing on something hard and she blinked into the darkness. She felt the wood beneath her fingertips and would have recognized the office desk even if lamp light didn’t burst into a glow to her left. Jonas stood in front of her with a cool and unreadable countenance, obviously having turned on the light without the use of his hands.
And she wanted answers.
“You just…did all of that,” was all she could come up with.
Admirable effort, Ginny.
Jonas gripped the edge of the desk, his hands on either side of her thighs. “Are you interested in that child?”
“Oh, I’m not answering that.”