Page 25 of Edge of Darkness (Night Prowler 4)
“Ball? There will be no balls, thank you very much. The only thing worse than wearing a dress is hearing the howls of laughter as I do my version of dancing, which looks uncannily like a reanimated corpse during an epileptic fit. So not going to happen.”
“So that’s why you never dance when we go out! Well you just need the right teacher, honey! I can teach anyone to dance! Here, follow me.”
Before Ember could protest, Asher had gathered her up in his arms and begun trilling “I Could Have Danced All Night” from My Fair Lady, swinging her around like laundry on a clothesline. It didn’t last long because Ember trod on his bare feet so many times he finally released her and limped away, gasping in pain.
“Christ, you weren’t kidding!” He hobbled to the couch and threw himself on it, collapsing with a theatrical sigh to rub his bruised toes. “Were those feet of yours donated from the morgue?”
“I tried to warn you.” Ember flopped down on the couch beside him. “You should have seen the carnage when my mother tried to put me in ballet when I was fourteen. Those poor, poor boys.”
Asher sighed. “Ballet boys. In tights. God was good when She thought of that one.” He turned to her with twinkling eyes. “And speaking of ballet boys…spill it, sister. Spill it all. And don’t leave a single dirty detail out. You need to make up for damaging my arches.”
Ember blew out a breath, trying to decide where to begin, and then started with when she first saw Christian at the store and ended with the delivery of roses.
When she finished, Asher was sitting with his shoulders hunched up around his ears, clutching the neck of his blue silk kimono, gaping at her through his pore-reducing mask.
“Oh. My. God. I knew he was hot, but lavender roses? ‘You want to see me as much as I want to see you?’?” He fanned himself with one hand. “Scorching, honey. Seriously scorching. I need to go take a cold shower with my George Clooney blow up doll.”
Ember said, “You are a very, very disturbed person.”
He shrugged. “Of course I am. All the best people are. What, you want to hang out with normal people?” He shuddered and drew his robe tighter around his neck.
“No, I suppose not. Normal people aren’t nearly as interesting as you.”
They shared a grin. “So what are you going to do?”
Ember’s smile faded. She looked down at her hands, inspected her nails—in dire need of a manicure—and sighed. “Nothing, obviously. It’s your classic Beauty and the Beast tale, except he’s Beauty and I’m the Beast. Honestly, I’m sure he’s just in-between lingerie models or something. I can’t figure out why he’s giving someone like me the time of day.”
Asher reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair off Ember’s shoulder. He rested his hand there for a moment, then softly said, “You don’t always have to do that, you know.”
She glanced at him, confused. “Do what?”
He was looking at her carefully, his brows drawn together, his mouth—surrounded by green cream—downturned. “Put yourself down.”
“Look at me, Ash. I’m the poster girl for ‘Average.’ There’s nothing about me that would tempt a man like him.”
“Except there is. You. You’re a lot cuter than you give yourself credit for, even if you are hiding it behind all those baggy clothes and unplucked eyebrows and scowls. You’re smart, and you’re funny, and you’re not full of bubblegum and bullshit like a lingerie model. Trust me, I’ve known a few. Plus, you’ve got a tight little figure and a very perky set of headlights,” he added, glancing down at her T-shirt clad chest. “If I were into that kind of thing, I would totally do you.”
Ember pulled a face, a combination of gee, thanks, and gross, stop.
“Granted, that attitude of yours is a little beastly, but if he can see past that, he might be a keeper.”
“Uh, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, Ash. I’ve known him a few days. He could be a serial killer, for all I know. Or—worse—an accountant.”
Her mother had once told her never to marry an accountant because even while he was making l
ove to her, he’d be counting all the ways he could be saving money instead. It might have been unfair, but it was an unattractive image that had stuck.
Asher scoffed and rolled his eyes. “If that man is an accountant, I’m the King of Spain. Seriously, honey, Christian is one thing and one thing only.”
Ember lifted her brows.
“Hot, hard Alpha male.”
Ember’s nose wrinkled. “You make him sound like a horny wolf or something. Alpha male?”
“There are only three types of men, honey. Alphas, Betas and Assholes. The last two come in varying degrees, but an Alpha…well, they only come in one size. A smart woman’s job is to find out what kind of male she’s dealing with, before she falls in love with him. Because once your heart gets involved, you’re toast.”
Smiling, Ember settled back against the cushions of the couch and tucked her feet up under her legs. “This should be educational.”
