What A Demon Wants. Kathy Love

bodyguard,” she added once she realized he didn’t intend to answer her. “My brother is a bit of an alarmist. An interesting fact, that. Many demons overreact. I’ve even written about it.”

      Jude leaned one shoulder against the wall, looking decidedly disinclined to go anywhere. And, frankly, a little bored with her.

      So it surprised Ellina when he said, “I’ve read your brother’s report about the incidents that have happened to you. They sound a little suspicious to me. Definitely reasons for concern.”

      “Yeah, well, then you’re probably an alarmist too.”

      Jude quirked his lips in a gesture that Ellina couldn’t exactly label as a smile. More a smirk. But the curl of his lips hinted at a dimple in his left cheek that had remained hidden until that moment.

      “I think you’re confusing alarm with caution,” he said.

      Ellina made a face, frustrated that they were talking in circles. “Listen, you don’t want this job. And I don’t want you here. So please just go.”

      Jude knew he was being handed his out—again—but he couldn’t do it.

      Money. Maybe even enough money to make this his last gig.

      Keep your eyes on the prize, buddy.

      Plus he had read the report, and either someone was out to get this woman, or she had the worst luck of anyone he’d ever encountered. And given that he had some pretty crappy luck, Jude felt pretty confident no one’s luck was quite that bad.

      No, he couldn’t leave her alone. She could be in real trouble. That wouldn’t be…

      He stopped his train of thought. That wouldn’t be financially wise.

      “I’m staying.”

      Ellina glared at him, the flash of irritation in her pale eyes making them more brilliant, this time making them glint like polished aquamarines. The firm set of her lips did nothing to diminish their fullness.

      He forced his eyes to a point on the wall over her left shoulder, telling himself his notice of those things meant nothing. Just like he was now noting the small nail hole that marred the paint and plaster, right there beside her. Something must have once hung there. A painting? A photo?

      But the notice of the nail hole wasn’t what pulled his muscles taut, or caused his blood to speed up to a low hum in his ears. No, that was all the woman in front of him.

      He had to get a grip on his disobedient body. This woman was a job. If she wasn’t a job, he’d have to leave immediately.

      Just focus on the cash. On the future finally within your reach.

      After several seconds lost on regaining his perspective, he realized Ellina hadn’t reacted to his last statement, but neither had she moved. When he looked back to her, she simply stood, watching him. Those pale eyes searching for something.

      Actually he was surprised by her silence. He’d expected her to argue. To get more irritated. But her probing look made him uncomfortable. More uncomfortable. He, a man who’d been in dozens, maybe hundreds, of awkward and awful positions, yet this woman’s penetrating stare made him want to turn and leave. To run away.

      Like the coward he really was.

      She studied him a moment longer, then sighed. “Okay, obviously I’m not going to win this. So what do we do? Because I’m on a deadline, and I can’t be worrying or wondering what you are doing.”

      “You don’t have to do either. I’ll just be here in case something goes wrong.”

      She nodded, then smiled. Her full lips turned up in a wide smile, revealing perfect white teeth. The smile lit her eyes.

      His breath seized in his chest like stepping out into arctic air. He wished that freezing effect would reach the rest of his body, which burned at the simple gesture.

      “Can you wait for something to go wrong while hanging out in the living room? Does it require you standing in the hallway?”

      He forced his attention away from that literally breathtaking smile. Back to the nail hole. Maybe there’d been a hook there once. Or a clock. A mirror?

      “I can remain in the living room,” he said after a second, his voice calmer, cooler than the fiery rush in his veins. “But leave your door open. I need to be able to hear you if you need me.”

      He would be able to hear her anyway. His hearing was highly developed, but staying in the living room was a concession to them both. For her work, and for his mental health. Normally he didn’t like to be that far away from a client, so having the door open seemed like a good compromise.

      “I’ll be quiet,” he added, when he stole a quick look back to her and saw she was nibbling at her lower lip, debating his request. He quickly looked at the wall again. A small shelf, maybe?

      “Fine,” Ellina said. He could feel her eyes on him a moment longer, then she turned back to her office. Out of habit, she started to close the door behind her, then stopped, making a slight face that was even appealing in its cuteness, as she realized what she was doing.

      He wanted to groan.

      “Sorry,” she said and pushed the door open, then headed toward her desk.

      Jude didn’t linger, realizing she wouldn’t appreciate that. And frankly, he didn’t want to watch her lithe body strolling across the room. He turned and strode away from the doorway—and her. He needed space too.

      As soon as he was in the living room, he pulled in a steadying breath. He had to stay focused. He had to see this—and her—as like any other gig.

      Of course, if he was really treating this post like any other one, he wouldn’t have actually left his position in the hallway. Maybe he’d have moved away a little, but he’d have stayed there. Close by.

      No, agreeing to wait in the living room was more for himself than her. And that wasn’t a good approach. He should never come first over a client. But he needed a moment to refocus. To get his head screwed on right. Both heads, he added, trying to ignore the one that still stood at half-mast.

      Breathing in deeply, he glanced around the room. The whole cottage was small. He’d definitely hear if anything went wrong. And he could be to her in a fraction of a second if necessary.

      All great justifications, buddy.

      If he was dealing with a paranormal attacker, then it was always best to be as close as possible. He was fast, but he’d learned the hard way there was always someone, or something, faster.

      He paced the room again, then decided if he was going to take the coward’s way out and keep space between them, he should at least do something productive. He hadn’t explored the house, and he needed to know where all the points of entry and other danger zones were.

      He had a fairly good idea of the layout. It was a typical shotgun cottage, popular in Louisiana, and they all followed the same basic floor plan. But this one had obviously been modified, probably when plumbing and the bathroom had been added.

      He walked down the narrow hallway, stepping into a galley-style kitchen. The whole space seemed miniature. A two-burner cooktop with a small oven below. A dorm room–size fridge located under the tile counter. Even the sink was smaller than average size. Above the counter were three cupboards, painted lemon yellow, adding to the colorful, whimsical theme that Ellina seemed to favor.

      While Jude made note of all the kitchen’s features, or lack thereof, what he concentrated on was entries and exits. The lack of a window was good. Not that a preternatural attacker would need a window or a door to enter her place, but he still liked to know where the vulnerable areas were.

      And even without an easy outside entry, the kitchen was still not a very safe place. Because it was so confined, Ellina could be easily cornered here. He made a note of that.

      The next room was the bath, which was