It wasn't until Tory closed the phone that she realized something. She hadn't told him where she lived. "Oh my God, he's a stalker."
Her phone rang.
She answered it to find Ash there with that deep, mesmerizing voice. "I just realized I don't have your address."
Laughing, she shook her head at her overactive imagination. "I'm not hard to find. I'm at 982 St. Anne down in the Quarter."
"I shall see you later then."
The archaic way he said that actually sent a shiver down her spine. Hanging up, she couldn't help but smile and she didn't even know why.
He's a jerk. A complete and utter ass.
Who'd sent her a rose and who appeared to know how to read a language no one else could. A language she desperately needed to understand. This was business. It wasn't a date. She could stand his pushy arrogance long enough to get what she needed and then she was going to toss him out on his butt.
Ash hesitated as he flashed himself a few houses down from Tory's. Like the woman who owned it, it blended in with the rest of the houses on the street. Really nothing about it stood out, yet it was plainly beautiful. Painted a very pale pink and trimmed in antique white, it was a typical New Orleans turn-of-the-century shotgun rowhouse. The shutters were drawn tightly closed and as he tried to see inside to find her, he saw nothing.
Nothing.
You should probably run.
But why? All it meant was that they'd be friends of some sort. This wasn't the first time this had happened to him.
Bullshit. Even when you were destined to be friends with someone you caught glimpses of them.
With her there was nothing . . .
That actually scared him and yet he found himself walking up to the door and knocking on it.
He heard what sounded like something getting knocked over inside followed by a low whispered, "Shoot!" He bit back a smile at her obvious distress. There was more scrambling about before she opened the door.
Her brown hair was down today. Thick, shiny and wavy, that hair beckoned to be touched . . . no, it beckoned a man to bury his face in it and breathe her in. How could he have ever thought it plain? No wonder she'd worn it up the other night. Not to mention, it made her look a lot younger when it was down around her face. Her cheeks were flushed which made her sharp, intelligent eyes glow.
And those lips . . .
Plump and full, they were made for a night of kissing.
But the best part had to be her glasses which were ever so slightly askew. As if sensing it, she straightened them and blew a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. "Sorry. I have technical difficulties making it through a room without bumping into something. Thank God my clumsiness is only restricted to the ground. I'd probably kill myself diving if I was this bad under water."
"No problem." Ash ducked down to enter the doorway.
Tory's eyes widened as she watched him walk into her living room. While she knew her place wasn't large, his presence in it seemed to shrink it down to nothing. He literally filled the room with his commanding presence. "You are freakishly tall, aren't you?"
He arched a black brow over the rim of those sunglasses that seemed to be permanently attached to his head. "For a woman wanting my help you are ever determined to insult me. Should I make this as painless as possible and leave now before the die-painfully-you-asshole-prick stuff starts again?"
She shut the door. "I would say I'm sorry about that, but you have to admit you were an asshole. What would you do if someone had done that to you?"
Ash didn't answer. It depended on if it'd been before or after his godhood had been unlocked. Before he'd have taken it. Now . . . oh they'd regret it for eternity.
He scanned the small house that was littered with ancient artifacts from Greece and Rome, as well as tons of framed photos of their ruins. Then he saw the small trash can she'd stumbled into. The contents were still half on the floor. She was a walking disaster that he found oddly charming.
"Interesting place you have here."
"Yeah, I love old things."
A wave of amusement went through him as he considered his own age. "How old?"
"Oh, the older the better. You can never be old enough where I'm concerned."
Then she should worship the ground he walked on.
"Can I get you something to drink?" she asked, pushing her glasses up on her nose.
"You got a beer?"
She scowled at him. "Isn't it a little early in the day for that?"
"Wine?"
Rolling her eyes, she made a sound of supreme disgust. "I swear you are such a frat boy. Are you even old enough to drink?"
The insult amused him. "Yeah. Trust me, I'm a lot older than I look."
"I've heard that before. I'd ask for your license, but it's probably fake."
Actually, it was, but only because no one would ever believe his real birth date and if they did, they'd be trying to lock him in a cage to study his longevity.
"Don't you want something else? Tea? Coffee?"
Ash shook his head. "I'm good, really. I don't want any more insults. I'd like to experience three whole minutes in your presence before you lay into me again . . . and we really should make sure the tools are all locked up." He pulled the sleeve of his jacket back to look at his watch. "Let me start timing . . ."
She opened her mouth to respond, but he held his hand up. "Wait for it. We got two minutes and fifty-five seconds to go."
"I'm not that bad."
"Yeah . . . you're not standing in my shoes."
She looked down at his huge feet which had to be a size fourteen or fifteen-if they even made such a thing. "And judging by the ungodly size of them, I don't think there are many people who could."
He tsked. "We almost made it to thirty seconds without an insult. I think we just set a new record."
She hated the fact he was actually charming. Worse, he was charming her. "All right, I'll behave. If you don't mind following me, the kitchen's back here."