"She kinda looks like your aunt Jane too," Rick said.
"Nuh-uh. The real Aunt Jane is Chur'kee and her skin is browner, but she has scars and yellow eyes, and Ka Nvsita doesn't. I'm gonna ask Santa Claus for another Chur'kee doll this winter, except that Santa Claus isn't real. Did you know that?" she whispered, looking from the doll to the cop. "It's a secret. I know lots of secrets."
"Like what?" Rick asked, his gaze focusing down on the little girl.
"Like names and stuff. And how to make oatmeal. And how to start the war--"
"Just like a cop to ask personal questions of a child, grilling her away from her parent, and doing it while sounding all innocent," I said.
Rick looked up, caught in the act and not even trying to look ashamed. "Oops," he said, not sounding at all contrite. His eyes traveled at a slow, leisurely pace from my feet to my gold nugget necklace dangling over my shirt, to my face. "But no need to be envious. I'd like to hear your secrets too. All of them."
I wasn't completely certain that it was a sexual come-on; it could have been just a cop crack, but combined with the look, I had a feeling it was more. Fresh meat, Beast thought at me. I laughed at her comment and Rick thought I was laughing at his. Angie smiled at us grown-ups, laughing for no reason she could see, and trotted out of the room.
"Why are you here, Rick?" I crossed my arms and leaned against the door frame.
"No power at my house. No TV. The batteries in my iPod are dead. No lights. No electricity for the stove. I knew you had gas for cooking. So I brought an early dinner." He smiled slowly, showing very white teeth. "Steak that was going bad in my fridge. With fresh greens from the farmer's market, and flowers"--he pointed to the bunch of daisies and sunflowers in a milk pitcher--"and double-baked potatoes I picked up at Mario's." He pointed at a foam cooler near the fridge. "Molly already seasoned and wrapped the steaks in foil and tucked them in the oven with your . . . beef jerky." The last two words were said with a clear distaste. Seemed Rick didn't care much for jerky.
"Cozy," I said, hiding a grin.
"Nice toes," he said back.
I looked down and tapped my toes on the floor in a riffling motion. The nails were painted bloodred with gold flecks in the polish. My fingernails were painted with clear, and filed short. My stomach rumbled with hunger. Looked as though we had company for dinner.
"I also thought we might pick a day to work on our bikes," he said. "Yours sounded a bit rough last time I heard it."
"You ride a Kow-bike. I ride a Harley. Different tools--metric versus standard."
"Sometimes different tools make for a lot of fun."
Okay. Definitely sexual innuendo that time. I grinned at him and shook my head. For a gal who had been out of circulation for a few years, I was getting a lot of attention. Too bad they were cop, blood-servant, and angry vamp. I'd be lucky to survive. "Better make it later in the week. I got to get all girlied up for a party tonight. I'm guessing that grease under my pretty nails would clash with my dress."
"Party?"
"Yeah. Down in the Warehouse District at the Old Nunnery?" I made it a question, because I didn't know where the Warehouse District was or what the Nunnery was, but neither sounded like someplace I should dress up for. "Given by Clan Rousseau."
Rick's brows went up a fraction. "Oh yeah?" At my nod, he said, "You need a date? Or maybe backup?"
"I have an escort," I said, "but thanks."
"Okay. Keep my cell number handy. If you need backup, call. And if you don't need me for backup, call anyway. I'd love to debrief you on that."
"I'm not interested in being debriefed. But I might be persuaded to share some things."
Just then Angie pattered back in and climbed straight up into Rick's lap. "Uncle Ricky, what's debeefing?"
"Angie Baby," Rick said, adopting one of Angelina's nicknames. I wondered when he had heard us use it. "A debriefing is when nosy cops ask nosy questions about things most people think they got no business knowing."
Angie dropped her hands and looked at me. "Like Uncle Ricky asking me about you?"
I looked at Rick, who had the grace to give me an embarrassed half grin and a small shrug. A lock of black hair fell over his brow, vaguely Elvis-like. My heart did a little pitter-patter. The man was too good looking for my own good.
"Yes, Angie, like that," I said. I handed Angelina her doll, took her up in my arms, and carried her to the stairs. "Scoot upstairs. Help your mama with Little Evan. I need to talk to Ricky-Bo."
"Okay, Aunt Jane."
Angelina's feet tapped up the stairs. When she was out of earshot, I turned to Rick. Sweetly, I said, "If you chat up my godchild again without either her mother or me present, I'll hurt you."