Resa stopped, drawing Tamar to a faltering halt. The slightly weaving blonde tossed her shoulders back, stretched her arms out wide as if she were a diva stepping onto a dim stage with a single spotlight beaming down on her. She threw her head back and opened her mouth wide. “Summerti-i-ime and the livin’ is easy… Fish are jumpin’ and the cotton is hi-i-igh…”
She belted out Summertime from Porgy and Bess in a rich alto. Which was pretty funny considering the opera was about a black man living in the Charleston, South Carolina, slums. But hey, the girl had a voice on her. The things a person found out about their friends when they were three sheets to the wind.
Resa ended her performance with a sloppy bow that almost had her face-planting on the sidewalk. “Do you think I could have made it, Tamar?”
“Definitely,” Tamar assured, taking Resa’s hand. “You have a beautiful voice. Really. I’m surprised, actually.”
The other woman beamed. “Aw thanks.” She swung their clasped hands back and forth between them as if they were two grade-school girls. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. Well…” her brow scrunched as she began walking again, “besides when Bobby Rivers told me I had the best boobs in the sophomore class.”
Tamar snickered. “Resa, hear me when I say you should never drink again. Okay?”
“You’re right.” Her sigh could have parted George Washington’s hair on Mount Rushmore. “I get a little emotional.”
Now there is an understatement. Tamar chuckled wryly.
“Hello, ladies.”
She staggered then drew up short.
He materialized out of nowhere. One minute the sidewalk in front of them had been empty and now a tall, lean stranger blocked their path. Over six feet in height, he towered over Tamar and Resa. The street lamp behind him cast shadows over his face, concealing his features and lending him a sinister appearance. Her nerves jangled a warning and Tamar cast an uneasy glance over her shoulder. But the entire sidewalk and street were void of people and sound. It seemed as if an evacuation order had been issued and everyone but Resa and Tamar had heeded it.
They were alone except for this man who set off an alarm clamoring in her head.
Resa beamed up at the stranger, the alcohol apparently lowering whatever defenses she may have had. “Hi. I didn’t see you there.”
“But I saw you. Aren’t you lovely?” The soft tone reminded Tamar of a stalking panther—dark, beautiful and lethal. Her sense of foreboding increased, streaking toward full alert. He shifted forward and, for a second, she caught a glimpse of his angular features, reminiscent of a bird of prey. Hawkish…yes, that was the word. On this summer’s night he wore a long-sleeved black shirt and pants, solidifying her impression. Tamar also wore a shirt with sleeves, but she hid her scars. She highly doubted this man was concealing anything.
His obsidian eyes followed the pretty, loose lines of Resa’s face with unsettling focus. He moved another step forward and Tamar received an up-close-and-personal view of him. She gasped. He was gorgeous. With full lips, a patrician slant to his thin nose and a wide brow, he wouldn’t have looked out of place standing on the steps of a sweeping Italian villa atop a craggy cliff, sensual and masterful all at once.
But Tamar could name several predators that used their beauty to lure unsuspecting prey into their clutches. His face didn’t disarm her, but set her further on edge.
Her heart tripled in pace and the bitter tang of fear flooded the back of her throat and spilled onto her tongue. They had to get out of here.
“If you will excuse us,” Tamar murmured.She shook loose Resa’s clasp on her hand to grasp the other woman’s upper arm and urge her forward and around the man.
His gaze slid from Resa and settled on Tamar, his bottomless eyes unnerving in their intensity.If she’d thought his contemplation of Resa had been troubling, the way his steady black gaze seemed to drink her in was downright disturbing.
“The likeness is uncanny,” he whispered, the tone breathless, awed. He studied her, seeming to track every feature of her face, lingering so long on the cleft that dented her chin she almost reached up and brushed a finger over the genetic characteristic. “Part of me wants to wait until he gets here. But I gave him a chance.”
He smiled.
Terror coursed over and through her with the speed of an out-of-control freight train headed toward a cataclysmic and explosive end. That terrible, beautiful smile promised pain, horror and death.
She stumbled back and took Resa with her. The teacher squealed in dismay, but Tamar ignored her.