“It’s not just local women,” Maggie broke in, falling naturally into her usual habit of cozy gossip. “Though there were a couple of incidents—before my time, you understand. But I know there’ve been a few outsiders who’ve, shall we say, taken up with him.” She gave an insinuating leer “They all left, every one of them, after a few months. And none of them ever talked.”
Wondering when she’d get a clear look at his face, Joey cocked an eye at her friend. “I guess that could make for some resentment. He may be mysterious, but he doesn’t sound like a very nice guy to me.”
“There you go,” Maggie said, pushing herself off the bar. “Consider yourself warned. ” She winked suggestively. “The way you’re staring at him, I’d say you need the warning.”
At Joey’s start of protest, Maggie sashayed away to serve her customers. Joey was left to muse on what she’d been told. Not that it really mattered, in any case. She wasn’t interested in men. There were times when she wondered if she ever would be again. But that just wasn’t an issue now. She had far more important things on her mind.
Her thoughts broke off abruptly as the man called Gévaudan turned. There was the briefest hush again, almost imperceptible, if Joey hadn’t been so focused on him and what had happened, she might never have noticed. For the first time she could see him clearly as he stepped into the light.
The first impression was of power. It was as if she could see some kind of aura around the man—too strong a feeling to dismiss, as much as it went against the grain. Within a moment Joey had an instinctive grasp of why this Luke Gévaudan had such a peculiar effect on the townspeople. He seemed to be having a similar effect on her.
Her eyes slid up his lithe form, from the commonplace boots and over the snug, faded jeans that molded long, muscular legs. She skipped quickly over his midtorso and took in the expanse of chest and broad shoulders, enhanced rather than hidden by the deep green plaid of his shirt. But it was when she reached his face that the full force of that first impression hit her.
He couldn’t have been called handsome—not in that yuppified modern style represented by the clean-cut models in the ads back home. There was a roughness about him, but not quite the same unpolished coarseness that typified many of the local men. Instead, there was a difference—a uniqueness—that she couldn’t quite compare to anyone she’d seen before.
Her unwillingly fascinated gaze traveled over the strong, sharply cut lines of his jaw, along lips that held a hint of reserved mobility in their stillness. His nose was straight and even, the cheekbones high and hard, hollowed underneath with shadow. The hair that fell in tousled shocks over his forehead was mainly dark but liberally shot with gray, especially at the temples. The age this might have suggested was visible nowhere in his face or body, though his bearing announced experience. His stance was lightly poised, alert, almost coiled like some wary creature from the wilds.
But it wasn’t until she reached his eyes that it all coalesced into comprehension. They glowed. She shook her head, not sure what she was seeing. It wasn’t a literal glow, she reminded herself with a last grasp at logic, but those eyes shone with their own inner light. They burned—they burned on hers. Her breath caught in her throat. He was staring at her, and for the first time she realized he was returning her examination.
She met his gaze unflinchingly for a long moment. His eyes were pale—and though in the dim light she could not make out the color, she could sense the warm light of amber in their depths. Striking, unusual eyes.
Eyes that burned. Eyes that seemed never to blink but held hers in an unnerving, viselike grip. Eyes that seemed hauntingly familiar…
Joey realized she was shaking when she finally looked away. Her hands were clasped together in her lap, straining against each other with an internal struggle she was suddenly conscious of. Even now she could feel his gaze on her, intense and unwavering, but she resisted the urge to look up and meet it again. The loss of control she’d felt in those brief, endless moments of contact had been as unexpected and frightening as it was inexplicable. She wasn’t eager to repeat the experience. But the small, stubborn core of her that demanded control over herself and her surroundings pricked at her without mercy. With a soft curse on an indrawn breath, Joey looked up.