Being a typical Saturday her schedule stayed packed, and by closing Yari wanted to return to the empty condo, cold shower and all. On her way out, she walked by Carmen's office and while the lights were on, She didn't couldn't find her manager.

What a relief. Last night's promise from Damien lay heavy around her aching muscles, and Carmen's strange behavior only added to the growing tension. She would be happy to avoid her, and anyone else she worked with, until morning. She needed to figure things out, and hopefully, discover a way to send the dead-boy packing before things spun further out of control.

Leaving out the back door, she saw Darla at the bike rack. Her basket appointed with angelic Blue Bells and red Indian Paint Brush to complement the yellow wildflowers from earlier. Rick's bike remained next to Darla. Its multiple locks still secured it to the rack. But his bike dripped from tread to handlebar in a thick layer of mud.

That a girl. Yari smiled at her bike. Darla's antics could always brighten her day.

With the sun setting, the shadows grew from the surrounding forest. A branch cracked behind her and she jumped as the tall form of Damien strode out of the trees. Her heart beat faster. She hoped it was a reaction to fear, not other things, like her wanting to see him.

Oh yeah, that would be super messed-up, even for her.

A couple yards in, he stopped and gave her a lopsided grin.

"Good evening, Yari," he scratched his neck. "Can I uh," his head swung from side to side like he searched for an excuse. "Walk you home?"

He wore the same outfit as last night, blue jeans and a black turtleneck. The way it stretched tight across his chiseled frame made her head swim. She blinked to clear her vision. She'd forgot between meetings how well his physique filled out his clothing. Impossible really.

"I don't know. Damien, right?" She shifted her weight on the rocky ground.

He nodded.

"Is it safe? You know what you said before?"

"About me being a zombie, or being sent to find you?"

"I think the words you used were 'kill me', but either reason."

His lips twitched in a funny little half smile. "Even if I didn't walk you home, I still would be a zombie who really wants to see you again and not have you dead. So why not?"

Why not indeed. She looked at the darkening sky like if it might hold the answer and then threw her hands in the air. Couldn't hurt, she'd made it this far. And it would move Damien further from the spa and any threat of Carmen discovering him. She'd let him walk her to the end of the driveway, get away from the view of any windows, and then she would ditch him, fast.

Still, when she unhitched Darla and steered her in the direction of town, she kept the bike between them. If he did anything scary, she would push the heavy metal frame into his side and run like hell. She let out a breath, it was kind of a lame plan. Or maybe she'd lay the bike down and throw herself at him because that sounded more fun.

She cleared her throat. "Ah, why do you need to kill me?"

He shrugged as they walked along the dirt path that led to the front of the spa. "It's not a big deal anymore. Yesterday's news. Hey, I like your bike's flowers."

Stopping with a spray of gravel, she placed a hand on her hip. "Not to be blunt, but this is ridiculous."

"Why? Is it not proper for a guy to walk a lady home?"

"Well sure, I guess, for a guy, but I'm not sure this situation fits."

"You don't think I'm a man?" The corners of his mouth curled up and he gave her a sly look. Her cheeks heated.

"No, I think you're a m-man, clearly, I mean, look at you, not that appearance matters and all..." Shit, she was really messing this rejection thing up. She tried to keep her gaze locked to his and not floating over his perfectly formed body. "But, what do we have in common? This walk is a plain bad idea."

She pulled her stare away to measure their distance from the spa. Maybe she should keep moving a little further. To be safe.

He rubbed his jaw with his fist and his eyes narrowed with a playful twinkle. "I think your bike is covered in rust and needs a new paint job. Agree?"

"Huh?" She centered her attention on him. "Sure, but what has that too do with--"

"It's something we've in common." He took Darla's handlebar from her and wheeled the bike forward like the deal was sealed. She hurried to keep up. "Let me ask you this," he continued. "If I walked into those woods and never came out again, how would you feel?"

"Relieved."

His eyes moved to her feet, then crawled over her body in a lingering stare. Her face heated to a full-on fire. She straightened her shoulders and kept her expression neutral, a nearly impossible thing to do under the weight of his gaze. He gave her a slow smoldering smile that lit up his blue eyes. 

"Liar."

She stifled a gasp as butterflies took flight inside her. She stumbled a step. "But, but you're not even close to my type."

Again she glanced at the spa retreating behind a thick screen of aspens. They should be out of sight, time to get her bike back and drop him. Before, a nagging little voice warned, she changed her mind.

Laughing, he kept going. "What is your type? And while you're answering that, let me know why you were in that empty house the other night."

"I just," she jogged to match his long strides. She felt like she was being played. Not cool. Better move this conversation to dump-him-ville while she could still claim the upper hand. "Well, I hung out there for a couple of days. The owners weren't using the place. Why not? And you're the last person to get on my case, I heard you at the bank."

"I was following orders."

"Like the orders to kill me?" Ha-ha got-cha. Let him try to squirm out of that one. Or maybe, her skin tingled, he'd give her another of those looks. Damn, why did she suck so bad at ditching this man?

He stopped, but only gave a little chuckle and shook his head. "Kind of, but again that's old news. You tell me, what guys are your type?"

Squinting, she fought the sudden impulse to run her fingers along his molded abs. She stuffed her hands into her pockets to contain the traitors. "I prefer them living."

"Ouch," He winced. "Well, what else?"

She took a deeper breath. Here was her chance. "Having a pulse is a plus. Got one of those?"

He shrugged and continued to walk along the road with her bike. His dark hair shimmered in the dusk. "A little one, enough."

"Enough for what?"

His voice dropped lower. "To still be a man."

The breath rushed out of her. Oh shit, he did not say that. Her knees became mushy, and she crossed her arms in disgust at her own response.

"Pssh, you said you were a zombie. What does that mean anyway, you're not going to fall apart on me, or are you?" Her eyes lingered on him. At that moment he appeared to be a very living man. "How does that work anyway?"

She caught up to him and he slowed to a leisurely stroll. Around them, the night air cooled, and the late fall crickets chirped.

"We just keep going. Haven't you ever seen a zombie movie? I think one might have played in town a while ago."

"Movies and I don't work out. It's not fair to the rest of the audience. And I didn't know that Dawn of the Dead counted as a documentary. Still, isn't it kind of gross?" Not that she found anything unpleasant about being near him. She rather enjoyed it, especially examining his thick muscular forearm that steered Darla. She wondered if his skin would be as hot as when he touched her last night.

"I guess it's a little gross to the outside. It's just how we are."

"And how did you become all zombie-ish? I mean you seem nice enough."

His cheeks redden even in the fading light. He ducked his head. "Well thanks, and I don't remember."

She studied his profile as they walked closer to town. Lights from nearby homes highlighted his masculine chin and brow. There was an air about him. And really it wasn't like walking with a guy meant a second meeting, or date, or a kiss. Because that definitely was territory her mind shouldn't be exploring.

"What do you mean you don't remember? To me, that would be kind of a big deal. You were once not scary in the sunlight, right?"

"Yes, I use to be normal. But we don't remember or want to remember, how we're made. It's one of the not-so-good things about being like this. We forget stuff."

Her eyebrows rose. "There are good parts about being a zombie?" Well other than possessing a dripping hot bod.

He grinned and held up a finger. "My turn."

"Your turn to what?"

"Enough about me. I want to know about Yari." His eyes shone when he said her name, and his full lips pursed. He tilted his head. "So, Miss Applegate, what makes you different?"

She stuffed her hands deeper into her pockets and stared straight ahead towards town. She didn't want to be different. She wished to be a normal girl hanging out with a cute boy. And why was she still hanging out with him?

"Nothing."

Her skin prickled, and she knew he watched her. "Excuse me ma'am if I can't believe that." His voice sounded rich and it sent waves crashing inside her.

"What do you want me to say then? I'm a masseuse who lives in other people's homes?"

"That's a start. You've family in these parts?" He gestured to the darkening valley and surrounding dusky peaks.

She snorted. There was no one for her in this backwoods town. Glancing up, she met his intense gaze. 

"No, my family's not close. Dad left when I was a baby because of the sparks, and Mom, well there was an accident a few years ago..." Her throat tightened at the memory. She gave herself a shake.

Well there. She'd done it. Sharing too much baggage could always chase a date off. That little slip ought to send him scurrying for sure. Give him a minute to stammer an awkward excuse and she'd be free.

When she glanced to him, she found the fine lines around his eyes had deepened, and the corners of his mouth softened. Then she saw it, stated in those sharp features, he was a man who knew loss. Her pain would not shake him. Crap.

They reached the concrete corner of Hwy 67 and Warren, any further and they would cross over Myers and run into the casinos. Her skin hummed with the electricity flowing in the air and the smell of car exhaust filled her nose.

"I can't go, I mean, we need to turn here," she said.

He moved Darla in the direction she pointed. "This have anything to do with the sparks?"

She cringed, and pointedly avoided his gaze. Leave it to a man who claimed to be a zombie to catch her quirk. Still, if emotional issues didn't drive him off, her technology challenges were sure to.

"Yes, everything electronic blows-up around me whether it's lights, plugs, cameras, none of them stand a chance." She raised her chin like she should be proud of this. "Here, you got a cell phone? Hand it over, and I'll give yah a live demo."

He stopped. His gaze fixed on her outstretched palm. His body chiseled stone, seemed to ripple with tension.

"How does your touch affect people?" His voice sounded gravely. Like she offered him what he craved. She dropped her hand feeling suddenly very foolish.

"I'm a good masseuse, I guess, if the person is okay with candlelight."

His black turtleneck rippled across his tight pectoral muscles, and the corners of his mouth turned up.

"I prefer it."

Stars filled her vision. She could all but swoon at his feet for another of his smoldering glances. With a shake, she realized they were standing in the parking lot of her borrowed condo. She frowned.

"This where you live?" He asked while gesturing to the For Sale sign hanging on the deck.

"Today. I can't stay anywhere long cause of the breakage. But that will change. I'm saving for a cabin." She clamped her mouth shut, realizing once again she was oversharing. Motor-mouth so must be her M. O. Today. 

He raised his eyebrows. Again, her weird existence seemed to intrigue him. His body stilled.

"Will you go out with me tomorrow night?" he said in that deep very-unfair voice.

Her heart thudded. She should say no. Come up with a reason, any reason, to run from this man.

"I'm ah, off at six?" Fuck. Not again.

He smiled, and his whole face softened. She almost purred as a warm flash hit her, a heat that streaked from her inflamed cheeks to her toes. She couldn't help picture what it might be like to have those thick arms wrapped snuggly around her.

Picking up her hand, he kissed it. His palms were callused, his lips hot enough that they prickled her skin. This close, he smelled like a pine forest. She trembled but he didn't let go. Instead, he brought her hand to his cheek.

"What's it about you? I can't get enough," he whispered.

Darla slipped from his grasp and crashed into his side. He caught the bike and gave her a sexy-boyish grin that burned her insides.

"See you tomorrow." Handing the bike over, he seemed to melt into the shadows.

She watched him disappear with both dread and anticipation swirling in her head. This all seemed wrong, and yet she couldn't wait until tomorrow night.