Val’s wet BOOM-BOOM-THE-KILLER-WHALE-T-shirt-and-nothing-else clad body.

“Well, hello there, beautiful.”

She looked at him warily. He was pleasant looking. A few inches taller than she, and with brown hair that was definitely receding. He smiled, which slightly showed off his crooked teeth and she noted that his brown eyes were friendly. She felt goose bumps form on her arms and took a step back.

“You’re a demon, aren’t you?” she asked quietly.

“I’m a what?”

“Demon. Please leave me alone. Don’t come any closer.”

He stared at her blankly, then laughed. “Is that what Claire called me before she took off?

She’s so cute. Must be a new pet name.”

Val frowned at him, not sure what to think or do next.

He wagged a finger at her. “Don’t I know you?”

She shook her head and shifted her bare feet nervously against the cool sidewalk.

“No, I know you. Those legs. Unforgettable.” He snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it. That strip club down on Barrister Road . . . What’s it called again? . . . Booty Call? Yeah, that’s it.

You’re a strip . . . er”—he cleared his throat—“I mean . . . exotic dancer.”

“Booty what?”

“Not that I go there anymore. Nah. Me and Claire, we’ve got something special between us.

She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He sighed and stared off in the direction of the speeding Jetta.

Val glanced in the same direction. “Claire is the woman who just threw you out of her car?”

He smiled dreamily and leaned his shoulder against the Pardise Inn signpost. “That’s the one.”

“And . . . you think I’m a . . . an exotic dancer?”

“Nothing to be ashamed of, gorgeous. Noble profession.”

“I’m not.” Val looked down at herself to note that the now wet T-shirt was, in fact, see-