From a WIP:
The man opening the door radiated a presence more intense
than a triple chocolate fudge cake. Seeing him up close, Denton decided B.
Maurell couldn't be called traditionally handsome--all his features were too
strongly drawn for it--yet the whole package together had Denton engrossed.
Sharp cheekbones and a prominent nose contrasted with sensuously full lips. The
heavy dark eyebrows and shoulder-length, lightly wavy hair lent him a saturnine
air, but his eyes made the biggest impression on Denton. They were as dark as
the deepest trenches of the ocean where the sun doesn't penetrate, and strange
creatures dwell. They also seemed to accuse Denton of unspeakable crimes.
Catnapping to begin with.
Eager to prove his innocence, Denton held Murry in front of
him. "I have your cat. He must have jumped from your balcony to my fire
escape. I found him sitting on my feet when I woke up."
Murry dangled between them like a furry peace offering for a
couple of beats, before his owner reached out and took him. Those eyes focused
on the cat for a moment, then back on Denton. "You fed him."
For absolutely no reason a shiver run through Denton, but he
heroically ignored it. "It seemed like a polite thing to do, and it's
daytime. I didn't let him get wet."
B. Maurell either hadn't seen Gremlins or had no sense of
humor. "He's on a diet." The warm baritone of his voice undermined
the gruffness of the words.
"What kind? If it's Atkins, all's fine--I only gave him
tuna, no carbs." Denton meant it as a joke, and grinned like an idiot to
bring the point home, but he only received a stony silence in exchange. Tough
crowd.
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