“How so?” he asked, raising his brow in that sexy way of his.
“Two of you in the same room must have the ladies reaching for their smelling salts,” I teased, making him laugh.
“Hardly,” he replied, and I nudged his arm with my shoulder,
“Oh, come on, I bet there is a fan or two. Or are there full-on fainting fits? Perhaps they just throw their panties at you withtheir cell numbers written on… oh yeah, that must be it,” I said, feeling good when he started laughing again, like I had achieved something great.
“I think you exaggerate our prowess greatly.”
“Ha! Yeah right. Woman, remember?” I said, raising my hand, and the smirk he gave me was smoldering. Especially when his eyes raked down the length of me as if I were something delicious he wanted to eat.
Jesus, why was I suddenly burning up in this simple gray T-shirt? He made me feel like I was sitting here in my damn underwear, for Christ sake.
“An unforgettable fact, indeed,” he replied smoothly, making me blush.
“Well, I am not giving you my panties with my number on them if that’s what you’re angling for,” I blurted out before I could stop myself, and he nearly choked on the sip of coffee he was taking.
Of course, he recovered like a pro, unlike me, whereas I would have most likely snorted the froth and end up looking like some rabid dog. He merely had to use a napkin to calmly wipe his lips.
“You’re funny,” he stated as if surprised, as if he didn’t know that a woman could be… like I was some mythical being.
Well, if he liked that, then sign me up for stand-up comedian school. I didn’t think there was much I wouldn’t do for that smile of his, because damn, but I could easily see myself falling for this guy. Only, that knowledge, admittedly, also scared the shit out of me.
But more troubling than that was the whole question of if I liked Victor so much, why couldn’t I get my thoughts off the Vampire? Like the both of them were going head-to-head in my mind, battling it out for supremacy. I tried to shake myself free of this madness and focused back on our conversation.
“You seem surprised,” I replied to thefunnycomment he made.
“I must confess, it is not an endearing quality I have found in a woman, thus far.”
“Thus far? You don’t sound like you’re from around here,” I said, teasing him, and his reaction was to tense slightly.
“My brother and I have lived in many places but tell me, does the way I speak bother you?”
I realized I might have come across as insulting, so my natural reaction was to grip his arm and tell him,
“No, no, not at all. I am sorry, I mean I like it, or should I say, on the contrary, I think it’s great.”
His dark brown eyes widened momentarily before they landed on where my hand gripped his arm. I was so embarrassed that I started to remove it but before I could, he covered my hand with his own, stopping me from retreating.
“There is never a need to apologize for speaking your mindand never for touching me, Vanessa,”he said, his voice dropping lower with this last part as he squeezed my hand for emphasis. I swear this man was trying to turn me into a puddle of incoherent goo. I practically melted inside.
“Are you originally from New York?” he asked as he took my hand in his and started playing with my fingers, stroking along them in a sensual caress. I couldn’t think. I swear he had asked me a question.
“Erm… sorry what did you say?” I replied, feeling my cheeks getting hot. He didn’t laugh at me, but that knowing smirk was back in full force.
“Where were you born?” he asked again, and this time I was the one to tense. Something he felt, considering he was touching me.
“I am from a small town called Milford, in Pennsylvania, but moved here as soon as I turned eighteen,” I told him, despitefeeling like I had given him too much information. Usually, I didn’t share anything about my past.
“With your sights set on the big city?” he commented, making me laugh nervously.
“Something like that,” I replied wryly, wishing we were off the subject. So instead of asking where he was born, I asked him about his work.
“I never really got it out of you, are you a cop or not?”
His expression to this wasn’t surprising because he didn’t at all look like a cop… not in that expensive suit and having a chauffeur driven car.
“My apologies if I gave you the impression that I was,” he said, making me frown a little before asking the obvious.
