Any Way You Want It (12 page)

She stopped perusing the menu, meeting his gaze.

“I wanted to see you.” She smiled at him as if he was a total dolt.

“Why?”

Maggie smiled again. “I feel kind of like we’ve had this conversation before.”

He frowned, not following.

“Because I’m interested in you. And I decided if you aren’t subtle, I probably can’t be either.”

She really was different tonight. And not just in her clothing choices. He saw directness in her eyes. He could tell she was still shy, still a little uncertain, but she was suppressing those emotions, letting her bravery show through.

“Maggie,” he said, feeling the need for the whole truth to be out in the open. “I can’t offer anything more than a fling. My life just isn’t conducive to romance.”

She straightened slightly, but that was the only sign that his words had affected her.

“I know. And I don’t expect anything more. After all, I have a life to go back to in D.C.”

Ren regarded her for a moment. “You said you weren’t comfortable with a one-night stand. And I believe that. And it is honestly all I have to offer you.”

Maggie’s first inclination was to break away from Ren’s intense gaze and busy herself with the menu. But she forced her eyes to stay with him. She wanted this. In part to finally move on from Peter, but to also finally take something for herself.

She studied Ren’s face. The hint of stubble on his strong jaw. His long hair framing his face, shiny and soft and so sexy. And his eyes—that color between amber and green with their ability to look haunted. Like they did now.

That look, haunted and a little sad, made her want him all the more. And she wasn’t going to let her fears stop her. Hadn’t the fortune-teller said she had to no longer be scared? She trusted him, she realized, in a way that she’d never trusted another man.

It was strange but true. Maybe because he’d protected her. Maybe because he’d made her feel attractive as no one else ever had. Maybe because he was telling her that he couldn’t offer her more than a night. Peter had told her he wanted forever, and then he’d left her looking like the fool.

She studied Ren again. She’d take Ren’s cool honesty over pretty lies any day.

“I know what you are offering,” she told him. “And I’m okay with that.”

Ren’s lips firmed into a straight line. Then he took a deep breath. “Maggie, I just don’t believe this is right for you. And I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I am a big girl. I’m totally capable of making my own decisions.”

He opened his mouth as if to argue further, so she cut him off. “So what’s good here?”

Ren didn’t answer for a minute, and when she looked back up at him, she saw him studying her.

That haunted look still there—but then, slowly, he smiled.

“I never would have believed that I’d be trying to talk a beautiful woman out of having sex with me.”

She laughed. “And I never thought there’d be a time when I’d be trying to talk a beautiful man into having sex with me.”

His smile broadened. “And I never would have guessed that you could be so stubborn.”

God, she loved that smile. It made her feel a little powerful.

“I can be very stubborn,” she informed him. “So you might as well accept that I’m going to have my way with you sometime soon.”

Ren laughed, the sound throaty and warm. “I love that you just said that.”

She grinned, rather pleased with herself, too. He really did make her feel so powerful. The sensation was heady.

“The ahi tuna.”

Maggie frowned, completely confused by his sudden announcement. “What?”

“You asked what’s good here. The ahi tuna. If you like fish.”

“I do.” She set aside her menu. “I’ll get that.” She trusted him.

“D id you like the tuna?” Ren asked as they left the restaurant.

Maggie nodded. “It was delicious. But you didn’t eat much of yours. You were the one who was hungry.”

She still didn’t seem to get that the dinner was just a diversion. A last-ditch attempt to stop this thing that was happening between them. A thing that was becoming more and more inevitable.

“I guess I wasn’t in the mood for food.”

“Are you okay?”

Ren smiled slightly. She really was sweetly naïve. Hadn’t she noticed him watching her through the whole meal, devouring her with his eyes?

“So are you going to take me to see your place?”

Damn, who was this woman? He’d never have imagined that Maggie of the shy blushes could be so determined. Of course, a blush stained her cheek even now. Determined but still shy. He liked that.

“Come on.” What was the point of telling himself he wasn’t going to let this happen? He was, and they both knew it.

He caught her hand and led her down the street in the direction of his apartment. Neither spoke as they walked, not until they reached his door.

“Here we are.” He didn’t look at her as he released her hand and unlocked what looked like a large wooden barn door. He shoved it open, and then caught her hand again. He led her through a little alleyway that opened into a square courtyard.

“This is amazing,” she said, letting go of his fingers and walking further into the space. She slowly turned, her expression rapt as she took in everything.

Two stories of building surrounded them. Balconies overlooked the courtyard, the scrolled wrought-iron railings cascading with flowers and greenery. Stones paved the ground, and the perimeter was fringed with lush greenery. Small ground lights illuminated benches and a wrought-iron table and chairs in the far corner under a sprawling magnolia. Water bubbled merrily in a fountain at the center of the green oasis.

“This is your home?”

He owned the whole building, but he didn’t say that. Instead, he gestured to the building at the end of the courtyard. “That is mine. There are four other apartments in the side buildings. But they are vacant—since Katrina.”

Maggie continued to spin. “I feel like I stepped back into the 1800s.”

“Well, it wasn’t as nice in the 1800s.”

Maggie paused, smiling at him, obviously amused at his certainty.

“My place was a carriage house,” he added, “and the rest were slave quarters.”

“Really?” She stared at the building, clearly trying to picture how it must have looked all those years ago. A frown pulled down her lips at the thought.

Ren didn’t want that. He liked watching her amazement, not her disquiet. Maggie strolled around the courtyard, stopping by the fountain. Lights shone through the bubbling water, dappling her skin in light and shadows.

She was breathtaking.

He couldn’t believe this. He was nervous. When had he ever been nervous about the prospect of having sex? Hell, he didn’t think he’d even been particularly nervous when he lost his virginity.

Of course, the older prostitute had expected very little of a mere boy—so he’d considered skill very little at that time. And while he felt confident he’d gotten considerably better at the whole enterprise since he was fourteen, for some reason, Maggie had him keyed up like a green schoolboy.

She watched him, still standing by the fountain. Lights created a kaleidoscope over her pale skin and shone on her loose, chin-length curls. She’d made the comment that the courtyard was like stepping back in time. She looked like she was a part of the time warp. Beautiful and warm, with an inherent innocence surrounding her.

More warning flares flashed. Not that he was going to heed them. Maggie was too much temptation, and he’d never been good at willpower. Not at all.

She didn’t move. She simply waited, as if she knew he wouldn’t be able to resist for long. She smiled, though. Small and inviting.

“Are you going to show me inside?” she asked, glancing at the carriage house. For the first time, he could sense her nervousness too. She’d done well most of the night to suppress it, but now that they were here, alone, it was back.

“Of course.” But instead of approaching the house, he approached her.

“You do know what will happen if you go in the house with me, right?” He did feel the need to offer her one more chance to stop this.

Maggie nodded. “Yes.” She smiled shyly.

God, she was so sweet, so adorable.

He caught her hand and pulled her close to him, feeling the lush softness of her breasts against his chest. She stared up at him, wide-eyed, waiting.

Again, a wave of doubt made him pause—for a fraction of a second. Then he was kissing her.

She responded immediately, but not with the practiced, self-indulgent ardor he was accustomed to. No, Maggie responded as if her whole being needed him, as if he was the most important thing in her world. Her hands touched his jaw, his hair. Her mouth was pliable and sweet under his. Her body leaned against his as if she couldn’t get close enough to him. She was giving herself to him.

He pulled back. She gazed up at him, her eyes slightly dazed, heavy-lidded with desire.

God, she was beautiful. Passion, intense, swirling like a rising tornado, coursed through him. The sensation was foreign, and more than a little shocking. He’d never wanted a woman this intensely. Never.

Again warning bells sounded, just a faint jingle over the rush of desire. He ignored them.

Taking her hand, he led her to the steps rising up to his portion of the building. He unlocked the door, then pushed it open, allowing her to move past him inside.

He felt another wave of uncertainty radiate from her, but she walked into the room. Another sign, another chance to halt this. Again the warning fell on deaf ears.

As she had in the courtyard, Maggie slowly took in everything. Admiring the polished hardwood floors, the original restored brick walls. She trailed fingers over the back of the brown leather sofa and paused to study the artwork on the walls.

For the first time in a long time, Ren really looked at the place he’d called home on and off for over a hundred years.

The place was nice, he supposed. Maybe a little run-down. Maybe a little cluttered with books and CDs and magazines. Seeing the room through her eyes, he realized it was a bit of a mess.

But Maggie didn’t seem to notice. Instead she smiled at him over her shoulder. “This is wonderful.”

He didn’t react except to take in that lovely smile. He had no idea why her opinion was so important, but it was.

She wandered over to peek into the galley-style kitchen. The one room that was spotless. He could eat, if necessary, to appear human, but it wasn’t something he craved or particularly enjoyed. Needless to say, he didn’t cook.

“How long have you lived here?”

“A few years,” he answered vaguely. He bought the building in 1861, although he did move out for extended periods of time. It was hard to explain to his other tenants why he still looked exactly the same after several decades. So he moved when necessary, but he always came back. This particular building was one of his favorite homes.

“It’s really beautiful.” She smiled, then stood in the center of the room as if she wasn’t quite sure what to do next.

Another wave of nervousness radiated from her across the room, washing over him. He realized anxiety flared in him as well, in response to her. Strange.

“Did you want to see the upstairs?”

She nodded, and her cheeks grew pink again. She glanced at the staircase that curved up to the loft above. Hesitation was clear on her face and in the air. Another perfect opportunity to stop this.

Instead he walked to the stairs, waiting for her to join him. She hesitated just a moment longer, then followed.

The loft was one huge room, a portion open to look down into the living room below. He had the large room sectioned off into a bedroom and a sitting area. Most of the bedroom was taken up by a huge canopied bed. The other corner of the room was filled by a baby grand piano and a worn sofa and a small fireplace.

Maggie strolled to the piano, running her fingers over the dark wood.

“You said that you don’t really play.”

He stared at her pale fingers, stroking the instrument. He swallowed, finding the action intensely erotic. “I don’t. Not anymore.”

For a moment, she seemed surprised by his response. Her gaze left him to stare at the piano a moment longer, then her gaze flitted to the bed.

He followed her look. The piece of furniture was enormous, made of dark, ornately carved wood.

It was draped in dark red velvet, with golden tassels fringing the canopy. Thick curtains were pulled back around the mattress, and could be untied to close the bed off from drafts or, in his case, light.

Strangely, the bed had been his before he’d become a vampire, purchased when he’d sold his first opera. An indulgence at the time, but now a necessity.

“The bed looks like an antique,” Maggie said.

“Yes. It is.” Like me.

She wandered toward the piece of furniture in question without getting too near it. She probably thought he’d throw her down onto the mattress and have his way with her if she got too close.

The idea had merit.

“I have to admit, I’m a little nervous,” she said, eyeing the bed, rather than him.

Ren smiled. She had the most interesting way of surprising him. Not that he didn’t know she was nervous—he just didn’t expect her to admit it.

“Well, I’ll admit I’m a little nervous too.” He hadn’t expected to confess that either. Apparently she brought out surprises in him as well.

He walked up to her, taking his time with his approach, gauging her expressions. Trying to read every nuance of her features. He stopped right in front of her. The clearest emotion he read on her face, in her eyes, was disbelief.

“Why on earth would I make you nervous?”

“Why not?” he asked, reaching out to finger an unruly lock of her hair.

She pulled in a shuddering breath as if his fingers were stroking her skin rather than just her hair.

“Because you feel comfortable doing things like this.”

“Doing things like what?” His fingers paused in her hair.

“Initiating an affair. Touching a virtual stranger. Kissing a stranger.”