Bite Me (4 page)

“Yes,” I whispered. My heart started pounding. He may be delusional, but he had the whole dangerous charisma part of the act down extremely well.

“Do you truly believe I’m a vampire, Donna?” he asked.

I felt something sharp brush my neck and tensed. Then his tongue touched my skin and I squeaked.

“Do you?” he asked again, his lips brushing my neck as he spoke.

I shook my head. I couldn’t lie. My body was in turmoil. I wanted to run away, but I was also getting turned on.

“What would I have to do to convince you? Do I need to bite you? Or bite someone else while you watch?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. Somehow his suggestions seemed erotic rather than frightening. Surely it was because he spoke those words in that accented, deep voice. I wasn’t some tween who swooned over the idea of being bitten by a creature of the night.

“If you don’t believe I’m a vampire, I won’t try to convince you. Just say you’ll see me again.”

I hesitated. I felt the light burst of his breath on my neck and the slide of his cheek against mine. Conner seemed quite sane at the moment. In fact, I was beginning to question my sanity for even considering his proposal. I shouldn’t even be tempted. I watched him kill a man. Well, he’d only killed him to protect me, which made me even more tempted to say yes. He was a knight in shining armor, straight out of a girl’s dreams. God, my thoughts were in such a whirl and so disorganized that I wasn’t sure what to do or why I should do it.

His lips tickled my throat as he spoke again, “Don’t be afraid, Donna. I would never hurt you.”

“Yes.” The word was out of my mouth before I even realized what I was saying.

Conner moved back until our faces were only a few inches apart. He was smiling slightly. Shit, I couldn’t believe I agreed to go on a date with a man who believed he was a vampire. A little voice in my head whispered that I had witnessed not only his fangs but his ability to move so quickly I couldn’t follow him with my eyes, but I ignored it. That wasn’t the voice of reason. That was the voice of my hormones lusting after such a hot guy. They were only trying to justify such obvious stupidity.

“When is your next evening off?” he asked.

I wanted to blurt out that I changed my mind, but those damn hormones responded for me again.

“Sunday.”

Conner touched my cheek with the tips of his fingers. “Then we will have our date on Sunday. I will call you tomorrow and tell you what time I will pick you up.”

That was definitely not my typical M.O. on a first date, but Conner already knew where I lived so it wouldn’t exactly protect me if I told him I would meet him instead.

“Okay,” I agreed.

He touched his lips to mine in a whisper of a kiss, and he was gone. I stood in the middle of the ladies’ room and stared at my reflection in the mirror. How in the hell did I get myself into these messes and how the fuck would I get out of this one?

By seven Sunday night, I was a nervous mess. Conner called me Friday after work, which was almost three in the morning. Apparently he took the whole ‘night predator’ persona very seriously. He said he would pick me up at seven on Sunday night. I asked him where we were going and his reply told me nothing.

“Just wear a dress,” he said.

After fretting all day Saturday over my date with Conner, I finally decided to go out with him once and then tell him I did not want to see him again. I figured he would be even more persistent if I didn’t even give him a chance. Most men were if they didn’t feel like you gave them a shot.

Of course I wouldn’t be telling him this in person. It would probably be a better plan to tell him all this over the phone and then maybe spend a few days with one of my girlfriends. Or consider moving. The idea that a loony toon knew where I lived made me very, very nervous. Shit, I would do the one date and then figure out what my next step should be. Satisfied with my decision, I went to work Saturday night with a much calmer mind.

So I spent the day Sunday sleeping in and giving myself an at-home facial and pedicure. I even curled my hair, which was not something I did on a regular basis. On a normal day I barely managed to put on make-up, much less spend a half hour on my hair style. I never primped much, which made my mother despair. She always said I looked better with a little lipstick.

Well, that night she would have been proud of me. By six forty-five, I was fully made up, including lipstick, hair styled, perfumed, and dressed to kill in my favorite little black dress. I even wore four inch heels. I wasn’t sure why I was going all out for a man that had to be a little crazy. Well, the voices of my hormones were telling me they didn’t care if he was crazy because he was beautiful and they wanted to ride him into the ground. Also, I was beginning to think I was a little crazy myself. Conner tempted me to believe him with his insane assertion that he was a vampire.

I checked my lipstick for the tenth time. Since I rarely wore it, I was paranoid it had smeared. Also, I wanted to be sure the bruise on my face was covered well. When my doorbell rang I jumped. I forced myself to stand still and take a deep breath. I hadn’t been so nervous about a date in years. Slowly, I slid my hands down the side of my dress to smooth it and to make sure they weren’t damp when I answered the door. After I grabbed my tiny “date night” purse, I went to the door.

I checked the peephole and saw Conner’s face staring back at me. Again I took a slow deep breath before I opened the door. Conner’s blue eyes traveled down my body and up again, making my skin tingle in their wake. The chemistry between us was stronger than I remembered. Hell, I finally understood what all those romance novels were talking about. The pull and the tension between us was almost tangible.

“Donna, you look beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you,” I said primly.

I stepped out of my apartment and locked the door behind me. I noticed a smirk on his face when I turned back to face him, but he didn’t say anything. I ignored it and felt him place his hand in the hollow of my spine. I liked that. I felt protected and feminine as we walked down the stairs to the parking lot. I hesitated a moment when he led me toward a sleek gunmetal gray sports car. I didn’t know anything about cars, but I watched all the new James Bond movies and I knew exactly what kind of car he was driving. I also knew it didn’t come cheap.

Now I knew two things about Conner. He thought he was a vampire and he had some serious cash. I was beginning to think that his entire persona was an eccentric quirk. I tried to slide into the car gracefully, but it was a bit tricky since it sat low to the ground and I was wearing four inch heels. Somehow I managed it without making a fool of myself. As Conner walked around the hood, I buckled my seatbelt and, for the hundredth time, asked myself what the hell I was doing.

I caught a whiff of his scent when he climbed into the driver’s seat, and I remembered why. Fucking hormones. They had no common sense.

Conner started the car and steered out of the parking lot. I tried not to fidget but I was nervous. The silence in the car was unnerving, so I fiddled with my purse and wracked my brain for something to say.

“So where are we going this evening?” I asked. I wanted to smack myself in the forehead. That was only slightly less lame than discussing the weather.

“I thought you might enjoy dinner at Concord.”

I blinked. Concord was a five-star restaurants in the Dallas area. I had read reviews of the restaurant in the paper and the writer had practically offered to bear the chef’s children.

“That sounds wonderful.”

I cleared my throat. Apparently I wasn’t the only one on this date pulling out all the stops. It usually took weeks, sometimes even months to get a reservation at Concord. I wondered how many strings Conner had to pull in order to get us in so quickly.

We fell silent the rest of the drive to the restaurant, but I felt more comfortable. Well, I felt more comfortable until we got to Concord that is. When Conner pulled up to the valet station and the attendant jumped to open my door and help me out of the car, the butterflies returned. This was out of my realm of experience. Most of the men I dated took me to nice restaurants and opened my doors for me, but rarely could they afford to take me to a place like Concord.

Before I could wallow further in my momentary freak out, Conner came up behind me and trailed a hand down the back of my neck to the bare skin between my shoulder blades. My dress, while clingy and sexy in an understated way, was not very revealing, but the proprietary way Conner touched me made me feel as though I had too much skin exposed. His touch also made my mind go blank. I realized then I was in serious trouble.

Conner kept his palm on the bare skin of my back as we walked into the restaurant. The maitre d’ greeted us with a warm smile.

“Mr. Savage. How lovely to see you this evening. Your table will be ready in just a few moments. Would you like to have a drink at the bar while you wait?”

Savage? Was that even Scottish? I looked up Conner. Also I was surprised the maitre d’ knew him by name. Either he came here frequently, or he was even more loaded than I thought. Both thoughts made me uncomfortable since they meant that it was very likely he was way out of my league.

At Conner’s slight nod, the maitre d’ led us into the dim bar area. Conner ordered a scotch neat, which didn’t surprise me, but ordered me champagne. I loved champagne, but I didn’t necessarily care for a man ordering for me without asking me my preference first.

As though he sensed my irritation, Conner glanced down at me. I realized that his expression was softer now than it had been when he had been speaking to the maitre d’ and his eyes looked warmer. Somehow he seemed less intimidating. It also made him appear even more handsome.

“I saw you had several unopened bottles of champagne in your apartment last week. I thought it must be your preference,” he stated.

“Thank you,” I said, “but I also appreciate being asked.” I refused to acknowledge the melting sensation in my belly that he had taken note of something so trivial. In my experience, very few men were so attentive to details.

Conner smiled at me, drawing my eyes to those damn dimples again. “I understand.”

The bartender delivered our drinks, and I took my first sip. The champagne was exceptional, probably the best I’d ever tasted. I saw Conner’s eyes go to something behind me and heard footsteps. I turned and gaped a little. How is it that I never heard of all these gorgeous men in Dallas? I inanely wondered if all of Conner’s friends were as beautiful as he was.

The man walking toward us was tall and blonde. I normally didn’t go for blondes, but I would have made an exception for him. Every part of him seemed almost golden, from his hair to his skin, as though he had been dipped in honey. Even his eyes were a golden brown.

“Asher, how are you?” Conner reached around me to shake his hand. Then he placed his fingers on my shoulder, again on bare skin. “This is Donna. Donna, this is my good friend, Asher Leroux.”

Trying to drool discreetly, I offered my hand. “Lovely to meet you, Mr. Leroux.” There, I remembered my manners. Full make-up and manners, my mother would be beyond proud.

Asher took my hand and surprised me when he brought it to his lips. It was an old-fashioned gesture, one I typically found corny and strange, but when he did it, Asher Leroux didn’t seem clichéd at all.

“Please, call me Asher and it is my pleasure to meet you, Donna. Welcome to my restaurant.” His thumb caressed my palm slightly as he released my hand and a tingle raced up my arm.

Conner squeezed my shoulder slightly, bringing me out of a slight daze. Wow, these men were too much. I felt as though I were standing in the middle of a photo shoot for a magazine. Asher’s words echoed in my head, and I realized how Conner got the reservation for Concord so quickly. I couldn’t decide if I was disappointed. I would think later, after I was away from the distracting presence of Conner and his friend.

Asher gestured toward the dining area. “Your table is ready, my friend. If you’ll follow me.”

Conner, in another demonstration of gentlemanly behavior, waited for me to go first and then pulled out my chair when we reached the table. Asher waited until we were both seated before he spoke again.

“Donna, it was a delight to meet you,” he said before turning to Conner. “Always good to see you, Conner. I will speak to you again soon.”

I watched Conner’s face shut down as it did when I asked a question he didn’t want to answer. He seemed distant and hard as a statue, his blue eyes shiny and cold like chips of ice. I felt an undercurrent of tension building between them before Asher once again smiled at me and walked away.

I took a fortifying sip of my champagne and opened my mouth to ask Conner what just happened. Before I could speak, our server arrived with the menu and began his spiel about the chef’s signature dishes. By the time he finished, Conner seemed back to normal, though maybe a little more tense than he had been earlier. His face was no longer hard, and his eyes had darkened again. I wanted to ask him what exactly had happened earlier and why in the hell his eyes seemed to change color but I also didn’t want to ruin the evening until after he bought me dessert. I would likely never be able to come to this restaurant again, so I wanted to make the most of it.