Seduced by the Night (20 page)

Feeling unusually refreshed,
Bethany
opened her eyes A expecting to greet the golden rays of dawn filtering through the curtains to fill her room with light.

Instead, she met the bright glare of the lit TV screen in an otherwise dark and unfamiliar room. Her confusion as to her whereabouts lasted only a second as her memory of the night came rushing back. In the same instant, she realized that the "bed" she was stretched out on was a living breathing man. From the steady rise and fall of his chest,
Bethany
guessed that Dirk was fast asleep and she took advantage of the situation to linger a few minutes more. Now that she was awake, she could appreciate the hard strength of his body and the way his arm wrapped around her, anchoring her to him, keeping her safe.

Guilt hit her like a neutron bomb. Nothing had happened, yet she couldn't stop the overwhelming feeling that she'd betrayed Miles—again.

"Dirk, wake up." She shook him gently, trying to rouse  him. He never stirred. She tried again, this time pushing a little harder. "Dirk, it's morning." His arm kept her pinned to him and her first efforts to get up were futile. The strength she'd so admired in him earlier was now proving to be a hindrance.

"Come on," she muttered.

When it was obvious that he wasn't going to wake, she twisted her body this way and that until she was able to slip out from under his arm and onto the floor.

She landed in a graceless heap, but there was no one to notice. Standing up, she smoothed her clothes as best she could and then gazed down at the sleeping man. She was amazed at how soundly he slept, but then remembered him telling her how the daylight affected changelings. It was the influence of their vampire half, she supposed.

He didn't look particularly comfortable and she worried how sore and stiff he would be when he finally did awaken. She tried one last time to rouse him, but when that failed, she spread a blanket over him so he wouldn't get cold and quietly left the room.

From his place at the kitchen table, Charles Winslow watched as
Bethany
crossed the foyer to the stairs and felt as if another weight had been added to his load.

"You're furrowing your brow," Julia, sitting next to him, pointed out gently.

"I'm worried about Dirk and
Bethany
," he admitted.

"Worried because they appear to be getting involved and you
don't
approve? Or because you
do
approve?"

He smiled. "I guess that is the question, isn't it?" He took another drink of his tea and set the cup down slowly. "Dirk and Mac are like sons to me."

Julia politely scoffed. "Please, you're not old enough to have sons that age."

He smiled, glad she didn't think him old. "All right, if not sons then younger brothers. I've just met
Bethany
, but I've grown fond of her as well. I want only what's best for them all and I hate to see any of them get hurt."

Julia placed her hand over his, light and comforting. "Hurt is a part of life, Charles, and you can't keep it from touching those you care about, no matter how hard you try—nor should you, but you can be there for them when they need you."

Charles looked into the warm ginger eyes gazing back at him. There was no censure or bitterness in either her tone or expression, yet something in the depths of her eyes told him that she'd suffered in the past. "You sound as if you speak from experience."

There was a hint of sorrow in the smile she gave him. "Life is what it is."

He liked this woman, more than he should, probably. She had a smooth, elegant manner about her that made him think of long evenings sitting in front of a crackling fire, sipping hot toddies, safe and warm while snowstorms raged outside. It was a combination of her comforting manner and his own loneliness that brought such images to mind.

"I'm very glad you came to work for me," he told her, at that moment realizing the full depth of his feelings. They extended far beyond the employer-employee relationship, but he was old enough and wise enough to know he shouldn't rush things. There was, however, something that needed to be done. "Do you like tea?"

His sudden change in topic caught her off guard but  she was too poised to do more than blink once or twice. "Why, yes, I drink it from time to time."

"Good." He pushed away from the table and set about filling the teakettle with water before placing it on the stove to heat. "I go to
England
every couple of years to visit my family and they grow a special tea there that I think you might like."

He reached into the pantry and found the plain metal canister sitting near the front of the shelf. He opened it, peering at the contents inside. It was more than half empty. He'd have to write his cousin, Gerard, and have more sent over, especially if things around D.C. continued the way they had.

"Is that what your family does?" Julia asked, turning in her chair so she could face him. "They're tea growers?"

"No, growing tea is something they do for family and friends—sort of a hobby that over the years became a tradition." He poured some of the tea into the palm of his hand and showed it to her. "As you can see, it doesn't look much different from the dried leaves you're used to. What makes this tea unique are the dried blue flower blossoms."

"What kind of flowers are those?"

"They're called
lafleur
de vivre
, the flower of life."

He took two steeping balls from a drawer and filled them with the tea before placing them into fresh cups. Then he took the teakettle of now boiling water from the stove and poured it over the balls.

Immediately, a hot, moist sweet scent drifted upward, reminding Charles of the summers he'd spent in
England
as a child, running through fields of wildflowers, playing with his cousins.

Julia closed her eyes and inhaled. "It smells wonderful," she said, opening her eyes and giving him a smile he couldn't resist returning.

"Wait until you try it," he promised. He added a spoonful of honey to both cups and then handed one to her. He felt like a kid, holding his breath, as he watched her take a sip. Let her think him a dotty old fool with eccentric tastes, if she liked—as long as she drank the tea.

"
Hmmmm
, it
is
good."

He let out his breath, picked up his own cup, and took a sip. "I feel like my day is somehow better if I start it off by enjoying a cup," he commented. "I would consider it a great honor if you would join me each morning in my little ritual."

Her eyes lit up over the rim of her cup and he could tell he'd pleased her with his invitation.

"I'm usually more of a coffee drinker, but t
hank
you," she said. "I'd enjoy that."

He nodded. "Good, then it'll be a standing date."

For several moments, neither spoke as they enjoyed their drinks. After a while, Julia broke the silence. "Charles," she started, using his first name as he'd insisted. "I wanted to talk to you about the gargoyle statue."

He could tell from the hesitant way she brought up the subject that it wasn't something she felt comfortable talking about.

"Is it still showing up on your desk every morning?"

"Yes, and though it's not a big effort to move it, I can't help but wonder why it continues to be necessary. I really don't mean to make so much out of it…"

When she paused, he reached out and covered her hand with his. "No, you're right. It shouldn't be so difficult to  control the whereabouts of one little statue. I'll take care of it, okay?"

She opened her mouth to say something, then seemed to change her mind and simply nodded in acceptance.

He made a mental note to talk to
Lanie
and hoped that between the two of them, they could make sure to move Gem off the desk in the mornings before Julia arrived.

"Well," he said with a smile, "now that that's taken care of, shall we take our tea into the study and get started on today's list of appointments?"

Bethany
showered and dressed before going down to the kitchen for something to eat. The admiral and Julia were hard at work in the smaller study that served as Julia's office. Not needing to be in the lab until much later,
Bethany
found herself with several hours of free time.

Having finished the one book she'd started, she remembered the stack of paperbacks in the TV room. She thought about going to get one but then changed her mind. If Dirk was still asleep in there, she didn't want to risk waking him. So instead, she went in search of something to read from the admiral's study.

A few minutes later, she was back in her room, curled up on the bed with a book in front of her. Unfortunately, the admiral's taste in fiction ran to espionage and war stories and by late afternoon, not even the
U.S.
military blowing up a battalion of Germans was enough to keep her awake.

It was some time later when she was roused from her sleep by a soft knock on her door.

"Come in," she said groggily.

"Hi." Dirk poked his head inside and gave her a smile. "How are you?"

She smiled back. "Good, and you?"

He moved his shoulders about. "A little stiff in places, but otherwise in good shape. I don't remember you leaving."

She considered telling him that she'd awakened in the middle of the night and returned to her room, but chances were that he'd stayed up late and would know she was lying. "I tried to wake you, but the sun was up and you seemed pretty out of it."

"So it wasn't a dream," she thought she heard him say. Then louder, "Did you cover me?"

She felt her face heat up. "Yes, I did."

He seemed pleased. "T
hank
s."

"You're welcome."

He looked down at his watch then. "Ready to go to the lab?"

Three hours later, Bethany was hard at work on her latest test. The second attack on the lab left her feeling jumpy and it was hard to concentrate on her work. Squeezing several drops of the modified extract into the wells of the gel electrophoresis, she hooked up the electrodes that would run a charge through the instrument, separating this new derivation into its positively and negatively charged components. She went about her tests as if she were on autopilot, lost in brooding thoughts.

She hadn't had a chance to talk to Miles today, so she'd not been able to ask him about the man she'd seen him talking to. Nor had she had a chance to discuss her concerns about the substance. She'd dragged her feet in analyzing it, but lately there'd been no need for artificial delays.

"What's wrong?" Dirk's voice cut into her thoughts as he came up behind her and started rubbing her shoulders. She knew she shouldn't let him, but her muscles ached from bending over the equipment and his ringers felt like magic.

"I guess I'm tired," she offered as an excuse, wishing she could tell him the truth. It would be nice to share her concerns with someone—that there was something about the extract that even she couldn't identify. "Maybe I'm not as smart as everyone thinks I am."

"I doubt that's true," he scoffed. "More like the stress of the last couple of days is getting to you." He stopped rubbing her shoulders, but didn't remove his hands. "I'm sorry about the ceremony tonight."

"That's okay."

At that moment, his cell phone rang. "Excuse me." He stepped out into the hallway to talk and Bethany reluctantly returned to her work.

An hour later, she glanced around the lab and realized that Dirk hadn't come back from his phone call. She was wondering where he'd gone when her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't had dinner and it was growing late. Finally at a good breaking point, she was at the sink washing her hands when Dirk walked in.

"Where have you been?"

"Around," he answered vaguely. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes. As a matter of fact, I'm starved."

"Good, let's go eat."

"Oh." Bethany looked around the lab at the various experiments running. "I really don't have enough time to go out."

"Not a problem," Dirk said. "I had food delivered."

She stared at him amazed. "You did?"

He smiled. "Shall we?" He gestured for her to precede him out of the lab and they walked down the hall together. "It's in here," he said, stopping in front of the lounge and opening the door.

The minute she stepped into the room, she came to an immediate stop. The overhead lights in the lounge had been turned off and the room was lit by the glow of two dozen candles arranged around the room. The table was covered in a white linen tablecloth and set for two, with dinner being kept warm under metal plate covers. Two lit tapers graced the ends of the table and in the center sat a purple
cattleya
orchid in full bloom.

With soft music playing in the background and champagne chilling in an ice bucket, it was the most spectacular thing Bethany had ever seen. She blinked her eyes, trying to fight the tears that threatened to spill, and just made out the words on the banner hanging from the ceiling.