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I started to deny it, but the words died, unspoken, as I recalled the image I'd had of the two of us lying entwined in each other's arms. I wasn't about to admit it, though, especially not here and now.
“Kathy, look at me.”
“No way.”
“Still afraid of me?”
“Darn right! I know all about Vampires….” That was a lie. All I really knew for sure was that they drank blood, slept in coffins, and that the sun turned them to ash in the blink of an eye.
“Do you?” he asked, amusement evident in his tone.
“Well, not all,” I amended, “but enough to know better than to look one in the eye.” Especially now, when we were parked on a dark, deserted road in the middle of nowhere. I could scream for help until the cows came home, but no one would hear me.
I felt the weight of his gaze on my bowed head, felt the heat of his desire brush my senses like a breath of summer air. It filled the car with an almost palpable energy. I didn't know if it was some kind of Vampire magic or not, but it was all I could do to keep from crawling into his lap and begging him to make love to me. If Vampires had pheromones, his were working overtime.
“I think you'd better take me home.”
I shivered as his fingertips slid, slow and sensuous, down my arm. “Is that what you want?”
I nodded. Being this close to him in a confined space was far too dangerous, and far too tempting. I mean, he was the most gorgeous creature, man or Vampire, that I had ever seen, and I'm only human, after all. Add to that the fact that I hadn't been in a man's arms or kissed by anyone other than my mother in a good long time, and well, you get the idea.
“Kathy.” He caught my chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced my head up. “Please don't be afraid of me. I won't hurt you. I won't hypnotize you. I swear I'll never do anything you don't want me to do.”
There was no safety in that, I thought wildly. I wanted him to sweep me into his arms and make mad, passionate love to me in every way humanly, or inhumanly, possible. I wanted to feel his hands on my body, wanted my hands on him.
I swallowed hard, glad that he couldn't read my mind. “Why me?”
He smiled faintly. “Why not you?”
“But, you've been a Vampire for years. You must have had dozens of women….” I stared at him. For all I knew, he had a wife waiting at home. “You're not married, are you?” I told myself it didn't matter. He was a Vampire, not a potential husband. But I still wanted to know.
He looked offended. “I wouldn't be with you if I was,” he said curtly. “I've never been married, although I came close once.”
“Really?” Curiosity drove everything else from my mind. “What happened?”
He snorted softly. “What do you think? When she found out what I was, she called me every dirty name in the book, and then she packed up and left town.”
“I'm sorry, that must have hurt.”
He shrugged, as if it was of no consequence. “It was a long time ago.”
But it still hurt. Though he tried to hide it, I could hear the pain in his voice. I resisted a sudden, almost overwhelming urge to comfort him, to stroke the black silk of his hair, to kiss his cheek and whisper that any woman who would walk away from him was a fool. Darn! What was I thinking? Alarmed by the turn of my thoughts, I folded my arms over my chest to keep from reaching for him.
Silence stretched between us, broken only by the chirping of crickets and Brooks & Dunn lamenting a good love gone bad. A capricious wind stirred the leaves on the trees. Clouds drifted over the moon, making the night darker still.
I wished Raphael would take me home. I wished he would take me in his arms and kiss me until I couldn't think straight. I wished I could make up my mind.
“Do you want me to take you back?”
I nodded, even though I didn't really want to go home. But staying here was a really bad idea. I refused to listen to the little voice in my head whispering that I was a coward. Maybe I was, but Raphael Cordova was far too tempting for my peace of mind. I had a feeling that kissing him and then stopping would be like trying to eat just one potato chip. It couldn't be done.
The drive back to the bookstore seemed endless. Raphael didn't seem inclined to talk, and try as I might, I couldn't think of a single thing to say to break the tense silence between us. I stared out the window. Why did I have to find him so darned attractive? Why did he have to be a Vampire?
A short time later, he pulled up in front of the shop. He handed me out of the car, walked me to mine, and waited while I unlocked the door and slid behind the wheel. Rolling down the window, I looked up at him. “Thank you for dinner.”
“Can I see you again?” he asked.
As I had on several other occasions, I started to say no, only to find myself saying, “Yes, I'd like that.”
I just hoped I wouldn't regret it.
Chapter Five
Raphael Cordova was much on my mind the next day. I thought about him while I fixed breakfast, thinking how sad it was that he couldn't enjoy a good meal anymore. How did Vampires exist without partaking of the finer things in life, like a ham-and-pineapple pizza, or a mug of hot chocolate on a cold rainy night, or chocolate chip cookies warm and fresh from the oven?
After breakfast, I took a shower, dressed in a loose knit gray sweater and a pair of comfy jeans, and left the house.
On the way to work, I made a quick stop at the jewelry store where I bought a pretty silver filigree cross on a sturdy silver chain, as well as a couple of thick silver bracelets for good measure.
Arriving at the bookstore, I read my snail mail, booted up my computer and checked my e-mail, and then spent an hour online reading through various book catalogs and filling out order forms for upcoming releases. The excitement over e-books had faded in the last few years. These days, it was rare for anything other than college and medical texts to be available in electronic format. Print-on-demand books, once hailed as the future golden goose for publishers, had quickly gained prominence, and just as quickly plummeted to obscurity. As more and more people spent more and more time in front of computers, reading electronic media lost its appeal once the novelty wore off. Readers went back to gathering in bookstores, browsing through the shelves, or relaxing in a comfortable chair with a good book and a cup of coffee. Plus, there was nothing quite as satisfying as the smell or the feel of a new book. Of course, books themselves had changed over the years. New, synthetic paper kept the pages from turning yellow with age, spines were more durable, and the new ink didn't fade. Cover art had become an increasingly sought after art form. There was a big market for original cover art, with some canvases selling for thousands of dollars.
