This was the opposite of yum. Bad situation. Wrong man. Major trouble. Ick.
I forced myself not to take one more traitorous breath. I was going to deal with this and make the best of it. So what if Ty was alpha to the bone? I didn’t have to fall for him. In fact, I could so totally hook him up with Viola, who was practically salivating for a rough and tough macho male.
One down, twenty-six to go.
Then again, Viola had specifically requested a human, which put Ty completely out of the running and off limits.
Thankfully.
I frowned at the sudden relief that swamped me and shifted my attention to the massive apartment. The ceiling dangled a good twenty feet above us. Floor to ceiling windows consumed one wall. We sat smack-dab in the middle of the room where a living area had been set up with a dark blue leather couch and two black leather chairs. A chrome and glass coffee table sat between them. A matching chrome and glass entertainment center stood sentry nearby covered with enough electronics to make the average human male orgasm on the spot. A big-screen television sat next to it.
To my left was the kitchen area, complete with stainless steel appliances and an island stove. To my right, the bedroom. A massive king-size bed dominated the corner. A deep, sapphire blue comforter covered the mattress. A half dozen black and blue–clad pillows had been stacked near the headboard. It looked comfy and infinitely masculine like the rest of the loft. My stomach hollowed out and my mouth went dry.
I forced myself to swallow and shifted my attention back to Ty. His gaze drilled into me and a knowing light gleamed in his neon blue gaze. “Nice place.”
“It serves a purpose.”
“Professional decorator or did you do it yourself?”
He gave me an odd look. “Most of it was already here. I brought in the bedroom furniture and the sound equipment a few weeks ago.”
“You can’t have too much sound equipment.” Did I mention that my capacity for intelligent conversation is severely limited when surrounded by so much testosterone? I’m not sure if that’s a born vamp weakness (like sunlight and stakes) or my own personal glitch. “So, um, who is he? This guy with the department? Friend? Relative?”
He gave me another odd look. I didn’t blame him. Come on. Relative? Ty was, like, over one hundred years old and a made vampire on top of that. Meaning, his relatives were more than likely six feet under. And made vamps weren’t known for forging deep, meaningful relationships. They plundered the earth and fed. End of story. At least according to my folks.
His dark eyebrows drew together. “You didn’t hit your head during the arrest, did you?” Something strangely close to concern glimmered in his gaze and warmth curled in my tummy. Before I could reply (with so much warmth, I was a little tongue-tied), he shook his head. “What am I saying?”
That maybe, just maybe he cared if I hit my head? That the thought made him positively crazy because he had intense feelings for me?
Holy crap. This was it. The moment of reckoning. We’d kissed and flirted and I’d known all along that there was more to it. Sure, the situation was hopeless, but it was still a situation. We were Romeo and Juliet (with fangs, of course) all over again. I’d felt it. But he’d never said anything to confirm my feelings and prove that it wasn’t just my overactive imagination and desperately deprived hormones.
But now, in the face of such danger, he couldn’t contain his true feelings a moment longer. Like, I know most vampires felt only hunger, greed, lust, inflated self-worth, and did I say hunger? But I wasn’t thinking about that right now. I was lost in a moment of happy and I wasn’t going to kill the mood with reality.
My ears perked and my heart paused, and Ty opened his mouth.
“I want you.”
“I need you.”
“I can’t exist without you.”
The possibilities echoed through my mind and I smiled.
“I keep forgetting you’re a vampire.” His voice was deep and incredulous and not at all passionate.
My smile widened. Okay, so it wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind, but it sent a rush of happy through me anyway.
“You are,” he said. “I mean, you do have fangs.” He stared. “I think. So no concussion, right?”
I nodded. Just a nasty, life-threatening incision that I wasn’t about to mention. Because if I actually told him, he would probably want to see it and I wasn’t subjecting myself to that. It was one thing to see concern glimmering in his eyes and quite another to have him inspecting my chest.
Romeo and Juliet, I reminded myself. Aka doomed.
“So what about the guy?” I asked again.
“He’s a high-ranking official in the homicide unit. I’ve helped him close a few unsolved cases and he owes me a favor. He’s going to give me the details on this situation so we’ll know exactly what we’re dealing with.” He stopped looking at me, thankfully, and reached for a laptop sitting on the coffee table amid a clutter of magazines—everything from S.W.A.T. Gear to Guns & Ammo.
“Does he know I’m here?”
“He owes me, but not that big. He just thinks I’m looking into it on my own. The Times is offering a reward for the arrest and conviction of the murderer, so it figures that I would be interested.”
“How much?”
“Fifty thousand dollars.”
Fifty thousand dollars? That’s all I was worth? “I would think they could afford at least a hundred thousand.”
He glanced up, a grin crooking his sensuous mouth. “It doesn’t sound like much, but in my line of work it’s sure to bring everyone crawling out of the woodwork, which is the point. The more people they have looking for you, the less likely you’ll be able to elude the authorities.”
“I thought the justice system was all about being innocent until proven guilty?”
“You’re just a suspect at this point. The prime suspect. From what I’ve been told, the evidence is pretty incriminating, but since I don’t know specifics yet, I can’t say exactly how bad things look. Obviously bad enough for the judge to issue an arrest warrant. Until they figure out their mistake—which I’m sure they will—they’re on a manhunt and you’re it.”
I sat up straight and gathered my control. “Okay, so what do we do?”
“We don’t do anything. You’re going to lay low while I gather information.” When I started to open my mouth, he pinned me with a hard stare. “I mean it, Lil. The minute you walk out of that door, the cops will be all over you. You have to stay here.”
“But I have things to do—”
“Inside,” he cut in.
“I have a business to run—”
“Understood?”
“I don’t—”
“Otherwise, you can find someplace else to stay.”
I swallowed my argument and nodded. “Okay, I’ll lay low and…What do people do when they lay low?”
“They relax. Take it easy.” His gaze softened as it raked over me. “You look really tired.”
“I haven’t gotten much sleep what with being on the run and almost being autopsied.” When he arched an eyebrow, I shook my head. “You don’t want to know.”
“Actually, I do, sugar.” The admission seemed to surprise him as much as it surprised me. Before I could respond (not that I could, mind you; I was too busy trying to process the fact that he’d called me sugar), he shook his head and pushed to his feet. “The sofa folds out.”
“That’ll be just fine.”
“I wasn’t suggesting it for you. I’ll take the sofa. You take the bed.”
“What about all of these windows?”
He walked over to the entertainment center and punched a button. Black curtains slid from the corners and shrouded the massive room in total darkness. He walked over and fastened the part where the material met. After tugging to make sure the edges wouldn’t come apart, he turned toward me. “It was either this or spray paint the windows and I couldn’t deal with that.”
It was my turn to arch an
eyebrow. “Claustrophobic?”
“Something like that.”
“Vampires aren’t claustrophobic.”
“I wasn’t always a vampire.”
My gaze went to the scar that puckered the small area near his eyebrow. My fingertips itched as I remembered the feel of the rough skin.
Bad fingertips.
I turned toward the sofa and started to move the leather cushions. “I’ll just get settled—” The words stalled in my throat when I felt him come up behind me.
“Sounds like a good idea, but you’re in the wrong spot. You’re taking the bed, remember?” His voice was slow and deep and oh, so stirring.
“But it’s your bed.” My gaze swiveled to the king-size setup in the far corner and panic rushed from my toes up. There seemed something desperately intimate about sleeping in the very same spot that Ty slept in day after day. In nothing but his jeans. Or worse, in nothing but his…
I shoved a pillow into his arms. “You should really sleep in the bed. I don’t want to put you out.”
“You’re not putting me out.” He shoved the pillow back at me.
“Of course I am. It’s a terrible imposition to have someone kick you out of—”
“Lil.”
I shoved another pillow at him. “—your own personal space and it really isn’t fair of me to just barge in and upset your routine and—”
“Lil.” He didn’t just say the name this time. He touched me and my body went completely still. “I want you to have the bed.”
“But that just wouldn’t be right.” Or easy.
He seemed to think. “True,” he finally said. “That would be pretty wrong. I mean, I do like my space.”
“Exactly.” Okay, so maybe he wasn’t totally clueless and hell-bent on torture. “It just isn’t fair.”
He nodded. “The only really fair thing to do would be for both of us to sleep in the bed.”
I whirled so fast that I made myself dizzy. “Enjoy the sofa.” Sadistic jackass.
I ignored the grin that curved his sensuous lips and turned toward my luggage stacked near the door. A warm chuckle vibrated from his throat and followed me all the way to the cluster of Gucci.
My hands trembled and my nipples tingled as I reached for one of the bags and started toward the one and only door other than the one I’d come in.
I stepped inside the bathroom and went straight to the sink. I spent the next few minutes splashing cold water on my face and reminding myself why I shouldn’t be attracted to Ty Bonner.
Made vampire. Off-limits. My parents would go ballistic. Wait a second, that was in the plus column.
The negative?
Made, my brain screamed again. But with my body buzzing and Ty’s steady pulse echoing in my ears (damn my vamp hearing), the thought didn’t really register. He was obviously attracted to me (I could still feel his lips from our one and only kiss) and I was desperately attracted to him. It only made sense that we would end up having hot, wild, meaningless sex.
Meaningless. Oh, yeah. There was the negative. Meaningless meant temporary and temporary was a big, fat no-no. I wanted a solid, long-lasting relationship even more than I wanted hot, wild sex. I did.
I reached for a towel and patted my face. I brushed my teeth, then my hair, and dotted a pale pink MAC gloss on my bottom lip for that full, pouting effect. (While I didn’t want to want him, there was no reason why he couldn’t want me.)
There. Fresh and ready for bed.
To sleep, mind you.
The bathroom door creaked open and I padded toward the bedroom. I set my case next to the nightstand and eyed the bed. My mouth went incredibly dry and I headed for the kitchen, passing Ty along the way.
I wasn’t going to look at him, I told myself as I opened a few cabinets until I found a glass and shoved it beneath the faucet. Even when I heard the slide of leather as he pushed to his feet and sensed his presence directly behind me. No looking.
I gulped water and then I looked. I couldn’t help myself. He was right there and I couldn’t not look, not without coming off like a snot, which I wasn’t. Not unless you were the bitch slut who’d stolen my first boyfriend, that is.
His gaze traveled down the length of me and back up again. His attention snagged on my sleep shirt and he arched an eyebrow. “Hello Kitty?”
I glanced down at the pink cotton and damned myself for not dipping into my La Perla stash. But who would’ve known I would end up here?
He grinned and I stiffened. “There’s nothing wrong with Hello Kitty. Granted, if you hate cats, you might not understand the whole cute and cuddly concept, but it was the only thing handy when fleeing Death Row. Besides, it’s comfortable.”
He reached out and his fingertips caught the edge of my sleeve. “It’s soft.”
“That, too.”
His skin brushed mine as he rubbed the fabric between his fingers for a few tantalizing seconds before letting his hand fall away.
“You should turn in. The sun’s almost up.”
Which totally explained my lack of common sense at the moment. I was at my weakest during daylight, my strength zapped until I could fall into a rejuvenating sleep. Otherwise, I never would have contemplated hot, wild, meaningless sex with Ty Bonner.
At least that’s what I told myself as I set my glass on the counter and put some much-needed distance between myself and the dangerously sexy vamp.
But as I walked toward the bed, my panic didn’t ease. His scent filled my head and wrapped around me as I crawled between the sheets. Cotton slid against my skin, stroking and stirring as I adjusted the covers and buried my head beneath the pillow. Ugh. It was going to be the longest day of my life, which spoke volumes on account of the fact I was five hundred years and holding.
And I thought being wanted for murder was stressful?
It wasn’t the longest day of my life (which had occurred a few months ago and involved a murderous vampire, a missing Dead End Dating client, and back-to-back Jerry Springer reruns), but it ran a close second.
After I turned in, Ty stretched out on the sofa. My strength drained away as the sun climbed higher outside as, I’m sure, did his. But unlike the hunky made vamp, I couldn’t seem to fall into a rejuvenating sleep. Instead, I spent the next few hours tossing and turning and trying not to glance in Ty’s direction. Then yet another hour with my eyes clamped shut, my mind replaying the previous night’s events. Add another forty-five minutes counting designers and listening to the steady thump of Ty’s pulse. Plus another fifteen narrowing down the list to my top three faves and then yet another hour wishing the rhythmic thump, thump, thump would move a little closer. (I’m superficial and weak? So sue me.)
When I did finally doze off (we’re talking early afternoon), it was a restless sleep, a rarity for vampires because we normally sleep like the, well, dead. But we’re talking major stress, a set of Ty-scented sheets, and a pair of ruined Rossis (yes, I was still mourning the loss). Seriously, what hormone-deprived, fashion-conscious bloodsucker—or sipper, in my case—could zone out under those circumstances?
Which was why when I opened my eyes the next evening, I was too tired to breathe, much less rip off my clothes and throw myself shamelessly at Ty Bonner.
He’d pulled back the heavy drapes to reveal the floor to ceiling windows. A faint orange glow outlined the surrounding buildings. The faint shadow of the moon was already visible despite the fact that it was just this side of sunset. Dusk crowded into the massive room.
My gaze cut through the shadows to the man who stood on the far side of the room in the middle of the kitchen area. He still wore only jeans, but they were black this time. The denim outlined his muscular legs and cupped his (big swallow) ahem, package. Dark, silky hair sprinkled his broad chest from nipple to nipple before narrowing to a fine line that bisected his six-pack abs and disappeared into his low-slung waistband. He’d obviously just stepped from the shower because a few drops of water still clung to his shoulders. He’d combed his
wet hair back away from his chiseled face. His bluer-than-blue gaze twinkled when it collided with mine.
Okay, so I wasn’t that tired.
His sensuous mouth crooked into a grin as he held up what looked like a wine bottle and motioned me over.
I wasn’t going. That’s what I told myself. Then again, who was I kidding? I was this close to a majorly hot babe who wanted me even closer. Even more, I needed sustenance, which wasn’t a possibility if I barricaded myself in the bathroom to escape temptation and repair the damage that several hours of bed wrestling had wrought on my hair.
I threw my legs over the side of the bed and forced my feet toward the kitchen.
“Want some?” he asked as I walked up next to him.
I swallowed. “More than you’ll ever know.”
He grinned and held up the bottle—an imported blood type from Garnier’s, an upscale, vampire owned and operated deli on the West Side. “I was talking about a drink.”
“So, um, was I.”
His grin widened. “Liar.” The deep voice resonated in my head.
I frowned. “That’s not funny.”
“What?”
“You know what.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He feigned innocence and turned to retrieve a glass from a nearby cabinet.
Okay, so maybe I could hear him and he didn’t know I could hear him. Please, please, please.
“Sorry, sugar. No dice.”
My frown deepened. “You’re really annoying, you know that?”
He winked. “The feeling’s mutual. So you like yours warm or cold?”
“Warm, please. What about you?”
His grin was slow and oh-so heartstopping. “I’ll take it anyway I can get it, darlin’.”
He uncorked the bottle, poured a glass, and then turned to nuke it in a nearby microwave.
“I…that’s nice.” Nice? Okay, so my capacity for speech was on the fritz thanks to the darlin’ comment. And the grin. Definitely the grin. I gave myself a mental shake and searched for something semi-intelligent to say. “I never would have figured you for a bottle man,” I said just as the microwave dinged.
Dead and Dateless Page 7