by Nina Croft
He looked so mournful that she giggled. Was still giggling as she reached for the next handhold and her fingers slipped on the plastic. She forgot what she was and the fingers of her other hand tightened. The plastic cracked, then snapped, pulling clear of the wall.
As she started to fall, Bastian moved with almost inhuman speed, swinging sideways and grasping her arm. For a minute, he held her and stopped her from falling with an ease that shouldn’t have been possible. Then his gaze met hers, his grip loosened, and she was falling.
All of about two feet before the rope snapped taut.
Above her, Bastian was hanging from one hand, and then he let go and fell the two feet to hang beside her.
A little doubt niggled at the back of her mind. The way he had moved, the strength in his grip until he’d come to his senses. Then he’d let her go.
“Oh God,” he muttered, “get me down. I want to go home.”
She giggled again and the doubt was pushed aside.
Bastian gave her a rueful smile. “You know,” he said, “I think balance sheets are more my thing.”
Yeah, she was imagining things. There was nothing unnatural about Bastian. He was an accountant.
They swung gently from the harnesses, hips bumping into each other. She slid her hand into his. “Let’s go home. Have some fun there.” They’d cuddle on the sofa, watch some Buffy, eat chocolate…make love.
“Sounds like a plan.”
…
Two days later and Bastian still hadn’t been able to banish that moment of mind-blowing fear from his head. The moment she had fallen.
His reaction had been instinctive; his only thought to save her. He hadn’t even considered what his actions would reveal. He’d actually told her the truth—he was scared of heights, but that particular fact had fled his mind the second Julia was in danger.
Sebastian to the rescue.
Dante would have laughed.
Except of course she hadn’t been in any danger.
He was pretty sure he’d covered up his mistake. She appeared to have accepted his “pathetic accountant” comment at face value. He’d found people were usually willing to overlook what they couldn’t understand.
Now, lying in Julia’s pretty pink-and-white bedroom, he tried to tell himself that it was a momentary aberration. He didn’t quite manage to convince himself, and he pulled her closer and spooned her body against his. It was after midnight and time to make a move. They’d seen each other every evening this week. Even when he’d tried, he hadn’t been able to stay away. But he’d always gone back to his own place. It was his way of proving he could.
These last few days had been the happiest he could remember. Of course part of that was Dante’s absence, but more of it was this woman sleeping so trustingly in his arms.
He couldn’t get enough of her body, but he also enjoyed her company, talking with her, just holding her close. And that was worrying. He needed to finish the bet and fast because in one more day, Dante would return. At the thought, his arms tightened around her. Once Dante was back, what were his chances? Zero, he was guessing. So he had to do this sooner rather than later. He knew Julia was coming to care for him.
Maybe he needed to do something, some gesture to shift her feelings over into love. She’d wanted to go out the other night, and while he wasn’t ready for any more “fun,” maybe there was something else they could do together.
A candlelit dinner at a romantic restaurant? A really expensive, exclusive, romantic restaurant.
He nuzzled her neck, then bit down gently to wake her. She mumbled, wriggled, pushing her hips against him, then settled back into sleep.
“Wake up, Julia.” He gave her shoulder a little shake. “I have to go and I want to talk to you first.”
The tension in her body told him she was awake. “Why do you have to go?”
He ignored the question because he didn’t have an answer, or not one he was willing to give her. “Look, I’m signing a new client at work tomorrow. Would you like to come out and celebrate with me afterward? My treat.”
She pulled away a little and rolled over so she was facing him. Her eyes were dark and sleepy, and a smile tugged at her lips. “I’d love to.”
“Good. I’ll book a table for tomorrow at eight.” He made to sit up, but her hands slid up over his chest, pushing him back down and somehow she was straddling him, leaning down over him, kissing him…
His dick jumped to attention.
Perhaps he didn’t have to go quite yet.
…
Another two days of mind-blowing sex, and still not a flicker from Thing or rather from Leloo.
Julia couldn’t remember ever feeling better. She was guessing Daniel had been right. The sex was calming her. Well, when she wasn’t actually in the middle of doing it, it was calming her.
She shifted and flinched a little. While Sebastian had suggested a no-penetration night to give her a chance to recover—he was such a sweet guy—up until now, she’d needed him inside her. But maybe they should give it a go. She licked her lips and wondered if she had any ice cream in the freezer. Nice and soothing and cool and she could…
The doorbell rang, and she hurried down the hall.
That would have to be for later because tonight Bastian was taking her out to a swanky restaurant in the center of town, and she’d dressed accordingly in a little black dress that skimmed her thighs and hugged her curves. The only flash of color in her outfit were her black-and-fuchsia Manolo Blahniks—her fuck-me shoes as Lissa called them. And underneath the dress, the underwear Sebastian had bought her to replace the panties he’s ripped off in the alley.
When she opened the door, it was to find him equally resplendent in a dark gray suit, white shirt open at the throat. She leaned in to kiss him, breathed in the sharp scent of aftershave and hot man, and nearly pulled him into the hallway for a quickie. The table would wait.
Then she glanced over his shoulder. A taxi stood on the curb, engine running, and she gave Bastian another peck on the cheek—because she really had to—and grabbed her coat.
She realized she was happy to see him, really happy, like a light flicking on inside her. It seemed so right to be close to him. She couldn’t remember ever feeling like this about a man before. The intensity should worry her, but it didn’t.
Once in the taxi, he turned as if sensing her gaze. Taking her hand from her lap, he raised it to his mouth and kissed her palm. A shiver ran through her, racing along her nerves, sparking little fires inside her.
“Thanks for coming out with me tonight, helping me celebrate.”
“Hey, what are friends for.”
He kissed her again, tracing a pattern on her palm with the tip of his tongue, and everything inside her clenched up tight. No one, not ever, had made her feel this way. He lowered her hand but kept hold of it, resting it in his lap.
Could there be a chance for them? She’d thought she could never contemplate a long-term relationship again. How could she hide what she was? She had a flashback to that niggle of doubt at the gym the other night. When she’d thought for a brief moment that maybe he was more than human. But she knew it was only wishful thinking. Because she liked him and she didn’t want to let him go or see him recoil in horror if he ever found out what she really was.
Also, how could she expect any man to give up the idea of a family? But Bastian already knew about the baby problem, and he hadn’t seemed fazed.
It wouldn’t be as though she was deceiving him. And if Leloo stayed quiet, then for most of the time she would be fine. Just get through the furry problem each month, and he need never know. She often had to go away to do interviews or research for her work, would he notice if they always coincided with the full moon?
But what if he still only wanted friendship? What if he really wasn’t ready for a relationship?
Maybe she’d try a little subtle flirting. She almost smiled—Lissa would have scoffed at the word subtle, claiming Julia didn’t have a su
btle bone in her body. As subtle as a steamroller, she’d once said.
But she didn’t want to scare him off.
At the restaurant, the hostess seated them straightaway at a table in the center of the room. It was a beautiful place, elegant and sophisticated, filled with the subdued clink of silver and crystal and the low murmur of voices. Julia was betting it cost a bomb, and it occurred to her to wonder how wealthy Sebastian really was. She worked for a women’s magazine, she knew about these things, and she was betting his suit was Armani, his shirt was silk, and he wore an unobtrusive gold watch at his wrist. And he drove a Lamborghini. He was obviously a very successful accountant. So why was he living next door to her? The house was nice enough but it was hardly a Lamborghini standard of a house. Maybe he’d had to move fast and had taken what he could get, but that didn’t seem likely. Or maybe he just liked the neighborhood.
“Have I told you that you look beautiful tonight?” he said, interrupting her thoughts.
The words were pretty corny, but she found she didn’t care. “Not yet, but feel free.”
“It makes me a little bit sorry that we came out tonight, we could be back at your place…”
“Eating ice cream.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth, his eyes turning dark. “You know, I had this fantasy about you and ice cream, that night we had pizza.”
“You did?” Great minds obviously thought alike. A shiver ran through her as she had an image of her smothered in strawberry ice cream. Or maybe him covered in strawberry ice cream.
“Oh yeah.”
“Well, make sure you don’t eat too much dinner, and we can have dessert back at my house.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
She put the image from her because it was doing weird things to her insides and she wanted to enjoy the evening. It wasn’t often she came to places like this, and she liked to eat.
The filet steak tempted her, which was worrying; she’d not eaten red meat for ten years before the…incident. Now she craved it. Instead, she ordered mussels in garlic and white wine for starters followed by salmon.
Sebastian ordered the steak, but then he didn’t have to be concerned that a lump of red meat might wake some monster inside him. Lucky man.
She sipped icy-cold white wine while they ate their first course and spoke about nothing important. She felt so easy, relaxed with him. Her food was delicious, and she mopped up the last of the sauce with a piece of bread and sat back with a sigh. Then glanced across at him. “I just wanted you to know that I’ve enjoyed this week. I mean really enjoyed. I’ve been going through a bit of a rough patch, and you made me forget it all.”
“So have I. Enjoyed myself, I mean. More than I could have imagined.”
“I’m glad.”
He put down his glass and leaned toward her. “You know, I said that I wasn’t ready for a relationship and that we should just be friends but…”
He trailed off and she almost screamed in frustration. She was sure he’d been going to say they should try for a real relationship and she’d been ready to offer a resounding yes. She wanted this to work. Wanted one good thing in her fucked-up life.
But Sebastian’s mouth snapped closed and whatever he’d been going to say, remained unsaid. He stared past her left shoulder. For a second, something flashed in his eyes. Horror? Then it was wiped away and his expression went blank.
Chapter Ten
Fuck.
Bastian tried not to stare, not wanting to alert Julia that anything was wrong.
That everything was wrong. But he reckoned it was too late. A frown formed between her eyes, her lips pursed.
Things had been going so well. He was about to dump the whole friends issue and move the relationship forward. And he was certain Julia would agree.
Now, unless he could find a way to avert the catastrophe that was about to crash down around his head, he was well and truly fucked. The couple across the room hadn’t spotted him yet, but the hostess was leading them across the floor on a route that would take them right past his table.
It would be impossible to miss him.
Did he have time to get up, run for cover, or drop his fork and slip down and hide under the table?
Shit. He had no clue how to play this.
“Bastian?” Julia’s tone held confusion, and he gave himself a mental shake. There was no way out of this. He just had to play it cool. It didn’t have to be a disaster.
The hostess had veered away and was leading the couple between the tables and his locked muscles relaxed a little. Maybe he wouldn’t be spotted after all.
“Sorry, I thought I saw someone I knew.”
At that moment, Colin turned as though he sensed Bastian watching him.
Double fuck.
But it wasn’t Colin who was the problem here; he could be relied upon to be discreet. He paused, touched the arm of the woman at his side, and spoke to her. And she also turned to look. For a moment, Melanie’s expression lit up. She was obviously happy to see him, but as her gaze flicked to Julia, her eyes narrowed.
Triple fuck.
He hadn’t even been aware Colin and Melanie knew each other, but he supposed it was inevitable. They both existed on the fringe of the supernatural world.
The timing was so bad here. He had one more night before Dante showed up again. One chance to get those words past Julia’s lips.
This week, he’d been playing the nice guy, and actually, he was amazed at how easily the role had come to him. Tomorrow, it would be downright impossible. Dante brought out the darker side in him, woke urges and needs usually trapped way down in his self-conscious. Urges he was sure Julia wouldn’t appreciate.
She was aware something was wrong and swiveled in her seat to see what was holding his attention.
Colin and Melanie were heading straight toward them now. It would be impossible not to introduce them.
Could he pretend to be someone else? Amnesia?
Increasingly desperate scenarios raced through his head as the couple came to a halt beside the table. He rose reluctantly to his feet and cast a quick peek at Julia. She didn’t seem too concerned, probably more confused at his behavior than anything else.
Colin was dressed in a black suit and looked like a gangster. Melanie was dressed, as always, in scarlet, a dress that showed a lot of impressive cleavage and was open from the waist down so when she put her leg forward in a model pose, her slender thigh was revealed.
She looked like what she was.
She stepped in closer and rested a hand on his shoulder, reached up, and kissed him straight on the mouth.
He didn’t dislike Melanie. She was what she was, and was honest and up front about it. Among other things, she loved being tied up and flogged, the harder, the better, and she was fond of men who would do it to her. And according to her, Sebastian was the best. Of course, he could lay the credit for that one firmly with Dante, though Melanie wasn’t to know that.
“Bastian, sweetie, I thought you were out of town.”
“No,” he said.
She stepped back but still kept the hand on his arm. “You didn’t answer my calls. And when I went around to your place, the concierge told me you were away.” She pouted. “Have you been avoiding me?”
“Of course not,” he said smoothly. “I’ve been busy that’s all.”
Her glance strayed from him to Julia, who was looking politely inquisitive, and she smiled. “Hello, I’m Melanie.” At last she dropped the hand from Bastian’s arm—he’d been resisting the urge to peel it away—and held it out to Julia.
Had Julia reacted to the name? Why the hell had he told her his old girlfriend was called Melanie? Of course, he’d never thought that they would run into the real thing.
Julia glanced at the hand, with its scarlet-tipped fingernails, and held out her own, the pale pink a vivid contrast. She smiled as they shook hands, but a frown was forming between her eyes.
“Melanie?”
“Melanie Stok
e, an old…friend of Bastian’s.”
“He mentioned you. I’m Julia. His new next-door neighbor.”
Dangerous ground. But Melanie didn’t seem to find that odd; maybe she presumed Julia meant at the penthouse.
“Julia is a journalist,” he said to deflect any more questions on the subject. “For a women’s magazine.”
“Really. And are you and she…?”
“We’re just friends,” he said.
“Hmmm, she doesn’t seem your usual type.”
“He has a type?” Julia asked.
“Let’s say, at the club, he usually selects a more”—she looked Julia up and down, a small smile curving her lips—“obvious partner.”
“The club?” Julia asked.
“I run a little club in Soho—Mel’s Dive,” Melanie replied. “We cater to people who like something a little…different. If you’re ever in the area you must drop in, mention my name at the door and you’ll be taken care of.”
“Different?” Julia widened her eyes, but he was sure the expression was fake. While Julia was a nice girl, she was in no way naive.
Instead of answering, Melanie turned to him. “I hope that wasn’t out of place, Bastian-baby, but if the two of you are just friends…”
“Not out of place, no,” he said smoothly. “But Julia isn’t interested in that sort of thing.” Though from the expression of avid interest on Julia’s face, he was guessing she was very interested—if not in doing it, then in hearing about it. Christ, why did he get the idea that his chance of winning the bet this evening had just gone out the window?
“Don’t tell me you’ve gotten yourself a nice girl, Bastian. I really wouldn’t have thought you’d know what to do with one.”
“Now, Melanie,” Colin spoke from beside her. “Don’t be a bitch.”
She gave a grin. “Sorry, sweetie, but you have to admit, it’s intriguing.”
“Very.” He turned to Sebastian. “Actually, I’ve been trying to contact you as well.”