What had happened to the tough daughter of a west Texas roughneck? She wasn’t normally this big a pushover. Of course, never before had anyone like Cole wandered into her life. Prince Charming in a black hat, the hero with sharp, nasty fangs and a pink marshmallow filling, that was Cole. And that paragon of decadent, slightly bent morality wanted her. Desperately. When he was this close, touching her, she had a foggy sense of his thoughts and emotions. It was a shadow of what she felt when they were joined in sex and blood, but it was enough to let her know that he was far from tired of her.
Even so, a girl had to have some limits. She frowned at him.
He laughed again and kissed her quickly. He plucked the comb from her hand.
“Since you are a modest dove, let me do something to keep my mind off ravishing you.”
He turned her about before she could object that she wasn’t shy or modest; she just wasn’t an exhibitionist. She was tempted to inform him that she didn’t mind him wanting to ravish her. She didn’t mind it one little bit. In fact, as soon as the waiter left, he was welcome to ravish away with her complete consent and blessings.
His breath tickled her ear as he leaned in close.
“I know. I intend to.” Apparently he’d read her thoughts as easily as she did his. “I hope you don’t mind that supper’s going to be a bit cold before we get to it.” He pulled her closer to him and made sure she could feel the hard evidence of his sincerity against her soft backside. He nibbled her earlobe again, completely ignoring any protests she thought of making and whispered, “In fact, I intend to take my own sweet time, because it’s been a good six hours since I last ravished you. I may have to order dinner all over again.”
* * * *
As it turned out, Cole didn’t have to reorder dinner. Not that Samantha cared one way or the other. By the time he seated her with graceful attention to etiquette at the white clothed table, she didn’t particularly care if the meal was stone cold or not. She was starving.
However, she didn’t need to worry the meal had been ruined while it waited on their carnal activities. The excellent equipage and serving pieces kept the hot foods pleasantly warm, if not piping and the cold items comfortably chill, if not frozen.
It all waited in beautiful and artistic arrangement, tempting Sam to sit and enjoy. The delicate china and crystal gleamed in the light of candles set on the table and about the room. The silverware was heavy in her hands, pleasantly balanced and beautifully engraved.
The centerpiece was a gorgeous creation of orchids and tropical flowers in a crystal bowl. However, the exotic blossoms placed so carefully in the center of the table annoyed Cole, and he set them aside.
“I can’t see enough of you with those between us. And I’d far rather look at your loveliness than theirs.”
Sam felt her insides turn warm and if she hadn’t been absolutely ravenous, dinner would have gotten very, very cold indeed. As it was, her stomach rumbled and she reached for the covers protecting the dishes. She contented herself with feasting on the delicious food and Cole’s astounding good looks.
Comfortably clothed in a glorious green satin wrapper Cole produced from his goody bag, she nearly gasped when the meal was revealed. She didn’t exactly remember what her last meal was, probably fast food of some sort. It certainly wasn’t tiny steaks grilled rare and succulent, served with potatoes so light and fluffy they were cloud-like. The myriad baby leaves of the salad sparkled with champagne dressing. The asparagus spears beneath their Hollandaise sauce were so tender-crisp and delicious Sam would have been happy with nothing but the vegetable. She ate with gusto.
The food was heavenly, but she kept getting distracted by Cole. He wore nothing but a satin robe much like hers, but in royal blue. Somehow the color made his eyes a deeper purple. He had teased her while the waiter was setting out the meal, threatening to eat naked. Now she wished she’d let him. If he’d been nude she might not have been quite so obsessed with the play of candlelight on the gleaming silk. Of course, she’d likely have been just has distracted by the warm glow on his creamy skin.
She wished she could stop thinking about his chest. She kept forgetting to chew, and any comment she made was likely to be disjointed and incoherent. He was just too damned distracting for words to come out of her mouth sensibly.
Cole didn’t seem to suffer from the same affliction. While they ate, he turned his attention to an in-depth discussion of how he survived his execution and what event could possibly have brought Sam into his world. Luckily, she didn’t have to explain any of what happened to her; it was in his memories as plainly as it was in hers. Sam mostly contributed nods and noises of agreement to his theories and wonderment. They reached no conclusion beyond an agreement that neither of them had any idea what had actually happened or how Cole was alive or how Sam had ended up with him.
He did however have some new information for her. “I don’t suppose you watched the television while you were alone?” At her negative answer, he answered his own question. “Of course not. You really had no reason to.”
She didn’t tell him she hadn’t watched the television because she couldn’t find the remote, and the TV didn’t have a button to change the channels. Sam really hated the trend of ‘remote only’ control in new electronics. Break the damned remote and the TV or stereo was useless. She considered it as useful a technological advance as Windows ME. And ME had caused her some serious alcohol consumption while helping a friend install some new gaming software. Sam would rather have gone out rattlesnake hunting barehanded.
Still, growliness at stupid remotes aside, she’d turned on the TV while waiting and wondering if Cole would return. She needed the distraction. But watching a local PBS station doing a fund-raiser had been interesting for all three minutes and she’d turned it off in disgust.
“I’m not sure if it would mean much to you even if you did watch the television,” Cole continued. “You’re not a part of this world, and I’m not sure how accurately time is portrayed in those novels of yours.”
She opened her mouth to tell him they weren’t her novels; she was the reader not the author but he hurried on without waiting for her reply.
“There was a newspaper outside our door and the date caught my eye. If I were a mortal human, I’d probably have had heart failure.”
Her brow knotted in confusion and she felt a flash of his amusement in the depths of her mind.
“You’re adorable when you frown like that,” he said before he returned to his original train of thought. “Now, I’m well aware of everything you’ve read. In fact, I’ve lived all the events you’ve read about. They are an intimate part of my life experiences. But according to the date on that newspaper, they haven’t happened yet.” He paused to take a quick sip of wine. “I believe I’ve returned to the beginning of your novels.”
It took a moment to figure out what he was talking about. “You mean you’ve gone back in time from your prospective? You’ve started over?”
Sam couldn’t think of a single useful thing to say as he nodded tranquilly. She didn’t know if she should be shocked or not. The band squeezing her ribs was back and tighter than ever. So he was as out of time and place as she was. Cole, on the other hand, was taking it all with remarkable sang-froid. She was freaking out more than he was and she found it intensely annoying. But he’s written that way, Sam consoled herself. His lifestyle and habits were more conducive to supernatural occurrences than her own, so why shouldn’t he be calmer about it? She frowned as he swirled the wine in his glass reflectively.
“If I haven’t gone back to the very beginning of the first novel, I’m certainly close.” He raised the glass in toast. “I salute you, my dear. You’ve given me the opportunity to decide if I wish to rectify all the mistakes I’ve made in the last decade or if I simply want to live them over.”
If there was an ironic cast to the gesture, Sam couldn’t completely blame him for it. Her frown faded as she felt the edge of his confusion and regret. Col
e was well aware of how many wrong choices he’d made and what a mess his life had been.
He stared at his plate for a moment and she realized his tranquility was a pose. He was every bit as disconcerted as she was. “And since I’ve gone back to the beginning, I have the chance to make everything right with my brother. He has no reason to hate me at this point.”
She couldn’t understand why he cared so much about Wynn’s opinion, but knew saying so would only lead him down avenues of emotional suffering. It wouldn’t change his need for Wynn’s approval and affection. She still didn’t know quite what to say and so wisely said nothing and in a moment his mood had passed. Cole speared a bit of asparagus.
“I believe we should contact Wynn,” he said lightly. “I know how you feel about him, and overall I agree, but he’ll have contacts that I don’t. In general, I avoid anything that smacks too strongly of magic or the occult but I have a feeling there is more to your appearance than simple science. I fear we’ll need his help in sorting all this out.”
Sam nodded silently. So he was anxious to see she went home. Well, it made sense. He might feel a certain fondness and even a sense of responsibility toward her, but he couldn’t want her to hang around forever. She was hardly the type that rich, playboy vampires would want around for more than a little while. She wished their bond didn’t fade so quickly and she had more than just an impression of what he was feeling. He was fond of her and grateful. It was stupid for her to want or expect more.
“Good idea.” She manipulated her lips into a false smile “I’d better get back before I’m missed. We both have lives to get back to.”
His fork paused in midair for the barest instant before he ate the morsel impaled upon it. He chewed reflectively, taking his time with his steak, before he swallowed and spoke.
“I thought about that while you were sleeping,” he said and speared another morsel of food. He handled his fork European fashion, not bothering to switch hands when he cut something or troubling to make sure the utensil was right side-up rather than upside-down. There was a careless grace to way he ate that made her more studied America manners appear stiff and artificial.
“Of course,” he said. “I completely understand your wish to return to your friends and family as soon as you can.” He smiled and the tenderness of it seemed to glide under the soft luxury of her wrapper. “We’ll talk to my esteemed brother and if he’s still in a good mood with me, perhaps he’ll be willing to help.” His smile broadened as he added. “I’ll see that you end up exactly where you belong.”
She nodded silently. It was no less that she’d expected. There was no reason for Cole to want her to hang around. She smiled back. If there was little happiness in the smile, well, that was to be expected, too, wasn’t it?
What little cheerfulness she felt vanished when Cole called Wynn immediately after the end of their meal to set up a meeting. She hoped he’d wait a little while.
“I see. Well, thank you, Alice.” Cole finished his call and put away his cell phone. “I’m afraid Wynn is out of town on a private pleasure trip.” His teeth seemed slightly on edge with the last words. “Incommunicado for at least a week.”
The meeting with Cole’s brother wasn’t going to happen. Wynnston Matthews wasn’t in town. He wasn’t available and wouldn’t be for several days. She couldn’t suppress the burst of joy she felt.
Cole didn’t seem terribly troubled by the delay either. He was amused. “Well, I supposed we’ll just have to make you comfortable until he does appear.” His grin was filled with boyish enthusiasm. “What do you say to a few days in my company? I assure you that you’ll enjoy it.”
Sam had no doubts about that and readily agreed. How many girls got the chance to hang with their favorite literary character? Wasn’t that one of the standard questions used for Internet quizzes and beauty magazines? If you could meet your fantasy guy, who would it be? Well, Sam had met hers and was in no hurry to get back to her real life. There was nothing in Midland-Odessa to compare to Cole. And so what if she had a crush on him? That was no crime either. She knew he wasn’t real and that this was all a fantasy. So where was the harm in indulging the dream for just a little while? Lurleen could frown all she wanted to. It was a nice dream and Sam just wanted to enjoy something for a change.
“Sure. I imagine it’ll be great.” To her surprise, her second attempt at a false smile washed into sincerity.
“Excellent,” Cole smiled and then laughed, a boyish flash of white teeth that confirmed he could never be a monster. “You know, I don’t believe I’ve ever had a chance to simply spend time with a friend.”
So that’s how he saw her, Sam thought, a friend. A warm rush of pleasure coated her insides.
Cole once stated in one of the early books that he had no friends, that he never had had any and that he didn’t want any. It was a lie, of course. Anyone reading the scene knew that. It was one of his big cover-up lies. He was hiding his loneliness and vulnerability whenever he made those types of statements. Cole wanted a real friend more than he wanted to live forever.
Very well then, she’d be his friend. It was good enough. Better than good.
After all, Sam reminded herself carefully, she didn’t love Cole Grayson. She couldn’t. A single day spent in his company wasn’t enough for her to fall in love.
Sam smiled when he kissed her fingers and ignored the gymnastics her stomach performed at the feel of his lips on her skin.
He’s not real, she repeated. I can’t love him; he’s not real.
Chapter Five
The salesclerk couldn’t take her eyes off Sam’s worn cowboy boots. Sam narrowed her eyes, a wordless warning for the girl. That skinny thing had no reason to look down her surgically enhanced nose at the Texan. Sam knew people in California wore boots. They had been fashionable off and on for some time and even when out of favor, some movie stars still wore them.
After glancing down, Sam had to admit that maybe it wasn’t the boots that were the clerk’s concern so much as the state they were in. Sam had owned them for a fair number of years and they were beyond the stage of well broken in. They had been resoled twice and were scuffed and battered. They were also the most comfortable pair of shoes Sam had ever had. And at the moment, they were the only shoes she owned. But considering how disreputable they were, Sam couldn’t in all honesty blame the clerk for looking at her sideways.
Everything about Sam was disreputable. Her jeans were discolored and torn, and not in a fashionable way. The fading wasn’t from stone- or acid-washing; it was pure wear. And the rips weren’t there for aesthetics. They were courtesy of Cole’s over-active libido. He had gotten a little happy with his claws at one point in their lovemaking. The boots and the jeans were the only things that had even half-survived.
Her T-shirt was completely destroyed, so she was wearing one of Cole’s shirts with the sleeves turned up several times. Luckily the shirt hung well down her thighs, hiding some of the worst of the holes in her pants. She didn’t have a lot of choice about wearing the jeans; Cole’s pants wouldn’t go over her broader hips, so rips or not, it was the jeans or go bottomless. Regardless of how far down her thighs his shirt hung, she didn’t feel it made a decent dress.
Sam ignored the clerk and glanced at the price tag on the nearest pair of slacks and winced.
“Cole.” She waited for him to stop fiddling with the dress he was holding up to her. He put it back on the rack, but pulled out another. “Cole.”
“Hmm? Yes, my dear?” His attention was still focused on the dress, a frown marring his smooth brow as he critically surveyed the blue silk’s effect on her complexion.
“I don’t see anything here. Let’s go somewhere else,” she said diplomatically with an eye on the supercilious sales clerk.
“They have a decent enough selection.” He wasn’t getting the more subtle undertones of her message. “If not out here, then in their private collection.” He brightened visibly. Even frustrated with his inattentivene
ss, Sam couldn’t resist his infectious smile.
“That’s the answer!” Cole turned to the clerk. “Miss, we’ll need to see something from the designer’s collection. Size twelve,” he said with a measuring glance at Sam’s hips.
Sam tilted her head at him. That was a little too much! For that accurate a reckoning, he’d need more than vampire senses, he’d need a deep familiarity with the female form that could only come from intimate knowledge of a great many women. She took a second to delve into his memories. They didn’t exist like her own; it wasn’t as though she’d lived his life. It was more like remembering a movie she’d seen so many times she knew all the scenes by heart.
This particular section of the film was decidedly X-rated. Cole was a disturbingly experienced man.
Then she laughed at herself. He didn’t need to be experienced to know her size. Cole had all her memories; of course he knew what size she wore. Honestly! Her wits had taken a permanent siesta. Not only were her hormones going crazy, but her I.Q. had vanished. She was convinced she hadn’t been able to think coherently since she’d landed on top of Cole.
The clerk wasn’t as impressed with Cole’s ability to correctly judge women’s sizes as Sam was. Her raised eyebrow clearly indicated the young woman’s opinion of Sam’s hips, but she nodded and said, “Of course.” Her expression said it all—a sale was a sale, regardless of ratty boots, big hips, and torn-up jeans.
“Cole, we really should go,” Samantha repeated. If the low-end clothes cost more than she made in a month, she knew the fancier clothes were way beyond the one-hundred-and-fifty-three dollars she had in her wallet. She was just lucky she carried her wallet in her pocket rather than putting up with the bother of carrying around a purse. Otherwise she’d be stone broke. She shook her head. There wasn’t a thing in this store she could afford. Even if her credit cards were functional in this make-believe world they didn’t carry the kind of limit that would let her shop in this sort of a place.
Vampire Encounters - Second Chances Page 6