Chapter Twenty-Eight
Brynlee blew out a sigh as she shut down her computer for the night.
It had been three weeks since she and Raelynn had left Morgan Creek.
Since then, she had spent every spare moment at the hospital with her mother and Raelynn.
It had been touch and go for a while. Bryn had stayed with her mother until her father came home, but was now back in her own apartment.
In an effort to forget about Conor Saintcrow, she had given up her no-dating decision and gone out on a couple of dates.
After all, she was twenty-three years old and most of her friends were getting engaged or married, and while she wasn’t quite ready to settle down, she very much wanted to find that special someone who liked the same things she did, wanted the same things, believed the same things.
Her last two dates had been pleasant company but she hadn’t felt any burning desire to see either one of them again.
She had another date tonight with the brother of Raelynn’s best friend.
Rob was due in fifteen minutes. She took a last glance in the mirror, checking her hair and makeup. When she heard a knock at the door, she took a deep breath, hoping that Rob would be as wonderful as her sister had promised.
Bryn gasped in surprise when she opened the door and came face to face with Conor Saintcrow. For a moment, she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could only stare at him. Dressed in black jeans and a white shirt, his long black hair brushing his collar, he looked even sexier than she remembered.
He whistled softly. “Wow! You look wonderful.”
“I have a date,” she blurted, and felt her cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. What was wrong with her? Why hadn’t she just said hello?
“I don’t suppose you’d dump him and go out with me instead?”
“I don’t think so.” If Rob had been anyone but the brother of Raelynn’s best friend, she would have cancelled the date in a heartbeat.
“So, who’s the lucky guy?”
“I’ve never met him. My sister arranged it.” She couldn’t stop staring at him. There was something different about him, she thought, an aura of.... She didn’t know what, but it surrounded him like an invisible cloud. Taking a step back, she said, “Would you like to come in?”
“Sure.” He followed her into the living room. “Nice place.” It was small but cozy, the walls a pale peach, the floors hardwood. A throw rug made a bright splash of color in front of the fireplace.
“Thanks. Please, sit.”
He sat on the blue-print sofa that faced the hearth, hands clenched to keep from taking her in his arms.
She took the chair opposite, her hands clasped in her lap. “What brings you to Vermont?”
“You, of course,” he said, smiling. “Why else would I be here?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.” It felt ridiculously good to see him again, but did she dare put it into words?
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he said quietly.
His dark gaze moved over her face. It sent a shiver of awareness down her spine. “I’ve missed you, too,” she admitted. “How long will you be in town?”
“As long as you want me to be.” Long enough to make her his, no matter how long it took.
Before she could answer, there was another knock at the door.
“Sounds like your date’s here,” Conor said. Rising, he took her hand in his. “I want to see you again. Say yes, Bryn. Tomorrow night at the same time?”
“I’d like that.” She followed him to the door, endured an uncomfortable moment as the two men looked each other over.
Jaw clenched, Conor fought down the urge to drive his fist into the other man’s face. Muttering, “Later,” he strode down the hall toward the elevator, every instinct urging him to go back and lay claim to the woman he wanted.
Bryn sighed as she watched him go.
“Are you ready?” Rob asked.
“Yes, just let me get my coat.”
He took her out to dinner at a lovely restaurant, insisted she order anything she wanted.
He was nice, polite, easy to talk to. They enjoyed the same kinds of movies and music, which was a nice plus.
After dinner, he took her dancing. She felt comfortable with him, laughed at his jokes, enjoyed his company, but she didn’t feel any spark of attraction.
Later that night, at her door, he took her hands in his. “I had a good time tonight,” he said. “But the whole time we were together, I had the feeling you were thinking of that other guy who was here earlier.”
Bryn bit down on her lip. He was right and she didn’t deny it.
Leaning forward, he kissed her on the cheek. “If it doesn’t work out with him, I hope you’ll give me a call.”
Bryn nodded. Brow furrowed, she watched him walk away, then turned and went inside, wondering how she would concentrate at work tomorrow knowing Conor Saintcrow was in town.
~ * ~
She woke after a restless night, her first thought for Conor.
She hadn’t stopped thinking about him since she returned home from Morgan Creek.
He had infiltrated her dreams, occupied every waking moment.
Even when she’d been concerned for her father, thoughts of Conor had seeped into the back of her mind.
What was he doing? Did he ever think of her? If so, why hadn’t he called?
Bleary-eyed, she climbed out of bed and headed into the bathroom to shower.
She dressed in a crisp white shirt and a navy skirt, tied her hair back in a ponytail, and went into the kitchen for a cup of coffee.
She wasn’t really hungry and decided to skip breakfast. She could always get something later at work.
~ * ~
Never had a day passed so slowly, Bryn thought, as she shut down her computer and locked a pile of confidential paperwork in her desk drawer.
She had spent every spare minute thinking about Conor.
She had it bad, she thought. If she was smart, she would end it now before it was too late, before she lost her heart completely.
She shook her head as she left her office and took the elevator down to the main floor.
She already cared too much and she barely knew him.
She told herself it was just infatuation.
She had never met a man so gorgeous. Tall, dark, and handsome, with a deep, sensuous voice that could charm the birds out of the sky, and a smile that did funny things in the pit of her stomach.
Why did he have to live so far away? Long distance relationships rarely lasted.
He had a good job working for his father.
She had a great job that paid well, included the best health care money could buy, a three-week vacation, and all the major holidays off.
Jobs like that didn’t come along every day of the week.
She sighed as she stepped out of the building, gasped as she came face to face with Conor. “What are you doing here? How did you know where I work?”
“I couldn’t wait until seven,” he said, falling into step beside her as she walked toward her car. “Do you mind?”
“No.” She unlocked the car and he opened her door, then walked around to the passenger side and got in. “I was planning to eat out tonight,” she said. “What are you in the mood for?”
Oh, crap, he thought. He should have waited to meet her after dinner. “Anywhere you want is fine.”
Remembering that he liked pasta, Bryn drove to a nearby Italian restaurant. It was still early for dinner and there were only a few people inside. They were seated at a table in a back corner.
“The rigatoni is really good here,” Bryn said. “Unless you’re in the mood for something else.”
“No, that sounds good.”
He ordered rigatoni for both of them, along with a bottle of red wine. His nostrils twitched when the waitress brought the wine along with a basket of garlic bread.
“What did you do all day?” Bryn asked, reaching for a slice of bread.
“Slept mostly.”
“Jet lag?” Bryn asked with a grin.
“Something like that. How long have you worked at Cummings and Cox?”
“Three and a half years. Don’t you like the bread?”
“What? Oh, yeah.” He reached for a piece, his mind brushing hers. I am eating the bread and the rigatoni. You will believe that no matter what the waitress says. “What would you like to do after dinner?”
“We could go to an early movie,” she suggested, as their dinner arrived.
“I’d rather go dancing,” he said.
Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of being in his arms.
“What do you say?”
“Alright.”
They chatted about inconsequential things during dinner. If Bryn noticed the odd look the waitress gave them when she collected their plates – his untouched – she didn’t say anything.
He paid the check and they drove to a nightclub on the other side of town.
Bryn was nervous without knowing why. She had danced with lots of guys – jocks in high school, Raelynn’s boyfriends, strangers at weddings.
The music was soft and slow, the lighting subdued.
All her trepidation melted away when Conor took her in his arms. They fit together perfectly.
He held her close, but not too close, and she shut her eyes and let the music carry her away.
Conor swore under his breath as her nearness engulfed him – the faint fragrance of her perfume, her skin, the tantalizing scent of her life’s blood.
It called to him as no other. Just a taste, he thought.
What could it hurt? He’d fed before he met her but he still worried about his self-control, even though Saintcrow had assured him that he could keep his hunger in check if he tried.
And still he yearned for a taste. It would be so easy to mesmerize her and take what he wanted.
When she drew back a little and looked up at him, her brow furrowed, he wondered if she had somehow sensed the difference in him. With a faint smile, he put a little more distance between them.
They didn’t stay out late, since she had to get up early in the morning.
He thought it was just as well, though leaving her was the last thing he wanted to do.
By the time he walked her to her door, his self-control was almost non-existent.
As he fought down his need, he was grateful once again for the added strength bequeathed to him by Saintcrow.
“I had a wonderful time,” Bryn said as she unlocked her door. She was tempted to invite him inside, but she had to be up early in the morning. “Good night, Conor.”
His hand on her arm stayed her. “You wouldn’t send me home without a good-night kiss, would you?” he asked, gazing down at her.
Caught in the depths of his midnight blue eyes, she swayed toward him, her eyelids fluttering down as he covered her mouth with his.
She had been hoping for this moment all night.
As his lips claimed hers, she went up on her tiptoes and slid her arms around his neck.
She clung to him as he deepened the kiss, her entire body yearning toward him.
Her heart was pounding when he lifted his head, and then he kissed her again.
Conor cursed softly as he let her go. He would have loved to stand there and hold her all night long, but his hunger for her kisses was nothing compared to the sudden urge to bury his fangs in her throat.
Muttering, “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he headed for the stairs, afraid if he waited for the elevator, he would lose what little self-control he had left, afraid even Saintcrow’s powerful blood wouldn’t be able to keep him from taking what he so desperately wanted.
Bryn stared after him, too overwhelmed by the lingering effect of his kisses to wonder at his odd behavior.
~ * ~
Conor fled into the night, felt it wrap around him like a warm, black cocoon.
He loved the darkness, but why wouldn’t he?
It was a part of him now. The breeze whispered her secrets, the nearby scent of prey called to him.
He didn’t dare drink from Bryn, but there was prey by the thousands in the city.
Saintcrow had warned him of dire consequences if he took a life, but his thirst wasn’t out of control.
He stalked the streets, searching for a lone female and when he couldn’t find one, he ducked into a cheap saloon.
The scents of perspiration, alcohol, and salsa assailed his nostrils, but the scent of blood was stronger than all of them.
He found a woman sitting alone at the end of the bar.
She was middle-aged. She might have been pretty once, but drink and nicotine had ravaged her face.
There was nothing wrong with her figure, though.
The sweater she wore revealed a healthy bit of cleavage.
Conor took the empty stool beside her and signaled for the bartender.
A quick inhalation told him what she was drinking and he ordered another for her and a glass of wine for himself.
He had never cared much for wine until it became the only liquid he could hold down besides blood.
He had tried consuming a few other things and learned the hard way that his father was right.
Mortal food and drink would only make him sick. And they did.
The woman smiled at him when the bartender placed a fresh martini in front of her.
Lifting the glass, she said, “Here’s to you, handsome.”
Conor lifted his own glass. “And to you, Doris.”
“Do we know each other?” she asked, frowning.
“No, but we’re going to.”
Her frown deepened and then she shrugged and sipped her drink.
When his glass was empty, Conor set it on the bar, then reached for her hand. “Let’s go for a walk.”
“A walk?” She hiccoughed. “Will you buy me another drink when we get back?”
“Sure.”
With a lop-sided smile, she slid off the bar stool and followed him outside.
He smelled her fear when he led her into the dark alley that ran alongside the saloon. Before she could scream, he spoke to her mind, assuring her that all was well. She relaxed immediately, her eyelids fluttering down when he ran his tongue along the length of her neck.
He didn’t take much, just enough to ease his hunger. A flick of his tongue sealed the wounds in her throat. Reaching into his pants’ pocket, he pulled out a twenty. “You won’t remember me or this night,” he said, as he stuffed the bill into her generous cleavage.
Releasing her from his thrall, he disappeared into the night.