But then, there was a perfectly soft, comfortable bed just a few steps away. It might be worth the effort to walk over there. Just.
Except there was a man in front of me. Waiting for an answer.
Yes. Kiss me. Make me forget about the power, the vampire, the murder, and this town.
“Ryder.” I didn’t know what I was going to follow that up with. I lifted my hands, as if somehow he would understand the words I couldn’t even find.
His gaze flicked across my face and he bit his bottom lip briefly. “Mmm.” His shoulders squared and he nodded as if he’d made a decision. “Bed, I think.” He took my wrist in one hand and guided me off toward the bed.
“I don’t—”
“I know,” he said. “You’re exhausted. We’ll take a rain check on dessert.” He walked me to the head of my bed and tugged at my hand so I’d sit.
I yawned and pushed at the toe of my boot with my other foot, trying to pop them off without unlacing. “Yeah,” I said. “Probably best. I couldn’t eat another bite. And I think I got a contact high from sitting next to Old Rossi for two hours.”
“Rossi?”
Did he sound worried? Startled? Did he sound like someone dangerous who had something to hide?
“Hippy who inherited that big house on the hill and runs yoga classes or crystal detox seminars and all that other woo-woo kind of thing.”
“I know him. Why were you sitting with him?” His voice was even, carefully casual.
Too casual?
“Well, my assistant got a phone call and dumped me. What was the call about?”
“Work.” He shifted his weight a bit, and I watched his body language out of the corner of my eye as I continued to kick at my boot heel to no effect.
“Dammit,” I whispered.
“Need some help?” He knelt and set the box of matches on the little wooden stepladder I used as a nightstand.
“I thought you were busy setting my house on fire.”
“That was one of the things I wanted to set on fire.”
A thrill of heat licked lazily across my skin. I stared down at his bent head, hair tousled from the wind, wide shoulders and back bent to the task of untying my boots.
His strong, steady fingers tugged at the laces on my boots.
Why couldn’t we have this? Why couldn’t we have each other? Just because one vampire thought a person was dangerous didn’t mean he was.
Or did it?
“What kind of work?” I asked. “Problems?”
“I’m in the construction business.” His fingers loosened, pulled. “There’s always problems. They always happen during off-hours, and they are always mine to deal with.”
“Oh. Sorry. Angry client?”
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I might have to go out of town for a while. I think it can wait until after the rally—so don’t worry about that.” He tipped off first my left boot by grabbing at the heel and tugging smoothly, and then did the same with the right boot.
“So Old Rossi’s a friend of yours?” He set the boots together next to my feet.
Is he an enemy of yours?
“Friend of the family. Bertie picked him out for your replacement.”
