“I’m not sure when he died.” Again, notentirely a lie, but it was all she was going to say on thematter.
Ian paused in the act of refilling her drinkand lifted his head to look at her. Her eyes unwaveringly held his,but the haunted look in her gaze made him realize there was more tothat statement. “Did you know him well?”
“No, but far more than I would have liked.”A muscle twitched in her cheek. Her full lips pressed so firmlytogether they became a thin line. Ian walked over and handed herthe glass. She clasped it between both of her hands and downed morethan half of it in one swallow. “It’s been months since I drank,”she murmured.
“It doesn’t hurt to relax every once in awhile.”
She chuckled and shook her head. “I don’tknow the meaning of the word.”
“No, you don’t seem to.”
“All you do is relax. You were always havingfun at the bar.”
Ian stared at her, tempted to push herfurther about her father, but a smile was actually playing at thecorners of her mouth. He couldn’t bring himself to upset her again,something the subject of her father obviously did. “I have mymoments of seriousness,” he assured her.
“I doubt that.”
“We all have our crosses to bear.”
“And what is yours?”
“That’s a boring story dear Paige.” Shethrust out her empty glass again. “I’m going to assume youdoget drunk, probably rather easily judging by the size ofyou.”
“I can handle myself,” she assured him andwaved the glass at him.
“I’m not holding your hair back if youpuke,” he told her when he took the glass again.
She threw her shoulders back and thrust outher chin. “I, sir, do not puke.”
He chuckled as he topped off her drink andhanded it back to her. Color flushed her cheeks, her eyes werealready taking on a glassy shine that the firelight illuminated.“I’m going to hold you to that in a couple of hours.”
She tapped her finger against the glasswhile she watched him. “Are you playing with me? Do you plan tokill me?”
“You’d be dead if I planned to killyou.”
“Maybe this is a game to you.”
“The only games I play are recreational. I’mnot one for mind games or playing with people. In fact, I try veryhard not to hurt people.”
She tilted her head as she stared at him.“How do you feed without hurting them?”
He ran a hand through his hair beforesettling on the other end of the couch. “Do you really want theanswer to that?”
“I want the answer to anything you’rewilling to tell me. It would definitely help to put me at ease, andmake you a little more trustworthy.”
He stared at the fire before looking at heragain. He didn’t know what to make of this woman who was as pricklyas a cactus most of the time, yet he sensed something warmer andfar more vulnerable beneath her surface. He felt the irresistibleurge to touch her in order to help put her at ease. His touch wouldprobably be the last thing she’d welcome or that would help her torelax. He’d do anything to make her like him a little more, trusthim just the tiniest bit, but if he told her how he fed, the answerwould irritate her, and may push her further away.
He’d never been one to beat around the bushor lie; he wasn’t about to start now. She’d asked, and he wouldgive her what she wanted. “I feed from the women who go home withme.”
The flare of her nostrils was the onlyreaction she exhibited to his words. “All of them?”
“Yes.”
“And they don’t know about it?”
“No.”
“Don’t you feel bad doing that without theirknowledge?”
