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Toni fumbled for her phone, which had slipped under her leg. “I have to call Birdie.”

“Hold on.” Lawrence scooted toward her and put his hand on her arm. “Birdie knows where you are, that you’re safe.”

Her eyes widened. He’d called her aunt?

“Last night . . .” He took his hand away, and even though he had some serious explaining to do, she immediately missed the warmth.

Dammit. His effect on her just wasn’t fair.

“We were at the bank,” he added.

“I remember that.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

He was smiling at her now. A sly smile.

“I remember dancing. And then . . . dinner? Some kissing?” Ugh, she couldn’t remember. “I’m not sure. It gets fuzzy then. But I don’t think we drank that much—”

He actually chuckled at that.

“Sorry,” he said in response to her scowl. “It’s just . . . you didn’t drink that much.” He sobered instantly. “But I did.”

So what? What did that have to do with her memory . . .

Toni’s hands shot out in front of her. She turned them over, looking at her wrists.

“Not there.” Lawrence leaned closer and reached out to touch her neck. “There,” he said, tracing the line of her neck.

She felt the spot where he’d evidently fed from her. Alessandra had told her a vampire’s bite instantly healed, but she’d expected there would be something left behind. A tiny mark, perhaps. A sensitive spot.

“You fed from me? There?”

“I did.” His eyes had a gleam to them, reminding her of that old expression—the cat who ate the canary. Great. She was the canary in this situation, and she couldn’t even remember.

“I see.”

“We discussed me being a vampire—”

She thought back to the dance. Snippets of conversation came back to her, but it was impossible to piece them together.

“And you asked me to show you what it was like.”

Toni glanced down at her wrists again.

“I told you if I was going to feed from you, it would not be from there.”

“And what happened with the store?”

Lawrence sat back on the bed, propping himself on his elbows. “I heard glass shattering, so we left to investigate. I caught a man behind the counter. The paper this morning called it a robbery . . .”

Oh my goodness, her aunt and uncle must be devastated.

“. . . but I’m not so sure,” he finished.

“What do you mean?”

“After I knocked the guy out—”