Page 28 of Blood Bonds

“How so?” he asked, raising his brow in that sexy way of his.

“Two of you in the same room must have the ladies reaching for their smelling salts,” I teased, making him laugh.

“Hardly,” he replied, and I nudged his arm with my shoulder,

“Oh, come on, I bet there is a fan or two. Or are there full-on fainting fits? Perhaps they just throw their panties at you withtheir cell numbers written on… oh yeah, that must be it,” I said, feeling good when he started laughing again, like I had achieved something great.

“I think you exaggerate our prowess greatly.”

“Ha! Yeah right. Woman, remember?” I said, raising my hand, and the smirk he gave me was smoldering. Especially when his eyes raked down the length of me as if I were something delicious he wanted to eat.

Jesus, why was I suddenly burning up in this simple gray T-shirt? He made me feel like I was sitting here in my damn underwear, for Christ sake.

“An unforgettable fact, indeed,” he replied smoothly, making me blush.

“Well, I am not giving you my panties with my number on them if that’s what you’re angling for,” I blurted out before I could stop myself, and he nearly choked on the sip of coffee he was taking.

Of course, he recovered like a pro, unlike me, whereas I would have most likely snorted the froth and end up looking like some rabid dog. He merely had to use a napkin to calmly wipe his lips.

“You’re funny,” he stated as if surprised, as if he didn’t know that a woman could be… like I was some mythical being.

Well, if he liked that, then sign me up for stand-up comedian school. I didn’t think there was much I wouldn’t do for that smile of his, because damn, but I could easily see myself falling for this guy. Only, that knowledge, admittedly, also scared the shit out of me.

But more troubling than that was the whole question of if I liked Victor so much, why couldn’t I get my thoughts off the Vampire? Like the both of them were going head-to-head in my mind, battling it out for supremacy. I tried to shake myself free of this madness and focused back on our conversation.

“You seem surprised,” I replied to thefunnycomment he made.

“I must confess, it is not an endearing quality I have found in a woman, thus far.”

“Thus far? You don’t sound like you’re from around here,” I said, teasing him, and his reaction was to tense slightly.

“My brother and I have lived in many places but tell me, does the way I speak bother you?”

I realized I might have come across as insulting, so my natural reaction was to grip his arm and tell him,

“No, no, not at all. I am sorry, I mean I like it, or should I say, on the contrary, I think it’s great.”

His dark brown eyes widened momentarily before they landed on where my hand gripped his arm. I was so embarrassed that I started to remove it but before I could, he covered my hand with his own, stopping me from retreating.

“There is never a need to apologize for speaking your mindand never for touching me, Vanessa,”he said, his voice dropping lower with this last part as he squeezed my hand for emphasis. I swear this man was trying to turn me into a puddle of incoherent goo. I practically melted inside.

“Are you originally from New York?” he asked as he took my hand in his and started playing with my fingers, stroking along them in a sensual caress. I couldn’t think. I swear he had asked me a question.

“Erm… sorry what did you say?” I replied, feeling my cheeks getting hot. He didn’t laugh at me, but that knowing smirk was back in full force.

“Where were you born?” he asked again, and this time I was the one to tense. Something he felt, considering he was touching me.

“I am from a small town called Milford, in Pennsylvania, but moved here as soon as I turned eighteen,” I told him, despitefeeling like I had given him too much information. Usually, I didn’t share anything about my past.

“With your sights set on the big city?” he commented, making me laugh nervously.

“Something like that,” I replied wryly, wishing we were off the subject. So instead of asking where he was born, I asked him about his work.

“I never really got it out of you, are you a cop or not?”

His expression to this wasn’t surprising because he didn’t at all look like a cop… not in that expensive suit and having a chauffeur driven car.

“My apologies if I gave you the impression that I was,” he said, making me frown a little before asking the obvious.

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