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She eased off the bar stool and stepped toward him, and reality sank in.
Shit.
That’s what his head said. But his damned traitorous body wasn’t nearly as pissed.
His muscles tightened. His spine stiffened. Heat swept through him, firebombing his dick until it throbbed to full awareness. His eyes drank in the sight of her, roving from her head to her red-tipped toes and back up again just as she reached his table.
She looked different now. So damned different.
Instead of being pulled back, her long black hair hung in soft waves around her face, accenting her bright blue eyes and full pink lips. A fitted navy blue jacket molded to her lush breasts and tiny waist. A matching skirt outlined her curvaceous hips. High-heeled sandals made her legs seem that much longer than the full skirts and petticoats she’d worn way back when.
Different, yet she still had the same glimmer in her eyes. The same confidence in her stance.
His nostrils flared, and he drank in the same warm scent of apples and cinnamon that he remembered so well.
“Is this seat taken?” Her soft, familiar voice slid into his ears and jump-started his heart. Before he could reply, she pulled out the chair opposite him and folded herself into it.
The music blared a fast ZZ Top song that kept time with his racing pulse. “What are you doing here?” he finally asked after a long, loud moment.
She held up a bottle of Lonestar and gave him the faintest smile. “Thought I’d sample some of the local brew.”
“Not here at the Horseshoe.” His gaze narrowed, colliding with hers. “Here. This town.”
She shrugged. “I’m on assignment.”
That’s what she said. But her eyes. Those bluer-than-blue eyes said something much different. He didn’t miss the flash of desperation. Or the glimmer of need.
“We haven’t had any alien abductions or Elvis sightings in a while,” he said, sarcastically.
“I’m not working for The Gossip Guru anymore,” she said, referring to the national tabloid that sat next to the cash register at every grocery store and gas station in town. “I’m freelancing now. I’m doing a travel article on small towns.” Her gaze collided with his. “Sexy small towns.”
Her words stirred a rush of memories he’d buried a long, long time ago. Memories of the two of them having wild and crazy—
Garret hit the brakes and made a U-turn before he wasted another second going down the wrong road.
He’d traveled that path once before, and he’d crashed and burned in a major way. Sure, he couldn’t help a wet dream every now and then. But that was pure fantasy. An escape from the monotony of living year after year after year.
He sure as hell wasn’t stupid enough to go for the real thing.
Not ever again.
He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “It’s dusty here. And hot. And it smells like cow shit when the wind blows due south. We’re smack dab in the middle of ranch country. There’s nothing sexy about it.”
“Not to you because you live here. But if you were stuck in New York or Chicago or Detroit, it would be a different story. There are quite a few people who would love to escape the daily grind of civilization and get back to nature. In a small town, you can do that. There’s no traffic congestion. No pollution fogging the air. No concrete jungle. Just lots of birds and trees and rolling countryside.” She smiled. “Come on, you have to admit the view around here is pretty incredible.”
Damn straight.
She paused to lick her lips, and he couldn’t help but follow the motion with his gaze.
His stomach did a one-eighty, and the words were out before he could stop himself. “I suppose it’s nice enough. But sexy?”
“It can be. If you’re with that special someone. There are couples all over the world eager to find an old, quaint small town with friendly people and lots of local color for a romantic getaway.”
“You’ve just described every town from here to the Rio Grande. That still doesn’t answer my question—why this particular town?” My town? His gaze collided with hers and he found himself wishing he could read her thoughts the way he could read those of humans.
But she was a vampire.
She always had been.
A knife twisted in his gut, and he stiffened. “Why Skull Creek?” he pressed.
She didn’t say anything for a long moment. Instead, she licked her lips again. Once. Twice. If he hadn’t known better, he would have sworn she was trying to work up her courage.
But he knew better.
Viv had never come up short on courage. She was a bloodsucker who took what she wanted. And discarded what she didn’t want.
He knew that firsthand.
“Why not Skull Creek?” she countered. “Besides, it’s not the only town I’m featuring. Just one of five I’m visiting for this particular article.” The music closed in on them for several long seconds as Bob Seger launched into “Night Moves.”
“A travel piece, huh?” he finally said. “Sounds tame compared to the stuff you’re used to.”
She shrugged and took a swig of her beer. “I was due for a change of pace.”
“And here I thought you’d come all this way to see me.”
“Actually…” Her voice faded as she seemed to search for her next words. “I did.” Her gaze locked with his, and he saw it again—the flash of desperation, along with a glimmer of fear. “I…” She swallowed. “That, is, I know you recently opened a motorcycle shop in town, and I thought maybe I could take a few pictures for my article. You know, to showcase all that Skull Creek has to offer. I’ve taken shots of Mr. McClury’s jasmine fields and the gazebo in the town square. I know a motorcycle shop doesn’t seem all that sexy, but it’s the implication. Two lovebirds riding off into the sunset.” When he didn’t say anything, she added, “It’s just a few pictures. You won’t have to do anything. Just be there to let me in and out and answer a few questions.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“Free promotion. In exchange for the photos, the magazine will mention your contact information and even give you a free half page ad.” She smiled and he had the sudden urge to get the hell out of there while the getting was good.
The last thing he needed was to let Viviana back into his life, even for a measly travel article. He’d had a hard enough time putting the past behind him.
Better to keep his distance and his sanity.
At the same time, he couldn’t stifle the voice that told him there was something up besides his traitorous cock.
She wanted more from him than a few pictures, and he couldn’t shake the sudden urge to find out exactly how much.
No way did he want to spend any time with her because he still had feelings for her. Anything he’d once felt had died a long time ago, right along with his humanity. The only thing left now was the lust that lived and breathed inside of him. And that, he felt for every woman.
A lust he’d been denying since he’d moved to Skull Creek. He was tired of the endless one-night stands. Even more, he was tired of being a vampire.
He wanted out.
He wanted his humanity back.
“I’m busy with a project right now—a custom chopper we’ve designed for some bigwig up in Dallas. You’ll have to stay out of the way.”
She nodded. “No problem. You won’t even know I’m there.”
He sucked down the last of his drink. “Tomorrow night then. Seven o’clock.”
Excitement lit her expression as she got to her feet. “It’s a date.”
If only.
He squelched the thought, sipped his beer and watched the push/pull of her denim skirt as she turned to walk away.
Watch being the key word. A word that implied distance and perspective and hands off.
But looking…
Well, there wasn’t a damned thing wrong with that.
Chapter 2
EVERY INCH of Viv’s body screamed with awareness as she left Garret staring after her and headed for the nearest exit.
Her hands trembled. Her stomach tingled. Her nipples quivered. Heat flamed her cheeks, and she felt a buzzing awareness from her hair follicles to the balls of her feet. The chemistry between them was even stronger than she’d remembered.
Which explained why she’d chickened out with her real proposition.
She wanted a lot of things from Garret Sawyer—his hands on her skin, his lips eating at hers and his body full and thick inside of her—but a picture wasn’t one of them.
Unless said picture included all of the above.
But still shots of his motorcycle shop?
Forget desperate. One hundred and eighty years without an orgasm had finally taken its toll. She’d crossed the line from desperate to completely deranged.
“Hey there, sweet thing.”
Her gaze snapped up just as a man stepped in front of her and blocked her escape route. It was one of the bikers who’d been playing darts when she’d first entered the bar.
He slid his arm around her shoulder and leaned into her. “Why don’t you and I have a seat and get to know each other better?”
That’s what he said, but she knew the truth. He didn’t want to get to know her. Not her mind, that is. As for having a seat…The only seat he had in mind involved her straddling his lap and doing her best rodeo queen imitation.
“No, thanks.”
“Aw, don’t be like that.” His thick fingers stroked her arm. “I just want to be friends.”
“I doubt that.” Garret’s deep voice drifted over her shoulder and prickled the hair on the back of her neck.
The man turned and his eyes went wide. “Where’d you come from?”
“Do you really want to know?”
The man blinked and shook his head. “Weren’t you just sitting clear across the room?”
“I’ve got fast reflexes.” When the man didn’t look convinced, Garret added, “Shouldn’t you be at home with Liza?”
Shock fueled the man’s expression and his gaze narrowed. “What do you know about my wife?”
“I know she left your sorry ass because you’ve got a hair trigger when it comes to sex. I also know that the two of you are still married even though she’s staying at her mother’s.” Garret’s expression was as hard as granite. “You shouldn’t be here hitting on women. You should be begging Liza’s forgiveness.”
The man looked confused for a long moment before an idea seemed to strike. “You’re one of them superheroes, ain’t ya?”
“Not even close,” Garret replied.
“What about a psychic? My Aunt Bertie was a psychic. She had forty cats and swore she could talk to every one of them. Always knew when one was getting sick.”
“I’m not psychic either. I’m pissed. So get your hands off the lady. Now.”
“Like hell—” he started, but his voice faded when Garret’s gaze collided with his.
“Go home,” Garret told the man.
And beg your wife to take you back. Viv added the silent thought when the man’s gaze finally shifted to hers. He nodded and released her arm.
“Thanks,” she told Garret when the man finally walked away. “But you didn’t have to do that. I can take care of myself.”
“I know.” His gaze drilled into hers, and for a split second time pulled her back, and the wall between them seemed to crumble.
Concern sparkled in his eyes, along with a fierce protective light that stalled her heart.
“About those pictures,” she heard herself say. “I…” I was lying. I don’t want to take your picture. I want you. Wild and naked and inside of me. She opened her mouth, but despite the moment of déjà vu, she couldn’t seem to force the words past her lips. “I—I can’t wait to get started,” she heard herself say. “See you tomorrow.”And then she turned and pushed through the Exit door.
The sweltering Texas night sucked her up, and the door rocked shut behind her. Gravel crunched as she headed for the silver Jag parked at the far end of a row of motorcycles. Her ears tuned for any sound that would indicate that Garret followed.
Nothing.
A wave of disappointment crashed through her, followed by a surge of relief.
Relief? What the hell was wrong with her?
She should have hauled him outside with her, shoved him up against the nearest wall, kissed him full on the mouth and made her intentions crystal clear.
That’s what she would have done with anybody else. What she’d always done to keep up her strength and feed the hunger that churned deep inside her.
But while she’d soaked up plenty of sexual energy from her partner’s orgasms, she’d never closed her eyes and lost herself in the feel of her own body convulsing and splintering into a thousand little pieces.
Not since her last night with Garret.
She’d been a vampire back then and he’d been just another mortal, but the encounter had rocked her unlike any other. They’d had phenomenal sex and she’d been hooked.
