I was so stunned I didn’t move. Tate kissed me, his mouth warm and tasting like alcohol while his lips moved over mine hungrily. He pushed past my lips and scoured the inside with his tongue. When he reached for the front of my pants, I finally reacted.
“Stop it,” I snapped, and shoved him back so hard, his head bounced off the headboard.
Tate breathed heavily, his dark blue eyes glazed from inebriation and other things.
“You ever wanted something you couldn’t have?” he asked roughly.
I was speechless. Over four years of nothing but a platonic relationship, and now here was Tate looking at me in a way that would put Juan’s most lustful leer to shame.
He gave a humorless laugh and ran a hand through his short brown hair.
“Shocked? You shouldn’t be. I’ve wanted you from the first time I saw you in that hospital bed, looking like a goddamn angel with your red hair and your big gray eyes. Yeah, I’m drunk, but it’s true anyway. Maybe I won’t even remember this in the morning. You don’t have to worry. I can handle things the way they are. I just had to kiss you tonight, no matter what happened afterward.”
“Tate, I... I’m sorry.” What else could I say? I must have had way too much to drink, too, because he had never looked as attractive as he did now, with that almost dangerous glint in his eyes. Denise had always said he was a dead ringer for Brad Pitt in Mr. and Mrs. Smith.
He smiled wryly. “You can hear my heart pounding, can’t you? When I drank that blood in Ohio, I could hear yours. I could smell you on my hands.”
“You’re my friend.” My voice quavered a bit, because the rawness in his face alarmed and—on a baser level—aroused me. “But we work together. I can’t give you more than that.”
He blew out a sigh through his nose and nodded shortly. “I know you don’t feel the same way about me. Yet.”
That single word made me draw back and head toward the door. It was too loaded with meaning for me to stay another minute.
“Answer me one thing before you go. One thing, and tell me the truth. Have you ever been in love?”
This stumbled me and I sputtered my reply. “Tate, I—I don’t think this is something we should discuss—”
“Bullshit,” he cut me off. “I just laid myself open here. Answer the question.”
Perhaps I also thought he might not remember this conversation in the morning, or maybe it was just his honesty. Either way, I answered him with the truth.
“Once. Years ago, before I met you.”
Tate didn’t blink, and his eyes bored into mine. “Who was he? What happened?”
I turned away, because now I was going to lie. When I answered him, it was as I walked out the door.
“You know who he was. He was the vampire I’d been sleeping with who wrecked your car the day we met. So you also know what happened to him. I killed him.”
WORK HAD BEEN HECTIC. In some ways that was good. The frantic schedule over the last two weeks kept the awkwardness with Tate and me down to a minimum. It was hard to be gawky when your lives were constantly on the line.
Things with Noah weren’t rosy, either. Despite his best efforts, my frequent absences strained our already tenuous dating relationship. And lately he’d started to drop hints about wanting to “deepen” things between us. Not that I blamed him for trying—we’d been going out for over two months, but it wasn’t going to happen.
I already knew we wouldn’t work, no matter how great of a person Noah was. There were too many lies between us, all mine, of course, and the bottom line appeared to be that I still wasn’t ready to let go of my former doomed relationship. Hey, at least I’d tried. Now I had to let Noah down gently. I’d already told him I understood if my schedule was too difficult for him to handle. Either Noah was stubborn or he wasn’t taking the hint. I had to start employing more concise methods, but I wasn’t about to just say, We’re through! and hang up on him. I liked Noah, and I hated the thought of hurting him.
Then on a Tuesday, abysmally early, my phone rang. I vaulted up to answer it, already looking for clothes and cursing whatever pulseless creature was causing trouble before eight in the morning, when I heard Denise’s voice.
“What’s wrong?” I asked immediately.
“Nothing! I’m sorry to call so early, but I couldn’t wait to tell you. Oh, Cat, I’m so happy. I’m getting married!”