A Vampire's Promise (2 page)

“Ooooh—her tip jar's gonna be short,” Laycee observed, glancing at the bartender. Annoyed by the interruption, Miss Juicy glared at her competition.

“He's got to be waiting for someone,” I murmured. It was the only plausible explanation for his being in Rosie's to begin with, as well as his lukewarm response to the women around him. Either that or he was gay, which I couldn't count out, but doubted. If he was looking to get lucky with another guy, why send out vibes that had them all backing off? No, whoever he was waiting for, I'd bet my next paycheck they were of the female persuasion. Probably more than one someone. Now how depressing was that?

I was about to share this insight with Laycee when he chose that exact moment to turn his head and look right at me. His gaze lit me up, held me fast, and dared me to be the first to look away.

I didn't.

I couldn't.

The world as I knew it came to a screeching halt and tumbled off its axis. And I knew, no matter whatever else happened to me in the rest of my life, something had just changed. It was one of those pivotal moments that happen once in a lifetime. One that said nothing was ever going to be the same.

H
e hadn't moved, except to carefully peel Jessica's fingers from his hand before resuming his place at the bar. But it felt as if he knew that I'd been looking at him, and now he was saying
Okay . . . my turn.

He was staring at me, and I could see the color of his eyes as clearly as if he were right in front of me. Dark blue, a brilliant mesmerizing shade of cobalt framed by thick lashes. They held on to me, making my stomach clench and roll like I was on a fairground tilt-a-whirl ride. And then he moved his mouth, lifting the corners in a lazy, sensual smile that almost had me stroking out. My chest became a vise, slowly expelling all the air from my lungs and forcing my heart to beat faster. I saw the brilliant gleam of his teeth as his lips parted, and as if asphyxia wasn't going to be enough to deal with, I was suddenly flooded with the oddest sense of déjà vu.

Intuitively I knew that if he widened his smile by just a few millimeters, it would reveal a dimple hidden in his left cheek. Right on cue, as if wanting to prove me right, he did just that, and . . . there it was. What could so easily be considered a flaw I thought was the sexiest come-on I'd ever seen. It was crazy, I know, but his expression seemed familiar. As if I'd seen him smile at me like that before. Which was completely impossible, of course. And then the final, totally insane thing happened.

You know who I am.

The words jolted inside my head, whispered in a silken voice I didn't recognize—and they were completely untrue! If I'd seen this guy before, trust me, I would have locked him away in the old memory bank. He had a face no woman would ever forget. Lightly touching my hand, Laycee jerked me back to reality. I sucked in a greedy lungful of air as my heart found its rhythm.

“Rowan, are you okay?” She looked at me, concern marring her carefully made-up face.

“Yeah, of course. Why d'you ask?” For some reason my voice sounded perfectly normal, which was strange, considering I hadn't been able to catch my breath a moment before.

“No reason, except your mouth's hanging open and you look sort of. . .
hungry
.” A wicked smile replaced the concerned look. “Don't worry, it suits you.”

Self-conscious, I closed my mouth, pretending I had no idea what she was talking about as she turned her head and looked back toward the bar.

“Smile,” she hissed suddenly. “He's looking at you!”

Tell me something I don't know.

I was in the process of trying to get my head unscrambled when the look of dismay on Laycee's face told me it was no longer necessary. He wasn't looking at me anymore. But I knew that too. The clenching in my stomach ceased and my ribs no longer felt as if they were on fire.

Turning my head, I saw my now not-so-ardent admirer had picked up where he'd left off. He'd returned his attention to Miss Juicy, who, utterly enthralled, kept flicking her dark hair over her shoulder so nothing would interfere with his view of her assets. The gesture irritated the crap out of me, and woke up my inner bitch.

How about we just go slap the shit out of her?

I declined the offer, even though an inexplicable jealousy was swirling through me. After having the humdrum predictability of my world so thoroughly shaken, I was more than a little annoyed at being passed over without so much as a second glance.

Miss Juicy laughed. Her cackle ricocheted across the bar with enough of a screech factor to set my teeth on edge. I thought it sounded forced, which just went to show how much that odd little episode had unnerved me. Why was I mad at her? As much as I hated to admit it, it wasn't her fault I didn't have the goods to hold his interest.

I drowned my unreasonable attitude in a long swallow of beer. The interaction at the bar had not escaped Laycee's notice. How could it with that laugh that sounded like a jackass braying?

You sure you don't want to go slap her?
My inner bitch snorted.

Shaking my head, I put down my glass. Laycee stared at me. “Don't worry,” I assured her with a nonchalance I didn't feel. “Nothing would have come of it anyway. He's really not my type.”

“You're such a liar.” The words were said affectionately, but the look in her eyes had me thinking she knew exactly how his gaze had affected me. “What would you do if he was to come over here right now and ask you out?”

I honestly didn't know. I told myself the reason for my tilt-a-whirl experience was because it had been a while since a guy had looked at me with any real interest. I was out of practice and had gotten flustered. That was all. No big deal. Except it really was a big deal. No man had ever looked at me before and made me feel excited and terrified all at the same time. I wasn't sure if I liked it, and I certainly didn't know how to handle it.

It's not that I don't want a boyfriend; I've plunged headfirst into the dating pool several times. It's just that, on an intellectual level, I've waded back out again seriously disillusioned. Is it too much to want a guy whose choice of reading material goes beyond
Popular Mechanics, Field and Stream,
or something that comes in a plain brown wrapper?

Actually I might not have a problem with pornography if it meant I had a sex life, but the guys I've been dating must only be looking at the pictures because I'm still technically a virgin. Efforts to change my status so far have resulted in two broken zippers, a bad case of muscle cramps, and a real empathy for the embarrassment that comes with premature ejaculation. Same guy, three times. But it hasn't been a complete waste of time. On the plus side I have learned a lot about foreplay.

Tapping the surface of the table with a long, red fingernail, Laycee tilted her head. “I think you're all wrong about him waiting for someone,” she murmured in a low voice. “I think he's just found what he's been looking for.”

I looked up, astonished to see Miss Juicy herself heading toward us with a tray balanced on the upturned palm of one hand. I knew the exaggerated sway of her hips was definitely not for my benefit. Stopping at our table, she popped out her hip before placing her free hand on it. My inner bitch was straining at the leash.

“From the guy at the end of the bar,” she said, taking the lone glass off her tray and placing it in front of me.

My first instinct was to tell her she'd made a mistake, only the look on her face said she already thought that. How I had managed to hook such a catch was beyond her comprehension. It took all I had to keep the shit-eating grin off my face. Guess I'd rated that second look after all.

Next to me, Laycee was almost quivering with excitement. This was something straight out of one of her trashy romance novels. The only thing that could have made it even better was if I'd gotten champagne. Somehow I doubted there was a bottle of Dom Perignon hidden behind the bar.

I'm not a complete idiot. Men have bought me drinks before, but usually I'm on a date with them. This was the first time I'd been singled out in such a way, and while I was pleased it got Miss Juicy's panties all wadded up, on another level I wasn't comfortable with the attention. I felt out of my depth, mainly because I didn't know what kind of expectations came with the drink, and there would be some, there always were. But I was certain of one thing. He was a man who was very sure of himself and, I suspected, used to getting what he wanted.

The decision made, I picked up the tumbler, catching the familiar whiff of bourbon, and placed the glass back on the tray. “Tell him thanks . . . but no thanks.”

Laycee spluttered and almost sprayed beer over the table, while Miss Juicy opened her eyes wide. Confusion was replaced by stunned surprise. Perhaps I didn't realize
who
had sent the drink? I could almost see the conflict inside her as she tried to decide whether to do a brisk about-face before I changed my mind or give me the chance to rectify my mistake. She earned my grudging admiration for the choice she made.

“Are you sure?” she asked, “It's the big blond guy.” Nodding her head in the direction of the bar, she added, “The one all in black.”

“Yeah, I know who you mean,” I said slowly. “The guy who looks like a Viking.”

Any admiration I felt vanished when I saw her face light up with barely contained glee at my apparent stupidity. After landing something so mouth-wateringly delicious, I was throwing it back? How dumb was I? Still, my turning down all that testosterone meant she could have another crack at him. I almost told her to go for it, but I'm not that nice.

“Whatever,” she said, blowing out an exaggerated breath that matched the lift of her shoulders. I watched her walk away, wondering how she would rephrase my refusal.

“Are you like, seriously, out of your fucking mind?” Laycee hissed.

“Laycee, I'm not about to accept a drink from some guy who's just passing through.”

“You don't know that.”

“Aw, come on!” I rolled my eyes. “Take a good look at him.”

“I have been,” she snapped irritably. “Problem is, he hasn't been looking back!”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. This was a big admission on her part. The only guy I ever knew not to look at Laycee had had the world's only justifiable reason. He was blind. But as his seeing-eye dog did try to sniff her crotch, it still counted as looking in my book. To hear her say that my Viking—
when had I become possessive?—
hadn't as much as glanced her way was astonishing.

“Not once?” I queried slowly.

“Not. One. Single. Time.” The end of her ponytail swooshed across her shoulder as if helping to emphasize her point. “Trust me, Rowan, every time his head's been turned in this direction, his focus has been fixed on you, girlfriend, and only on you.”

Any comment I was about to make was drowned by the burble of her cell phone. She answered and immediately began glowing. I didn't need to be a psychic to know who was on the other end.

“Guess you're not gonna need me to give you a ride home after all, huh?” I said when she was done grinning and murmuring. I poured the last of the beer into her glass, but I lacked her deft touch and the foam spilled over the rim and ran down the side of the glass.

“Sorry, Ro, guess not.” Grabbing a handful of napkins, she helped me blot up the mess I'd made.

I glanced over at the bar and saw Miss Juicy grab her own napkin, only she was using it as notepaper. After scribbling something down, she slid it across the bar to the Viking. I figured it was probably directions to the nearest motel, along with her phone number. She looked like the type of girl who always sat in the front car of a roller-coaster ride and kept the safety bar in the upright position.

“I think she'll be a much better fit for him, in more ways than one,” I said, knowing Laycee had also witnessed the exchange. A stab of jealousy rolled through me, but I told myself it was only hurt pride. Something that a good night's sleep would cure.

“Yeah, well, you gotta admit he
is
a looker.” Laycee sounded wistful, and now that the rest of his evening was apparently decided, I could agree. He
was
incredibly good-looking.

“Guess I'll just have to put him in the
One That Got Away
column,” I said glibly.

“One of these days you're gonna learn to take a chance,” my best friend said earnestly. “Quit playing it safe, because all that will guarantee is that one side of your bed is going to be empty. And don't tell me you're okay with that because being alone sucks, big-time.” Her eyes flickered over to the bar before returning to me. “You're one of the smartest people I know, Rowan Marie Harper, but if you're saving yourself for Mr. Right, take it from me, honey; he doesn't exist anywhere but here.” She tapped her temple with her finger.

“No one is gonna hand happiness to you. You've gotta grab it for yourself, no matter how it comes packaged, because if you don't, there's always going to be some other girl willing to take what you turn down.” She paused. “And once it's gone, you can't ever get it back.

“Every guy's a jerk in one way or another, it's in their DNA, but sometimes you get lucky and meet a guy who isn't a complete asshole. The trick is recognizing him when he comes knocking on your door. You have to make sure there's enough good in him to let you overlook his faults.” Chuckling, she shook her head. “And trust me, he'll have a shit-load of 'em!” The smile she gave me was warm and genuine. “You just haven't met the right guy yet,” she ended prophetically.

I hoped she was right. I'd hate to think he might have already come and gone. And, God forbid, been my premature ejaculator. “Maybe that's the problem,” I said with a grin. “I really should be looking for a
girl
friend.”

“Puhleeze—you are so not gay!”

“How do you know?” I was curious to hear her answer.

“Honey, I fix hair for a living. Trust me, I know gay and you're not it.”

I couldn't argue with her logic. Laycee was about to say something else when I tapped her on the arm. “Jake's here.”

“Hey, Rowan, how are you?” he asked, taking the seat I'd vacated so he could sit next to his girlfriend.

I was always surprised by his voice. It was soft and low, and not something most people would expect from a member of law enforcement, no matter how small the jurisdiction. But the smile he gave me was genuine, and I could tell he was thankful he didn't have to hide his relationship with Laycee from me.

“I'm good, Jake, thanks for asking,” I replied, “and I'm glad you're here, because I gotta go.”

“Girl, you're going to make me think I'm scaring you away,” he protested jokingly.

“No danger of that, but I've got work in the morning.”

Grabbing my jacket and purse, I said my good-byes, waving off their half-hearted protests at my leaving. Nothing more useless than a fifth wheel.