A Vampire's Promise by Carla Susan Smith Read Free Book Online

Now what was I supposed to do? “Um, no . . . that never crossed my mind,” I lied.
    â€œGood, glad to hear it.” His smile grew wider. It really was nice to look at and, I decided, not at all like that of a serial killer. “So, are you ready?”
    This was my last chance to back out and tell him it had been a mistake. That I was turning him down in favor of a microwave dinner and a TV rerun. Only I realized a fundamental truth about myself. Sometimes I am a nice person even if I don’t always think so. Damn it! He could have been the biggest jerk in the world, but I still would have shown up and gone out with him because I’d said I would.
    Telling myself I could manage one drink, just to be polite, I heard myself mumble, “Uh yeah, sure,” and began walking toward the bar.
    An old Brooks and Dunn hit escaped as the doors opened, the melody carried out on the warm night air. I hoped Miss Juicy wasn’t working tonight. As much as I’d like to stick it to her, it wasn’t going to be much fun having her eyes boring holes in my skull all night long. She’d probably spit in my drink, too.
    I’d covered half the distance before I realized I was walking by myself. Stopping, I looked back over my shoulder. The Viking had resumed his position against the boat.
    â€œWhat?” I immediately went on the defensive, wondering why he had stopped. Perhaps he’d changed his mind after all.
    His chuckle was a low deep rumble, and I felt my face flush with embarrassment, even though he didn’t sound mean or unkind. Hitching my purse farther up my shoulder, I waited, hiding behind my confusion to take a look at him as he walked slowly toward me. Take a really good look at him.
    He appeared much as he had last night, except the long blond hair was neatly tied back and the body-hugging T-shirt had been replaced by a black dress shirt. Judging from the sheen, I thought it might be silk. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and he’d left the collar open, giving me an excellent view of his throat. In my opinion, most men who wear a silk shirt and jeans look pretentious, but on him the clothes looked stylish and very GQ . Even with the boots he was wearing. They were biker boots, the kind worn by real bikers, not those pseudo wannabes dealing with a mid-life crisis by trying to recapture what they never had going on to begin with.
    I checked—again—for a wedding ring, but the only jewelry I could see was a very large watch. I was willing to bet a paycheck it was a Rolex. My Viking was definitely not a good ol’ boy. But also not the same guy who had walked me to my car last night. Well, he was, sort of, only now he just seemed more so .
    I looked up as he reached me and saw his contacts doing their thing. The amazing shade of deep blue made me feel a little better, reminding me he wasn’t so perfect. He was now close enough to reach out and touch me if he wanted, but instead he made sure he didn’t crowd me. Any physical contact was going to be down to me.
    â€œI had thought we might do something else.” I could hear the humor in his voice. “But if you’d prefer,” he waved a hand at the building over my shoulder, “we can stay here.”
    â€œAh, what did you have in mind?” I asked, retracing my steps and jumping at the chance to avoid Miss Juicy.
    â€œA movie maybe?”
    His suggestion came couched with caution, making me think he wasn’t as sure of this whole date thing as he made out. I smiled. A movie was good. A movie I could handle. If nothing else, I wouldn’t have to make small talk for a couple of hours, and the theater would be air-conditioned.
    â€œSure,” I said, “a movie sounds great.”
    â€œSo, what do you think?” he asked, with a wave of his hand.
    What is it about guys and their cars? I swear there’s a genetic link between mechanized horsepower and male DNA.