Into the Spotlight by Heather Long Read Free Book Online Page A

but her chin lifted to meet his stare. “Stay. Eat. Talk to me.”
    “Are you compelling me?” Uncertainty quivered beneath the words.
    “If you can ask the question, then I’m not and I will not. I want you to want to stay.”
    “Why?” What was it about this man? He spoke and she wanted to listen. He touched her and she wanted to go up in flames. It was as though her every breath rested on the promise of his scent.
    It wasn’t natural.
    “Honestly?” The barest hint of a smile eased back his tense expression. “I have no idea. It would be a hell of a lot easier if you just walked out that door and we forgot all about this.”
    “Part of me knows it would be easier for me as well. But the other part…”
    Neither made a move to end their standoff.
    “Will you give me the pleasure of your company over a meal?” Malcolm’s genteel request eased the panic racing across her nerves.
    “Do you really want me to stay?” Please say yes. Please say this is not some bizarre dream we’re trapped in.
    “Do you want to stay?” He countered her question with one of his own, the deep baritone of his voice caressing her senses.
    Teeth nibbling into her lower lip, she dropped her gaze to the floor. In all her years, she’d never felt so horribly torn as though she stood on the precipice of some terrible decision. A decision that once made could not be unmade. But she couldn’t see beyond the precipice. She couldn’t look into the dark and see what awaited her if she stepped over the edge.
    “Yes.” The answer cost her to admit, but she did want to stay.
    “Good.” Malcolm grinned and the darkness of doubt fled under the warmth of his smile. “I would very much like it if you stayed.”
    He held out his arm and, before she realized she’d moved, she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow. He guided her across the marble tile to the intimate table laid out for two.
    Jeannie waited for him to pull out the chair before she sat. Her skin tingled as his fingers brushed the nape of her neck. He circled the table to sit opposite her.
    “Do you eat food?” The moment the words popped out, she bit her lip in consternation. The uneven evening seemed to tilt beneath their feet, and she constantly pushed the edges of propriety. “And off I go, being rude again.”
    Malcolm laughed. His shoulders shook with a deep, visceral, masculine chuckle. “Not at all. How many vampires have you actually met?”
    “Including you? One.” She grinned, unfolding her napkin and smoothing it across her lap.
    “Well, then let me assure you that I do indeed eat. I actually prefer my steak rare and my wines rarer.” The last he delivered with a waggle of his eyebrows, and she pressed two fingers against her lips to smother the laughter. His smile dimmed a fraction and he nodded. “Don’t hide your smile. It’s beautiful and your laughter, even more so.”
    Heat swam up to burn her cheeks and she glanced down at her food. It was steak, along with a filet of some type of white fish, steaming red potatoes and fresh grilled asparagus. Her stomach rumbled, an altogether intrusive noise into the silence between laughter, and she giggled.
    “I give up. I am apparently going to commit every faux pas for a meal this evening.” She might never stop blushing either. Stealing a glance upwards, she found Malcolm grinning widely. “What?”
    “I like faux pas . It’s real. Don’t stop.”
    “As tempting as a loud belch might be to punctuate that statement, I think I’ll refrain.”
    This time, Malcolm did throw his head back to laugh and the tension threading up her spine relaxed. As insane as the entire conversation seemed, she enjoyed it. She enjoyed him.
    She laughed more than she ate during the meal, but the conversation remained light, never quite touching the topics from the sitting room. In fact, they danced so deftly around the topics she’d nearly forgotten her awkwardness.
    “Wine?” Malcolm motioned to the bottle chilling in