burning eyes probed hers, staring with determined intensity, swirling her mind into a realm of blissful pleasure and oblivion. Then he lowered his head, fangs sharply extended, and pierced her vein. The female stiffened for half a second, then sagged against him, her body limp, yet vibrating with the rapture of a Vampyre’s 39
Kiss .
****
Alex pulled up outside the iron gates surrounding Cole Gunnarrson’s estate, and, for the hundredth time, she doubted her sanity. With relentless determination, Gunnarrson’s agent had hounded her until she’d finally caved. Somehow, despite her adamant refusal and serious reservations—and she was still trying to figure out just how he’d done it—he’d convinced her to give Stolen Innocence a chance. Now here she was, kicking herself for her stupidity. Her gaze ran over the intricate wrought iron scrollwork adorning the top of the gate. Security cameras peered back at her from dual vantage points.
She cringed.
Did she really want to plunge back into that world? She groaned aloud and shook her head.
What had she been thinking? She’d sworn never to set foot in the music industry again. Although, thanks to the self-defense classes she’d taken, she’d made certain no one would ever be able to take physical advantage of her again, at least not without sustaining serious personal injury himself. Emotional scars were more difficult to overcome.
Why hadn’t she been smart enough to walk away this time? She was a fool, plain and simple.
Panic rose up to clog her throat. She shouldn’t be here. She should turn her car around and head back to the city. No, better still—she would go straight to the airport. She could fly somewhere nice, like the Bahamas…or Italy. She’d always wanted to see Rome. Anywhere was fine, just as long as it was far, far away from here. She should’ve hung up on that damned agent, and not gone anywhere near this whopping mistake-40
in-the-making. Was she doomed to forever make the same mistakes, over and over?
Her grip tightened on the steering wheel, one hand reaching for the stick shift when a scratchy voice crackled through a speaker beside the security camera. “Can I help you?” Cursing herself for not escaping while she’d had the chance…hating the long ingrained need to stand by her word…Alex leaned toward the window. “I’m Alex Sinclair. Mr. Gunnarrson is expecting me.”
“One moment please.”
Alex leaned back against the seat with a resigned groan. Glancing into the rearview mirror, she lifted a hand to her hair and could have screamed her frustration. Instead, she cursed beneath her breath.
She’d left the windows open so she could enjoy the sunshine and fresh air, and she hadn’t given her hair a second thought. The tight, practical knot she habitually wore to the office had come undone. Her long honey-blonde locks now floated about her in wild, wanton disarray.
Alex pushed her fingers through the tangles, then dug through her glove box in search of a hair tie.
No such luck.
Drilling her fingers against her temple, grimacing at the vicious little spikes of pain, she let out a long-suffering sigh and rummaged through her handbag for her new best friend…the economy-sized bottle of extra-strength Excedrin.
Too bad they didn’t make industrial-strength. The way she’d been popping those little green and white suckers lately, it would have been more efficient to keep them in her pocket in a Pez dispenser. She drew out the tidy white bottle, giving it a hollow, rattle-free shake. Empty…
Of course .
41
The gate swung open, and the scratchy voice returned. “Have a nice day, Ms. Sinclair.”
“Thank you.” She smiled at the camera through gritted teeth and squared her shoulders.
Shifting gears, she let the powerful muscle car devour the long lane from the gate to the house. Pulling into the circular drive, she parked among a long line of vehicles that easily out-priced her Shelby, and one