"Dammit!"
Startled, she looked up at him.
He raked a hand through his hair. "The night shouldn't end like this. Let's go inside and have a drink."
"You said it was late."
"It's not that late." He smiled down at her. In spite of his vow to avoid mortal females, he was involved with Daisy O'Donnell, for better or worse. "What do you say?"
"I don't think so. I need to shower and wash my hair."
"You look fine to me."
"I doubt that. But I'd be happy to meet you here tomorrow night for that drink."
"I don't think I can wait that long."
Daisy shook her head. No way was she going inside looking the way she did.
"How about if I meet you back here in half an hour?" he coaxed.
"You don't give up, do you?"
"Not when I see something I want," he replied, stunned by the realization that all his good intentions in the world weren't going to keep him from pursuing this woman. "Say yes."
"All right." What the heck, she didn't have to get up early in the morning. "But you'd better make it forty-five minutes."
Daisy drove home, took a shower, and washed and dried her hair in record time, her stomach fluttering all the while. In spite of what had happened on the beach, he wanted her. After pulling on a gauzy white skirt and a pale pink tank top, she stepped into her sandals, grabbed her handbag and her keys, and drove back to the Crypt. Erik's car was already in the parking lot when she arrived. After locking her handbag in the car, she pocketed her keys and hurried into the club.
He was waiting for her at the bar, looking gorgeous in a black turtleneck sweater and black jeans. His welcoming smile warmed her right down to her toes.
"Hi," she murmured, taking the seat to his right.
"Hi, yourself." His gaze moved over her. "You look terrific."
"So do you. Black is definitely your color."
Erik grunted softly. It wasn't really a fashion statement. Most vampires tended to dress in dark colors. It made it easier to blend in with the shadows, to stalk and catch their prey unawares.
When the bartender came to take their order, Daisy asked for a margarita. Erik ordered the house special.
"I'll have to try one of those sometime," Daisy remarked when the bartender served their drinks.
"I doubt if you'd like it." He wasn't crazy about it himself.
"Why not?"
He shrugged. "It's an acquired taste. A margarita suits you."
"How so?"
"Margarita means Daisy in Spanish."
"Really? I didn't know that."
When the band struck up "Someone Like You," Erik reached for her hand and led the way to the dance floor.
Daisy listened to the words of the song, thinking that if they were a couple, this would be their song.
"Daisy?"
"Hmm?"
"What would you say if I asked you to come home with me?"
She stared up at him, sorely tempted to accept in spite of the warning bells that went off in her mind. One night, she thought, what could it hurt? She contemplated it briefly. He would drive her home, take her into his house, into his bed, where they would share a night of unbridled sexual pleasure.... At this point, her imagination took over, since she had never experienced a night of sexual pleasure, unbridled or otherwise. True, she had been tempted with other men, even come close a time or two, and been called a tease when her good sense reasserted itself at the last minute.
Daisy felt a prickle of unease as Erik gazed deeply into her eyes, almost as if he was trying to hypnotize her. The first time she had seen him, she'd had the feeling he could see into her heart and mind, her very soul.
Taking a deep breath, she drew her hand from his. "I don't think so." In spite of her overwhelming attraction for him, it was way too soon. Even though she sometimes felt as if she had known him forever, it had been less than a week.
He smiled wryly, as if he had anticipated her reply.
Silence stretched between them. Daisy cast about for something to say, some safe topic they could discuss. She frowned a moment, then said, "You must have a lot of spare time, since you don't work. What do you do to pass the time?"
He shrugged. "Whatever pleases me at the moment." He drew her closer, his breath fanning her cheek when he murmured, "Right now, you please me."
The words, combined with the silky tone of his voice, sent a shiver of pleasure through her.
His gaze moved over her face. "I would like to please you, in return. Change your mind. Come home with me, pretty flower. Let's go exploring together."
It was the most intriguing offer, and the scariest, she had ever received. For a moment, she could only stare at him, all the while fighting the urge to take a walk on the wild side with Erik Delacourt, but try as she might, she simply couldn't go home with him. She could stake a vampire, but she couldn't muster the courage to surrender to the look in this man's eyes, a look that promised pleasure unlike anything she had ever known, if she could just summon the nerve. But she couldn't, at least not at the moment.
He read the answer in her eyes before she spoke her refusal aloud.
"Perhaps another night," he said, "when you're feeling braver."
Daisy frowned. How did he know what she was feeling, thinking? Maybe those deep dark eyes really could see into her heart and soul. Heaven knew this wasn't the first time he had voiced what she had been thinking.
There was a brief silence as the song ended, and then the strains of a slow ballad filled the air. Daisy had thought they would return to the bar, but Erik didn't let her go. Content to be in his arms, she rested her head against his shoulder. She had never danced with anyone so light on his feet. He moved like liquid silk, every movement smooth, unruffled, unhurried. The look in his eyes made her feel beautiful, the intensity of his gaze made her feel like she was the most important thing in his life. What would it be like to go home with him, to run her hands over his broad chest and flat belly, to feel his hands moving in her hair, caressing her bare flesh...
His voice, soft and sultry, sounded in her ear. "Are you sure you won't change your mind and come home with me?"
"Quite sure." Lifting her head, she took a deep breath. "I think I'd better go."
"Let me walk you to your car."
She didn't think that was a good idea. She needed to put some distance between them, but it seemed rude to refuse.
She was acutely aware of him as he followed her around the edge of the dance floor toward the exit. He was tall and broad, but it was more than his imposing stature that she was aware of. Erik Delacourt radiated power and authority. Men with his confidence and self-assurance were usually CEOs of large companies who were accustomed to making decisions and giving orders. But Erik wasn't a businessman or a tycoon. By his own account, he was a man who spent his time doing what pleased him.