Dead Sexy

Folding her arms on the wooden railing, she stared out at the lights of the city. "Where are you, Joaquin Santiago?"

"Behind you."

Merciful heavens! Regan's heart plummeted to her toes as she whirled around, one hand pressed over her thundering heart. As usual, he was a study in black from head to foot.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded furiously. "You scared the crap out of me!" She jabbed her finger into his chest. In spite of her anger, she noticed his body was rock solid. "Don't you ever sneak up on me like that again!"

He grinned down at her as he captured her hand in his. "I thought you wanted me here."

Regan stared up at him. How was it possible for the slightest touch of his hand to make her insides turn to mush?

"How do you do that?" she demanded, unable to keep the tremor out of her voice.

His thumb made slow, lazy circles on the back of her hand. "Do what?" he asked in that sinfully rich, melodious voice that made her toes curl.

"You know what." She bit down on her lower lip, hating the breathy sound of her own voice. It was aggravating to think that he could probably hear the frantic beat of her heart, sense that his very nearness aroused her.

"I am not doing anything," he said, though the heat in his eyes belied his words. He gazed down at her, slowly drawing her closer, closer, until her body was a breath away from his. He looked down at her, waiting for her to make the decision.

Heart pounding, she pressed herself against him, her head falling back, her eyelids fluttering down in anticipation of his kiss.

It was earth-shattering, even more erotic than the phantom kiss they had shared in her dream. His mouth was warm and firm, his tongue like fire as it stroked her own, arousing her, making her think of hot bodies writhing on cool satin sheets. Black sheets. She knew somehow that his sheets would be black…

She opened her eyes and stared up at him. Did he sleep in a bed, or a… ?

He looked down at her, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire, his arms still holding her close. "Something troubles you?"

"Where do you sleep?"

"Would you like me to show you?" he asked, his tone suddenly soft and seductive.

"No. I mean… do you sleep, that is…"

"Ah. You are not wondering where I sleep but what I sleep on, or in."

She nodded, her gaze trapped by his.

"What do you think?" he queried. "And why do you ask?"

"I… I… never mind, it doesn't matter."

"No?"

"I…" She blew out a breath of exasperation. "I just had this mental image of black sheets…"

"Not blood red?" he asked with a wry grin, and then he laughed softly. "You were right. The sheets on my bed are black."

"Satin?" The word was out of her mouth before she could stop it.

"Yes. Perhaps I will show them to you one evening."

"So, you don't sleep in a coffin?"

"I did not say that."

The image of Santiago stretched out inside a satin-lined casket cooled her ardor and she backed away from him. Vampire. He was a vampire. She had to remember that. "Did you find the one who killed those kids?"

He nodded.

"How did he get out of the park?"

"The barrier has no power over the ancient ones."

Regan filed that knowledge away. As soon as she got a chance, she would call the Department of Vampire Control and let them know that not all the vamps in the park were repelled by the barrier.

"Did you destroy him?" she asked.

He didn't answer. He didn't have to. The look in his eyes said it all.

Feeling suddenly cold, Regan wrapped her arms around her body.

"I think I should go now and let you get some sleep," Santiago said. He bowed from the waist in a courtly old-world gesture. "Good night, Regan Delaney."

"Good night," she murmured, but he was already gone.

Chapter 6

In spite of her resolve to put Joaquin Santiago out of her mind once and for all, Regan couldn't stop thinking about him in the days that followed.

When she shopped for food, she found herself remembering that his last meal had been ash cakes and venison stew.

When she changed the blue cotton sheets on her bed, she recalled that his were black satin.

When she drank a cup of hot chocolate, she pictured him sipping a glass of Synthetic A Negative.

When she watched Dracula 2000, she imagined Santiago in the Gerard Butler role. It wasn't hard. He already had thick black hair and a long black coat.

When he called and asked her to meet him at Sardino's for a drink, she agreed before her better judgment got the upper hand.

Santiago was waiting at the restaurant when she arrived. Tonight, dressed in a white T-shirt and black jeans, he looked like a teenage rebel from the fifties. All he needed was a pack of cigarettes tucked into his shirt pocket and a pompadour.

A smile curved his lips when he saw her. Taking her hand, he kissed her palm, sending frissons of sensual delight coursing through her. "I did not think you would say yes."

"Neither did I."

Still holding her hand, he led her to a booth in a far corner and slid in beside her, his thigh brushing intimately against her own. "Yet here you are." He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. "What made you say yes? Were you missing me as much as I was missing you?"

"Were you?" she asked. "Missing me?"

"Every night."

"Then why did you wait so long to call?"

"I was trying to be noble."

"Noble?" she asked, laughing.

He nodded, his expression somber. "Vampires and mortals do not mix well, as you know. And while I think you would be good for me, I know I would be bad for you."

"Would you?" she asked, her voice hardly more than a whisper. "Be bad for me?"

His gaze caressed her. "Very bad."

Regan licked her lips, her whole body tingling with need, burning with desire and the kind of curiosity that the Pandora of legend had been unable to resist According to myth, Pandora had unleashed all the ills of the world on mankind by opening the forbidden box that had piqued her curiosity.

Santiago slid his arm around Regan's shoulders, drawing her close to his side. Excitement and a thrill of danger unfurled deep in Regan's belly. What perils awaited her if she gave in to her curiosity? Would she live to regret it? Would she live at all if she surrendered to the unholy craving she saw in the smoldering depths of his eyes? Play with fire and you'll get burned. It was a cliché, but ever so true. How much more dangerous would it be to play with a vampire?