he wanted to kiss her. He was surprised by the flash of need that tore through him. She leaned against the doorjamb, shifting slightly so that she was half inside the house, half out. He heard a soft thud. She’d dropped her bag on the hall floor behind her.
“Invite me in,” he suggested, his gaze flicking between her mouth and her eyes, and then he got distracted as her hand rose to the scarf around her neck.
“I can’t,” she whispered. She pulled the scarf away from her neck and he watched the fabric slowly drift over her skin. How the hell could removing a scarf look so damn sexy?
He caught a glimpse of silver around her neck. It was tied in what looked like an intricate lariat knot. He couldn’t help but notice it would form a protective, painful barrier between her neck and a vampire’s teeth—if one was so inclined...
The delicate chain dipped below her blouse and all he could think was how damn lucky it was. And sexy. Yep. Sexy.
“Invite me in,” he whispered back. He grinned as she stepped inside the house, her palm sliding up the doorjamb so that she mimicked his stance. Her seductive smile was enough to melt any common sense he may have claimed as his own.
“I don’t think so,” she said as she parted the lapels of her coat. She wore a collared blouse that looked all-business but hinted at a body built for play, cutting in to reveal a slim waist. She shook her head, her blond hair sliding back over her shoulders as she gazed up at him with a flirty challenge in her eyes and a soft flush on her cheeks. She was magnificent.
“Invite me in,” he coaxed, meeting her gaze and infusing his words with just the slightest hint of compulsion. He wanted in. In this house, in her arms. Inside her.
She arched her back, just a little, and his gaze dropped to her chest. That darned shirt draped over her breasts, hiding her curves. She leaned forward, just until she was in line with the door. She smiled sweetly, seductively, up at him, like an enchanting siren.
“No,” she said slowly, drawing the word out in such a manner that he was briefly distracted by the O shape of her lips before he realized what she was saying. Her smile tightened and the warmth of her gaze took on a chill.
He blinked. “No?” What? But he’d—
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” she told him, tsking as a frown marred her brow. “Fancy using compulsion to get into a woman’s home—a woman you’ve only just met, too!”
He gaped at her. He’d used compulsion, true—but how the hell did she know? How the hell could she resist? She wasn’t a vampire; he could still sense warmth and life within her. “What are you?” he asked in a low voice.
Her smile was brittle. “I’m the woman not inviting you in,” she said sweetly as she reached for the door.
He held up a hand and encountered the impenetrable barrier to a home into which he wasn’t invited. “Wait—I really do need to talk to you,” he said as the door started to swing closed.
“Well, I really don’t want to talk to you,” she responded tartly. She shook her head, her disappointment stamped on her features. “Really, Lucien. When a woman says no, accept it.”
The red door snapped closed in his face and the light on the porch winked out. He gaped at the door.
What the hell had just happened?
Natalie groaned as she hid her head under her pillow. She wished she had a gun. If she couldn’t shoot Lucien, she’d shoot herself to put her out of this misery. Maybe she should just use her chain? Lash him with silver. She needed to do something. He was outside her bedroom window, singing.
Badly. Which surprised her, because he had such a deep, sexy voice when he spoke... What happened in his larynx that he could sound like a brawling tomcat when he sang?
“Four hundred and sixteen bottles of beer on the wall...”
He’d started at one thousand bottles of beer on the wall.
She sat up in her bed and glared at the curtains shielding her window. She’d take one of those darn bottles and—Her hands fisted. She couldn’t stand it. All evening, he’d tapped at the windows, the doors. He’d cajoled, he’d teased. Now he was trying torture.
She rolled out of bed, stomped over to the window and whipped aside the curtain. He sat in the crook of the maple tree outside her window, looking way too comfortable for her liking. He stopped singing when she slid up the sash.
Lucien grinned. “Well, hello, minx.”
The nickname stopped her cold. He used to call her that, all those years ago. It had been used in exasperation, affection, but never in that slightly flirty tone.
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped.
“What should I call you? Nina?”
She lifted her chin. Okay, so he knew. Didn’t matter. It didn’t change anything. “Don’t call me that, either.”
“Why not? It’s your name.”
“No. Nina died a long time ago. My name is Natalie.”
He shrugged. “If that’s what you’d prefer to call yourself—”
“It is. Now, please go away.” How she didn’t have the neighbors lining up to complain was a mystery. He must have compelled them, damn it.
He folded his arms, eyeing her figure.
She was wearing pajamas from her neck to her ankle. She hadn’t felt comfortable wearing anything less, not with a vampire stalking her home.
“I need to talk with you.”
“I’m not interested.”
“I’m not leaving until you hear me out.”
She glanced at her watch. “That’s fine. Sunrise is in three hours. Nothing like smoked vampire with a side of bacon to go with my morning coffee.” She raised her arms to close the window.
“Four hundred and fifteen bottles of beer on the wall,” he began to warble.
She took a deep breath. She was tired, she was cranky, and if this meant she’d snatch some much needed sleep, she’d let him say his piece and get it over with. “Fine, talk. You have five minutes—and then I’m going to sleep and you can sizzle, for all I care.”
His eyebrows drew together and the downward turn of his mouth reminded her of Terry in one of his snits. “What happened to you? You used to be so nice...”
She snorted as she folded her arms and leaned her hip against the windowsill. “That was a lifetime ago, Lucien.” Literally. She glanced pointedly at her watch. “Four minutes.”
“I need your help.”
She stared at him for a moment but his expression was enigmatic as he stared back at her.
