when he barely remembered any of the other women he’d known.
Muttering an oath, he came to an abrupt halt. He even remembered her name. Eva something. No, not Eva. Ava. Ava, who’d had the same honey-gold hair as Callie, the same incredibly deep blue eyes.
* * *
Callie spent the morning shopping online for the best price on a camera she had seen in a magazine. After making her choice, she added a case and a couple of new lenses. When that was done, she went out to lunch. And all the while, she found herself wondering about Quill. Where was he? He tended to sleep during the day, she mused, then remembered he kept a lair somewhere. No doubt he had gone there.
She should be relieved he was out of the house, but she couldn’t help wondering if she would ever see him again.
Later, needing to get her mind off Quill, she called Vivian and asked if she was in the mood to see a movie. They made plans to meet at the theater.
It felt good to get out of the house, to spend time with her best friend, and yet Quill was there, in the back of her mind, all the while.
When Callie climbed into bed later that night, she blinked back her tears, refusing to acknowledge that she missed him.
* * *
The next morning, Callie told herself she was relieved that the bed in the guest room was empty. Muttering, “Good riddance,” she closed the door with an air of finality. She was well rid of him, she thought. Who needed a vampire in their house? Sure, he was sexy as hell and his kisses were more intoxicating than the finest wine, but being with him was also dangerous to her health. In the bright light of a new day, what had almost happened the day before seemed even more frightening. She had the unshakeable feeling that, had Quill possessed less self-control, he would have drained her dry. He might have regretted it when it was done, but that wouldn’t have made much difference, at least not to her. She would have been just as dead.
She immersed herself in housework—stripping the sheets from the bed in the guest room as well as her own, dusting, vacuuming. When that was done, she cleaned out a cupboard and then the linen closet, refusing to admit how empty the house seemed without him, telling herself again and again that she was glad he was gone.
By sundown, her house was spotless, she had caught up on a week’s worth of laundry, there were clean sheets on the beds, the windows sparkled.
She was in the kitchen, looking over her choices for dinner, when her phone rang.
Hoping it was Vivian wanting to go out for the night, she answered on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Callie.”
His whiskey-smooth voice went through her like liquid fire. Feeling suddenly weak, she sank down on one of the kitchen chairs, her mouth dry, her heart pounding.
“Callie? Are you there?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m sorry for yesterday. I almost lost control, but you can hardly blame me. You’re a beautiful, desirable woman.”
Callie frowned. “Are you blaming me for what almost happened?”
“You can’t deny the attraction between us. It’s not all on my side.”
That was true. She hadn’t made much of an effort to rebuff his advances.
“I was hoping I could take you out to dinner and apologize in person.”
After what had happened the day before, she had no intention of ever seeing him again. Sexy or not, she had to remember that he was a vampire. Just being with him was dangerous in more ways than one. She opened her mouth, intending to give him a polite “No, thank you,” and hang up. Instead, she heard herself saying, “I’d like that.”
“What time shall I pick you up?”
“Eight?”
“See you then.”
Callie stared at the phone. What on earth had possessed her to accept?
* * *
Two hours later, Callie stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom. She had showered, washed and blow-dried her hair, and then tried on every dress in her closet, finally settling on a turquoise-blue sheath with a slit up the side and a pair of beige heels. She had just applied her favorite lipstick when the doorbell rang.
Taking a deep breath, she counted to ten, hoping she wouldn’t live to regret her decision to see him again.
* * *
Quill whistled softly when Callie opened the door. The dress she wore outlined every delectable curve. “You look fantastic. Are you ready?”
“Just let me grab a jacket and my purse.”
She didn’t invite him in. He took the hint and waited outside.
“Where would you like to go?” he asked when she stepped out on the porch and closed the door behind her.
“Have you ever been to Tony’s?” she asked, and then blushed, remembering who she was talking to.
“No.” He grinned at her discomfort. “But I like Italian food. Shall we?”
Callie followed him down the stairs to the curb where his car—a silver Jaguar—waited. He opened the door for her, waited until she was settled before closing it. She loved her VW, but this . . . she ran her hands over the leather. It was buttery soft.
Sliding behind the wheel, he smiled at her before starting the car.
Callie searched her mind for something to say. “I’ve never ridden in a Jaguar before.”
“It’s a nice car.”
Nice! The engine purred like a contented cat and ran so smoothly, she didn’t even feel the bumps in the road.
At the restaurant, he pulled up in front of the valet parking sign. The valet opened her door for her. Then Quill was there, reaching for her hand. A shiver of awareness slid down her spine as his fingers closed over hers.
As they entered the restaurant, she didn’t miss the fact that every female in the place turned to look at Quill with wide-eyed admiration. The waitress seated them immediately, ignoring several other couples who were ahead of them. As she handed Callie a menu, the woman leaned close to her ear, whispering, “Honey, you are one lucky lady,” before sending a radiant smile in Quill’s direction.
Callie looked at him, one brow raised in astonishment. “Does that happen often?”
He shrugged.
“What did you do to her?”
“Nothing.”
“Is she a friend of yours? Is that why she let us go ahead of all those other people?”
“I never saw her before tonight.”
Callie glanced at the tables closest
