Everlasting Kiss

"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.



And she pleased him.



She slowed her steps as some inner sense of self-preservation warned her not to let him think she was afraid of him. Afraid of him? Where had that thought come from? She wasn't afraid of him. Was she?



In the parking lot, she pulled her keys from her skirt pocket and unlocked her car door, slid behind the wheel, and rolled down the window. "Good night."



"What?" He lifted one brow. "No good-night kiss?"



The prospect of having his mouth on hers sent a frisson of heat straight to the pit of her stomach. Before she could refuse, he leaned down and claimed her lips with his. She had thought his kisses on the beach were the ultimate aphrodisiac, but this kiss was deeper, hotter, more persuasive. It was like Christmas morning and Fourth of July skyrockets all rolled into one. She moaned softly when his hand caressed her nape, then slid up to cup the back of her head as his tongue plundered the depths of her mouth. It made her toes curl inside her shoes.



She felt hot all over when he took his mouth from hers.



"Good night, little flower," he said, his lips curved in a knowing grin. "Sweet dreams."



Sweet dreams, indeed, she thought as she drove home. She could only imagine what kind of dreams his kisses would inspire. Something sexy and X-rated, no doubt. Lordy, the man's kisses should come with warning labels. Just thinking about being alone with him made her skin feel tight and her heart pound with anticipation. Where had he learned to kiss like that? She had been kissed lots of times. It was a pleasurable experience, but no other man had ever made her feel the way Erik did. His kisses urged her to throw caution to the wind and the consequences be damned. She fanned herself with her hand. No doubt about it. Erik Delacourt and his kisses were a volatile combination, dangerous in the extreme.



At home, she took a long, cold shower, brushed her teeth, slipped into her favorite Snoopy sleep shirt, and climbed into bed, only to lie there, wide-awake, her fingertips pressed to her lips.



If she went to the club tomorrow night, would he kiss her like that again?



Would she still be able to deny him what they both wanted if he did?



Chapter 9



Friday morning, Daisy decided she had avoided doing her job long enough. It took considerable effort, but she pushed all thought of Erik Delacourt and his sizzling kisses out of her mind. She ate a quick breakfast, made her bed, and then read her e-mail.



Humming "Someone Like You," she shut down her computer. The morning mail had brought her a dozen new orders. It was time to put her fears behind her and get back on the street. She had bills to pay, after all.



After dressing in a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, her favorite jacket with the roomy pockets, and comfortable shoes, she grabbed her handbag, her keys, and her compass and left the house. Surprisingly, she didn't feel the least bit of anxiety at going out on the streets again. She had destroyed a vampire and in so doing, she had proved she could handle herself when the going got tough.



Smiling with new confidence, she slid behind the wheel. She drove with one eye on the road and the other on the needle of the compass, which jumped and quivered when she turned down a cul-de-sac in a very old, very elegant part of town. There were only three houses on the street, each separated from the other by large yards and tall fences. The needle turned red when she neared the house on the left. It was set well back from the street. The windows carried a dark tint, no doubt to block the sun's light. For all that it looked abandoned, the house itself was in good repair. There was no grass in the front yard, only a variety of cactus plants that needed little watering.



If it hadn't been for the blinking red needle on her compass, she would have sworn the house was empty. She wasn't sure why she felt that way, and then grinned. Technically, no one "lived" there, unless the vampire had a human companion. Daisy shook her head. She knew there were people who served the needs of the Undead and counted it a privilege to do so. She had never understood the attraction.



After making sure she had everything she needed, Daisy stepped out of the car and walked up the narrow walkway to the front porch. She rang the doorbell, heard it echo inside the house. When there was no answer, she knocked. And when there was still no answer, she got out her handy-dandy lock pick and went to work.



Minutes later, she stood just inside the doorway, her head cocked as she listened to the house, and heard nothing. A quick glance showed a large living room with a corner fireplace, leather furniture, and mahogany tables. Thick, floor-length drapes kept the sun at bay.



The compass guided her through the living room and down a narrow hallway, which led to a stairway. Moving cautiously, she tiptoed down the stairs, which ended at a large steel door. She assumed the door led down to the cellar. A common vampire resting place. She glanced at the compass in her hand. In the dim light of the stairwell, the needle glowed bright red, assuring her that she was in the right place.



Tucking the compass away, she pulled a syringe from a pocket of her jacket and then regarded the door, wondering if she should have brought her crowbar with her. Only one way to find out.