And now Francoise was finally hurrying eagerly toward the entrance. Kathryn felt her own excitement pitching higher in anticipation as she followed Francoise’s eager progress and saw three big, black SUVs pull up out front. Ignoring the valet attendant, they parked at the curb, one in front of the other. Doors popped open and bodyguards spilled onto the sidewalk like a SWAT team, but wearing nicely tailored suits instead. One of them came around from the street side, and Kathryn got her first good look at him.

Her stomach plummeted. It was Nicholas, which could only mean one thing.

Kathryn shifted slightly to the right, so she was no longer in direct sight of the front door. It was easy enough, since most of the gallery goers were shuffling the other direction, going toward the doors to get a better look at the new arrival who they clearly understood was someone important, maybe even famous. From the whispered conversations all around her, they didn’t know exactly who it was, but speculation ran the gamut from a movie star to the mayor or the president. No one seemed to think it was Alex, but then Kathryn already knew that. It was a vampire all right, but not the one she had come here to find.

Outside, Nicholas took a last look up and down the street, then opened the back door of the middle SUV. And there he was. Lucas Donlon in all his glory, looking devastatingly handsome in a black wool suit, with the thinnest gray pinstripe, and a bronze silk tie with some tiny gold pattern gleaming against his white shirt. His too-long black hair was neatly combed away from his face so that he was the very image of a successful Wall Street titan. He was perfect. Damn him.

Over at the front door, Francoise was beside herself with joy. She waited right in front of the glass door like a child who’d just spotted Santa. Her face was glowing, her hands clasped and tucked under her chin, as if she couldn’t contain her excitement.

Two of the bodyguards entered first—Kathryn recognized Mason as one of them—and then Nicholas and Lucas behind him. Obviously well versed in vampire protocol, Francoise waited until Lucas approached her, and then she gushed like a schoolgirl.

“Lord Donlon, this is such an honor!”

Get a grip, woman, Kathryn thought sourly, shifting again to put more people between her and Lucas, concealing her while still letting her see everything.

“Who do you think that is?” her art lover companion asked.

Kathryn glanced at him, irritated at the distraction. She’d forgotten he was there. Fortunately, he’d spoken without looking at her because, like everyone else in the gallery, he couldn’t take his eyes off Lucas. “I have no idea,” she all but snarled in his direction.

“Francoise,” Lucas crooned, drawing Kathryn’s attention back to the spectacle. “Don’t you look lovely this evening.”

Sickening. He probably says that to every woman he meets.

Francoise tittered, her cheeks lighting up like stop signs.

“Is Alex around?” Lucas asked, scanning the gallery.

Sneak. Liar. Sneaky liar. He’s probably been communicating with Alex this whole time.

“No, my lord,” the assistant was saying. “I expected him, but—”

“Francoise, love, call me Lucas. And I think I’ll just look around myself, if that’s all right.”

“Of course, Lucas. Just . . .” She stretched up closer to his ear and whispered something too softly for Kathryn to make out. Whatever it was made Lucas chuckle. He stroked his hand down the woman’s skinny arm, which had her positively beaming with pleasure.

“Let me get the show catalogue for you,” she said breathlessly.

It’s a wonder she can speak with her tongue hanging out like that, Kathryn thought viciously. She watched Francoise mince her way over to pick up one of the glossy catalogues. And what’s with the ‘Francoise, love’ crap? Lucas was such a fucking dog. She’d absolutely done the right thing in—

“The dress looks much better without the leggings,” Lucas observed from right next to her.

Kathryn cursed her stupidity. She’d been so focused on Francoise that she’d forgotten the biggest threat in the room. She should have slipped out the back door the moment she recognized Nicholas coming around the SUV. Assuming this stupid gallery had a back door. But it had to have one somewhere. There was a fire code. Not that it mattered, because she’d let herself get so distracted that Lucas had somehow managed to sneak up on her. Fucking vampire.

“Lucas,” she managed to say. She turned to face him, meeting his gaze head-on. Which was her second mistake of the evening. His eyes were more gold than hazel tonight, and they were filled with a mixture of hurt and reproach. The reproach she could have dealt with, but the hurt . . . Damn him.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said.

“Obviously. Who’s your friend?”

“Friend?” she repeated, puzzled, then remembered the art lover. “Oh. That guy? I have no idea. Someone who doesn’t understand color, that’s for sure.”

Lucas gave her a smug smile, and she realized belatedly that she should have lied, should have let him know he wasn’t the only handsome man in the world who was interested in her. And in the next breath, she cursed herself for the traitorous thought. What did she care if Lucas was jealous or not?

“Kathryn, a cuisle, you forgot to mention when you left my bed yesterday that you were departing immediately for Minneapolis. Isn’t that odd?”

Kathryn narrowed her eyes at him. No, it wasn’t fucking odd, and he knew it. “Something came up,” she said tightly.

“Really? What?” he replied, his anger rising to match hers.

“Why do you care?” she demanded.

“Why don’t you?”

Kathryn caught her breath. The question struck her to the heart, and she could tell by the satisfied expression on his face that he knew it. She looked away from his accusing gaze and focused on the expensive art instead.

“A big fan of cubism, are you?” Lucas murmured in her ear.

He was standing far too close, but Kathryn refused to move and let him know it bothered her. “What do you know about it?” she muttered.

He laughed softly. “Probably more than you do. I’d wager your brother’s the only artist in your family.”

“Why do you say that?” she demanded, vaguely insulted, even though he was right.

“Because you are far too buttoned up to be an artist.”

“I am not buttoned up,” she snapped, still staring fixedly at the poor distorted women in the painting.

“Please. You’re the very poster girl for buttoned up.”

“You have no idea—”

“Oh, I think I do. I also happen to know that you unbutton very nicely when motivated.”

She shot a sideways glare in his direction. “It’s hardly appropriate to discuss that—”

“Really? But it’s okay for you to discard me like a used condom and leave town without even saying good-bye?”

Kathryn’s mouth dropped open in a gasp, and she turned to stare at him. “I can’t believe you said that!” she hissed furiously, her gaze darting around to see if anyone was listening.

Lucas faced her, his eyes snapping gold sparks. “And I can’t believe you left me.”

They were standing toe-to-toe, so close that all Kathryn would have to do was raise up on the balls of her feet, and their mouths would meet. She knew what he would taste like, knew the feel of his hard chest against her breasts, the span of his hands as they circled her hips while he drove himself between her thighs.

She drew back, shocked at her own thoughts. Thoughts she could see mirrored in Lucas’s fierce gaze.

“Where’s your truck?” he growled.

She swallowed on a dry throat. “I took a cab.”

“Fine. We’ll take mine.”

“Lucas—” she started, then stopped when he turned to stare at her as if daring her to protest.

When she didn’t say anything, his expression softened. “We’ll talk.”

Kathryn nodded and didn’t object when he took her hand and headed for the front door. Her fingers slipped into his as naturally as if they’d been holding hands for years instead of a single day.

She was doomed.

Chapter Thirteen

They barely spoke on the ride to Lucas’s penthouse. Kathryn was painfully aware of Nicholas and Mason sitting in the front seat, and she didn’t know what to say anyway. Lucas was still holding her hand, pressing it against his thigh, which struck her as terribly intimate. But then, what was more intimate than what they’d done last night?

They crossed a bridge. She didn’t know which one. There were so many in the Twin Cities; it seemed almost every street had a bridge. She saw a sign saying they were crossing the Mississippi River, which meant they were probably now in St. Paul. A few more blocks, and all three SUVs made the turn toward a tall glass and steel building that sat nearly on the riverfront. Parking was underground, with the entrance protected by a human guard, as well as a solid steel barrier. Someone in the front SUV clicked the remote, the barrier rose, and the garage swallowed them whole.

Lucas apparently had some pull with the owners’ association, because they pulled into the three parking spaces closest to the elevator. As soon as they stopped, the other two SUVs emptied out, with vampires deploying throughout the garage. One of them punched the call button for the elevator, then stepped inside and checked it out before holding the door open and giving a nodding okay.

Lucas opened his door and stepped out into the garage without ever letting go of Kathryn’s hand. She frowned, especially when she had to balance herself to get out of the SUV, but he didn’t look at her, just shifted his grip and waited.

Kathryn sighed. He was going to be difficult about this. She just knew it.

He didn’t say a word until they were in his penthouse. It was on the top floor, of course, with dynamite views of the river on one side and what she assumed was the Capitol building on the other.

“Beautiful,” she commented.