WHAT THE HELL was he doing?
Not the sex part, of course. He knew why he’d done that. The moment he’d seen her dancing in the window, he’d known he couldn’t resist any longer. Even more, he hadn’t wanted to resist. While he’d yet to figure out Abby, he’d learned enough to know that she wasn’t like one of the locals. There would be no seeing her day in and day out.
And since she was the only woman he couldn’t read, he knew there would be no getting to know her. No real connection.
Just sex.
It made sense, which was why he’d given in last night.
That and one too many drinks.
So he didn’t regret the sex part. It had been fantastic. Phenomenal.
It was the fact that she was curled up next to him sleeping like a baby that he was having trouble with.
That, and the fact that he liked it.
A helluva lot.
The realization struck and he stiffened. He slid away from her and threw his legs over the side of the bed. He was a vampire, for Christ’s sake. He didn’t cuddle. He had sex and drank blood and inspired fear in the heart of millions. He wasn’t the cuddling type, and neither was she. He could tell by the way she rolled onto her back and threw her arms above her head that she wasn’t used to sleeping with anyone.
Yet she’d fallen asleep in his arms as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if she liked it. As if she liked him.
He ditched the thought. There was no like involved at all. They barely knew each other. He’d worn her out, soaked up her delicious energy. It made sense she would be exhausted to the point of falling asleep.
What didn’t make sense was the fact that he still wanted her. He should have felt one hundred percent satisfied, his hunger sated. He wasn’t.
Staring at her spread out on the sheets, he wanted more than anything to climb back into bed with her. He wanted to see if she made the same noises if he licked her to the point of orgasm. If she would cry his name at the moment of release. If she would bury her head in his neck and fall fast asleep when they were done. Crazy.
Sleeping wasn’t on the list of possibilities with Abby. Nor was waking up with her or having breakfast or waltzing outside hand-in-hand in the bright light of day.
There was no morning after for Brent. He was a vampire, and so he gathered up his clothes and did what he’d been doing for the past one hundred and something years.
He turned his back and walked away.
ABBY LISTENED to the click of the door and the roar of his engine.
He was leaving.
That fact shouldn’t have bothered her.
For one thing, she hated sleeping with anyone. She was a major bed hog and so it was better that he’d left before she’d had to fight him for the covers. Besides, sleeping wasn’t part of her fantasy. It was all about unleashing her feminine wiles and she’d done so last night. Now it was time to get some much needed rest.
Then she could go for round two tonight.
And that was the problem in a nutshell.
She much preferred Brent not sticking around to see her in the bright light of day with major bedhead. Talk about blowing her newly found image.
At the same time, she wasn’t nearly done building that image of herself as a desirable woman. She had several days left until Rayne came back and she had to return to her life, and she wanted to make the most of each. She certainly wasn’t bummed because she’d thought for a split-second that Brent might actually like her. They didn’t even know each other, and she fully intended to keep it that way.
No, it was time to move on. If she wanted to unleash her feminine side, she didn’t have to do it with him.
There were plenty of men in Skull Creek. Granted, she might not have the same sizzling chemistry with any other man, but she was willing to give it a shot and test out a few more tidbits of wisdom courtesy of Winona and her infomercials.
Like the fact that men had a weakness for feet.
That’s what Winona preached when Abby turned on the television set later that morning.
“Get a pedicure,” the old woman was saying. “Clean up those tootsies and, if you’re lucky, your man might take the hint and suck on a few.”
It made sense and so Abby headed for the local hair salon to indulge in her first ever pedicure.
Because this fantasy wasn’t about Brent. It was about Abby. About delving deep and living out her most erotic thoughts. It was about enjoying her femininity.
Even if it hurt like hell.
“Do you have to scrub so hard?” she asked the blonde who leaned over the footrest, a pumice stone in her hand and a determined look on her face.
“What on earth did you do? Walk across the Sahara barefoot? Your feet are as rough as horse hooves.”
“Thanks for the boost to my confidence.”
“Seriously. Haven’t you ever heard of lotion?”
“I don’t usually have time for lotion.” Not in the military. She barely had time to snag a tube of Chapstick at the commissary in between field operations. Until now.
She had five full days left to herself before the real world intruded. “I’d like a foot bath, too,” she told the blonde. “And a paraffin wax. And a hot oil massage on the balls of my feet.”
By the time she left the salon, she’d spent a hundred and fifty dollars and her feet looked ready for a flip flop commercial.
Instead of heading for the beach though, she hit the nearest bar and grill, determined to make the most of the time she had left. She wore a blue jean mini skirt, a white tank top with the phrase Cowgirls Do It Better spelled out in pink rhinestones and a pair of pink high heels.
Her outfit wasn’t as flashy as the red dress last night, but it did spark some serious interest from the male clientale of Joe’s Bar and Grill. A truth that fed her self-esteem and kept her from running back to the motel to see if Brent had returned.
This wasn’t about turning on one man. It was about exercising her newfound feminine wiles and wowing them all.
And that’s exactly what she intended to do.
SHE WASN’T IN her room.
Brent pulled into the parking lot and stared at the darkened window where Abby had put on her show the night before. Disappointment rushed through him. It was a crazy feeling because he surely hadn’t expected her to be ready and waiting for him after he’d walked out on her this morning.
Any other woman, yes.
They would have been ready and waiting for him, desperate for a little more of his attention.
Not Abby. She wasn’t the least bit fazed by his vampire charisma. No sitting around, pining away. No meeting him at the door wearing nothing but Saran Wrap and a hopeful expression.
Instead, she was prowling the local bar.
The truth hit him when he turned the corner and saw her rental car parked in front of a neon Bud Light sign. It was a cause for celebration, right? The last thing he wanted was a woman getting hooked on him. But damned if he wasn’t a little ticked off that she’d moved on quite so fast.
He frowned and an image rushed at him. He saw Abby stretched out on the bed, a smile curving her full lips as she reached out for another man.
Was she friggin’ nuts?
His spot wasn’t even cold and she was already looking for a replacement? Not that she would find one. Hell, no. What they had done last night had been one-of-a-kind. An experience she wouldn’t be able to duplicate with just anyone.
On top of that, she wasn’t the type of woman to sleep around. She wasn’t nearly experienced enough to tell the good guys from the bad.
And you know this because…?
He’d seen the hesitation in her eyes, the awkwardness of her moves and the damned wonder on her face when she’d exploded around him. She wasn’t nearly the wild and wicked woman she pretended to be and she was about to bite off more than she could chew if he didn’t stop her.
He pulled up behind her, killed the engine and climbed out of the car.
“SO YOU’RE FROM Charlotte?”
“Chicago,” she told the cowboy sitting next to her. His name was Paul and he was more the drugstore variety than the real deal. He sold real estate during the day and bootscooted his way across the local honky tonks at night. He’d been on his way to the Cherry Creek Saloon when he’d decided to stop off for a drink. One look at Abby and he’d settled on the stool next to her and offered to buy her a drink.
She was on her second and doing her best not to notice the narrowness of his shoulders beneath the starched shirt. So what if he wasn’t as muscular as Brent? He was still a decent guy. Even if he did smell like the fragrance section of a department store.
“So you’ve been in Skull Creek for two months now?” he asked. “Two days.”
“Oh, yeah.” He grinned. “I knew that.”
He did. She’d told him as much three times, along with the fact that she was from Chicago and she liked Italian food and her favorite color was red. But he’d been too distracted by her chest to pay much attention to anything she said.
Yeah, baby.
She’d wowed him to the point that he couldn’t think straight, much less pay attention to what she was saying.
Score one for Abby the ultra femme.
At the same time, it would have been kind of nice if he had looked her in the eyes. At least once.
“That’s a really nice shirt.”
“You should know, buddy” came a deep, familiar voice. “You’ve been staring at it long enough.”
Awareness sizzled up Abby’s spine and she knew, even before she chanced a glance, that Brent Braddock stood directly behind her.