Enchant the Night. Amanda Ashley
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holding hers, felt the tension building in him as he waited for her answer.
“I’ll try. I can’t promise anything. But I’ll try.” She felt the tension drain out of him as he leaned forward and kissed her cheek.
“Are you busy tomorrow night?” he asked.
“No.”
“May I call on you?”
She nodded. “What time?”
“As soon as the sun goes down. What would you like to do?”
“Dinner and dancing?”
“Nothing I would like better than a chance to hold you in my arms.” He kissed her palm, sending little frissons of delight spiraling to the core of her being.
Exiting the car, he went around to open her door. He slipped his arm around her shoulders as he walked her to the porch. “May I kiss you good-night?”
Callie nodded, excitement fluttering in the pit of her stomach as his lips claimed hers in a long, slow kiss she wished would never end.
Murmuring, “Until tomorrow,” he kissed her once more, lightly, then descended the stairs and disappeared into the darkness.
Callie smiled faintly, thinking there was no way to pretend Quill was just an ordinary man. But she was more than willing to try.
* * *
Quill arrived at sundown the next night looking splendid in a pair of black slacks, a gray shirt, and a thigh-length black leather jacket. He whistled when he saw her.
“Like it?” she asked, twirling around in front of him. She had spent the better part of the afternoon looking for just the right thing to wear for the evening.
“What’s not to like?” Her dress was pale-blue silk with a fitted bodice and a short skirt that outlined her figure to perfection. She wore a pair of matching high heels and a sapphire bracelet. Her honey-gold hair fell in glorious waves around her shoulders. A deep breath carried the scent of her perfume and her own warm, womanly fragrance. “Ready?”
Nodding, she grabbed a long, white sweater from the back of a chair, collected her handbag, and followed him out the door. She blinked in surprise when she saw the car in the driveway. “What happened to the Jag?” she asked as he opened the door to a fire-engine-red Corvette.
“It’s a clear night. I thought we’d take the convertible for a change.”
“How many cars do you have?”
“Three.”
“Must be nice,” she muttered as he closed her door. Of course, she could buy a luxury car if she was of a mind to, but Ava had bought the pink VW as a high school graduation present for Callie. Driving it was fun and made her feel closer to her grandmother. “Where are we going?”
“The Chalet. Have you ever been there?”
“No.”
“Me, either.” He smiled at her. “A first for both of us.”
Callie nodded, thinking she had experienced a lot of “firsts” since she’d met Quill.
The Chalet was a small, intimate restaurant. The lighting was dim, the music low.
Callie ordered shrimp and rice; Quill chose steak, very rare, a baked potato, and a bottle of cabernet.
Spreading her napkin in her lap, Callie said, “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything you want.”
“How did you get that scar on your neck?”
“Oh, that.” He ran the back of his forefinger over the jagged scar. “Souvenir of a nasty fight with one of the Knights of the Dark Wood.”
“You told me all your injuries healed.”
“They do. But wounds made with pure silver don’t only hurt like hell, they tend to leave a mark,” he said with a rueful grin. “I’m afraid that attack the other night left me with a few more.”
More than a few, she thought.
“Anything else you’d like to know?”
“Your parents . . . are they still alive?”
“As far as I know.”
“Are they both vampires?”
“Only my father.”
“And your mother’s still alive? How is that possible? Vampires might live for hundreds of years, but ordinary people don’t.”
“Perhaps one day I’ll tell you.”
She lifted one brow. “But not now?”
“ No.”
“Do they live here, in the States?”
He shook his head. “Last I heard, they were living in Australia. Sydney, I think.”
“Do you see them often?”
“Often enough so that they don’t forget who I am,” he said, grinning.
“Were you born here?”
“No. In Savaria, Hungary. Most of our kind still live there.”
“Why did your parents leave?”
“My father’s got an itchy foot and doesn’t like staying in any one place too long. They move every fifty years or so.”
Callie mulled that over until their dinner arrived. She grimaced when she saw Quill’s filet mignon. He had asked for rare, but she couldn’t help thinking if the steak had been cooked a minute less, it might have stood up and walked away.
Her meal, however, was excellent, the wine a rare vintage that lingered on the tongue. They made small talk during the meal. While waiting for dessert—a rich chocolate mousse Callie had been unable to resist—she asked about Vivian.
“She’s fine.”
“Did you . . . ?”
“Yes. Last night, after I took you home.”
“Will she remember that we were together Sunday night, or did you erase that, too?”
“She’ll remember that you met and had a good time together. That’s all.” Seeing her frown, he said, “You don’t approve?”
“No,” she said flatly. “It seems wrong, messing with people’s minds. You tried to make me forget what you are. What else have you made me forget?”
“Nothing, love. That was the one and only time.”
She wanted to believe him, but how was she to know if he was telling her the truth?
“Trust me, Callie. Please.”
It was the please that did it.
“Do you want a bite?” she asked, when the waitress brought her dessert.
He slid a glance at her throat.
“That’s not what I’m offering.”
“I know. More’s the pity. But in answer to your question, no, thank you.” He smiled as she took a taste, wondering if she wore the same look of exquisite pleasure during lovemaking. He rather enjoyed watching her. “Do you want another?” he asked when she’d licked the last trace of chocolate from the spoon.
“I’d love one, but no. Too many calories.”
“Maybe we can shed a pound or two,” he suggested, nodding toward the dance floor in the adjoining room.
“Good idea.”
Taking her hand, he led her into the other room. The lighting was soft, the music slow. Callie felt a rush of excitement when Quill drew her into his embrace, so close she had no trouble