I used to play. I don’t anymore.
Wasn’t that practically verbatim what the tea-leaf reader said? She shivered slightly, wrapping her arms around herself. She had to admit that was weird. Another shiver washed over her.
She reached for another of the magazines when she heard a faint buzzing sound. She glanced around, trying to figure out what the sound was and where it was coming from. After searching around the room, she realized the noise was emanating from her purse. Her cell phone.
She pulled it out. Thirteen missed calls.
She frowned. They had to be from Erika and Jo. They’d be the only ones who would call. Her mother was on a trip to Bermuda with her Aunt Agatha—and her mother never called her cell anyway. And no one from work would possibly call her.
She checked the numbers. Sure enough, all were from either Jo or Erika. Concern tightened Maggie’s chest. She expected her friends might be worried about her being out all night, but thirteen calls seemed rather excessive. She quickly called Jo back.
“Where are you?” was the greeting she received.
“I’m at Ren’s. What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” Jo sounded thoroughly irritated. “The fact that our friend has disappeared for the entire night and the entire next day, that’s what’s wrong.”
Maggie frowned, confused. “What?”
“We knew you might be gone all night, but when it hit evening and we still hadn’t heard anything, of course Erika and I got worried.”
Maggie shook her head, still not understanding. She glanced at the windows, realizing the gray light wasn’t getting brighter—it was actually getting darker.
“It’s evening?”
There was silence on the other end of the line. “It’s after six.”
Maggie stared at the window, then glanced around for a clock. There was none to be found. Not that she thought Jo would be lying—she just couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the idea. She knew they’d been up late, but to sleep the whole day away…
“Well, I’m fine,” she reassured her friend. “I had my phone on vibrate, so I didn’t hear it.”
“Thank God,” Jo said, relief now replacing irritation. “So? How was it? How was he?”
Maggie smiled, shaking her head at her friend’s sudden shift. Leave it to Jo to be her usual straightforward self about this particular topic, too.
“It was…good.”
Jo made a disbelieving noise. “Just good, huh?”
“Okay, pretty freakin’ great.”
Behind her, the teapot started to whistle, the high-pitched noise echoing through the room, made louder by the complete silence of the house.
“Listen,” Maggie said as she rushed to the stove, removing the kettle from the heat. “I’ll fill you in later.”
“Is he there?”
Maggie glanced at the stairs, really hoping the teapot hadn’t woken him. “No, he’s still sleeping.”
“Wow. You must have been good too.”
Maggie laughed. “I hope so.”
“Okay. Fill us in later. We know where to find you if you don’t make it back to the hotel before he has to go to work.”
“Okay. Bye.” Maggie hit the end key, smiling down at the phone for a moment. Last night had been amazing. Astounding. Wonderful.
She opened the cupboard and took down a teacup. The yellowed china reminded her of the fortune-teller, and of the things she’d said: That she’d meet a new man. That there would be intense passion. What she’d said about the music.
She smiled to herself as she dropped a teabag into the cup and added steaming water. She watched the steam curl through the air, matching the curl of warmth inside herself. She still didn’t know if she believed Hattie and her loose tea, but she couldn’t deny that what she’d experienced last night had definitely been passion. Overwhelming, intense, crazy passion. And the most thrilling moment of her life.
She picked up her cup, cradling it in both hands as she wandered over to the sofa. She sat down, curling her legs under her. She took a tentative sip of the pale amber liquid.
Not too bad. She relaxed back against the soft leather cushions, letting her mind wander. God, she felt good. Better than she had felt in, well—forever.
Another smiled tugged at her lips.
Ren snapped awake as he always did. No easing into the day for a vampire. He touched the other side of the mattress, not finding Maggie’s warm body still cuddled down under the covers.
Not even sensing lingering heat.
Had she left? Did she sneak away before the rays of the sun disappeared from the sky and allowed him to awaken?
He could still feel remnants of her energy in the air, like a particularly heady perfume, a lingering reminder. But he couldn’t tell if she’d left. He listened. The apartment was quiet.
Pushing back the curtains, he looked toward the windows. The sky was a deep, steely gray. He couldn’t quite guess the time. Maybe seven-thirty or so. Plenty of time for Maggie to rise and leave.
He considered the idea, trying to decipher how he felt about that. He should be relieved, right?
After all, he knew this could only be a one-night stand, and if she snuck away that was all the better, wasn’t it?
But it definitely wasn’t relief that weighted his limbs as he got out of bed and hauled on his jeans.
He glanced back at the bed. The twisted bedding, the indentation on the pillow where her head had been. He breathed deeply, sensing the pureness she’d radiated, although it was fainter now than when he’d first woken up, disappearing quickly.
Somehow he didn’t think the memory of their night was going to fade nearly as quickly. Or ever, really.
He glanced one more time at the bed, then headed down the stairs. He’d have to be at work in a little over an hour, but he wasn’t prepared to get ready yet.
When he reached the bottom step, he could sense her energy even more strongly. She’d been down here, and from the residual vibration in the air, not so long ago.
He wandered to the kitchen, picking up the vibe there. Then he followed it to the living room, touching the sofa as if he could touch her.
This was foolish. He didn’t act like this. Hell, he always knew the score. He always knew what he had to do, how he had to live, and he’d learned to accept it. He certainly didn’t pine for women, no matter how great the sex had been.
He pulled in a deep breath, widening his eyes at the understatement of that thought. Amazingly great sex. Fantastic sex. Perfect.
Okay, he was disappointed she was likely gone. But it was for the best.
He wandered over to the windows, looking out into the twilight. Watching the slight breeze stir the magnolias in the courtyard. For a moment, he didn’t see her, even though his eyes could easily see in the waning light.
Then he spotted her. Maggie sat on one of the benches, legs curled under her. Perfectly still, like a beautiful statue. The swaying of the magnolia branches played peekaboo with him, making her appear and nearly disappear, like a figment of his imagination.
His muscles tightened with anticipation, with excitement. She was still here. He was nearly giddy with the idea.
He reached for the doorknob, then stopped.
Damn it. He had to get himself under control here. He had no right to be feeling this excited. After all, he was going to have to do the right thing and send her away.
He opened the door and stepped outside. Maggie noticed his appearance immediately, uncurling her legs from under her, revealing their bare, shapely lengths.
Ren gritted his teeth as his body reacted to the sight. He needed to get this situation under control, and fast. Things would have been easier if she’d just been gone. Then he wouldn’t have to be the one to handle it.
“Good morning,” she said, leaning forward to see him better through the magnolia leaves. His shirt gapped slightly, hinting at the pale, lovely breasts underneath. “Or rather, good evening.”
Her greeting froze his aroused thoughts. Another stark reminder of why this had to end as they had agreed, with last night being the only night.
“You are still here?” The comment came out gruffer than he intended, but he didn’t temper it. His only thought was that he had to make her leave. If he didn’t now, he might never.
H er own smile slipped and some of the sparkle left her eyes. “I was just out here enjoying the courtyard and the warm breeze.”
He nodded, trying not to look at the way his shirt parted again as she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. He got another hint of cleavage. He also tried not to notice her pale thighs, only partly covered by the hemline. Or her tousled hair that reminded him of how it had looked spread across his pillow.
“I don’t want to be rude”—but wasn’t that exactly what he was doing?—“but I have to get ready for work.”
She straightened as if she’d been slapped. But that’s what he’d intended, to wound with his words, with his aloof indifference.
“Oh, okay.” She tried to cover her hurt, but didn’t manage it in the least. She rose, tugging his shirt down to cover herself, trying to somehow make the shirttails longer.
He swallowed, wishing she could do just that. God, she was distracting.
Possessiveness filled him again. Who knew that seeing a woman in his clothing could make him feel that way? No, not a woman. Only Maggie. Maggie made him feel that way.
He had to get her out of here.
“I’ll just go up and get my clothes.” She didn’t even meet his eyes as she walked past him.
He didn’t follow her, knowing it would be too hard to watch her gather her things and leave. And far too tempting to stop her.
He waited outside a few moments, but couldn’t stay completely away. He moved to the living room. He could hear her rushing around above him, searching for her discarded clothes. He imagined her dressing. Unbuttoning his shirt and peeling it off to put on her own.
He groaned. What was he doing? He had to stop this nonsense. He had to stick to their deal. She knew the arrangement going in. He’d made it very clear. He didn’t need to beat himself up over simply following the established plan. And he certainly didn’t need to torture himself with thoughts of her up in his room in various states of undress.
Realizing he was pacing, he forced himself to stop. He leaned on the back of the sofa and waited.
Shortly, she came down the stairs, fully clad, yet still looking adorably tousled. His finger itched to touch her hair, her flushed skin.
Instead he crossed his arms over his chest, trying to keep his expression dispassionate, even as crippling yearning raged inside him.
“I think I have everything,” she said after she located her purse on one of the kitchen chairs.
He nodded.
She waited for a moment, not quite meeting his eyes, but not leaving either. Torture. Absolute torture.
“Okay,” she said again and nodded as if to affirm to herself that this was indeed over. “Good-bye, then.”
He nodded, unable to speak. Afraid of what he might say if he did.
His silence seemed to be the final blow. She looked deflated, as if all her pure energy had been drained away. His gut twisted with disgust. He’d taken a beautiful butterfly and plucked off her wings. Crushed her.
She didn’t say a word as she turned and walked to the door, her shoulders slumped slightly.
Then, just as she would have stepped outside, she looked back to him.
“I know you weren’t offering a romance, but I didn’t think the arrangement had to preclude friendship. I didn’t know it would be something truly wonderful and then end like this.”
Ren didn’t speak. He didn’t know what to say. Yes, he did, but he couldn’t say it. He had to let her go.
“I guess I was naïve, wasn’t I?” The emotions he read in her eyes were so clearly pained, so heartbreaking, he had to look away.
“Right,” she said again, and this time he heard the door close.
The latch had barely clicked into place before he was moving, his stride eating up the floor to get to her. When he opened the door, she was already disappearing into the unlit alley leading to the courtyard doors.
“Maggie,” he called, and half expected her to ignore him. The crunch of her rushed steps on the pavement came to a halt. She didn’t turn to look at him, she just waited.
He jumped off the steps, striding to her, even as he told himself to stop. His body wasn’t listening to his head. His head wasn’t particularly convincing. Not when losing this woman was at stake.
He stopped close behind her, but didn’t touch her. He didn’t feel as if he had the right to—not at the moment. Not after his callous dismissal.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said, his voice sounding oddly hoarse. “Last night really freaked me out.”
She still didn’t turn to him. “Why?”
He almost didn’t hear the softly asked question. And then he didn’t answer immediately. He had no idea how to tell her the effect she had on him. He, who’d managed to turn indifference into an art form, or at the very least a way of life, was feeling altogether too much. Emotions roiled though him, one tumbling over the other. Hell, he didn’t even understand half of them.
“I’m not used to liking a woman so much.” That seemed so inadequate to express what had been going on inside him—from the moment he saw her.
She spun to face him, her eyes glittering, and definitely not with warmth. “I get that you are a musician on Bourbon Street, and that women are a dime a dozen for you. But quantity doesn’t make them any less real, any less human.”
He nodded, knowing that was absolutely true. “You’re right. And honestly, I’ve never treated any of them the way I just treated you.”
Her brows drew together. “That doesn’t really make me feel any better.”
“I know.” Damn, he was floundering here. He, who usually knew the right thing to say without thinking. She was having the same effect on his charm that she’d had on his lyric memorization; he was fumbling everything. All he knew was he couldn’t let her leave hating him. He just couldn’t, even though that was the surest way to protect her. Being a vampire was the least of the problems he had.
He sifted through his mind, trying to find a way to fix everything—to keep her from hating him and to keep her safe.