Kiss Me When the Sun Goes Down (4 page)

Bishop pressed closer, his fingers brushing the hair out of my eyes.  “More than I’ve ever wanted anything,” he rumbled.

“Then kiss me.  Don’t stop to think about it, don’t plan it.  Just...” 

His mouth closed over mine, and I felt the kiss all the way down to my toes, the energy between us sparking far more than a simple press of lips should have.  He shouldn’t have been able to do that, make me any wetter than I was from the rain, but as his tongue slid against mine, my entire body submitted to him, craving more than that single touch.  My hands slid up the front of his chest to curve around the back of his neck, drawing him closer. 

Bishop responded with a shift of the hips, pinning me against the car with his hardness.  This was what I’d missed, my confident, strong, Bishop, taking and giving at the same time, consequences be damned.  When he kissed me like that, it brought back the memory of every way he’d made my body sing with pleasure, and my body remembered too, offering itself up to him shamelessly, forgetting where we were. 

He drank from my lips like a man dying of thirst, desperate to make up for lost time.  I felt it too – the need to heal the rift between us with a connection that nothing or no one could ever destroy again.  “Let’s get out of here,” he hummed over my skin, and I swallowed hard. 

“Where do you want to go?” I whispered back, half hoping he said to his place.  But instead of his reply, we got the tight beam of a flashlight aimed at our faces. 

“Y
ou alright, miss?”  The cop attached to the flashlight asked, his face pinched with concern, or possibly against the rain that pelted his uniform. 

“Ah... yes,” I answered, shielding my eyes from the glare, and he shifted it away to train on Bishop’s face. 

“You sure?  I can give you a ride back to town if you need one.”

I must’ve looked more bedraggled than I felt.  “No, I’m completely fine, Officer.  Better than fine,” I smiled up at Bishop, whose fingers curled at my waist. 

“Then I’m going to have to ask you two to move along.  This isn’t Lover’s Lane, you know,” he grumbled, the stop turning into a nuisance rather than a rescue. 

“We’re not bothering anyone out here,” Bishop grumbled, his body tensing.  “Just be on your way and leave us in peace.”

“I don’t think I like your attitude, son.”  The cop bristled, coming closer.  “How about you show me some identification?”

Bishop let go of me, stepping up face to face with the officer.  “I don’t think so,” he replied, extending his will to capture the man’s.  “There’s nothing to interest you here.  Move along.”  The cop turned and got into his car, driving away without another word.  I had to admit, sometimes the whole compulsion thing did come in handy, even if I found it invasive. 

“At least we know
that
still works,” I mentioned, as Bishop returned to my side. 

“What?”

“That thing between us.  Don’t tell me you didn’t feel it.”

“I felt it alright,” he said under his breath, adjusting his pants that clung to him like a second skin, leaving no doubt how much he’d felt the connection between us. 

I couldn’t help but laugh.  “Maybe it’s better if we slow things down anyway?”  As much as I’d been into it in the moment, there was a strong argument for not rushing physical intimacy.  “There are some things I don’t do on the first date.”

“I can respect that,” he agreed easily enough, earning him a mark of respect in my book.  “Alright then, Miss Evans, I think I’d better get you home, it’s getting late.”

“We’ll get the inside of your car all wet,” I winced, realizing he might not appreciate my stunt so much any more, but he laughed. 

“This taking it slow is gonna be hard if you keep saying things like that.”

“You should talk.  It’s gonna be
hard
, is it?” I teased him back, and he laughed again. 

“Get in the car before I forget how to act like a gentleman.”

“Promises, promises,” I muttered with a shake of the head, glad we were on easy footing again.  Maybe it hadn’t gone as planned, and maybe we’d make a mess of his leather seats, but neither one of us could deny that spark was still there, waiting to be fanned into a raging flame.  The only question was – would it burn out in a glorious ball of fire or provide us with steady heat to last a lifetime?

* * *

I
t was easy to slip into the house unnoticed, and I headed right downstairs to my room before anyone asked me why I looked like I’d gone toe to toe with a typhoon and lost.  After I had a chance to change into pajamas and warm fluffy socks, I’d venture up to make a cup of cocoa and dish about the night with Maggie.  I could hear her up in the kitchen with Tucker, washing dishes. 

I almost fainted when I caught sight of myself in the bathroom mirror. 
Great googly moogly
, was that what Bishop had been smiling about when he dropped me off?  My hair wasn’t so bad, it was just wet, but my makeup was a shambles.  Raccoon eyes and dark mascara tracks down my cheeks, lipstick nothing more than a faint smear across my chin – I looked like I’d been chased through a teen horror flick and come out the only survivor.  No wonder the cop had asked if I was alright.  How the heck had Bishop been able to gaze so adoringly at me when I was such a mess?

After a quick scrub, with my hair up in a pony tail and my comfy jammies on, I looked more like my old self again.  I spent a few lingering moments picturing Bishop peeling off his wet suit, and wondered if video chatting to ask if I could watch would be the opposite of taking things slow. 

I emerged from my room only to jump at the sound of... I couldn’t say what it was, beyond a bone jarring thud that felt like it was coming from under the house.  It sounded again, and this time I could tell it came from the office next to my bedroom.  Throwing open the door, I stared slack jawed at Carter, who stood in a pile of rubble, sweaty and dirty, with a sledge hammer lightly grasped between his hands.  All the carpet had been torn up and hauled out, the furniture missing, and the growing hole in the concrete foundation let me know he’d been at it for a while.

“Hey, you’re home.  No walk of shame for you, huh?” he said, lifting the sledge for a mighty swing that turned another chunk of cement into rubble.

“Carter!” I yelled as the hammer came up again.  “What the frak is this?”

He caught the swing before it connected, and set it down to lean on the handle like a cane.  “You said I could use this office.”

“Yes, for paperwork, or maybe an extra media room or something.  But this... what is this?”

“I tried to talk to you about it and you said not to bother you.”  His hands came up as though he held no blame in the situation, and I forced myself to take a calming breath before I spoke again. 

“Okay, so that made you think it was a swell idea to start demolishing my foundation?”

“Relax, it’s not the foundation, it’s the subfloor.  I’m not doing anything that will compromise the structural integrity of the house.”

“Oh, is that all,” I snorted.  “Well, I’m home now.  How about you explain to me exactly
why
we need a hole in the subfloor?” 

“It’s an escape route,” he replied as if that explained everything, and I waved him on.

“I’m going to need a little more than that.” 

“You know, like a tunnel.  That way, if we ever get pinned down in the house, we have a way out.  When I get done, this will open up under the garage at the edge of the property.” 

“What do we need an escape tunnel for?  Won’t that make us more vulnerable to attack?  Now we’re going to have an extra way into the house, as well as out.” 

“Not when I get done with this baby, it won’t,” he replied with utter confidence. 

An escape route.  The mind boggled.  “What makes you think we even need something like this?”

“Oh, come on, An... a guy’s gotta have a hobby,” he whined, forehead puckering on the brink of a scowl.  “I don’t pick on you for your weird obsession with
Firefly
.”

“Okay, A –
Firefly
is not a weird obsession, and B – my hobbies don’t end up making a hole in the house.  Don’t you think we should’ve talked about this first?  What if this new entrance isn’t covered by the spell that protects the house?”  As far as I knew, it protected the entire structure, not just the windows and doors, but that didn’t necessarily include underground. 

“I keep telling you, it’s not an entrance, it’s an exit.  There will be no way for the common vamp to bust their way in.”

“And what about the uncommon vamp?”  Lord only knew we’d run into our share of them so far. 

“They won’t even know it exists, I swear.  I’ll camouflage it so well you won’t even know where it is until I show you.”

He looked so earnest, and Carter was a fairly handy guy.  He’d tricked out the attic for himself and installed automatic shutters on all the windows of the house since he’d moved in.  “Fine, but if you bury yourself in a tunnel collapse, I’m not coming to dig you out for a week.”

“It’ll be structurally sound, I promise.  This is gonna be sweet, wait and see,” he grinned. 

“Whatever floats your boat,” I shrugged, thinking I could always spend more time at the office if the banging got to be too loud.  Or maybe it’d be a good excuse to hang out at Bishop’s place more?  Suddenly, I remembered one of his more obscure texts.  “What did you want bandages for?  Did you hurt yourself?”

“Naw, I wanted to tape it around the edge of the door to keep the dust down in the rest of the house.”

“So why didn’t you?” The doorway was clear of any gauze or tape.

Carter started picking up chunks of broken up concrete and chucking them into a wheel barrow he’d appropriated from somewhere.  “I didn’t want to go poking around in your bathroom to look for them, and I didn’t want to run to the store.  I wanted to get started before you got back.  I didn’t want to miss finding out how your date went.”  More like he knew it was easier to beg forgiveness than to ask permission.  “I’m guessing it didn’t end with a bang since you’re home so early, huh?”  He didn’t look too broken up at the idea.

“What makes you say that?  We had more than enough time for that sort of thing.”  Part of me was sorry I hadn’t insisted we go back to his place after the failed attempt at the opera. I’d probably still be there. 

He straightened to look at me.  “Is that what you did?”

I had to laugh at the look on his face, equal parts shock and disgust.  “No, we didn’t.  Actually, Bishop had quite a few things intended for the night, but none of it went according to plan.  In fact, nothing went like he planned it.  We got booted from our table at the restaurant, he got held up with work for a while, we completely missed the opera, and our walk on the beach got rained out.”

“Oh?”  Carter brightened at the news.  “That’s too bad you didn’t have a good time.”

“Who said I didn’t have a good time?”

“Seriously?  It sounds kind of crappy to me.  Who plans a walk on the beach in December without checking the weather?  Poor planning, if you ask me.”

“Well, nobody did.”  Maybe he had a point, but Bishop deserved credit for trying to be romantic in my book.  In the end, none of it had mattered anyway.  It’d turned out to be plenty romantic once he stopped trying so hard to impress me.  “It doesn’t matter, I didn’t mind the rain at all.”

“You went for a walk in the rain?”

“We never made it down to the beach.  We got, um... distracted.” 

His hands came up to stop me.  “Okay, spare me the girl talk, or I’m gonna have to take this sledge to my own head to keep from hearing it.”

“You’re the one who asked how the date went,” I said with a half shrug.

“Then you’re going to see him again?”

“Of course I am.  I love him, he loves me...” I smiled to think of the offhand way Bishop had brought it up in the restaurant.  “I’d be a fool not to try and make it work.”

“Or a fool to risk your heart again on a guy who stomped on it once already,” he glowered.

“He made a mistake, he even apologized to me for it tonight.  He’s changed.”

“Any time I hear a woman think she can change a man, it makes my idiot-meter go off.  Don’t be that girl, Anja.” 

He didn’t get it.  “I’m not trying to change him, he’s already changed himself.  He’s changed a lot in the past year.  So have I.”

“I know.  I just wonder if he can appreciate that.”

“We’ll see.”   

“Y
ou know what you need to do,” Felix started in, from the moment I answered the phone.

“Register for Comic-Con before it gets too late?  I keep forgetting to ask Maggie to find out when the tickets go on sale.” 

“Ah... no, that wasn’t what I had in mind.”

I couldn’t think what other business I had coming up in southern California, but I hoped it wasn’t another veiled attempt to get me to invite Bridget up for a visit.  Already, I wasn’t looking forward to seeing her at the party on New Year’s.  I started pulling up the website for the Comic-Con while I had it on the brain.  “What’s up then?  And no, I don’t want to do that bloody champagne fountain thing, I still think it’s gross to mix blood and alcohol.”  There were probably a lot of vampires that disagreed with that opinion, but it was my party after all. 

“No, no, I leave the refreshments up to you.  But ah... there will be blood available for the guests like we talked about, won’t there?”

We’d already discussed having fresh blood available in small quantities, like they did at Vetis.  It wasn’t my usual thing, but he wanted to impress the council and Maggie said that Mr. Vaughn had volunteered to take care of it in a humane and safe way.  “Yep, we’re all set there,” I replied, my face falling when the page finished loading.  “Aw man... they’re already sold out.”

“The blood?” Felix asked in confusion.

“No, the Comic-Con tickets.  You had to buy them in November.  Why didn’t somebody tell me?” I muttered, and he cleared his throat.

“About the party...”

“Yes, sorry.  What is it, Felix?”

“Maggie said you haven’t found a venue yet and it’s less than a month away.  Tell me I don’t have to worry.”