"So what happened to you?" Constanza asked.
Pru smiled. "The vampire was a rich and handsome viscount. When he discovered I was a beautiful young woman, he offered me the eternal life of the Undead if I would agree to be his mistress. I said yes, of course. Any sensible woman would."
"Of course," Constanza agreed.
Abigail winced, wondering if Pru had left her dead former lover on the side of the road.
"He taught me proper English, don't you know." Pru's eyes narrowed. "We were happy for years until he tossed me aside to marry Lady Pamela."
"That bitch," Constanza hissed.
Pru shrugged. "All water under the bridge. The point is I've known quite a few good kissers over the years, but none of them compare to Gregori. By George, that man can kiss."
Abigail's gaze drifted back to him at the bar. Oh brother. Now there were two more girls hanging on him.
She shook herself mentally. She needed to get over her attraction to him. He was a vampire and a playboy. And he had strange psychic powers. Three major points she could never reconcile herself to. The sad truth was he was impossible. Completely, irreparably impossible.
A heaviness settled in her chest, and she closed her eyes briefly. It shouldn't hurt this bad. She'd only met him last night.
But she'd never met anyone like him before. Physically, he made her heart race, her knees weak, and her dopamine levels skyrocket. Intellectually, he fascinated her. With her mind and body both drawn to him, how could she resist?
"So why didn't you sleep with hhim?" Constanza asked.
"I wanted to. I invited him to my flat, but . . ." Pru hesitated, her eyes gleaming. "You'll never guess what he told me."
Constanza leaned toward her. "What?"
Abigail eased closer to make sure she heard.
"He said the sun would rise in thirty minutes, and it wasn't enough time. Someone as beautiful as me deserved an entire night where I could be worshipped and pleasured to my heart's content." Pru pressed a hand to her chest. "It was the most romantic thing I've ever been told."
Abigail's heart squeezed. Wow. He sounded like one of the heroes from her mother's books. If he ever talked to her like that, she'd probably melt at his feet.
"Ooh, he is so hhhot." Constanza turned to Abigail. "You are so lucky, hhuman. You should sleep with hhim tonight."
"Any sensible woman would," Pru added. "And it's still early, so you can let him pleasure you all night long."
She swallowed hard. All night long. "I-I'm not really dating him."
Pru sat up with a hopeful smile. "Then you won't mind if I take him?"
Abigail glanced at him. He was headed toward them, a glass in each hand and his eyes focused intently on her. Her heart started to pound. You must resist. He was completely, irreparably impossible.
But she could pretend, couldn't she? Just for one night, she could pretend that a handsome, sexy man like Gregori was choosing her over everyone else.
"No," she whispered. "He's with me."
Pru huffed. "You want him for yourself?"
Abigail gave her a wry look. "Any sensible woman would."
Pru's eyes narrowed with anger. "How do you intend to keep him? You're just a mortal."
"Si," Constanza agreed. "You can't even do levitation sex."
"Excuse me?" Abigail asked.
"You know." Constanza pointed up in the air. "On the ceiling."
Abigail's mouth dropped open as she recalled seeing Gregori floating on the ceiling of the Oval Office. Levitation sex? Was such a thing possible?
Pru shook her head and tsked. "You've never done it on the ceiling, have you? Do you really think someone as inexperienced as you can keep Gregori satisfied?"
The man in question set the drinks on the table with a clunk and frowned at the two vampire women. "If you will excuse us, I'd like to be alone with my date."
The ladies scooted out of their booth and rushed over to lean against him.
"I'm still waiting for you, Gregori," Pru whispered.
"Me too." Constanza ran her fingers down his arm.
My date, Abigail thought. He'd called her my date. Of course he could be saying it just to get rid of the vampire women, but her heart ignored that notion and thumped wildly.
The women sneered at Abigail, then flipped their hair over their shoulders and strode back to the dance floor.
Gregori slid her drink in front of her, then sat, not across from her, but right next to her. She eased to the side just a fraction. Hopefully he wouldn't notice.
"Are you afraid of me?" he whispered.
He'd noticed.
She shook her head, then gulped some of her Diet Coke. Afraid wasn't the right word. Unnerved. Freaked. But strangely attracted. Curious. Sex on the ceiling? And she was a bit . . . miffed, to be honest. She didn't like the mental picture of him kissing Pru on the dance floor. Prunella Culpepper, who could leave a lover dead on the side of the road and take off with his murderer. Gregori deserved better than that.
"You look upset." He peered closely at her. "Did those women say something to disturb you?"
"No, no, I'm fine." Her gaze lowered to his mouth, and Pru's words taunted her. By George, that man can kiss. She scooted down the booth a little.
"Your father wanted us to get better acquainted. Can you tell me what sort of project he has in mind?"
"I'd rather not say just yet." She drank some more soda. How on earth could she travel with this man? He was too . . . alluring. Too dangerous. Too damned sexy.
He moved a little closer. "Do you have any questions you'd like to ask me?"
"Yes. Ah . . ." Do you really worship and pleasure a woman all night long? On the ceiling? She mentally shook herself. There were more important issues she needed to address. "What happens to you during the day?"
"I sleep."
"That's . . . all?"
The corner of his mouth curled up. "I don't snore."
She looked away from the power of his dimple. "What kind of psychic abilities do you have?"
He sat back, then moved his glass closer. "Are you going to report whatever I say to the CIA?"
"I don't mean to cause you any trouble, Mr. Holstein, but I need to know if it's safe for me to be with you."
"I would never hurt you." He paused, then added wryly, "Miss Tucker."
Was he mocking her for trying to keep some distance between them? "If you'll answer my questions honestly, then I won't repeat whatever you tell me."
He nodded. "Deal."
"Did you make that man break his camera?"
"It seemed the best recourse at the time. I didn't want my photo in a paper." He glanced at her. "And I figured you didn't want the publicity, either."
That was true. But she wasn't going to thank him. "So you admit that you can mess with our minds."
His mouth thinned. "We have the right to protect ourselves. How do you think we managed to keep our existence secret?"
She snorted. "You've never been secret. There have been horror stories about your kind for centuries."
"That just means we didn't mess with your minds enough. We allowed too many memories to stay intact."
She winced. "You can erase a mortal's memory?"
He shifted on the padded booth, turning to face her. "Vampires survived for centuries on human blood. The usual procedure was to feed, then wipe the memory. It kept the vampire safe, and it protected the mortal from any bad memories."
"How thoughtful of you," she said wryly.
He arched a brow. "You don't think vampires have the right to survive or protect themselves?"
"You don't have the right to screw with our minds."
His mouth curled up. "How about your bodies?"
She scoffed and inched down the booth. "Did you make Madison's dog fall asleep?"
"Self-defense, Miss Tucker. It was about to gnaw on my leg."
"Can you do the same to a human?"
"I could." He inched closer. "If you're planning to gnaw on my leg."
Her face warmed with a blush. "I don't gnaw on people. That's your specialty."
His mouth twitched. "I don't gnaw on people, either, Miss Tucker. I'm a young Vamp. I take my meals from bottles."
"You've never bitten anyone?"
"I've never bitten a mortal. And I've never bitten for food, so you can relax. You're completely safe."