Dead Sexy. Amanda Ashley

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      “I guess you have a lot of them.”

      “More than you can imagine.” He jerked his chin toward the window. “Do you mind?”

      “What? Oh, sorry.” She dropped the heavy drapery back into place, shutting out the morning light, her curiosity growing by leaps and bounds. She had thought she knew all there was to know about vampires. Apparently, she had been wrong.

      “I regret I cannot offer you breakfast,” he said with a wry grin. “Would you like me to order you something from Sardino’s?”

      “Spaghetti and meatballs for breakfast?” she muttered dubiously. “I don’t think so.” Although it was far more preferable than what he dined on.

      His laugh was warm and rich as he picked up the phone, punched in the number for the restaurant, and handed her the phone. “Order whatever you wish. Tell Sardino to charge it to my account.”

      She didn’t like the idea of eating in front of Santiago again and was thinking about telling him that she really wasn’t hungry when her stomach growled, embarrassingly long and loud. With a sigh, she turned her back to him and ordered a waffle, bacon, coffee, and orange juice.

      “Would you care to shower while you wait?” he asked. “There are clean towels in the bathroom.”

      A shower sounded heavenly. In Flynn’s apartment, she wouldn’t have hesitated, but Flynn didn’t affect her the way Santiago did. And Flynn wasn’t a vampire.

      Santiago was watching her. Though his expression was impassive, she had a feeling he knew exactly what she was thinking.

      Lifting her chin a notch, she said, “Thank you, a shower sounds wonderful.”

      Before she could change her mind, she pivoted on her heel and headed for the bathroom. She closed and locked the door, knowing, as she did so, that nothing as flimsy as a wooden door or a lock would keep him out. She told herself she was just being paranoid. Santiago had no designs on her; he had been nothing but kind to her.

      But he was still a vampire.

      And she was still afraid of him.

      She turned on the shower, undressed quickly, and stepped under the spray. As wonderful as the water felt, being undressed in Joaquin Santiago’s shower made her decidedly ill at ease. It was, she thought as she dried off, probably the fastest shower on record.

      She pulled on her clothes and towel-dried her hair. She wished fleetingly that she had her hair dryer and her makeup, then chided herself for worrying about how she looked. He was a vampire, for goodness’ sake, not a prospective boyfriend!

      Taking a deep breath, she unlocked the bathroom door and went into the living room. She hadn’t paid much attention to her surroundings earlier. Looking around now, she understood why. There was little to see. The walls were white and bare, the carpet a nondescript shade of beige. A brown sofa and matching chair were grouped in front of the fireplace. Somehow, none of the furnishings in this room, as sparse as they were, seemed to suit its occupant.

      “You are just in time,” Santiago said. “The delivery boy left your breakfast outside.”

      With a nod, Regan retrieved the tray and carried it into the kitchen. The walls were white and devoid of any decoration. The appliances were white and, as far as she could tell, had never been used. The space was so sterile, it reminded her of a hospital operating room.

      Santiago followed her to the kitchen, then stopped in the doorway, one shoulder negligently propped against the jamb.

      Sitting at the small, round, glass-and-metal table, Regan lifted the cover from the tray, pleased to see that Sardino had included utensils and a napkin. The waffle looked light enough to float away; the three strips of bacon were cooked just the way she liked them.

      She looked up at Santiago. “Why do I have the feeling I’m the first person that’s ever eaten in here?”

      “Perhaps because you are,” he replied with a faint grin. “Maybe I should stock the shelves.”

      Regan looked at him sharply. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

      He shrugged. “You know what they say, it pays to be prepared.”

      “Well, don’t bother. I doubt if I’ll be spending much time here.”

      “Maybe I could change your mind.”

      “Why would you want to?”

      “I find myself enjoying your company.”

      She was flattered in spite of herself. Truth be told, she enjoyed his company, too, but there was no future in it. Even if she could get past the fact that he was a vampire, she wasn’t sure if they were even the same species anymore.

      With a shake of her head, Regan concentrated on the food on her plate, acutely aware of Joaquin Santiago’s watchful gaze. She searched her mind for something to break the silence and said the first thing that popped into her head.

      “Do you ever miss real food?”

      His gaze slid over her throat. “Not for years.”

      “What do you miss?”

      “What makes you think I miss anything?”

      “Don’t you?”

      He thought about it a moment, then shrugged. “The advantages of being a vampire far outweigh what I lost.”

      “Advantages?” she scoffed. “Like not being able to go outside during the day? Like drinking blood? Like being unable to have children and being forced to live in this…” She made a gesture that encompassed his apartment. “This prison?”

      “I call being alive a distinct advantage,” he retorted. “If not for the Dark Trick, I would have been dead centuries ago.”

      “But you aren’t alive. Not really.”

      “No?”

      He moved toward her, his eyes so dark they looked almost black as his hands folded over her shoulders and lifted her to her feet. The fork in her hand fell to the table and skittered onto the floor.

      “Not alive?” he asked, his voice soft and silky as he drew her into his arms. “Could a dead man kiss you like this?”

      Kiss? The word jump-started her heart. He was going to kiss her. Before the thought had time to register in her mind, his mouth was swooping down on hers, capturing her lips in a searing kiss that sent frissons of heat exploding through every inch of her body before settling in the pit of her stomach. His lips were surprisingly warm, his tongue like a flame sliding over her lips, imprinting his taste on her skin like a brand.

      It was the most incredible, unforgettable, mind-blowing kiss she had ever known. It heated her blood, made her skin tingle and her toes curl, until she was aware of nothing but the man holding her in his embrace, his mouth moving over hers, by turns teasing and seductive. But for his arms holding her upright, she was certain she would have melted into a pool of liquid desire at his feet.

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