She jumped when the phone on her desk rang, and answered it quickly with a too-curt, “Claire Murphy.”
“Hello, Claire Murphy.”
She smiled. No one else had a voice like that. No one else could make her shudder simply by saying her name. “Hi, Simon.”
“What are you doing?”
“Working.” Trying to, anyway. Her heart lurched. “How did you get this number?”
“I asked the building manager where you worked, and then I used all my detective skills to thumb through a phone book.”
Would he go to so much trouble just to inform her over the phone that it wasn’t going to work? That he was already tired of her? That he was married?
“What time do you get off work?” he asked, and when he did the connection faltered a little. Apparently he was calling from his cell phone.
“Four-thirty.”
“That’s too long. Ever leave work early?”
“Sometimes.”
“Leave now,” he said, his voice low and commanding and sexy as hell. “Right now.”
Claire’s heart fluttered. “I really shouldn’t…”
“To hell with shouldn’t. I need you.”
Her mouth went dry, while between her legs she was anything but. “I suppose I can take half a sick day.”
“Do it.”
With that, he ended the call. No “See you later,” no “Bye, now,” No “I can’t wait.” Just a command and a click and a dial tone.
Claire closed down her computer program and picked up her purse. Her hands were trembling, and she couldn’t wait to get home. Usually on pretty days she walked home, but maybe today she’d grab a taxi. She informed her boss that she was going home, and since she’d been yawning and droopy-eyed all day he didn’t give her the third degree. In fact, he told her that she looked a little flushed and should stay home until she was sure she didn’t have anything contagious.
Claire agreed and headed for the elevator with a decidedly un-sick spring in her step. Simon needed her. All the way down, she had one thought in her mind. Please, don’t let him be a vampire or a jerk. Let him be just a guy. Maybe even the guy.
Less than a minute later she stepped off the elevator intent on grabbing a taxi and quickly making her way home, but she hadn’t taken two steps before a hand fell on her shoulder. She almost screamed she was so startled, but when she spun around she smiled widely and her heart…her heart did something odd and unexpected.
“I told you I couldn’t wait,” Simon said. He took her hand and they headed for the front door. “I can’t get you out of my head,” he mumbled, and he didn’t sound entirely happy about the fact.
“I thought about you today, a time or two,” Claire said, hefting her purse on her shoulder and picking up the pace. Simon’s steps were longer than hers.
“I went to bed after you left for work, and I woke up thinking about you,” he said.
“Only good thoughts, I hope.”
“What do you think?” He looked at her, and his step instantly altered. For her, he took shorter, slower steps.
At that moment Claire realized that her life had changed in a matter of hours. She realized that she had found the perfect man. She realized that if Simon was a vampire…she didn’t care. Not that she could tell him any of that. Not yet.
They exited through the front doors and into the afternoon sunlight. Simon’s eyes narrowed as the sun’s rays caught him full in the face, but he didn’t explode or catch on fire or recoil. That was good. He gripped her hand in his and it felt very right. That was even better.
Claire had fallen in love before—many times, if teenage crushes counted—but she’d never fallen in so far so fast. Simon was a wonderful lover, an incredible lover, and when they weren’t in bed he introduced her to his musical passion. Jazz. Maybe she would never love the music the way he did, but she did quickly find a few favorite tunes in his collection.
Simon was passionate about his music, almost as passionate as he was about her. He made her laugh, again and again. They danced. Naked. With her head resting on his chest she heard his heartbeat and it always made her smile. How could she have ever suspected him of being a vampire?
Mrs. Tillman kept close watch on their comings and goings as the days passed, and her disapproval was obvious. Once they even heard the whispered words, “foolish girl” drifting from the old lady’s slightly opened door. Claire didn’t have time to worry about one sour old woman. Not when her life was going so wonderfully well.