“Sorry.” Gregori lifted his hand. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Uncomfortable? She was tempted to hold hands with him under the table. There was a kindness to him that she hadn’t expected. It made him even harder to resist.
“You’re a sneaky one.” He eyed her with an obviously fake suspicion. “You never did tell me your code name.” He eased closer. “Is that it? Sneaky?”
She shook her head, smiling. This was more of his kindness. He was teasing her out of her moment of sadness. And making her like him even more.
“I know! It’s Secret, because you live a secret life.”
She shook her head again. “It’s not anything very exciting.”
“Hmm.” He studied her closely. “Sweet? Sugar? Spicy?”
She grinned.
“Sex Kitten?”
She laughed. “Are you crazy?”
“It sounds right to me.”
She shook her head, ignoring the heat of her blush. “They based it on my . . . brain.”
“Ah.” He gave her a wide-eyed innocent look. “Simpleton?”
“What?” She swatted his shoulder. “How dare you?”
He laughed. “I’d rather have you attacking me than scooting away. We’ve moved halfway around the booth.”
She pressed a hand against her hot face. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.” He leaned closer. “So your code name is . . . Scientist? Super Brain? Smarty Pants?”
She laughed. “I’m Scholar.”
“Scholar?”
“I warned you. It’s not very exciting.”
“Oh, but it is.” He tugged at one of her curls, then let it go. “I can’t imagine anything more exciting than a . . . scholarly pursuit.”
She gulped. Was he making a pass at her? A part of her leaped with joy that such a handsome, charming, mysterious man could desire her. But another part warned her he was impossible. Completely, irreparably impossible. She couldn’t allow herself to fall for a vampire.
Besides, Pru and Constanza were probably right. Why would he be interested in a mortal when so many Undead women wanted him? She had to seem boring compared to vampire women who could have sex on the ceiling.
A terrible thought weaseled into her mind. What if he was just pretending to like her for political reasons? He might be charming her to ingratiate himself and his kind with her father. A playboy would be an expert at charming women.
She groaned inwardly. It was foolish, wishful thinking to believe Gregori was attracted to her. The guys who usually gravitated toward her were the geeky type—lanky build, nerdy glasses, and totally immersed in science. She’d dated a few like that in college and grad school. The relationships had been . . . comfortable.
But they were not the men she dreamed about. After years of listening to her mother’s audio books, she’d found herself wanting more than comfortable. She wanted heat and passion. Desperate desire. She wanted to long for a man who would long for her. She wanted a man who believed she should be worshipped and pleasured to her heart’s content. All night long.
She’d feared such men existed only in fiction.
Now she feared they were all too real.
She couldn’t let herself fall for a vampire. Or a playboy. A vampire expected sex on the ceiling. A playboy would find her sister attractive. Not her.
She sighed. “I know about you.”
His green eyes widened. “What do you know?”
“You’re a playboy.”
Chapter Twelve
Shit. Gregori sat back and adjusted his cuff links. There was no mistaking the censure in Abigail’s voice, which meant there were now two points against him: vampire and playboy. No wonder she kept scooting down the booth. She expected him to either bite her or ravish her.
He’d figured Pru and her friend were up to no good. They had their own agenda, obviously, and that included scaring Abigail away from him. He’d heard them talking as he’d approached the table.
He took a sip of Bleer and set the glass down. “Just for the record, I’ve never had sex on the ceiling.”
Abigail stiffened and her cheeks turned pink. “It’s none of my business.” She ventured a glance his way. “Is that true?”
“Yes. Did those ladies claim that I slept with them?”
“No.” She shook her head, and her blush deepened. “But they want to. Along with hundreds of others.”
“Hundreds?” He tried not to laugh. “I’m not much of a playboy, am I, if I’ve neglected to sleep with hundreds of willing victims?”
She tilted her head, considering. “That would depend on how large a pool of volunteers you started off with.”