He hesitated. Why not? This might be his only chance. He kissed her.
She stiffened in surprise, then slowly relaxed as he poured his apology into the kiss. Her lips molded against his so soft and sweet. Forgive me, Abby.
He broke the kiss and invaded her mind.
You will forget everything that has happened since we left the foyer.
Chapter Fifteen
Abigail stumbled as a wave of dizziness swept over her.
Gregori caught her by the upper arms. “Are you all right?”
“I—” She rubbed her brow. “I think so.” Why on earth was she feeling faint? She never fainted. Correction, she’d fainted two nights ago when she saw Gregori floating on the ceiling. From the moment she’d met him, her life had gone haywire.
“When’s the last time you ate?” he asked, still holding her steady.
“I—” She searched her fuzzy mind. “I’m not sure.” Where was she? Oh, right, Romatech. She’d just witnessed a family drama and discovered that Sean Whelan was a vampire.
And something more . . . but she couldn’t quite put a finger on it. It was like trying to remember a person’s name when it was on the tip of your tongue. Somehow she knew it was important, but it flitted away and was gone.
She gazed up at Gregori, who was watching her carefully. His brow was furrowed with worry. His eyes . . . strange, he looked upset. And his mouth, there was something familiar about his mouth.
Her lips tingled, and she licked them.
He sucked in a breath of air, and his grip on her arms tightened.
“Miss Tucker, are you all right?” Charles asked.
She glanced at the Secret Service man, who was rubbing the back of his neck and frowning. “Yes, I—”
“Let’s go to the cafeteria,” Gregori interrupted. “I had a gourmet chef brought in. He’ll be terribly disappointed if you guys don’t stop by to eat.”
“Oh, that was very kind of you.” Abigail let him escort her down the hall. She resisted an urge to touch her mouth. Why did she feel like she’d been kissed?
Charles followed close behind.
The hallway was lined with windows on both sides, and the gardens outside were well lit. To the left, she spotted a basketball court.
“It’s a lovely facility,” she murmured. “I’d love to see one of the labs.”
“Of course,” Gregori said quietly.
“Do you actually produce synthetic blood here?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “We package synthetic blood intended for mortal use in plastic bags. We do that 24/7. At night, when the Vamp employees come in, they bottle synthetic blood and Fusion Cuisine for the Vamp population.”
“Do the mortals who work here know about Vamps?” Her gaze wandered once again to his mouth.
A pained expression crossed his face. “Most of them have no idea.” He opened some double doors and ushered her into the cafeteria.
It was a typical-looking employee cafeteria—rectangular-shaped tables and plastic chairs, but she liked the view of the basketball court and garden. “There’s no one here.”
“Most of the night shift are Vamps, so they don’t eat here,” Gregori explained. “Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll bring you some food.” He strode away to the kitchen.
She sat where she had a view of the garden. In the distance she could see a gazebo with some sort of flowering vine growing over it. Very pretty and romantic-looking. If she had enough courage, she’d ask for a tour. Just her and Gregori. And maybe he would kiss her.
She shook her head. Why was she so obsessed with kissing all of a sudden? It was ridiculous when she had so many important things to worry about. Like her mother. The trip to China. But she’d fallen asleep last night remembering the feel of his hands and mouth on her skin. He’d come so close to kissing her when they’d shot the commercial. And she had wanted it.
She touched her mouth. A kiss from a vampire. What folly.
Charles leaned over to whisper in her ear. “You had a moment of dizziness?”
She lowered her hand. “Yes.”
“So did I. Something’s not right.” He straightened, frowning as he surveyed the room.
It was definitely strange. It wasn’t like her to feel dizzy and weak. She’d had dinner with Madison at seven. She glanced at her watch. Ten forty-seven? She’d been at Romatech for forty-seven minutes?
“Hello!” a woman’s voice said behind her.
Abigail twisted in her chair to see a woman entering the cafeteria. Late sixties perhaps? Abigail estimated her age by the gray streaks in her dark hair and the thin lines on her face, but she was still a handsome woman. A very happy one, too, since she was smiling broadly. She was wearing expensive black pumps and a stylish suit that reminded Abigail of the way her mother used to dress on the campaign trail.