Dougal blinked. "Ye-ye mean underdrawers?"
Gregori snorted. "If he's a real Scotsman, he's going commando."
"Really?" With a grin, Wilson walked over to his workstation. "So tell me, are you a real Scotsman?" He grabbed a blow dryer. " 'Cause I feel a breeze coming on."
Dougal groaned. It was going to be a long night.
Leah was in the lab, concentrating on a printout of a DNA strand, when Abby nudged her with her elbow.
"Look who's back! It's Laszlo!"
"Hi," Leah mumbled, not looking up.
Abby nudged her again harder.
"What?" Leah lifted her head and discovered Laszlo standing across the room with a hopeful expression on his face. For the first time she could see his forehead. "You got a haircut."
"Yes." Laszlo fiddled with a button.
"It looks great!" Abby said. "Don't you think it looks great, Leah?"
"Sure." It looks short. "I guess you'll be able to look in a microscope now without your hair falling in your eyes."
Laszlo nodded. "Yes."
"And that new jacket is fabulous," Abby said, nudging Leah with her foot.
What was going on? Leah aimed a questioning look at Abby, then glanced at Laszlo. "Yes, it looks wonderful on you."
"Really?" He gave her a hopeful smile.
"Did something happen to your shirt?" Leah asked.
His smile faded as he tried to push the torn edges together. "It was an accident."
"Oh, that's a shame." Leah gave him a sympathetic look.
"Did Gregori come back with you?" Abby asked.
"No, he's still at the salon." Laszlo tugged at a button on his jacket. "He's there with Dougal."
Leah stiffened. "Dougal's there? Why?"
Laszlo frowned, twisting the button. "He said he looked like a pirate."
Then he was going to get his hair cut off? Leah jumped to her feet, her heart pounding. "Do you have his phone number?"
"Dougal's?" Laszlo shook his head. "I don't believe so."
"Abby?" Leah turned to her.
She shrugged. "I don't have the number for his cell. I usually call the office."
"Then call Gregori!" Leah yelled. "Hurry!"
Abby pulled out her phone and pushed some buttons. "What's wrong, Leah? Oh, hi, sweetie," she said into the phone.
"What's happening to Dougal?" Leah demanded.
Abby paused to listen. "Gregori says he just sat down in the chair-"
Leah grabbed the phone. "Gregori, you have to stop him!"
"Leah?" Gregori asked. "What's wrong?"
"Don't cut his hair. Don't change anything about him. I like him just the way he is."
"What?" Laszlo's button popped off and hit the floor.
"I-" Leah's breath caught at the devastated look on Laszlo's face. Oh no! Had he gotten his makeover to impress her?
"Dougal, what are you doing?" Gregori said on the phone. "Aw, sheesh. Leah? He heard you."
She gulped. "What is he doing?"
"He tore off the smock and he's putting on his shirt. He just left some money on the counter," Gregori reported.
"Dougal!" a voice shouted over the phone. "Come back! You have to at least let me cut the split ends!"
"He vanished," Gregori said. "He's probably teleporting to Romatech."
Leah's heart lurched. Holy crapoly! What had she done? Dougal knew how she felt, and he was coming.
"Tell Abby I'll be there soon." Gregori hung up.
In a daze, Leah handed the phone to Abby.
"You like Dougal," Laszlo whispered.
His sad face tore at her heart. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't know how you . . . I'm sorry."
The lab door burst open, and Dougal zoomed inside. He stopped, his shirt unbuttoned, his hair wet, loose, and wild, and his eyes focused on her, gleaming like emeralds.
Her heart stuttered. "Dougal."
He strode toward her and grabbed her hand. "Come with me."
Chapter Sixteen
Leah struggled to keep up with his fast, long-legged stride. "Wait."
He swept her up in his arms and walked even faster.
"Where are we-" She grabbed his neck as the hallway zoomed by in a blur. Before she knew it, they were outside, speeding toward the gazebo.
He set her on her feet. "We'll have privacy here. No cameras."
She pivoted, looking around. The white Christmas lights were on, so it felt like they were in the middle of a jewelry box full of sparkling diamonds. It was magical, romantic . . . and dangerous. For she was tempted to throw herself into the arms of a vampire. Hunching her shoulders, she stuffed her hands into the pockets of her lab coat.
"We can go somewhere warmer if ye're too cold."
"I'm fine." She was wearing a pullover sweater beneath her lab coat.
Her gaze drifted to his unbuttoned shirt. The dragon was showing. It curved around his broad chest, its mouth spewing red and orange flames over his heart. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to know all his secrets. She wanted the volcano inside him to erupt with passion for her. But would she get burned if she followed her heart?
She retreated to the far side of the gazebo and pretended to be admiring the view, even though the forest in the distance was too dark to see well. "You didn't need to rush back so fast."
"I heard you on the phone," he said softly behind her. "Ye dinna want me to get my hair cut."
Her heart raced. "Of course not." She turned toward him, waving a dismissive hand. "Who could imagine you with short hair? It wouldn't suit you."
"Ye dinna want me to change."
"Don't read more into it than-"
"Ye said ye like me the way I am." He stepped toward her.
Her heart thudded louder in her ears. "I like a lot of things. Salad. And apple pie. And things that are logical and consistent."
"Och, then ye're in luck, for I'm verra consistent."
"Your pulse isn't. It stops at sunrise."
"Aye, but every sunrise. I'm more reliable than a clock. My feelings for you are consistent as well. No matter what happens, they willna change. And I'm verra logical, too."
Also very sweet and sexy, but she tried not to dwell on that. "What's logical about being Undead?"
"Allow me to explain." His eyes glimmered. "After centuries of searching, I found the most beautiful woman ever, and she's so brilliant and brave that I'm falling for her. Does that no' seem verra logical?"
It did. And even more, it touched her heart, although she didn't want to admit it. She crossed her arms. "You're pretty clever for someone who's brain dead all day."
His mouth twitched as he moved closer. "Ye like me."
She stepped back, bumping against a wooden post. "Just . . . like. Nothing more."
"Ah." He stopped in front of her. "Tell me then, does yer heart always pound this fast for things ye like?"
Damn his superior hearing. She lifted her chin. "I've been known to get very excited over chocolate."
The corner of his mouth curved up. "What else do ye like?" He skimmed his fingers down her cheek. "Do ye like this? Or this?" He stroked her neck.
God, yes. She bit her lip to keep from moaning.
"Do ye know what I like?" He ran his fingers along her jaw. "I like to touch yer sweet, soft skin." He wrapped an arm around her to pull her close. "I like the way ye feel in my arms. And the way ye react to me. Yer heart sounds like a thunderstorm about to break loose."
She clutched his shirt in her fists. How could she resist such a man?
"I like the way ye taste." He rubbed his thumb across her bottom lip. "Och, lass, I would like to kiss you."
Good God, she was about to melt into a puddle at his feet. She glanced up to his eyes.
They were red and glowing.
She jumped back, breaking his hold. Just when she'd felt ready to surrender her heart, reality had rushed back to slap her in the face. She was falling for a vampire.
"Doona let it frighten you." He watched her sadly. "My eyes will always turn when I hunger for you. So ye'll be seeing it often."
She cleared her throat. "No offense, but would you mind clarifying that a bit? Am I to assume that you're not referring to physical hunger? That the sudden change in your eyes is merely an indication of sexual arousal?"
His mouth curled up. "Yes, Doctor. That is an accurate assessment."
She narrowed her eyes. "Are you making fun of me now?"
"Never." He gave her an injured look. The red in his eyes faded back to green.
"Oh, I guess I ruined the mood." She blinked innocently. "So sorry."
He smiled. "Doona fash. 'Twill come back soon enough."
She gave him a dubious look. "You think so?"
"Aye. And while we wait, allow me to give you the clarification ye requested." His gaze drifted down her body. "I was thinking of tupping you, no' supping from you."
"Tupping me?"
"Is that too old-fashioned? I'll try to modernize." He leaned closer, a smile tugging at his lips. "I want to boink you, no' bite you."
Boink? She bit her lip when she felt an odd urge to giggle. "And here I was, thinking you could be wonderfully poetic."