Bound to the Fallen (Prophecy #2) (14 page)

Gavin
released his hold on me and shoved his hand in his pocket as he made his way to the bar. I kept my distance behind him as not to seem too eager. I didn’t want him to think I was the least bit excited about spending time with him.

I drew
in a breath as I watched him take a seat and shoot a suggestive smile at me. He turned the leather barstool next to him around and patted it.

“
Thanks,” I said without looking at him. Sitting down in the cool seat, I scooted myself up to the bar top. I denied the desire I had to turn to my left and drink in his beauty. I was already fighting an inner battle with myself because I knew I shouldn’t be messing with his type. Undeniable sexiness — I was setting myself up for a broken heart.

The bartender approached me and
offered a warm smile. “What can I get you?”

“Your house merlot,
” I said, folding my hands in my lap. I glanced at Gavin out of the corner of my eye.

The bartender reached for a wine glass and
shot his eyes up at Gavin. “And for you?”

“I’ll have merlot as well
.”

“House?” the bartender asked.

“That’s fine.”

We sat at the bar in an awkward silence. I
couldn’t help but catch Gavin’s leg moving up and down under the bar.

T
urning his chair to face me, he said, “So, you’re from Orange Beach, you have your MPH — ”

I corrected
him, “MSPH.”

“Yes, MSPH
. Excuse my blatant mistake, madam.” He paused as the bartender handed us both full glasses of merlot. I picked mine up and some of the dark liquid sloshed over the top of the glass. Gavin took his, raising it to his full, blush-colored lips; wincing as he swallowed. He coughed, “I’d have to argue that expensive wine is well worth the investment.” He shook his head fervently and cleared his throat. “As I was saying…MSPH, you read romance novels on your Kindle.” He drew the corners of his lips up. “Anything else I should know about you, Ms. Davis?” he said, raising his hand inquisitively to his chin, his eyes boring into me.

I
sat my glass on the bar, forcing myself to laugh flirtatiously. “Well, I have an affinity for indie music, I was in every honor society known to the American culture, I like my Coke warm, and I’ve been shunned by my father for not pursuing medical school or a Ph.D.” I took a short sip of wine. “My favorite color is magenta, my favorite flower is a sterling rose, and I absolutely hate horror films, although I’ve watched
Jaws
300 times…and I asked for Barbie dolls every Christmas even though I had no intentions of playing with them.” I raised my glass back to my mouth, pausing when the rim touched my lips to say, “I just wanted to make my friends jealous because I had more Barbies than them.”

The dark stare he was giving me made it apparent that
he was analyzing me. Gavin pulled his bottom lip in and I caught myself dreaming of how soft they’d feel pressed up against my neck, my lips, or any other part of my body with nerve endings. These thoughts were so out of character for me, it was like I was under a damn spell.

He cleared his throat
again and stretched his arm across his body to set his glass down. A sarcastic sneer fell across his face. “So, you are one of
those
girls, aye?” He tugged at the sleeve of his shirt and peered up at me.

“One of
those
girls? What does that mean?”

“Oh, you know,
the kind of girl who revels in jealousy, thrives on knowing that others desire what you have… ”

I
narrowed my eyes; my jaw relaxed, my lips barely separated. “Please,” I wrinkled my brow at him. “I was just joking, jesting…whatever you British people say.”

Gavin t
ossed his head back and laughed.

“What? What’s so funny?” I swatte
d at his forearm, the warmth of his skin sending sensations up my arm. I swallowed hard.

“British?” h
e raised his eyebrows, his widened eyes emphasizing the erotic color of his irises. “British,” he shook his head and placed his fingers on the stem of his glass, twisting it between them.

S
hrugging, I gave a teasing pout. I could already feel the relaxed effects of the alcohol coursing through my veins.

“You
are
British, aren’t you? Or is that just a fake accent to make you seem more…” I stopped myself and quickly lifted my glass to my mouth taking in several enormous gulps in an effort to silence myself.

Gavin knowingly smiled
, a near silent chuckle floating from him as he turned sideways in his chair. Placing his feet firmly on the floor, he leaned toward me and said, “Seem more…? You didn’t finish your sentence.” His smile widened and dimples formed on each side of his face. His eyes narrowed as he stared at me like he was trying to read my thoughts.

M
y face became warm as the blood rushed to my cheeks. Gavin twisted the stem of the glass between his fingers. “I prefer to be called English, not British. Pet peeve of mine.”

I blinked slowly
in an attempt to seem sexy, again raising my glass to my lips. I looked down and swirled the small amount of wine left before polishing it off. “So, what about you? You’re
English
, a doctor who’s in love with research, you have no life outside of work,   and—?” I paused. “There’s
got
to be something more to you?”

He glimpsed at me,
his eyes seemed to darken momentarily. “You want another glass?”

P
eering down into my empty glass, I shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

Gavin motioned for the bartender.
The bartender finished stacking whiskey glasses on the wooden rack beside the bar and stepped toward us.

“
Two more glasses of merlot, please,” Gavin said. He glanced over at me and squinted. “Are you even old enough to be drinking? What’s the legal age here, twenty-one?”

I shot a
mocking glare at him and defensively answered, “Yes, it’s twenty-one, and yes…I’m twenty- five.” I readjusted my legs, crossing my left leg over my right. “How old are
you,
Dr. Hunter?”

R
eaching up, he gently placed his hands on my cheeks. They were so soft, so warm. He leaned in close to me as he pulled my face toward his. My heart fluttered in my chest because I had no idea what he was doing, but all I knew was that I liked him touching me like this. I’d never been this close to his face and couldn’t help but admire how perfect he looked up close: his eyelashes were luscious and thick; his irises had slight golden flecks embedded within the intense green coloring; the dip in the middle of his lip was perfectly shaped.

“Gavin,
” he whispered, stopping his face within inches of mine. He was so close I could smell the clean, expensive scent of his cologne and feel his warm breath against my skin. “Don’t call me Dr. Hunter — I don’t like it. Please.” He held his hands on my face briefly. I felt his thumb ever so slightly caress my skin. Drawing his bottom lip in inconspicuously, he closed his eyes and pulled his hands away from my face.

The bartender sat
the two glasses of red wine in front of us.

I discreetly inhaled to calm my nerves
and tried to act as though that touch did absolutely nothing to me. Cutting my eyes over the glass as I raised it to my mouth, I said, “You never answered either of my questions,
Gavin
.” I pulled my lips up into a kittenish grin and took a short sip from the glass.

“I apologize
,” he said and stretched his toned arms over his head, his muscles popping. “I do all the stereotypical things you Yankees expect of an Englishman — cricket, tennis —” He paused. “—crumpets and tea.”

“Oh, don’t patronize me.” I turned to the front of my chair
, twisting my head to the side with a derisive grin on my face. “Ha, you did it too.”

His
brows wrinkled and confusion flew over his face.

“
You Englishmen!” I giggled, “I’m not a Yankee, I’m a southerner. So there,
Gavin
.” I picked my glass up and took a sip as I stared straight ahead, proud that I’d pointed out he’s incorrect label for me.

“Well, I do apologize,” h
e cleared his throat. “I enjoy working out, I’m partial to the color red, I’ve watched the
Hangover
countless times, and I enjoy fast cars. I read nothing apart from medical journals, I do indeed play cricket, I went to the University of Kent, and I just learned that referring to you as a Yankee is as offensive as referring to me as a British dude.” He paused. “Do southerners use the term ‘dude’?” Sarcasm crept across his face.

“I’m done with you,
” I joked, pretending I was about to get up and leave.

Gavin’s eyes pulsed open. G
rabbing my arm, he seductively whispered, “Oh — but I don’t think you are.” He released his grip on my arm and picked his glass up, placing it to his lips and swallowing as he stared at me. It was almost as though he were daring me to leave. By the look he was giving me I was certain he would chase after me if I actually got up and left.

My
pulse skipped, threatening to go haywire. I had to remind myself to keep control of the situation. I could want all I wanted, and I could enjoy this attention he was giving me, but I could not fall for him; under no circumstances could I let him seduce me into actually
liking
him.

“I’m twenty-nine. I’ll be thirty
in three months.” He grimaced. “Oh, that sounds terribly older.” He held his hands out like they were a balance as he said, “Twenty-nine.” His hands went in opposite directions of each other showing a dramatic difference between the two ages. “Thirty.”

“You’re fine.” I
froze. “I mean, you’re not old. Look at all you’ve accomplished. You’re only like five and a half years older than me,” I rambled, fearing he’d caught that Freudian slip I’d just made.

Gavin glanced
down at his watch. “Well, I guess I should get to my room. They start these seminars early.” He sat his full glass of wine down on the bar.

“Yea
h, I should go too,” I mumbled, fishing through my purse for my wallet.

Gavin
touched my thigh, circling his finger around on it, and staring at my leg. “Let me get it,” he said as he brought his gaze up to my face and winked.

Oh. Shit! This is bad. This is so bad. He’s so damn sexy. What the hell am I doing?

After he’d closed the tab out and signed his name to the receipt he walked toward me. His walk was so hard, so wide, so brutal. He ran his hand over the top of his slightly bowed head, the waves of his hair falling back down around his face made me weak. I was certain he knew how seductive he was making himself look.

“Thanks. That was nice of you.”
I said, following him out to the bright lobby and over to the elevators.

“Not a problem
.”

The doors opened an
d we walked in. He pressed the fifth floor button, looked down at me and asked, “What floor?

“Three
.”

We
said nothing to each other as the elevator rose. When the doors opened he stepped off, then turned around to me; his eyes boldly scanned over my body from head to toe. The shiny metal doors attempted to close and he grabbed them with his hand, pushing them back into the wall.

“You sure did get r
ed when you said I was ‘fine,’ ” he said, a devilish grin forming on his face. “Blush is becoming on you. For a moment — I thought I may kiss you.” He raised one eyebrow and raked his white teeth across his bottom lip.

I silently stood there, my heart
hammering in my chest. I placed my palm against the smooth metal wall of the elevator to keep my knees from buckling under me.

Gavin’s hand fell from the side of the elevator. “
See you in the morning then,” he said as the doors slowly closed.

As
I toppled against the wall, I could feel my face and chest growing warm. I was partially flattered at his brash comment, but also slightly put off that despite my efforts, I’d made it painfully obvious that I was attracted to him.

O
pening the heavy wooden door to my room, I peeled my clothes off on the way to the bed. I picked up my Kindle from the bed stand, turning it on as I crawled into the neatly folded queen size bed. I’d finished ten pages when I realized I hadn’t comprehended one word I’d read. My mind kept straying to thoughts of Gavin. I turned my Kindle off and sunk down underneath the starched covers. It took me the better part of an hour to finally calm my racing thoughts enough to drift into sleep.

The next morning
, as I was artfully applying a coat of black mascara to my lashes I stopped and looked at myself in the large mirror.

I’m so not
doing this to impress that man
.

I paused and leaned in closer as I brush
ed the thick applicator from the root to the tip of each eyelash on my right eye.