Hotter Than Hell (55 page)

This morning was still a blur. Simon had given her a fabulous kiss that had led to more, and then he’d gone home—a conveniently short trip. Claire had been left with no time to get ready for work. She’d showered quickly and grabbed clothes from her closet. The long blue skirt and blouse were comfortable. If the blues didn’t exactly match and she’d forgotten to put in earrings, well, if anyone noticed the lack was excused since she hadn’t gotten much sleep.

She never had gotten around to putting on those sexy shoes that made her legs look good. Maybe tonight—if there was a tonight.

More than once during the day she’d remembered that moment when it had seemed she saw fire in Simon’s eyes. She hadn’t been herself at the time, and there
was
a red neon light across the street. Maybe his head had been in just the right position at that moment to catch a glare. That had to be it.

There were logical explanations for all the clues that had led her to believe he was a vampire. The dirt might’ve come from a potted plant, even though he didn’t have any living plants—or fake ones, for that matter—in his apartment. The howl might’ve been an overly excited Fluffy or—considering some of the sounds she’d made last night—a
very
happy woman somewhere on the third floor. The hypnotizing eyes…Simon just had great eyes, and that was enough of an explanation to suit her.

So she didn’t tell anyone that she’d suspected her neighbor of being a vampire, or that she’d decided she was wrong and last night they’d eaten spaghetti in her kitchen—both of them starving from marvelously vigorous and unrestrained sex—she wearing nothing but her bathrobe, he in nothing but those incredibly sexy black jeans. She didn’t tell them that for the first time in a very long time, she was happy. Tired, but happy.

Happy as she was, she tried not to get her hopes too high. She’d been burned before, after all. A man who wanted a woman in bed might say or do anything to get her there, and then…then there were phone calls that never came, an old girlfriend who just happened to make an appearance, or that horrible “It’s not you, it’s me.” For all she knew she’d get home and find out that her neighbor had moved during the day just to get away from her, or else he had a wife who’d show up out of nowhere, or else—worst of all—he’d ignore her and pretend that nothing had happened.

Claire was thinking about Simon so intently her fingers quit moving across the keyboard. She simply stared at the screen, imagining the worst. The worst, at this moment, had nothing to do with vampires.

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.

She felt incredibly silly when Charlie from downstairs, one of the three neighborhood lowlifes she’d believed had disappeared thanks to a bloodsucking vampire, showed up one evening in his usual classless manner, screaming at his wife and making loud, unintelligible excuses for his long absence. If Charlie wasn’t a vampire’s victim, odds were the other two were either in jail or had simply moved on to harass some other neighborhood.

Simon had removed her collection of vampire books from the end table in the main room and stored them on the bookshelf with other novels. She wasn’t sure why they bothered him but they did. Again, she didn’t care. Lately she hadn’t had any time for reading, in any case. Why escape into fiction when reality was so wonderful?

He kissed her neck frequently, but he didn’t bite. Much.

On Friday night, the club where Simon played reopened and he insisted on taking her with him. He didn’t have to insist very hard; she was anxious to go. She’d heard him play on his portable piano, and they’d listened to numerous recordings, but she wanted to see him on stage with a band, lost in the music she knew he loved.

And he did love it. At the small but crowded nightclub Claire sat at a small table near the raised stage. She sipped wine and watched as Simon and the other three musicians made beautiful, fast, and furious music. They all loved what they did, not just playing their instruments but creating
this
music. Simon’s face lit up when he performed. Claire had always known he had remarkable hands, but to see them fly over the piano keys and make such music, that was magic. It was a different kind of magic than that which her grandmother had told her about, but still, it was magic. Until tonight she had only seen Simon look this happy in bed, and yes, she was a little jealous.

But more than that, she was happy for him. Everyone should have something or someone in their life that they loved so much.

When the evening was over, at an hour much later than Claire had ever been out even on a Friday night, they walked from the club heading toward the apartment. It was a trip of just a few blocks, which was one of the reasons Simon had chosen her apartment building. The evening was a bit cool, but with Simon beside her she didn’t feel too chilly. He was very warm, very much alive, and she smiled contentedly as she remembered that she’d once believed he might be a vampire.

She was still convinced that such creatures were real. She knew in her heart that there was more to the world than most people ever saw. But Simon, Simon was just a man. The perfect man, perhaps, but still…a man. He was warm-blooded, his heart beat well, he didn’t mind going out in the late afternoon sun.

…and he ate her garlic bread.

They held hands very easily, as they walked toward home. Claire couldn’t remember when she’d ever felt so close to a person, when she’d ever felt so much a part of someone’s life. This relationship which had begun so very oddly was important, and if she had her way it would only become more important in days and weeks and years to come. Only one small detail kept her from perfection.

“There’s something I should tell you,” she said as they reached the front entrance to the building. She sensed there were possibilities with Simon, possibilities that went beyond sex and shared laughter. Such a connection couldn’t be built on a lie, no matter how small.

And this lie wasn’t particularly small, to be honest.

As they walked up the stairs, she gathered the strength to begin. “Do you remember when you accused me of stalking you?” she asked.

“Four days ago?” he responded lightly. “Yes, my memory works well enough to remember that.”

“Well, you weren’t
entirely
off the mark.”

They continued to climb. “You wanted my body,” he teased.

“No! Well, yes I suppose I did, but that’s not why I was following you.”

A small line appeared between his eyes, a hint of a frown. “What, then?”

Claire licked her lips as they entered the third floor hallway, where a few days ago she had attempted to gather proof that Simon was not what he appeared to be. “I thought you might be a vampire.”

She expected an outburst of laughter, and was prepared to order him to be quiet so he wouldn’t wake the neighbors. He continued to walk steadily, and there was no laughter. He didn’t so much as smile. “Why would you think such a thing?”

It seemed like a long way to the section of the third floor where their apartments were located. Maybe this conversation would be best finished in her apartment or his, since he wasn’t taking the news as well as she’d expected he would. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe she should’ve kept the truth to herself for a while longer.

It was a little too late for
that
particular revelation.

“Why?” he prompted.

Claire ticked off her reasons. “I never saw you during the daytime, for one thing, and I never saw you bring in food, and you listen to that old music…which I understand now, really I do, but I didn’t before I knew you…and I could swear that when you looked at me you were looking right through me, looking into my soul in a way that was not at all human. And, ok, I Googled you and you’ve moved a lot in the past few years. A man who doesn’t want his immortality to be discovered might…” she hesitated after her breathless rush of words, realizing how ridiculous it all sounded “…move frequently,” she finished in a lowered voice.

Finally they reached her apartment, and she grabbed her keys from her purse. Simon said nothing as she fumbled with unlocking the door, and she was terrified that she’d ruined the best relationship she’d ever had simply by telling the truth.

“What about now?” he asked as they stepped into her apartment. “Do you still think I’m a vampire?”

“No!” she insisted. Here, alone, the door closed behind them, she could take Simon’s face in her hands to look him in the eye. Yes, there was power in those eyes but it was perfectly ordinary power, right? Maybe what she saw, what touched her, was a power only she could see.

“Because I didn’t gag on garlic bread or explode in the sun?”

“Because I love you!” she insisted.

Once again Simon went very quiet, and Claire cursed herself. It was too soon for those words that sent some men running. Simon was a man, just a man, and he would run like hell from those words delivered too soon. But it was too late to take them back, and in truth she didn’t want to take them back. “I love you,” she said again. “It happened too fast and it took me by surprise but that’s the truth. I don’t want any kind of lie between us and that’s why I wanted to tell you about my ridiculous notions.”

He seemed to relax a little. “Did you tell anyone about your theory?”

“No. Who would I tell? My girlfriends would never believe me. Co-workers? I’m pretty sure that would get me fired, or sent to counseling at the very least. There’s really no one else to tell.” Except Granny Eileen, and she’d been gone five years.