Seduced by the Night (12 page)

"I'm sure Mr. Adams won't mind letting us have a table to ourselves while he sits nearby. After all, his job is to watch over you, not have dinner with you."

Bethany
had to bite her tongue to keep from pointing out that it wasn't Dirk's job to do anything—he wasn't getting paid. He was protecting her—at no little risk to himself—because… well, she wasn't sure exactly why. Maybe it was out of a sense of obligation or duty. Maybe it was something more.

Accurately interpreting her silence, Miles tried again. "
Bethany
, I promise that I'll be on my best
behavior.Please
, let's get together for dinner. I feel like I haven't seen you in days. I miss you."

Though she couldn't help feeling like she was making a mistake, she agreed. "All right. Make the reservations. We'll meet you there."

Miles hung up his phone and a part of him seethed.
Bethany
might be blind to it, but he knew Dirk Adams's attention went beyond simply keeping her safe. It was almost as if he thought
Bethany
belonged to
him
.
Miles's
temper flared at the other man's audacity. Dirk
Adams
, by his very actions, had issued a challenge and while Miles might not be able to hold his own in the physical arena, he was not without means.

He picked up the phone again and within minutes he was connected with the manager of
Nicolette's
. It didn't take him long to make reservations and when he hung up the phone, he couldn't stop the smile that lit his face. He felt like rubbing his hands together in gleeful anticipation.

When the sun went down shortly after six, Dirk was already awake and dressed. He knew that sooner or later, he'd have to face Beth again. He didn't worry about whether she'd try to avoid him; he wasn't going to give her the chance, but he
had
embarrassed and humiliated her, and for that he was sorry. Yet, he couldn't quite bring himself to regret what he'd done. Even now, the memory of her body pressed against his tormented him.

He forced her from his thoughts and glanced at the Death Rider sword, hanging in its sheath from his bedpost. He wouldn't take it tonight to the lab. Instead, he'd take his smaller dagger and let Mac carry the sword. He made a mental note to ask the admiral if he'd had a chance to contact his relatives living in
England
. That branch of the family was descended from the original blacksmith who'd forged the Death Rider sword and there had been some discussion about another being made now that there were two changelings to wield them.

 Dirk wondered how easy it would be to make another sword—or if it was even possible. There was something about the Death Rider sword that made it unique. Dirk didn't believe in magic, but he wasn't sure how else to explain why the eyes of the vampire emblem etched in the side of the pommel glowed when a vampire was around. Or why the ordinary blade remained eternally sharp and could easily sever the head of a vampire. Or why he and Mac, who had never used a sword before, could wield this one with the skill of master swordsmen.

He looked at the sheathed dagger in his hand. There was nothing magical about it, but in a close fight with a vampire, it was more than adequate. He slipped it onto his belt, pulled on his duster, grabbed the Death Rider sword, and headed for the study.

There, he found Beth sitting in one of the admiral's large oversized leather chairs, reading. She looked up when he walked in and their eyes met. The intense awareness that surged between them was almost physical and Dirk wondered, again, what it was about this woman that had him acting so unlike himself. Even a simple greeting eluded him.

Beth recovered first, closing the book she'd been reading. "Hi. Were you looking for me?"

"No."

"Oh."

He wanted to kick himself for sounding abrupt. "What I meant was that I didn't come to the study looking for you—I didn't know you were here." He paused and realized that he wasn't making the situation better. Finally, he held up the sword. "I came to put this back."

He continued across the room to the display case at the back, aware of Beth rising from her chair to follow him. He worked the combination to the lock on the case and opened the heavy glass lid. With special care and reverence, he set the sword on the stand inside, admiring the way the display light reflected off the silver and onyx sheath.

"It's beautiful."

Dirk glanced down at the woman beside him. "Yes, she is."

A touch of pink stained Beth's cheeks as she glanced up at him and then quickly looked around the room. "Are all these weapons yours?"

Dirk followed the direction of both her gaze and the graceful sweep of her hand as she waved to the contents of the room. "No. All of this belongs to the admiral."

Her gaze returned to the Death Rider sword. "That's the sword you used the other night, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

"And where do you keep the silver crosses, wooden stakes, and supply of holy water?"

He smiled. If she was joking with him, then she must not be too mad at him. "You know, I've never tried using a cross or holy water before. I have no idea if they would work. As for the stakes, well, I do carry a few with me, but I find the sword is a much more environmentally safe weapon."

She fought her own smile. "You don't exactly strike me as the environmentally conscientious type."

"I have hidden depths," he said with feigned seriousness. This time, she smiled in earnest before changing the subject.

"How long have you lived here?"

"Almost six months."

"What about Mac and
Lanie
?"

"The same." He paused, trying to think of it from her perspective. "I guess that seems strange to you, that we all work and live together."

She shrugged. "Given your particular line of work, not really. I think it's nice. You're kind of like your own little family."

Family. Dirk had never thought of it that way before, but she was right. It'd been so long since he'd had a family, he'd forgotten what it felt like. "Yeah, I guess we are." Afraid this line of conversation would lead to places he'd rather not go, he glanced at his watch. "It's almost
dinnertime,are
you hungry? We could see what's in the kitchen to eat. Or grab something on the way to the lab."

"Oh, no. What time is it?" She grabbed his wrist and turned it so she could read his watch while he stared at her in amusement.

"What's the matter? You late for a hot date or something?"

"As a matter of fact." She released him as if she suddenly realized that she was touching him. "We're meeting Miles for dinner."

He was shaking his head before she even finished the sentence. "No." She scowled, but he refused to cave. "Not just no, but
hell
no."

"Fine. I'll ask Mac to take me."

The idea that she would even consider asking Mac irritated him. "Mac's busy."

"Then I'll go by myself." She spun around and strode out of the study, leaving him to stand with his hands clenched into fists.

He wanted to punch a hole in something—the door, the wall…
Miles's
face. "Come back here," he shouted after her. "We're not through discussing this."

She didn't answer and Dirk cursed loudly. Knowing he had no choice, he left the study and headed back upstairs to change clothes. It was going to be a long, long night.

When Beth came down twenty minutes later, Dirk was waiting for her in the foyer. Silently, he groaned and prayed that years of harsh discipline would be enough to see him through the evening.

She wore a tailored dress, the same emerald-green as her eyes, and it fit so perfectly that little of her figure was left to the imagination. The line of her cleavage above the plunging neckline led one's gaze down an enticing trail until it disappeared beneath the fabric of the dress. His gaze lingered on the breasts that were fuller than he expected, having seen her in just the lab coat and oversized shirts up to this point. Her waist and hips were narrow and despite her being almost a foot shorter, from what he could see of her legs below the hem of her dress, they were long, slim, and shapely.

Dirk's pulse sped up. "You look stunning," he told her when she reached the foot of the steps and stood before him.

She gave him a nervous smile, like she hadn't expected the compliment but was grateful for it. "You look very nice as well."

While she'd been getting dressed, he'd gone back to his room and replaced the black jeans, T-shirt, and duster with a monotone charcoal suit. The dagger was still strapped to his belt, but the jacket hid it from view.

He moved toward the door and held it open for her. "Shall we go?"

Across town, Miles finished the last of his paperwork and checked the clock on his desk. He needed to leave in a few minutes in order to meet
Bethany
. Tonight Miles would take extra pleasure from his dining experience.
Nicolette's
wasn't the type of place one expected to see a tough, unrefined man such as Dirk Adams. The contrast between Adams and himself would be stark and Miles felt sure that whatever attraction
Bethany
might feel toward
Adams
would vanish in the face of it.

Miles signed the document before him, closed the manila folder, and placed it on the corner of his desk where his secretary would find it the next morning. He was about to stand up when the door suddenly opened and a man walked in.

"What are you doing here?" Miles asked as equal parts of fear and annoyance coursed through him.

"I thought it might be good if we talked." His visitor closed the door before crossing the room to sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk.

"What about?" Miles asked, even though he thought he knew the answer.

"I'd like to discuss the progress you've made on the work you're doing for me—or rather the
lack
of progress."

Not normally one to be easily intimidated, Miles, nevertheless, found himself feeling nervous. He was playing outside his league and he knew it. "As I already told your errand boy, there have been a few delays, but we should be back on schedule shortly."

"What kind of delays?"