Beauty Dates the Beast(14)

Distracted momentarily, I had to regroup. “I’m a professional bookkeeper.”

The forked tongue was seriously giving me the creeps.

“That’s fascinating,” he said in a tone of voice that meant it was less interesting than Styrofoam. “So how did you get into Giselle’s agency? It’s very exclusive.” As in, how did a lowly human manage to become worthy of notice?

“Oh, the usual way.” I didn’t know what the usual way was, but I was willing to bet he didn’t, either. Something slithered against my shoe and I recoiled. What the f*ck? Was that his tail?

He gave me a look that I assumed was supposed to be seductive. “Sanctioned humans are rare,” he said, his eyes glued to my neck like I was wearing some sort of flashing beacon around it. Could he see Beau’s mark as well? “Especially virgins.”

“Giselle told you I was a virgin?” I tried to ask it in a casual tone of voice, as if I hadn’t been screaming inside. As one might ask if their date was a Republican or a Democrat. Or a naga.

Garth looked surprised at my question and took another drink of his wine, his tongue flicking at the edge of the glass. Yep, definitely forked. I suppressed a shudder.

“Indeed. A virgin is highly desired,” he said. “You have been claimed as worthy of notice, you are disease-free, and you are considered a fair mate for any member of the Alliance.”

I was glad I wasn’t eating—if I had been, I was pretty sure I would have thrown up. “A mate?” I said. “How nice.” Lucky me. I picked up my glass of wine and swirled it around, hoping I looked like I knew what I was doing. I had no idea why people sloshed their wine around in their glass.

Garth leaned forward. “Is your heart claimed by another?” His whatever-it-was slithered against my shoe again.

Ugh. If Giselle thought she could blackmail me into marrying one of her clients—after she’d squeezed them for every dollar she could, of course—she was sorely mistaken. I was not about to mate this guy. In fact, I was starting to dread the rest of the dates that she had lined up for me, except for Beau. Garth was staring at my neck again, as if he’d like to cover Beau’s mark with one of his own. My hand slid to my collarbone and I hid the mark. “Oh, my, look at the time,” I said, feigning surprise. As if I’d been so charmed by our date that I’d completely lost track of the hour. I put my napkin down on the table. “I really should be going soon.”

He reached for my hand, an ardent look on his face. “I’ve never met anyone like you,” he declared, his moist palms gripping my hand between them. “You’re beautiful and sophisticated and … virginal.”

Obviously Garth didn’t get out much if he thought I was sophisticated. And it was a little creepy that he kept tossing in the “virginal” thing. I tried to extract my hand from his. “How sweet of you.”

“We need to go out again,” he said, refusing to let me do said extraction. “I could be falling in love.” His eyes flicked again to the wonder spot on my neck that everyone seemed able to see but me.

Would he be half so smitten if I hadn’t already been staked out as private property? I doubted it. “Excuse me, I need to go powder my nose.”

He lifted my trapped hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it, his tongue flicking against my skin. I barely managed to hide the shudder that rocked through me. “Bathroom,” I yelped and jerked my hand away hard, then grabbed my purse and raced to the ladies’ room. There was an attendant in there, and I offered her a twenty. “Can you tell me if there’s a back way out of here?”

She gave me a knowing look. “That your date out there in the bolo tie and the yellow vest?”

“None other. You’ve got to help me,” I said and leaned in. “I think he’s wearing spurs.”

She shuddered. “There’s a door through the kitchen. I’ll take you back there.”





Chapter Six





After penning a note on a napkin, I asked the attendant to give it to my date. It was a brief explanation, one that I hoped seemed innocent and coy (to please Giselle’s sensibilities). I cited “female troubles” and apologized for leaving him so abruptly. I had a hunch that girly issues wouldn’t scare him off, though. There was a reason men like him were single, after all. It was because they were clueless.



All coherent thoughts fled from my mind as soon as I entered the office and saw Beau standing there in a casual gray jacket, hands tucked into his pockets. He turned and gave me that slow sensual smile, and my brain nearly fried at the sight of him.

Gorgeous. I’d never get tired of looking at the man.

His smile dimmed as I approached and his nostrils flared. “Perfume?” Then his eyes scanned my hair. “You look … nice.”

There was a ringing endorsement for a girl. Here I was with my hair and makeup done professionally, and he was looking at me as if I’d been an alien. I simply smiled and shifted on my painful but cute heels. “It’s good to see you again,” I said, then immediately felt like an idiot. It had only been half a day since I’d last seen him.

“Shall we go?” He gave me another polite smile, but it didn’t have that sexy curve that I remembered. Was something wrong? He treated me as if I’d been a stranger. I might have been okay with it once, but after daydreaming of cuddling up next to him in bed again (breathless, hot daydreams that made my legs weak), it bothered me to see him look at me like that.

He glanced over at me. “Are you hungry? We can go for drinks if you’d rather.”

But he’d gone to the trouble of making a reservation, and I didn’t want to give him any more opportunity to be irritated at me. So I gave him a bright smile in return. “Dinner is fine. I love Italian.” Too bad I’d just eaten it. Twice.

What followed was easily the most awkward date I’d ever had—which was saying something. I tried to eat like I was enjoying myself, but my stomach was already full from the previous meal and what was in my stomach was churning.

Beau was silent as he methodically ate. He had good manners, at least. Used a knife, made use of his napkin, and was polite to the waiter. It was me he ignored.

I ate a few more bites, then I couldn’t stand it any longer—the food or the silence. “What is it?”

A flare of emotion crossed his face and was just as quickly hidden. He put down his fork. “It depends. Do you not want to be here with me?”

“I’m just tired,” I admitted. “I had a long day at work.” The previous two dates had definitely felt like work. I’d had to smile and be friendly and act interested, to be “on” the entire time. I picked up my wineglass. “How was your day?”

“It was hell.”

I choked on my chardonnay. “I’m … sorry. Is something wrong?”

He ran a hand down his face. “Everything. Nothing. I’m sorry. I’m just … let’s not do this tonight, all right?” Beau folded his napkin and placed it on the table.

“Oh,” I said, feeling stupid at the hurt that bubbled up inside. “Of course.”

So much for having the grand problem of whether I should date him. It didn’t seem to be a problem after all. I should have been thrilled, relieved. Something good. But all I felt was really, really disappointed.

“Let’s get out of here,” Beau said, dumping a wad of cash on the table as he stood. He moved to pull out my chair and I could feel the frustrated emotion vibrating off of him.

What was wrong with him tonight?

Relief and sadness warred on the walk back to the office. A tiny part of me was glad that I wouldn’t have to go through another exhausting date, one less problem on my plate full of troubles. But not seeing Beau again bothered me more than I cared to admit. We’d clicked on some deeper level, and I realized suddenly that I wanted to see more of him. Maybe we could have drinks at a smoky bar to cover Sara’s scent. Something.

He needed a woman before Saturday, and if we called things off that meant he’d have to find someone else—because the heat wouldn’t take no for an answer.

We reached the dark strip mall that housed Midnight Liasons, and Beau stopped in front of the door. I knew that if he walked away now, he would walk out of my life. And this was feeling like a good-bye.

He gave me a faint smile, his eyes gleaming catlike in the moonlight. “I’m sorry, Bathsheba.”

I reached out and grabbed his lapel, stopping him before he could turn away.

He looked at me in surprise. “What is it?”

“I wanted to give you this,” I said in a breathless rush, and kissed him.

Beau’s mouth was unyielding for a split second, but then his arms went around my back, crushing me against him as his lips parted under my own, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. I had started the kiss, but it was obvious that Beau was used to being the aggressor.