by Becky Allen
She gazed up at him, her lips slightly parted, her heart pounding with fear.
Zack brushed her hair over her shoulder, his fingertips trailing down the length of her neck while his mind invaded hers. She was a lovely girl who had left her home in Montana, certain that having a pretty face was all she needed to make it in Hollywood. Having failed that, she was ashamed to go back home and admit defeat.
It was an all-too-familiar story. Bending his head to her neck, he took what he needed, wishing, all the time, that it was Kaitlyn in his arms, her blood chasing away the coldness within him.
When he had taken his fill, he captured the girl’s gaze with his. “You will remember none of this,” he said quietly. “Do you understand?”
She nodded, her eyes still blank.
“Where are you staying tonight?”
“At the hotel down the street.”
“All right. I want you to go there now and go to bed.” Reaching into his pocket, Zack pulled out a handful of bills and pressed them into her hand. “Tomorrow, you’re going to buy a plane ticket and go home.” He stroked her cheek. “You will not remember me, or this conversation.”
She nodded again.
“Tell me again what you’re you going to do tomorrow.”
“I’m going home.”
And even though she was in a trance, he heard the happiness, the relief, in her voice.
Zack sent her on her way and then, unable to resist, he willed himself to Kaitlyn’s place. The house was dark, but that was no surprise. It was late.
Standing outside her bedroom window, he listened to the slow, steady beat of her heart, the quiet even sound of her breathing. Funny, he thought, how the sounds soothed him.
Assured that she was home and safely asleep in her bed, he headed down the mountain.
Chapter 6
Kaitlyn slept late, fixed a big breakfast, and then, at loose ends, wandered through the cabin trying to find something to do. The laundry was done. The dishes were done. She had vacuumed yesterday. Bored, she rearranged the dishes in the kitchen cupboards, rearranged the furniture in the living room, and then put it all back the way it had been before.
Standing in the middle of the room, she glanced around, thinking that, since she lived alone and was naturally tidy, the place would never really get dirty.
When she ran out of make-work things to do, she sat on the sofa and filed her nails and tried to decide what she should do, now that she was out of college. She didn’t need money, but she did need something to keep her busy during the day. A job, she thought. That was the answer. Of course, there wasn’t much call for an expert in comparative folklore these days. Still, she was reasonably intelligent—there must be something she could do.
With that thought in mind, she decided to walk down to the casino. She could buy a newspaper there and check out the want ads while she ate lunch at the restaurant.
And if she was lucky, she might run into Zack.
It took only minutes to make her way down the hill to the casino restaurant. After a short wait, she was seated at a small table near the back window. She ordered a turkey club sandwich and a strawberry lemonade, then opened the paper she had picked up in the lobby and perused the help-wanted section. She frowned as she looked at the available jobs. Waitress. Maid at one of the hotels. Babysitter. Clerk at the Pink Poodle Boutique. Dog walker. Checker at one of the local markets.
She folded the paper with a huff of exasperation. There was nothing wrong with any of those positions; they were all perfectly respectable. It was just that she had been hoping, foolishly perhaps, that she would find something where she could use her degree. Zack would probably laugh at that. She recalled his response all too clearly when she had told him she had majored in comparative folklore, the amusement in his tone when he had drawled, How’s that workin’ out for ya?
Maybe she could write a book on ancient folklore. In 1890, Sir James George Fraser had done a colossal study of comparative folklore. Originally published in two volumes and later in multiple volumes, an abridged version had been published in 1922. Considered a classic, The Golden Bough had greatly influenced psychology and literature, presenting, in detail, the parallels between the rites, beliefs, and superstitions of early cultures and those of Christianity.
She doubted she could pen such an important tome, but maybe she could write something a little less intense, perhaps something better suited to modern times. It was something to think about.
After finishing her lunch, Kaitlyn wandered out into the casino. It wasn’t nearly as crowded or as noisy at this time of day as it had been the other night. Most of the patrons were elderly. A few people stood in front of the Wheel of Fortune, others were trying their luck at the dice table, or playing roulette. The majority seemed to be playing the slot machines.
After a moment’s indecision, she took a seat at one of the quarter machines. It was an old one, with a coin slot and a handle to pull. After a few minutes of play, she found that she liked the old machine better than the new ones. It was more fun to actually put the money into the machine and pull the handle, to hear the clink of quarters falling into the tray when she won. It made it seem more like playing than merely watching.
She kept glancing over her shoulder, hoping to see Zack striding toward her, even though she knew it would be better for both of them if their relationship ended now, before it went any further.
After an hour, she was ahead by about twenty dollars. Gathering her winnings into a handy plastic bucket, she carried it to the cashier and exchanged the coins for greenbacks.
“Do come again,” the cashier said, smiling as she completed the transaction.
“Thanks, I will,” Kaitlyn said, stuffing the bills into her wallet. “Um, do you know if Mr. Ravenscroft is here today?”
“He doesn’t usually arrive until seven or eight,” the woman said. “If you’d like to leave a message, I’ll be sure that he gets it.”
“No. No, that’s all right. Thank you.”
Feeling more let-down than she should have, Kaitlyn left the casino. She stood outside a moment, then returned to the casino and headed for the dress shop.
Zack rose with the setting sun, his first thought for Kaitlyn. Although they hadn’t made plans to meet tonight, he headed for her cabin as soon as he made certain that everything was running smoothly on the casino floor.
To his surprise, she was standing on the porch looking sexy as hell in a pair of tight black leather pants, a matching midriff top, and black high-heeled sandals. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders like a fall of black silk.
He whistled softly as he climbed the stairs. “You look like a million bucks,” he said with a wink. “And I know what that looks like.”
She smiled, her stomach curling at his nearness. “I hope you’re out here waiting for me,” Zack said, resting his hip against one of the uprights. “I know we didn’t have any plans, but . . .”
She placed two fingers over his mouth, silencing him. “Who else would I be waiting for?”
“How did you know I’d show up?”
“I didn’t, but a girl can hope, can’t she?”
“So, what shall we do tonight?” He knew what he wanted to do, horny lecherous creature that he was, but he didn’t suggest the ideas that quickly came to mind, certain that her answer would be no. His lovely Kaitlyn didn’t seem the type to tumble into bed with a man unless there was a wedding ring on her finger.
“I don’t care. Anything you want to do is fine with me.”
He lifted one brow. “Anything?”
Kaitlyn felt a blush warm her cheeks. She didn’t have to be able to read Zack’s mind to know what he was thinking. Because she was thinking about it, too, and far too often for her own good. But there was no way she was jumping into bed with Zack, no matter how tempting he might be. She hardly knew the man.
“I enjoyed dancing the other night,” she said.
“Dancing it is, then. Shall we walk?”
“W
hy not?” She stepped out of her high-heeled sandals. Holding them by the ankle straps, she swung them back and forth as she walked. “It’s a lovely night.”
It was indeed, Zack mused as they strolled down the narrow path that ended at the casino parking lot. The air was warm, fragrant with the scent of Kaitlyn’s perfume, with the heady scent of the woman herself.
And overall, the siren call of her life’s blood running through her veins like a warm red river. The rhythm of her heartbeat hummed in his ears like a symphony only he could hear.
“Watch your step,” he warned when they reached the curb. He held her arm, steadying her, as she scrubbed her feet clean on the grass, then stepped into her shoes. He liked it that she wasn’t overly fussy, that she didn’t mind getting her feet a little dirty.
It was early Tuesday night but the casino was already crowded. With his preternatural power, Zack heard the hum of the air-conditioning, the whisper of cards being shuffled, the whirring of the Wheel of Fortune, the click-click of dice at the craps table, the high-pitched shout of a gambler who had just hit the jackpot on one of the slot machines.
“Have you had dinner?” Zack asked, raising his voice a little so Kaitlyn could hear him.
“I’m not hungry,” she replied. “I had a late lunch, but I’ll keep you company if you haven’t eaten.”
“No need. I had a bite before I came to your place.” Taking her hand, he headed for the elevator that led to the Skylight Room.
Since most people were more interested in dining than dancing at this hour, Zack and Kaitlyn had the dance floor to themselves.
Kaitlyn felt a sensual thrill when Zack took her in his arms. She marveled that they fit together so well, that his steps were so easy to follow, that the mere touch of his hand made her heart beat faster. It isn’t love, she told herself sternly. It’s just an old-fashioned case of lust. And who could blame her? She doubted any woman whose heart was still beating would be able to resist Zack, with his long black hair, enigmatic gray eyes, and delightfully wicked grin. His brows were slightly arched, his nose straight, his lips full, sensual. He was tall and broadshouldered, and sexier than any man she had ever met. He looked especially handsome tonight in a pair of black slacks and a long-sleeved midnight-blue shirt.
He lifted one brow, amused by her steady regard. “Like what you see?”
Embarrassment heated Kaitlyn’s cheeks. She wanted to say she had seen better, thank you very much. Instead, she shrugged and turned the question back to him. “Do you? Like what you see?”
“You know I do.” He twirled her around the floor, spinning her effortlessly until she was dizzy. “And I’d like to see more of you. Much more.”
She searched her mind for some witty comeback, but words failed her.
Zack chuckled as he pulled her closer. “I’m sorry if the truth makes you uncomfortable.”
“I guess it does,” she replied with unexpected candor. “A little anyway.”
“I don’t know why. A girl who’s as pretty as you must get compliments from guys all the time.”
“Yes, but . . .”
“But?”
She tilted her head back so she could look into his eyes. “They’re usually after something.”
“Can’t blame them for that,” he replied, his gaze drifting to the pulse throbbing in the hollow of her throat.
“What are you after, Zack?” she asked. “What do you want?”
“You,” he answered quietly. “Every inch of you, in every way possible. I want to start at the top of your head and nibble my way down to your toes.”
“Well, I’ll give you this—you’re more honest than most.” After the image he had painted in her mind, it was an effort to keep her voice steady.
The music changed tempo, going from an oldies song to something slower and more romantic.
Zack held her closer, tighter. Straps crisscrossed the back of her top, leaving parts of her back bare to the touch of his hand. His dark eyes burned into hers, hot and hungry. Kaitlyn’s heart skipped a beat. She had seen looks like that before, in the eyes of her father’s people. But Zack didn’t belong to her father’s coven, or any coven.
Still, the look unsettled her and when the music ended, she told Zack she needed to sit down. She wasn’t tired, but she needed to put some space between them. She couldn’t think clearly when he was holding her, when he was looking at her like that, as if he was a hungry cat, and she a tasty mouse.
He escorted her to a nearby table, held her chair for her. “How about a drink?” he asked, and when she nodded, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called the bar in the casino.
“Why didn’t you just order from the bar up here?” Kaitlyn asked.
“That’s for the tourists. I have my own private stock downstairs.”
Less than five minutes later, a waiter arrived at their table carrying a bottle of Clos Du Mesnil champagne and a bottle of Dom Pérignon Rosé. A waitress arrived moments later bearing a tray with a pair of crystal goblets and a plate of canapés.
Zack dismissed the help with a smile, then gestured at the bottles. “What’s your pleasure?”
“I don’t know anything about champagne.”
“Well, the Clos Du Mesnil costs about seven hundred dollars; the Dom Pérignon about half that.”
“Are you kidding me? Seven hundred dollars for a bottle of champagne?” She shook her head in amazement. “I have got to try that.”
He filled two glasses with liquid that was straw gold in color, then handed her one. “What shall we drink to?”
“Beginnings?” she suggested.
“Beginnings,” he repeated, and touched his glass to hers.
He watched her over the rim of his glass as he sipped his wine, and for one moment out of time, Kaitlyn imagined his lips pressed against the side of her neck, his tongue lightly stroking her skin.
“Katy, let’s go where we can be alone.”
She nibbled one of the canapés, then shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not? Are you afraid of me?”
“Yes.”
He sat back, his brow furrowing. “What are you afraid of?”
“The way you make me feel. We’re moving way too fast. I hardly know you.”
“What do you want to know?”
She sipped her drink, then set her glass aside. “Everything.”
“Everything, huh?” He dragged a hand over his jaw. “My parents are dead. I’m an only child. I’m rich and single and I’m crazy about you. What else do you need to know?”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-one.”
“When’s your birthday?”
“August the fourth.”
“A Leo,” she said, smiling.
He nodded. “You?”
“I’m an Aries.”
“Both fire signs,” he mused.
“Are you into astrology?”
“No, not really.”
“Do you read your horoscope every day?”
“No,” he said, laughing. “Why, do you?”
“No. Well, not every day.”
“How old are you?”
Grinning, she said, “Don’t you know it isn’t polite to ask a woman her age?”
“At least tell me you’re over twenty-one.”
Kaitlyn laughed. “No worries. I turned twenty-one on my last birthday.”
“Just a baby.” He wondered what she would think if she knew how old he really was. “Do you have brothers and sisters?”
“No. My mom wanted more children, but . . .” She shrugged. “I would have liked a brother or a sister, but it wasn’t meant to be. My dad comes from a really large family though, so I have lots of aunts and uncles and cousins. Of course, there was a plus side to being an only child,” she said, grinning. “My parents spoiled me rotten when I was growing up.” She ran her finger around the rim of her glass, her expression thoughtful. “They still spoil me rotten.”
Zack no
dded. He would love to pamper her, to give her everything her heart desired, to show her all the wonders of the modern world. To introduce her to the magic between a man and a woman.
“Why did you call me Katy?”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“No. No one.” She smiled a shy smile. “I like it.”
He leaned toward her, his gaze resting on her face. “Come home with me, Katy.”
“Zack . . . I can’t.”
“Just my luck,” he said with a good-natured grin. “You’re a good girl.”
“’Fraid so.” She couldn’t blame him for having thought otherwise, considering the sexy “come and get me” outfit she was wearing.
He nodded. He might be a lot of things, but he had never forced a woman into his bed, or taken advantage of a virgin, although Kaitlyn tempted him sorely. He was about to refill their glasses when his cell phone rang.
Murmuring, “Excuse me,” he put the phone to his ear. “What is it?” He listened a moment, then slipped the phone back into his pocket. “I need to take care of something in the casino. I’ll be back shortly.”
“All right.” Lifting her glass, she watched him walk swiftly toward a door marked STAIRWAY.
She sat there a moment, thinking about Zack. He wanted her; there was no doubt about that. And she wanted him. There was no doubt about that, either. She glanced at her watch, drummed her fingertips on the table as she wondered what kind of emergency—if that’s what it was—had called him away. Too curious to wait any longer, she took the elevator down to the main floor.
The first thing she noticed was the silence. Standing in the doorway, she glanced around, searching for Zack. She gasped when she saw him. He was standing in front of one of the poker tables. On the other side of the table, a man wearing a Hell’s Angel leather jacket stood holding the edge of a knife to the dealer’s throat. The dealer’s face was paper-white, a vivid contrast to the angry red flush on the face of the Hell’s Angel wielding the blade.
“He cheated!” the man declared, his voice carrying throughout the casino. “He’s dealing from the bottom of the deck!”
