The Perfect Ten Boxed Set

by Dianna Love

  What’s that? Was her boss cute? Yes, actually, he was very handsome, but he was also old. Very old.

  Then she switched the topic to the one thing guaranteed to divert her friend’s attention — Lucy’s daughter Devon. Too soon, Fred had walked up to the booth and tapped his wristwatch meaningfully. She’d said a rushed goodbye and hung up, missing Lucy but lighter of heart knowing that both she and Devon were still safe.

  No, Fred would definitely not be receptive to stopping at a sex shop, but it might be worth it to ask him, just to see his reaction. Poor guy. He’d probably offer to send someone to make the purchase for her, if she would describe what she wanted. Her smile broadened.

  But apart from the distraction that tormenting her straight-laced bodyguard would afford, a stop at the sex toy shop wasn’t going to help her. Her smile faded. They weren’t that kind of dreams.

  Oh, they were hot, all right, and Delano featured in every one of them. As did gleaming, massively elongated cuspids, arched throats, thudding hearts and slick, mating bodies. But the dreams were also incredibly tender and … well, sacred, for lack of a better word. As raggedly aroused as the dreams left her, she felt strangely averse to seeking release. Somehow, it seemed tantamount to blasphemy.

  Or maybe she was just turning into a masochist, preferring to walk around all day — or rather, all night — carrying that sweet ache low in her belly and in her tender, swollen breasts.

  And as for the man who put it there, he’d all but disappeared. She saw him briefly each night before she left for the clinic. He dutifully drew her blood to test for the vampirism virus and/or antibodies to the virus. Typically, he inquired after her level of comfort with the security he was providing, then quickly excused himself to start his night’s work at the lab. Occasionally, he returned shortly before or after she did, giving them a few moments together, but on those occasions he’d looked so exhausted, she hadn’t the heart to delay him from seeking his bed.

  Shoot, she didn’t even know what would happen if he didn’t get to bed. Did sleep claim him wherever he happened to be, if he didn’t make it to his rooms? Or could he postpone it, like regular people did? And what happened if he did? Would he age? She distinctly remembered him saying that sleep erased the previous day’s — or rather, night’s — aging. And what did he look like in his sleep?

  Chocolate. Now.

  She glanced down to see the empty wrapper she clutched in her hand. Ack! She’d eaten the whole thing.

  Dammit, that did it. She wasn’t going to grow fat eating comfort food to ease her loneliness. Delano was responsible for her being here; he’d admitted as much. So he could damn well take some responsibility for her current social vacuum.

  Tossing the candy bar wrapper in the garbage, she headed for the stairs, the ones inside the suite that traveled just one short floor to the 28th level.

  Delano had been looking into the amber depths of a forty-year-old whiskey in an even older Waterford glass when he heard the trill that signaled someone was on their way down to the lab. An intruder? Eli was still away.

  He put the glass down and picked up the 9mm he always kept handy. Cocking the pistol, he took up position beside the door.

  The door opened and Ainsley stepped into the lab. Moving with maximum speed, Delano grabbed her by the wrist and whirled her out of the way. Partially shielded by the door, he trained his pistol into the stairwell.

  The empty stairwell.

  Thank God. He dropped the nose of the gun until it pointed at the floor.

  “God, Delano! Didn’t you see it was me?”

  “Of course I did.” He decocked the Walther, conscious of her horrified gaze following his every movement. “But if I were an intruder, I’d have held you at gunpoint and forced you out the stairwell first, as a distraction and a shield.”

  She looked at the closed doors shielding the stairwell. “Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you.” Her gaze drifted back to the gun, regarding it as though it were a snake coiled to spring.

  “No harm done.” Wanting to get rid of the gun but not wanting to just lay it down on the workbench again, he deposited it in the right-hand pocket of his lab coat. Of course, he then had to jam his left hand in the other pocket to counterbalance the weight of the weapon. “I was just about ready to finish here for the night. Let me shut a few things down and I’ll ride up with you.”

  “Oh, but I’d love to have a look around. Can I?”

  Dammit. Had he left anything incriminating lying around?

  “Please? I won’t contaminate anything. I just want a quick tour.”

  No, he’d secured everything. He’d only been delaying going upstairs in the hope that she’d retire before he returned. He pasted on a smile. “Then a tour you shall have, but I warn you, there’s not much to see.”

  It turned out to be anything but quick. She was full of questions. Some things she recognized — microscopes, centrifuge, incubators, autoclave for sterilizing instruments, biological hoods to provide a sterile environment for working with specimens. But other equipment needed explanation.

  “Holy cow, you’re as well equipped as any hospital lab. Better, probably.”

  “Most definitely better, unless they’re doing primary research and have need for a DNA sequencer or gene mapping software.”

  She glanced around the lab. “Where’s that?”

  He indicated a room to their left with a nod of his head. “But it’s nothing special to look at. A big box and a computer.”

  “So is this a genetically engineered vaccine you’re working on? I mean, as opposed to a traditional vaccine like polio or flu?”

  The conversation was veering into dangerous territory. He’d have to choose his words carefully, and shield his thoughts even more carefully.

  “Exactly. My aim is to engineer such a vaccine. Unfortunately, as I’ve mentioned, vampires are immune to practically all blood-borne diseases. However, there are recorded cases of vampires dying from the blood of certain victims who gave every evidence of being completely healthy. Such reports date back to the earliest days of vampire history. Thus, the focus of my work has been to search out such individuals whose blood has proven lethal. Armed with their blood, I’m confident I can eventually isolate the anti-vampire gene from the genome.”

  Her brows came together. “There are people walking around with an anti-vampire agent in their blood?”

  “Precisely.”

  “And have you found such a person?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “They grow harder and harder to find.”

  “Wait a minute — can’t you create your own vaccine without such a person?”

  He shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

  “But I thought every vaccine started with the infectious agent itself.” The skin between her eyebrows pleated in a frown. “Shouldn’t you be working with a weakened version of the vampire virus, if you want to immunize people against infection by that same agent?”

  Ah, but she was a smart one. “I’ve already done that. I took the vampire virion, crippled it and produced a vaccine. I even used the vampire virus as a gene delivery vector. And yes, it works flawlessly. Specifically, it changes the genotype that makes the cells susceptible to infection in the first place.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “The problem is, even if I render you immune to the vampire virus, it won’t stop a vampire from killing you. No matter how invulnerable you may be to infection, no matter how many antibodies you express, your blood won’t harm a hair on the head of the rogue who drains it from you.”

  “Doh.” She rolled her eyes. “Guess it’s late. I didn’t think of that.”

  He laughed. “It was a fair question. Until I tested it, there was every reason to hope it would deal serious harm to the attacker, or at least put them off the victim before they’d taken life-threatening amounts of blood. If I hadn’t had high hopes, I wouldn’t have labored so long to create it.”

  “Y
ou must have been very disappointed.”

  Disappointed? Try devastated. His hopes had been so high. True, earlier, cruder vaccines had failed, but he’d thought altering the genotype—

  Enough. It hadn’t worked.

  He smiled, consciously smoothing his expression. “Very much so,” he agreed. “But the work must continue.”

  Her eyes rounded. “You have one, don’t you?”

  Delano blinked. “Have one what?”

  “You’ve found someone with the anti-vampire blood!”

  His heart stopped, then leapt into a hard thudding. “What makes you say that?”

  She gestured to a workbench where incubators hummed. “You must think you have at least a possibility or you wouldn’t be doing all this.”

  Ah, of course. A logical deduction on her part, not a lapse on his. For a moment there, he feared he’d let the barrier around his thoughts slip. He smiled. “Perhaps,” he conceded.

  She angled her head and studied him through narrowed eyes. “More than a perhaps, I think.”

  His smile broadened. “Perhaps.”

  She smiled back at him, her eyes sparkling with shared mirth. But then, in an instant, everything changed. Their smiles faded and the air between them grew thick.

  And his heart suddenly felt as though it housed a hundred birds, all of them frantically beating their wings and clawing.

  “Delano.”

  She said his name on a sweet exhalation of breath, and stepped closer. Desire rolled off her in palpable waves. And God help him, he heard the leap of her heart, the sudden urgency of the blood surging in her veins.

  He leaned closer. Sweet Christ, the heat and smell of her! He smelled her arousal, could all but taste the chocolate that lingered in her mouth, the metallic, copperish flavor of her blood…

  Her blood. Her potentially deadly blood.

  Backpedal. Godammit, Bowen, backpedal for all you’re worth. “Ainsley, I don’t think—”

  Whatever he thought, she clearly didn’t want to hear it, because she closed the small remaining distance between them, grabbed the lapels of his lab coat, stretched up and kissed him.

  In a reflex he could not have stopped for the world, his arms closed around her, drawing her closer.

  Ah! Such warmth, so much softness. He could weep with joy just from the sensation of her arms around him. And she tasted just as he imagined she would, like chocolate and heat and dark, dark temptation. Then she tasted him right back, swirling her tongue over his lower lip and into his mouth. The thunder of his own heartbeat almost drowning out the sound of hers, he pulled her closer still.

  And she went rigid, pushing against his chest.

  Damn, damn, damn. No ignoring that signal. His hands tightened on her waist at the thought of releasing her so soon, but he forced his grip to slacken, letting her pull back.

  “I’m sorry. Forgive me.” Did he look as stiff as he sounded? Probably. But casual seemed to be beyond him at the moment. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

  “What? Are you kidding?” Her eyes blazed up at him in disbelief. “That’s been coming for weeks. Don’t even pretend otherwise. I just want you to get rid of that thing.”

  He might have corrected her — he’d been thinking about this for exactly twelve days — but his mind was distracted by her last comment. “What thing?”

  “The gun.” She glanced pointedly at his lab coat pocket. “Could we put it aside, please, just for the next few minutes? I’m sure it’s perfectly safe, but I don’t like them. I’ve seen too many gunshot wounds roll through the OR to be comfortable with firearms.”

  He drew the offending Walther from his pocket and placed it on the workbench. “Better?”

  “Much better.” She gave him a smile, knowing and sexy and intimate.

  His heart kicked it up another notch, and it struck him afresh that he was courting disaster.

  Disaster? Hell, he could be courting death itself. He needed to stop this madness before —

  She slid back into his arms and he forgot to think because her mouth was on his again, and oh, merciful God, there was no way he was stopping. Not yet. Not before he absolutely had to. With a groan, he cupped her head, angling her face for better access and also to slow her down.

  This was all there could be, all he dared allow, this mating of mouths and the agonizing sweetness of bodies brushing together. Oh, precious Jesus, he had to make it last.

  He lifted his head, and when she tried to recapture his lips, he restrained her. “Slowly, Ainsley. Slowly.”

  Better?

  Yes, this was definitely better, she thought, as she surfaced from yet another long, drugging kiss. Better than any dream. Better even than her last lover, and he’d been very, very good. Of course, between her shifts at the hospital and Clay’s shift at the police station, their relationship was more of a “hi, bye, thanks for the orgasm” kind of thing. Then Delano nibbled the corner of her mouth, and she forgot about Clay Davidson.

  Again, he took his time exploring her mouth. Again, she tasted the inexplicable but unmistakable flavor of a fine scotch. She’d never seen him drink any beverage, let alone something alcoholic, but there was no mistaking the taste of scotch whiskey on his tongue. Yet beneath the smoky, slightly mossy taste lay pure Delano. Dizzy with the pleasure of it, she pressed closer.

  His hands still cupped her head, and she desperately wanted them on her body. On her breasts. On her ass. And oh, yes, between her thighs. She wanted it with a violence that left her trembling. She wanted him buried deep inside her, with his mouth at her throat, gleaming cuspids elongated and grazing her skin, tantalizing her with the promise of a joining more intimate, more thrilling, than anything she’d ever known.

  But dammit, she also wanted this slow torture. She wanted to spin it out as long as they could possibly stand. This first exquisite exploration came only once.

  He pulled back again, but this time she didn’t protest. This time she trusted him. And she wasn’t disappointed.

  Winding one hand into her hair, he tugged her head back, exposing her throat.

  Okay, straight to the main event. That worked too.

  Her pulse leapt, and she closed her eyes. In her mind’s eye, she saw herself as he must see her, her throat exposed and vulnerable. Raw excitement shot straight to her core as she waited for him to lower his mouth to her throat, to rake his teeth over her skin…

  “Ainsley, look at me.”

  Dazed, she opened her eyes to find him looking at her with an expression that seemed torn between scorching need and tortured regret.

  Regret?

  He released his grip on her hair, but he didn’t pull away as she half expected. Instead, he lifted his hand to her mouth, drawing the pad of his thumb across her lower lip. Swollen and sensitized as her flesh was from his thorough, meticulous attention, the light caress made her shiver.

  He closed his eyes, as though to better absorb even that fleeting sensation. When he opened his eyes again, they blazed with a ferocity that should have frightened her.

  She opened her mouth on his thumb, and let the salt taste of his skin bloom on her tongue, mingling with the whiskey taste his mouth had imparted.

  “Delano—”

  “God, I love your mouth.” His words were thick. “It was made for this.”

  Unbearably aroused, she bit the fleshy pad of his thumb.

  “Ainsley!”

  His body went rigid, but she wasn’t sure if it was rigid good or rigid bad. But he hadn’t withdrawn his thumb, so she ran her tongue over it. Soothing, soothing.

  Then she bit it again.

  His control snapped. Suddenly, his hands were everywhere she’d wanted them to be, hard and demanding, his mouth fierce on hers. Oh, yes, please. He pushed her up against the nearest workbench, the better to grind his lower body against her. The urgent thrust of his arousal against her belly inflamed her beyond reason, and his hands left trails of fire on her skin.

  Mindless with need, she rubbed h
er breasts against his chest. God, was that her making those noises? He was making her crazy. She wanted him to tear her clothes off before she burned up. She wanted to hook a leg behind his and take him down to the floor. She wanted to free the impressive erection straining against his trousers, and climb onto it. God help her, she wanted to scream, “Fuck me already!”

  Instead, she did the next best thing. She insinuated her left hand between them to cup the bulge of his erection. Oh, Lord, it was nice. She squeezed gently.

  He growled against her mouth, and she swallowed the gratifyingly desperate sound. Then, before she could guess his intention, he lifted her and deposited her on the edge of the workbench. She felt something hard poking into her back, but then he moved between her spread thighs and she forgot about the discomfort. All of her attention focused on the hard heat of him pressed against the center of her universe. Could he feel how wet and ready she was?

  “Del—”

  He covered her mouth, cutting off what surely would have been the plea she’d suppressed a few seconds ago. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, penetrating it in the way she wanted his engorged—

  The thought died when she heard the unmistakable sound of a pistol being cocked.

  Chapter 10

  “HI, GUYS. Did you miss me?”

  Delano’s blood froze. Goddammit. He was the world’s biggest idiot. Worse than an idiot. He was a fool.

  He released Ainsley, careful to pull her t-shirt down from where he’d thrust it high atop her breasts before moving the shield of his body away.

  “Okay, Eli,” he drawled. “Point made. That was terribly careless of me.”

  Eli held the pistol Delano had left on the workbench, letting it dangle harmlessly in his hand. “In more ways than one.”

  Delano met Eli’s steely gray gaze. “I repeat, point made.”

  “God, Eli, you scared the hell out of me.” Ainsley’s voice was high and thin. Her lips were red and swollen from their kisses, the delicate skin of her face and neck pink from the abrasion of his stubble-roughened face. She smoothed her hair, her clothing, as though she could smooth her composure back into place with her hands. “Maybe next time you could just call out ‘I’m back’ or something like that.”