as if they had known each other for years instead of a few hours.
She was breathtaking in a pair of slinky black pants and an opaque blouse of some material that clung to her, outlining every delectable curve.
He felt his mouth water just looking at her.
"Let's go," she said, tucking her arm through his.
"My car's in the lot," he said, and for the first time since the dark curse had been bequeathed to him, he felt young and alive.
"Is this yours?" Leanne asked. She hadn't noticed what he was driving last night.
Jason nodded. "Like it?"
Her gaze swept over the sleek curves of the black Porsche. "What's not to like?" She slid into the seat when he opened the car door, her hand stroking the soft leather. "You're not a cop on the take, are you?"
Jason shrugged as he slid behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition. "No. My grandfather left me quite well off."
"Then why do you work?"
"A man has to do something with his time."
They made small talk on the way to Hollywood. She told him about some of the funny things that had happened on stage, like the time the Phantom's boat went the wrong way, and he told her about the case he was supposedly working on.
After parking the car, they walked hand in hand toward the movie theater.
Inside, they sat in the last row. Of its own volition, his hand took hers. The touch of her fingers entwining with his sent a shock of feeling surging through him, a jolt of such force that it almost took his breath away.
In the darkness his gaze sought hers. She had felt it, too; he could see it in the slightly surprised expression in her eyes, hear it in the sudden intake of her breath, feel it hum between them, alive, palpable.
Time and place were momentarily forgotten as he placed his hand at the back of her head and drew her toward him. Her eyelids fluttered down as his mouth closed over hers.
It was a kiss unlike any he had ever known?sweetly potent, volatile, explosive. His body's reaction to her nearness to the scent of her perfume and the taste of her lips, was instant.
With the rise of his desire came another hunger, one that was more painful than unfulfilled passion, more deadly for the woman in his arms. Unable to help himself, he pressed a kiss to her throat, let his tongue caress the pulse beating there. Tempting, so tempting?
With a low groan he drew away.
"Jason, what's wrong?" Her voice was husky, drugged with desire.
"Nothing." He raked a hand through his hair. "This isn't the time, or the place."
He could see her smiling at him through the darkness, her green eyes smoky with passion.
"Any time," she murmured. "Any place."
"Leanne?"
"I'm shameless, I know, but I can't help myself. I feel as though I've known you all my life. Waited for you all my life."
For a moment he closed his eyes. And then he smiled at her through the darkness.
"We have time, Leanne," he whispered hoarsely. "All the time in the world."
Part 1 Chapter Four
He sat on the sofa in the living room, his feet resting on a hassock, his gaze fixed on the fire in the raised hearth. The fire served no purpose save that he found it pleasing to look upon. He had no need for its warmth; he felt neither the heat nor the cold, but sitting in front of a fire on a cold night seemed a very human thing to do. And tonight, tormented by memories of his past, he had a strong desire to feel mortal again.
He had been born in a time of great superstition: when a woman with the gift to heal might be judged a witch and burned at the stake; when people believed that werewolves prowled the forests in the dead of night; when ghosts might be found wandering through castle and hovel alike.
He had never seen a ghost, and he'd never believed in werewolves, but he'd come to believe in vampires. Oh, yes, he'd never forget the night he had learned about vampires.
He'd had an argument with his wife, Jolene. He couldn't remember now what they had quarreled about, but he'd stormed out of the cottage and headed for the tavern, determined to drown his troubles in a mug of ale. He'd been working his way through his third tankard when Marguerite approached him. There had been something about the way she looked at him, the