Enchant the Night - Amanda Ashley Page 0,22
until their dinner arrived. She grimaced when she saw Quill’s filet mignon. He had asked for rare, but she couldn’t help thinking if the steak had been cooked a minute less, it might have stood up and walked away.
Her meal, however, was excellent, the wine a rare vintage that lingered on the tongue. They made small talk during the meal. While waiting for dessert—a rich chocolate mousse Callie had been unable to resist—she asked about Vivian.
“She’s fine.”
“Did you . . . ?”
“Yes. Last night, after I took you home.”
“Will she remember that we were together Sunday night, or did you erase that, too?”
“She’ll remember that you met and had a good time together. That’s all.” Seeing her frown, he said, “You don’t approve?”
“No,” she said flatly. “It seems wrong, messing with people’s minds. You tried to make me forget what you are. What else have you made me forget?”
“Nothing, love. That was the one and only time.”
She wanted to believe him, but how was she to know if he was telling her the truth?
“Trust me, Callie. Please.”
It was the please that did it.
“Do you want a bite?” she asked, when the waitress brought her dessert.
He slid a glance at her throat.
“That’s not what I’m offering.”
“I know. More’s the pity. But in answer to your question, no, thank you.” He smiled as she took a taste, wondering if she wore the same look of exquisite pleasure during lovemaking. He rather enjoyed watching her. “Do you want another?” he asked when she’d licked the last trace of chocolate from the spoon.
“I’d love one, but no. Too many calories.”
“Maybe we can shed a pound or two,” he suggested, nodding toward the dance floor in the adjoining room.
“Good idea.”
Taking her hand, he led her into the other room. The lighting was soft, the music slow. Callie felt a rush of excitement when Quill drew her into his embrace, so close she had no trouble following his lead. It was heaven, being in his arms. He was incredibly light on his feet for such a big man.
There was something magical about being in his arms. To Callie, it seemed as if they were floating over the floor. Her heart skipped a beat when she looked up to find him gazing down at her, his eyes smoky with desire.
The first song blended seamlessly into another ballad. Drawing her closer, he brushed a kiss across her lips.
Callie closed her eyes when he kissed her again, longer this time. She leaned into him, her insides quivering at his touch.
The room fell away, the music faded, and there was only Quill, his mouth moving over hers, trailing fire. She felt the warmth of his tongue against her neck. He’s biting me, she thought, but it didn’t matter, not when it felt so good to be in his arms.
When the song ended, he took her hand and they returned to their table.
“Callie?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you all right?”
She nodded.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. He had asked if they could start over, if she could pretend he was just an ordinary man, but how was she to do that if he couldn’t resist tasting her?
“Don’t be.” She might regret it later, she thought, but not now, when she could still feel the pleasure of his bite.
He took her home a short time later.
Callie felt a flutter of excitement as she unlocked her door. Would he kiss her good-night? Should she invite him in? Would he misinterpret it if she did?
He solved the dilemma for her. “Thank you for this evening,” he murmured. His kiss, when it came, made her toes curl. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Callie nodded, then stood there, watching him stride down the stairs and slide behind the wheel of the Corvette.
She could try to pretend Quill was just an ordinary guy, she thought as he backed the convertible out of the driveway. But nothing about him was the least bit ordinary. She ran her fingertips over her lips. Least of all, his kisses.
Smiling, she went inside to get ready for bed. If she was lucky, Callie thought as she crawled under the covers, she just might dream about her shadow man again.
Chapter 9
That night, Callie’s dreams were oddly disjointed. Sometimes Grandma Ava was there, looking as young and pretty as she had when Callie was a child, her long golden hair whipping in the wind, her calico skirt swirling around her ankles as she danced outside under a full moon, an ebony wand in her hand. At other times, Ava was locked in