"Where can I dry these?" I asked.
"Are they shrink proof?"
"Well, they didn't shrink on me."
He smiled. It did my pulse rate absolutely no good whatsoever. "There's a clothes dryer through there," he said, nodding toward the door to the right.
I shoved the clothes in the dryer, then headed back into the kitchen. "We eating here?"
He shook his head. "In the living room. It's warmer. You want to grab the cake tray?"
I did, and followed him out of the kitchen and into the living room. A huge log fire was the room's main feature, but it was the Christmas tree that drew my eye. It was big, lush, and totally without decoration, except for the fake snow that adorned the end of the dipping branches. It reminded me of a tree in the middle of a snow-swept forest, and maybe that was the whole point.
"That kind of dwarfs my tree," I said, putting the tray down on the coffee table.
"The tree you had last year had character," he commented, and offered me a mug.
I smiled. "Both that tree and this year's are very sad representations of the Christmas tree."
He sat down on the sofa and patted the spot beside him. I retreated to the fire, standing with my back to it.
Amusement teased his mouth. "So why buy them?"
"Because they looked lonely."
His gaze met mine, green eyes holding touches of amusement and something else. Something that had my pulse skipping. Not lust. Something deeper. Stronger.
"It's a rotten thing," he said softly, "being lonely at Christmas."
I didn't bite. I wanted to, but I didn't. I stepped away from the fire to avoid burning my butt, and picked up a plate of cake instead.
"How are we going to catch this vampire before he kills again?" I spooned some cake into my mouth and felt my knees go weak. Damn, this was good chocolate cake.
"The team is still working on possible locations given everything we've seen and I've scented at the crime scenes. If they find something, they'll contact us."
He leaned forward to pick up the other plate of cake, and my fingers suddenly itched with the need to run through his thick, dark hair. I gripped the spoon harder.
"Other than that," he continued, "we just have to hope the bait plan works."
"It's difficult to catch someone when they can up and fly away."
"If it was that easy for him to shift shape, he would have flown the coop earlier. Are you going to sit down?"
"Are you going to make any moves on me?"
Again that sexy smile teased his mouth. "Do you want me to?"
Yes, yes, yes. "No."
"Why not?"
I just about choked on my cake. "Why do you think why not?"
"Because I'm a rat?"
"That would be a good start."
"Because I forgot to call you for Christmas?"
"And my birthday. And Valentine's."
"That's true. I did, however, buy you presents for both. Does that count?"
Yes. No. "Damn it, Brodie, stop. This isn't fair." I shoved the half-eaten cake on the table and thrust my hands into my pockets so he couldn't see they were suddenly shaking.
Because it wasn't fear. It was the need to reach out and touch him, caress him, love him. Just like we used to. Just like I dreamed of on so many of those long nights I'd spent alone.
He placed his plate back down then rose. Only the coffee table separated us. Only the coffee table stopped me from stepping into the sweet strength of his arms.
"I know it's not fair," he said softly. "But I never intended it to be."
"But why?"
The question was practically torn out of me, and he grimaced. "Because for the last month I've been trying to talk to you, and you've barely given me the time of day."
"And that surprises you?"
"No. It's highly frustrating, though."
"Damn it, Brodie, this has to stop. I can't . . ." My voice broke a little. I stopped and took a deep, quivering breath. "I can't go through another Christmas waiting for you to call but knowing you never will."
He raised a hand and gently brushed my cheek with his fingertips. His fingers were so warm and felt so good against my skin that desire surged, making me tremble. And it was tempting, so tempting, to press into his touch. To ask for more than just that light caress.
But that way lay heartache.
I went to step back, away from him, but he must have sensed the motion. He caught the end of the robe belt and held it lightly. If I stepped back, the loose knot would undo.
Part of me wanted to step back. Wanted to give in to the heat and power of what still lay between us. But the part of me that was still desperately clinging to sanity and reason made me hold still.
"What if I promise never to make you wait by a phone again?" he said softly.
My gaze searched his, saw the sincerity and the compassion and the hunger in the bright depths. I wanted to trust it - trust him - I really did. But I just couldn't.
"I don't believe in promises anymore. I don't believe in you."
The words hurt him, as I knew they would. But the flash of pain in his eyes, and the lingering, aching regret in his expression gave me no sense of satisfaction at all. Because in truth, I didn't want to hurt him, and I didn't want retribution for all that he'd put me through. Part of me wanted to know why, but mostly I just wanted to get on with my life.
A life that didn't involve him. Didn't involve the hurt or the pain that he'd brought into my life.
"I've never promised you anything that I haven't delivered," he said eventually.
Maybe not out loud, but in deed and action you promised me the world. And then you ran away. "You promised to call me the minute you got back from Chicago, Brodie. But you never did."
He blew out a breath and had the grace to look guilty. "There were reasons - "
"It's too late for reasons," I cut in. Too late for us.
"I refuse to believe that," he said, leaving me wondering whether he was answering the spoken or unspoken comment.
Then he stepped around the table, wrapped his hand around the back of my neck, and dragged me forward, into his arms. And kissed me.
This time, it wasn't a fleeting thing, but rather a long and erotic exploration that had my blood screaming through my veins and my heart threatening to jump out of my chest.
And oh, it was good, so good, to be kissed like that again. Like this moment and I were the only things that mattered to him, the only things that would ever matter to him.
It was a lie, of course, but one I was so ready to believe, even if only for this moment. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed myself against his long, lean length, until I could feel his every intake of breath. Feel the rigid hardness of his erection pressing against my stomach. Lord, he felt good.