Night's Touch
Chapter 5

As soon as she uttered the words, Cara had second thoughts. What was she doing? Vince was a stranger to her. They had shared nothing more than a drink and a dance in a nightclub. She knew nothing about him save what he had told her, and for all she knew, everything he'd said could be a lie. How many times had her father and mother warned her to be careful of strangers?
She bit down on her lower lip. Maybe she was an idiot; maybe she was no better than those foolish girls who got into cars with guys they didn't know and then wound up dead in a ditch with no one to blame but themselves.
She lifted her gaze to his. If eyes were the windows to the soul, then his soul was dark and haunted, and yet she had no sense of being in danger. He might be dangerous, she thought, but not to her. She had never been more certain of anything in her life.
"Cara." His voice was thick with an emotion she couldn't identify. "I think I'd better go."
"Why?" She reached out, as if to stop him, then let her hand fall to her side.
"It's late. You should get some rest."
"You, too. You probably have to open your shop early in the morning."
He didn't answer, but merely grunted softly.
"Will you be at The Nocturne tomorrow night?" she asked.
A faint smile played over his lips. "I will if you will."
"I'll be there." As if drawn by an invisible hand, she took a step toward him.
He moved toward her, his gaze burning into hers. "What time?"
"Nine-thirty." They were only a breath apart now.
"Nine-thirty," he repeated. "I'll see you then."
Heart pounding so loud she was sure he could hear it, she waited for him to kiss her.
Instead, he turned and walked away.
Cara stared after him as he went down the winding staircase, disappointed that he hadn't kissed her good
night. It wasn't until he disappeared into the shadows that she wondered how he was going to get through the gate.
Vince ghosted through the darkness to where he had left his car. He noted in passing that the man, Anton, had gone. Anton. There was something about the man that rubbed Vince the wrong way. Of course, it might be nothing more than a bad case of good, old-fashioned jealousy, but he didn't think so.
There was something dark and sinister about the man.
Vince laughed. Dark and sinister. That was rich! There weren't many things walking around that were darker or more sinister than what he himself had become.
Vince the vampire. Even now, almost a year later, he still couldn't believe what had happened to him.
He slid behind the wheel of the Mustang and pulled away from the curb. Vampire. He supposed he had been like everyone else on the planet, assuming vampires were creatures of myth and legend, until the night he had the misfortune to pick up the wrong chick. He shook his head. She hadn't looked like a vampire, he thought glumly, let alone one that was thousands of years old! She'd had the body of a siren and the face of an angel, and he'd been helpless to resist her.
He laughed softly, bitterly. As the old saying went, he had chased her until she caught him. They had been in the middle of the best sex he'd ever had when she'd sunk her fangs into his throat. That was his first hint that she wasn't an ordinary female. The second had come when he tried to fight her off. She was just a little thing, hardly more than five feet tall, and couldn't have weighed more than a hundred pounds soaking wet, but she'd held him down with one hand, and when he had gotten desperate and drove his fist into her face, she had laughed at him. Then she had drained him to the point of death and given him a choice-live or die.
Looking back, he wondered if he would have chosen death if she had told him just what being a vampire entailed. Not that it was all that bad. True, he could no longer eat brunch with his folks on Sundays, but his senses were so acute he could hear the flutter of a moth's wings. He couldn't go surfing early in the morning anymore, but he could bench-press a bus. And even though he couldn't go outside during the day, he'd been surprised to discover that he wasn't compelled to sleep when the sun was up. He wasn't sure why. He had even doubted that he was a true vampire until he foolishly went outside one morning.
That was a mistake he hadn't made again. The sun had burned him like acid. He was weak during the day, and so he usually rested until early afternoon and did the brunt of his work after dark. Even drinking blood wasn't as bad as he had expected it would be. Bad? Hah! It was like the nectar of the gods.
And there was no denying the thrill of the hunt. At first, he had been shocked and shamed by the kick he got out of it, but that hadn't lasted long. There was nothing else like it, finding prey, smelling their fear, knowing that you held their life in your hands, that you could take only what you needed to survive or you could drain them to the point of death. He had done that only once, but he had never forgotten the ecstasy of drinking a human life, of absorbing the man's essence, listening to the beat of his prey's heart grow weaker as his own grew stronger. As exhilarating as it had been, he had never done it again, afraid that if he did, he would turn into the kind of ravening monster that vampires were reputed to be. It was hard enough to hang on to what remained of his humanity.
The only real downside to being a vampire had been moving away from his family. They had always been a close-knit bunch and he missed rough housing with his brothers and babysitting his nieces and nephews, but moving had seemed the easiest solution. He couldn't tell his kin what he had become and couldn't keep thinking up new excuses for why he didn't show up for brunch or why he couldn't eat dinner, or go to the park with his sister's kids, or watch his nephew play Little League anymore. It had just been easier
to sell his business, move away, and start a new life. He'd hated to leave Georgia, but he'd had to move far enough away that his parents couldn't just hop in the car and drive over for a visit. It hadn't been easy leaving his friends behind, either, or starting a new life, especially a life with a lifestyle he didn't know anything about.
The other drawback to being Undead was finding things to do to pass the time late at night. He couldn't work all the time, and once the movies, the bowling alley, and the bars closed, there wasn't a whole heck of a lot to do except visit The Nocturne.
He parked the Mustang in the garage and lowered the iron security door. Cat was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. With a gravelly meow, the cat followed him upstairs. At one time, the room had been a large office, but Vince had converted it into a combination living room-bedroom. He no longer needed a kitchen, or much of anything else. He had furnished the place with a black leather sofa and chair, a coffee table, a couple of end tables, a home theater system with surround sound, and a stereo.
He'd had the windows plastered over so he didn't have to worry about the sun finding him. As long as he avoided its light, he was safe inside. On really sunny days, he closed the security door and just left the side entrance open. Satellite TV and a couple hundred DVDs provided entertainment in the wee hours of the morning.
He turned on the TV, and even though the volume was turned low, he could hear it perfectly.
Dropping down on the sofa, he stared at the screen; his thoughts turned inward as he idly scratched Cat's ears. He had been an easygoing guy not too long ago. He'd had friends, played softball on the local team once a week, gone dirt biking with his buddies, had his share of women. He grinned inwardly. Maybe more than his share. Of course, all that had changed when he did.
He had left all his old friends behind because it was easier to move than try to explain the unexplainable.
He didn't really trust himself with women, though they seemed to gravitate toward him more than ever.
Since becoming a vampire, he could have scored every night, but he had no interest in meaningless sex.
Of course, it made satisfying his other hunger easier. Talk about a quickie! He smiled at the women who came on to him, mesmerized them, took what he needed to satisfy his hellish thirst, and sent them on their way, none the wiser.
But Cara was different. He didn't want to drink from her... well, he did, but that wasn't all he wanted.
There was something about her that called to him. For all that she had money and lived with parents who seemed to love her, he sensed she was just as lonely as he was.
And she lived with vampires.
He mulled that over for a time, wondering if the vampires were her parents, and if so, how such a thing could be possible. He'd been told that the Undead couldn't create life, but if they weren't her parents, who were they?
Cara. She occupied his thoughts until the rising of the sun made his mind and body sluggish and he sought his bed for a few hours' sleep.
He would see her later, after the sun went down.
Smiling, he closed his eyes and took his rest.
Cara woke the next morning with a smile on her face and a fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Tonight, she would see Vince. She giggled at the thought. Was this what it was like to be in love? She
bounded out of bed and then, arms outstretched, she twirled around and around, then fell back on the bed again. She was going to see Vince in... she glanced at the clock and groaned. It was only ten-thirty!
Eleven hours until she would see him. If she knew where he worked, she could stop in and surprise him, she thought, and then sighed. He might not like that. Some men didn't like to be bothered at work, so it was probably just as well that she didn't know where his shop was.
She took a quick shower, dressed, and went downstairs to fix breakfast. As usual, the house was quiet.
The words "quiet as a tomb" whispered through the back of her mind. Frowning, she wondered where that thought had come from.
She read the paper while she ate a leisurely breakfast, then lingered over a cup of coffee. After putting her dishes in the dishwasher, she went upstairs to brush her teeth and put on her makeup.
Di Giorgio was waiting for her when she went out to the garage. He nodded at her, then got into his car and followed her to the library.
She had often wondered what her parents paid him to be her bodyguard. He rarely got a day off. It had to be the most boring job in the world, following her around, sitting in the library when she was at work, sitting outside her house on her days off. She doubted he had much of a social life. He certainly wasn't married. After all, what woman would be content with a husband that was hardly ever home? She suddenly felt ashamed of herself. Di Giorgio had been her bodyguard since she was twelve years old and she didn't know a thing about him except that he had come to the United States from Sicily when he was in his mid-twenties. She had always thought of him as a necessary evil, like going to the dentist.
She pulled into her parking space, waved at Di Giorgio as she got out of the car, and almost laughed out loud at the surprised look on his face. She vowed then and there to be nicer to him in the future.
She nodded at the other workers as she moved through the library. They were a nice bunch of ladies.
Most of them were in their forties or fifties and they all mothered her. A couple of them flirted with Frank.
They grilled her about his private life and asked her to give Frank their phone numbers. Cara found it amusing. Secretly, she wished that Frank would call Mary Garfield, but Frank didn't seem interested in Mary or any of the other women.
Cara spent the better part of the afternoon returning books to the proper shelves. As the day wore on, she caught herself constantly looking at the clock.
"You must have a big date tonight," Sarah Beth Coleman remarked with a smile. Sarah Beth was Cara's best friend. She was married to a police officer and pregnant with their first child.
"Why do you say that?"
"I've never known you to be a clock-watcher before. Have you met someone new?"
The ladies in the library were always asking her that, hoping she would find a "nice young man" and settle down.
"I have," Cara said, unable to keep from smiling at the mere thought of him.
Sarah Beth took her by the hand and drew her deeper into the stacks. "What's his name? What's he like?
When do I get to meet him?"
Cara laughed. "I really don't know anything about him. I just met him last night, but he seems wonderful.
He's so nice, and so handsome..."
"Sounds like love at first sight to me," Sarah Beth said with a teasing grin.
"Was that how it was with you and Dean?"
Sarah Beth nodded. "Yes. I took one look at him and I knew he was the one."
"I'm meeting Vince tonight after work. I can hardly wait."
Sarah Beth gave her a quick hug. "I'll expect a full report tomorrow."
Around eight-thirty, things slowed down. Cara sat at her desk, idly drawing hearts and writing her name and Vince's inside. It was such a high-school kind of thing to do, but she couldn't seem to stop, couldn't help noticing how well their names looked together. She drew a new heart and wrote Mr. and Mrs.
Cordova inside.
Vince. She didn't know anything about him except how he made her feel.
At five minutes to nine, she cleared her desk and grabbed her coat, told the ladies good night, and practically bolted out the door. Frank Di Giorgio wasn't far behind.
It was nine-thirteen when she pulled up in front of The Nocturne. No doubt she would get a serious lecture from Di Giorgio about the dangers of speeding sometime in the near future, but she'd worry about that later.
Looking in the rearview mirror, she applied fresh lipstick, ran a brush through her hair, took a deep breath, and then got out of the car.
Di Giorgio followed her as she walked under the black canopy and down the stairs. The man in the hooded black cloak looked her over carefully, then murmured, "Welcome back, mistress."
Cara smiled faintly, thinking his raspy voice sounded like it belonged to someone who had been dead for a hundred years.
She stopped inside the entrance, letting her eyes adjust to the dim light, then walked around the edge of the dance floor to the bar. There was a vacant stool at the end and she sat down, her gaze moving around the room.
What if he didn't show up?
"Hey, it's about time you got here."
Startled, she almost fell off the bar stool. "Vince! Where did you come from?"
"My mama?"
"Very funny. How did you sneak up on me like that?"
"Dunno. Just quiet on my feet, I guess." He smiled a roguish smile. "You're early."
"So are you."
"I know. I couldn't wait." His gaze moved over her from head to foot. She looked good enough to eat, he thought. Literally. She smelled good, too, like a fragrant breeze on a warm summer day.
"Me, either."
"How was your day?" he asked.
"Not very productive. I kept returning books to the wrong shelf."
"Why is that?"
Her gaze slid away from his. "I couldn't concentrate. All I could think about was meeting you."
"Ah, Cara."
She looked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent. Damn, he wanted to take her home and make love to her all night long, and that was just wrong, because she wasn't the kind of girl to settle for a one-night stand and he couldn't offer her any more than that.
Damn! What was he doing here? There was no way they could have any kind of relationship. She was everything that was good and pure and he... he should be staked for what he was thinking!
"Vince, what's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Did I say something to make you mad?"
"No, darlin'."
Darlin' . The word wrapped around her like a warm blanket on a cold night. No one had ever called her darlin' before.
Vince muttered an oath. He had to end this now, before he did something he would regret for the rest of his life-and that could be a hell of a long time. "I've got to go."
"Go?" She looked up at him. "But I thought..."
The disappointment in her eyes was like a dagger piercing his soul. "I'm sorry, Cara. I..." Dammit, what could he say to wipe that little girl lost look from her eyes?
"It's all right," she said quickly, and he could almost see her defensive walls springing into place.
"Cara, listen..."
"Hey, Cara, I was hoping you'd be here."
Turning her back on Vince, she pasted a smile of welcome on her face. "Hello, Anton. It's so good to see you," she said with feigned enthusiasm.
Vince ground his back teeth together. Damn the man. The jerk's timing couldn't have been worse.
"Cara..." Vince laid his hand on her arm.
She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Oh, are you still here? I thought you were leaving."
Vince nodded. Maybe it was better this way. Turning on his heel, he stalked out of the club.
Cara stared after him a moment, the ache she felt inside almost too much to bear. She had spent the whole day looking forward to being with Vince. She had hoped... what had she hoped? That he would be her knight in shining armor? That he would fall head-over-heels in love with her and carry her off to his
castle? What a fool she had been. Things like that only happened in fairy tales.
"It's a beautiful night," Anton remarked.
"What? Oh, yes, it is."
He ran his forefinger up and down her arm. "Would you like to go for a drive?"
It was the last thing she wanted, but her bruised ego wouldn't let her refuse. Vince Cordova might not want her, but Anton found her attractive and wanted her company.
Forcing a smile, she said, "sure". Any second thoughts she had about going out with Anton were put to rest by the knowledge that Di Giorgio wouldn't be far behind.
Anton escorted her to his car, a late model BMW. Ever the gentleman, he held the door for her before going around to the driver's side.
A glance over her shoulder confirmed that Di Giorgio was right behind them.
Anton tuned the radio to a station that played soft rock, then leaned back, his arm resting along the back of the seat. "Any place you'd like to go?"
"No."
"Are you in the mood for a hot fudge sundae? I know a place that makes the best ones in town."
Determined to have a good time, she said, "Sounds good to me." As any woman could tell you, chocolate healed a multitude of hurts.
Cara frowned when he pulled up in front of a bookstore. "They sell ice cream here?"
"Among other things."
He got out of the car and came around to open her door.
"The Wiccan Heart," Cara murmured. "Are you into witchcraft?"
"Who, me?" He shook his head. "I just like good ice cream."
She felt a shiver of unease as she stepped inside. She didn't know why. It was a lovely place, filled with books and trinkets, crystals and candles in a wide variety of colors. There was an old-fashioned soda fountain in the back corner, complete with stools covered in shiny red leather.
Cara sat down and Anton sat beside her. He smiled at the waitress. "Two hot fudge sundaes, Lucy Mae, and don't spare the chocolate."
"Whatever you want," Lucy Mae replied with a saucy grin. "Your mother was asking for you earlier. She wants you to call her at home."
"Okay, thanks." Anton grinned at Cara. "My mother owns the place," he explained with a wink.
"Oh. How nice."
"Sit tight. I'd better call and make sure she's okay."
"All right." Cara watched him walk to the other side of the room, pull out a cell phone, and punch in a
number, and all the while she had the feeling she should get up' and go home.
She was about to do just that when Anton returned.
Moments later, Lucy Mae placed two enormous hot fudge sundaes on the counter.
"Goodness!" Cara exclaimed. "I'll never be able to eat all that!"
"That's what you say now, but wait until you taste it."
It was everything he said it would be and more. "I've never tasted anything like this," she said, licking a bit of chocolate from her lower lip. "What do they put in it?"
"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."
She knew he was joking, but his words sent an icy chill down her spine. She didn't know why, but she had always been superstitious about talking about death.
"So, tell me about yourself," Anton said. "All I really know about you is that you're a librarian, you like hot fudge sundaes, and you live at home. What are your parents like?"
"They're just parents like..." She started to say like everyone else's, but couldn't make herself say the words. "They worry about me and want what's best for me. I'm sure your mother is the same."
"My mother," he murmured. "Yes, of course."
"Is she a witch?"
"Why would you think that?" he asked, his voice gruff.
"No reason. I mean, well, it's a normal assumption, isn't it? I mean, she owns a Wiccan book shop, after all."
He laughed, but it sounded forced. "Witchcraft and the occult are all the rage now, that's all. If onions and artichokes are popular next year, she'll change the name and the decor."
Cara grinned. "I'd like to see that."
"I'd like to meet your parents," Anton said. "Any chance I could wheedle a dinner invitation for, say, Sunday?"
"No, I'm sorry."
"Some other night?"
She shook her head. "My parents don't entertain."
"Why not?"
"They just don't."
"That seems odd. I mean, they live in that huge old..."
Cara put her spoon down as she remembered something Vince had said. "Did you follow me home from The Nocturne the other night?"
"Me?"
"Did you?"
"Why would you think that?"
"Just answer me, yes or no. Did you?"
He shrugged. "What if I did? I just wanted to make sure you got home all right. Is that a crime?"
"No, but..."
"Lots of crazies hang out at The Nocturne. I was worried about you, that's all."
"You needn't worry. I'm perfectly safe wherever I go."
"Yeah? Why is that?"
"I have a bodyguard."
"You do? Why?"
"My parents are very protective."
"No sh... no kidding. I don't think I've ever dated a girl who had her own bodyguard." Anton glanced around the shop. "Where is he?"
"Probably peeking in a window somewhere. He's very discreet." She glanced toward the door when it opened, letting in a blast of cool air and two women wearing long gray cloaks.
Cara leaned closer to Anton. "Are they witches?"
"How would I know?"
"Well, they certainly look like witches." She glanced at her watch. "I should go, it's getting late."
"Since I can't convince you to invite me to dinner on Sunday, how about if I pick you up and take you out? Just one thing," he said with a grin, "your bodyguard has to pay for his own meal."
Cara considered it a moment. When she said yes, it was more to soothe her bruised ego than because she wanted to go out with Anton.
As they left the shop, Cara noticed the two gray-clad women with their heads together. She couldn't help wondering if they were talking about her.