me. It’s lovely.”
While Sabrina fussed over the flowers, Isaac studied his surroundings. Despite his words, a chill ran up his spine at the sight of her home. Sure, she had a security system, but it needed more protection. The kind only he could provide. He’d have to fix that immediately.
And the location? That was a whole other story.
Isaac watched as she flowed through the kitchen and forced himself to take a calming breath. He felt as if an eternity had passed since he had seen her, last watched her smile. It took every ounce of his control to not sweep her into his arms and carry her up the stairs. Though he wanted to do just that— God , did he want to—he knew he couldn’t. He had to act normal.
He couldn’t afford to push her away; they were running out of time. He pulled himself out of his thoughts, only to curse silently at the sight of her pursed lips.
Shit .
How long had he been standing there, brooding?
He flashed what he hoped was a bright smile. “Well, should we head out?”
“Sure, I’m ready,” she assured him. She collected her purse, shut off the lights, and followed him outside.
He watched as she locked her doors and set the alarm code. When she finished, he grabbed her arm and led her to his car.
***
The restaurant Isaac chose radiated elegancy. After he worked some sort of magic on the manager, they were seated at a secluded table in the back, behind deep red curtains. A single candle burned in a crystal votive on the table. After they ordered their dinner, filet mignon for both of them, hers medium-well, his rare, they sipped red wine as he began a subtle interrogation.
“So what do you do, Sabrina?”
“I write.” She took a leisurely sip of wine.
“Oh? Anything I would know?”
“I write a series called Darkness . It’s a love story between two vampires. Each book progresses through time, and I’ve started the final book in the present day. The tale started in the seventeenth century.” She fiddled with her wine glass and shifted in her seat. She hated when people asked her what she wrote about. She used to stutter while trying to sum up in two sentences what her entire book was about, until she forced herself to come up with a generic reply to the question.
It made life a heck of a lot easier.
“I’ve heard of it. Charlotte Hannigan, right? That’s your pen name?”
“Yes, it is,” she replied. “I like to keep my identity a secret. Keeps any overzealous fans at bay. What about you, Isaac?”
“I’m in real estate. I acquire and sell a variety of land and structures spread throughout the world. I either sell the properties after extensive remodeling, or I rent them out. Quite boring, compared to your occupation.”
“No, it sounds interesting,” she assured.
“No, it really isn’t.” Isaac laughed, and she joined in. “Any siblings?”
“Yes, one. Her name is Marie. She’s married, and has a daughter named Samantha. Her husband’s a lawyer, and they’re expecting a boy in February. They live in San Clemente, California.” A pang of homesickness came over her as she thought of Marie. She missed her laugh and her smile.
“Are you from there?”
She tore herself from her inner thoughts and responded, “Yes. And you? Siblings?”
Isaac tensed, and his eyes hardened almost undiscernibly. Why did the mere mention of siblings cause him to close up in such a visible way? Maybe there was a rift between them?
He hesitated before answering. “Yes, a brother. We’re not close, though.” He gave a sharp wave of his hand, as if to wave away the awkwardness of the current thread of conversation. He obviously didn’t want to talk about his estranged brother.
“No? I’m sorry,” she said. She couldn’t imagine her life without Marie.
“It’s okay. Do your parents also live in California?” Isaac asked.
“No, they died. I only have Marie. Yours?”
“With yours.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“And I yours,” he
While Sabrina fussed over the flowers, Isaac studied his surroundings. Despite his words, a chill ran up his spine at the sight of her home. Sure, she had a security system, but it needed more protection. The kind only he could provide. He’d have to fix that immediately.
And the location? That was a whole other story.
Isaac watched as she flowed through the kitchen and forced himself to take a calming breath. He felt as if an eternity had passed since he had seen her, last watched her smile. It took every ounce of his control to not sweep her into his arms and carry her up the stairs. Though he wanted to do just that— God , did he want to—he knew he couldn’t. He had to act normal.
He couldn’t afford to push her away; they were running out of time. He pulled himself out of his thoughts, only to curse silently at the sight of her pursed lips.
Shit .
How long had he been standing there, brooding?
He flashed what he hoped was a bright smile. “Well, should we head out?”
“Sure, I’m ready,” she assured him. She collected her purse, shut off the lights, and followed him outside.
He watched as she locked her doors and set the alarm code. When she finished, he grabbed her arm and led her to his car.
***
The restaurant Isaac chose radiated elegancy. After he worked some sort of magic on the manager, they were seated at a secluded table in the back, behind deep red curtains. A single candle burned in a crystal votive on the table. After they ordered their dinner, filet mignon for both of them, hers medium-well, his rare, they sipped red wine as he began a subtle interrogation.
“So what do you do, Sabrina?”
“I write.” She took a leisurely sip of wine.
“Oh? Anything I would know?”
“I write a series called Darkness . It’s a love story between two vampires. Each book progresses through time, and I’ve started the final book in the present day. The tale started in the seventeenth century.” She fiddled with her wine glass and shifted in her seat. She hated when people asked her what she wrote about. She used to stutter while trying to sum up in two sentences what her entire book was about, until she forced herself to come up with a generic reply to the question.
It made life a heck of a lot easier.
“I’ve heard of it. Charlotte Hannigan, right? That’s your pen name?”
“Yes, it is,” she replied. “I like to keep my identity a secret. Keeps any overzealous fans at bay. What about you, Isaac?”
“I’m in real estate. I acquire and sell a variety of land and structures spread throughout the world. I either sell the properties after extensive remodeling, or I rent them out. Quite boring, compared to your occupation.”
“No, it sounds interesting,” she assured.
“No, it really isn’t.” Isaac laughed, and she joined in. “Any siblings?”
“Yes, one. Her name is Marie. She’s married, and has a daughter named Samantha. Her husband’s a lawyer, and they’re expecting a boy in February. They live in San Clemente, California.” A pang of homesickness came over her as she thought of Marie. She missed her laugh and her smile.
“Are you from there?”
She tore herself from her inner thoughts and responded, “Yes. And you? Siblings?”
Isaac tensed, and his eyes hardened almost undiscernibly. Why did the mere mention of siblings cause him to close up in such a visible way? Maybe there was a rift between them?
He hesitated before answering. “Yes, a brother. We’re not close, though.” He gave a sharp wave of his hand, as if to wave away the awkwardness of the current thread of conversation. He obviously didn’t want to talk about his estranged brother.
“No? I’m sorry,” she said. She couldn’t imagine her life without Marie.
“It’s okay. Do your parents also live in California?” Isaac asked.
“No, they died. I only have Marie. Yours?”
“With yours.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“And I yours,” he
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