Fangs But No Fangs

CHAPTER 17

Jolee glanced at the alarm clock on the box she was using as a makeshift nightstand. It was nearly seven-thirty, and she still didn't know what she was wearing on her date tonight. She searched through her meager wardrobe again. Something to wear to dinner. Something to wear anywhere besides work.

She pulled out a lavender satiny dress with a flounce around the bottom, a scooped neckline, and thin, capped sleeves. She'd worked until closing every night after school and every weekend for nearly a month, bagging groceries to buy the dress for a high school dance. She'd been so excited to go, because it was at a neighboring high school, and she'd hoped the Dugan reputation wouldn't follow her there. Turns out it had, and the boy she went with had only asked her because he heard she was easy. He'd spent the whole night trying to look down the front of this dress and cop a feel.

She grimaced and put the dress back. It was the best thing she had, but she didn't need those memories accompanying her. Not to mention, the dress was a little dated. She wanted to look classy. Not like a prom queen in the early 90s. She chuckled to herself. Like she would have ever been prom queen, even in the 90s.

She pulled out another dress. This one was a simple cotton sundress, blue with white swirling designs around the hemline. She'd had it for years, and the seam on one side was ripped. Plus, now that she thought about it, all she had for shoes were dirty canvas sneakers and flip-flops. Not exactly a good look. Although she smiled imagining Christian's expression if she answered the door in the lavender prom dress with the pink flip-flops. Christian, with his designer wardrobe, would be so impressed.

Christian. She'd lay in bed last night, going over what she'd learned about him. In fact, she'd barely slept a wink, thinking about his relationship with Lilah, and what he'd said about this woman. Jolee suspected that was why he'd told her he needed to get away from his world, because his world included Lilah. But why Shady Fork when he could obviously go anywhere? Maybe because Lilah would never think to look for him in some backwater town.

She also had remembered something else Christian had said. That nothing from his world would affect her. Did that mean Lilah was still out there, looking for him? And dangerous? She'd decided that probably wasn't what he meant. He must have been referring to the fact that he wouldn't let his old life affect his new one. Just like she was hoping to do. Of course, she knew firsthand that ghosts of the past had a way of reappearing. But she wasn't going to worry about this crazy woman. She wanted to focus on Christian, and show him that all women weren't going to hurt him. Funny, they both needed to be shown that. In some ways maybe they weren't that different. Except in their wardrobes. There they were miles and miles apart.

She sighed, finally deciding on a denim skirt. Aside from a small fray at the hemline and the fact that the waistband was a little loose due to lots of working and little food, it looked okay. She could cover the waistband with a nice blousy top in dark red that looked good with her coloring, and the short sleeves covered the still mottled bruise on her shoulder. It didn't cover the bandage on her forearm, but that was okay.

She also found her best panties and bra, a matching set in black cotton, and pulled them on. She didn't plan on having another experience with him like on the car, but the nice underwear did make her feel sexier. And given her rather blah outfit, she needed all the supplementary confidence she could get. Not to mention to make up for the pink flip-flops she'd have to wear.

Finished dressing, she headed to the bathroom to do something with her hair and to put a little makeup on her pale cheeks. She ran a brush through her hair, the long red tresses falling in waves just past her shoulders. As a kid, she'd hated her hair, the brilliant red and the unruly thickness of it making her stand out and drawing attention she didn't want. But now she'd learned to rather like the color and waves. She finished brushing and decided to just wear it down tonight.

She rooted around in the medicine cabinet until she found an old bottle of cherry red nail polish. After a long struggle, she finally got the adhered top off and settled on the cover of the toilet to daub some of the overly thick lacquer on her toe-nails. She frowned at the results, not sure the polish would really make the flip-flops look any better. Ah well, it would have to do.

Then she returned to the mirror to apply a little dusky rose eyeshadow and a touch of mascara. She decided to forgo the lipstick; she didn't need anything else drawing attention to her mouth. She could give Angelina Jolie a run for her money in the lip department. Jolie. She studied herself in the mirror. Would Christian think she was pretty tonight? Would he think she was classy enough to be with him? She certainly didn't feel like it, but she hoped he thought so.

A knock rattled the front door. Giving herself one last appraising look, she decided this was as good as it got, and hurried down the hallway to the kitchen. She opened the door, and Christian stood on the other side, looking…

"You look beautiful," he said, stealing her thoughts exactly. Although he was beyond beautiful in a black jacket that made his broad shoulders appear even broader and black pants that showed the length of his legs. A deep cobalt blue shirt made his crystal blue eyes even more dramatic, and his hair was mussed in a sexy, straight-out-of-bed way, streaks of pale blond shimmering against dark gold. This man was going on a date with her? He definitely made up for the teenage loser at the prom.

She also noticed she was painfully underdressed compared to him, but she was rather used to that feeling. He worked at the bar in clothes that most people would save for special occasions. What was it her grandmother used to say? "Clothes a fellow was either married in or barried in."

She tugged the loosely knotted, bright red tie at his throat. "You look like a rock star."

He raised an eyebrow at that. "Is that good?"

"I do have a thing for musicians," she told him.

"I'll remember that."

Then he held out his hand, and for the first time she realized he was carrying something.

"What's this?" Jolee said, obviously confused as to why he'd be giving her a gift.

"Well, I think I'm supposed to bring you a token of my esteem when I pick you up for a date." He mentally winced. That sounded more stodgy than rock star-ish.

She grinned, not seeming to notice, and accepted the flat, rectangular package enclosed in a brown paper bag. But if his comment didn't ruin the rock star effect, this gift would.

She unwrapped the box. "Wow, it's a… Hairdini."

This time he winced outwardly. "I know I'm supposed to bring you flowers or candy, but I didn't have time to go get those."

"But you had a Hairdini?"

He shrugged, trying to look cool. "You never know when you might need one."

She grinned at him, those appealing brackets appearing, showcasing her wonderful lips. "This is the nicest gift I've ever received. Thank you."

"If this is the nicest present you've received, I dread to think about the other gifts you've gotten."

Her smile faded just slightly, and he wished he hadn't spoken. Then he realized her smile hadn't faded, it had just changed, growing into a little mischievous grin.

"Well, I have to admit that I mainly like it because you looked so sweet and unsure when you gave it to me."

"Ah, you love to see me humbled, don't you?"

"No, that's not true." She tried to look contrite, but gave up, grinning widely. "Okay, yeah."

He shook his head, amused by her honesty and by how adorable she was. Her dark eyes danced and her little laugh was infectious.

"I will definitely use it, though," she added. "I can never keep all this mess in a bun; it's too thick and unruly."

His gaze drifted to her hair, which was down tonight, brushing her shoulders and neck. The color was fascinating, the deepest red he'd ever seen, threaded with just hints of copper.

He reached out and caught a wavy lock, rubbing the silkiness between his fingers.

"Now that I see your hair down, I think I might have to take my gift back."

He could feel her gaze on him as he savored the texture and the color.

He wanted to kiss her, and from her deepening cinnamon scent, he could tell she wanted the same thing. But he didn't. Tonight was about going slow.

Instead he released the silken strand and caught her fingers. "Ready?"

She nodded, then turned to toss the Hairdini on the kitchen counter. "Yes."

He led her outside to his car, and held the door open for her. She attempted to step in, but the material of her skirt, which came down to just above her knees, had little give, making the movement difficult.

He watched as she lifted the hemline up a bit more, exposing the tops of her pale thighs, and slid onto the leather seat. She gave him an embarrassed smile, her cheeks coloring to a light pink. He didn't smile back, his eyes drifting back to her legs, which were properly covered by the thick denim. He swallowed, then closed the door.

As he walked around to his side of the car, he told himself he had to behave. But it was as if now that he'd had a taste of Jolee's passion, he couldn't think about anything else. Not that he'd thought of anything else for days now. He even dreamed about her— and he didn't know that vampires could dream in their dormant state. But he had, today, a vivid dream of her spread across the hood of the car.

He nearly groaned at the memory of the dream and especially the real thing. And her pale thighs, hidden under an easily removed layer of denim. He gripped the door handle and tried to calm himself. This was going to be harder than he imagined. He opened the door and slid in under the steering wheel, his erection making the movement as difficult as Jolee's skirt had for her. Definitely very, very hard.

"So where are we going?"

Christian glanced over at her, taking in her expectant expression.

"It's a surprise."

She grinned, her dark eyes dancing, and instantly her excitement was more important than a little discomfort.

He pulled out of her driveway and headed in the direction of the restaurant. Last night, he'd driven around until nearly dawn, looking for the best place to take Jolee.

He'd found several restaurants, but hadn't been impressed until he found West Pines Country Club. The club, by his standards, was not that luxurious. But he had liked the restaurant, which was in an old Victorian mansion situated right on the edge of a lake. He realized at night the view wouldn't be that spectacular, but they had a quaint outside seating area, and they would still be able to hear the waves lapping on the shore and see the stars. He hoped for his first attempt at something romantic, this would be a good choice.

"So how does one become obsessed with home shopping?"

He frowned. "Sorry?"

"Home shopping and infomercials?" He didn't answer for a moment.

"The Hairdini," she added with a little smile.

He shrugged. "I just watch a lot of late-night television."

"A sucker for advertising, huh?"

He nodded. Yes, he was. Though nothing he'd bought had given him the happiness the sellers had promised with their wide grins and perky voices. Well, until the Hairdini. Giving that to Jolee had made him happy— even if a bit embarrassed.

"We're not going somewhere in Shady Fork?" she asked as he drove past Shady Fork's small downtown toward the highway that would take them to West Pines.

"I didn't think there was any place particularly nice here."

"Oh," she said, and he couldn't tell if she was happy about that or not.

"I think you will like the place I found."

She nodded, but didn't comment.

Jolee's stomach began to sink as Christian continued to drive in the direction of West Pines. She hadn't been there often since she moved to this area, but she knew it was a bigger, nicer town than Shady Fork. She also knew she was probably being silly, that he'd just decided to go there because it was a bigger town than Shady Fork, with more choices of restaurants.

Still, she had a feeling he was going to take her someplace really ritzy. And why hadn't she considered that before? After all, he had money. He dressed like a runway model. He drove a Porsche, for heaven's sake. She should have known his idea of a date and hers would be very different.

She should have been clearer on what she expected. Certainly not a five-star restaurant. She just wanted a place where they could sit and chat.

"Here we are," Christian said, pulling the car up to the front of a huge mansion. The building itself was painted gray with white trim and maroon shutters. A huge wraparound porch encircled the lower level, and two turrets rose on either side of the upper level toward the night sky.

It was gorgeous, and Jolee felt nauseous.

"We can't go here."

"Of course we can."

"Look at me!" She pulled at her top, giving him a pleading look. "I'm not dressed for a place like this."

He scanned her outfit. "You look beautiful."

"I'm wearing a denim skirt!"

"I'm wearing synthetic blend, who cares?"

She stared at him for a moment. If any other man had said that she'd wonder about him, but when Christian said it, it didn't sound strange at all. Christian was just aware of the quality of things. Including his clothes.

Why did he want her? Didn't he see she wasn't of his quality? She didn't fit into the classy world he'd obviously left behind. She looked back at the beautiful restaurant. But she wanted to fit, she realized. Desperately.

Christian caught her hand. "If we go in, and you don't want to stay for any reason, we'll leave. I want this night to be perfect for you."

She felt herself melting right there, into a huge puddle of mush. She impulsively leaned over and dropped a quick kiss on his lips. She started to pull away to tell him she'd love to go into the restaurant, when he cupped one of his strong hands to the back of her head and drew her back, giving her a deep, thorough kiss that curled her badly painted toes against the worn soles of her pink flip-flops.

When they parted, all she managed was, "Okay."

Christian smiled at her, a quirk of his lips. Then he got out of the car, coming around to open her door. She waited, trying to calm both the delicious aftermath of his kiss and her nerves, both of which made her stomach quiver.

When he opened the door, she managed to ask, "Should I worry that my date actually knows he's wearing synthetic blend?"

Instead of getting the smile or even the feigned insulted look she expected, he frowned, appearing troubled. "Why? Shouldn't I?"

See, it didn't even dawn on him that was unusual.

"Well, let's just say that most men I've known wouldn't know different types of materials from different styles of women's shoes."

"Oh," he said, still sounding a little confused. "Well, I don't know anything about the women's shoes." Then he glanced down at her feet. "But I do like yours, you have lovely feet."

She smiled, finding him very, very sweet. Especially since he didn't comment on her lack of shoes. He caught her hand and led her toward the walkway that led up to the restaurant. At the doors, he stopped.

"Do you want to go inside? I don't want to make you do anything that makes you uncomfortable."

She studied the front door, decorated with beautiful stained glass. She did want to go inside. She wanted to feel like she belonged somewhere this elegant. And with this man at her side.

She nodded. "Yes. I want to."

He nodded back and they entered the foyer.