Free Find Me in Darkness by Julie Kenner Page B

however, takes no pity on me. Instead, he reaches forward and tilts my chin up so that I have no choice but to look into those fathomless eyes.
    “Malcolm.” My whisper is like a plea, and he releases me. He remains as he is, though, leaning forward, his elbows on the table, his eyes fixed on mine. And when he speaks, his voice is so soft and gentle it makes me want to cry. “Tell me, Christina. What are you afraid of.”
    I blink, and am mortified when a tear trickles down my cheek. “My name is Jaynie.”
    He shakes his head, his mouth quirking up in an ironic smile. “No. With me, you will always be Christina.”
    I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to gather myself. “I don’t understand any of this.” It is probably the most honest thing I’ve said since we arrived.
    “What? Tell me specifically what you don’t understand.”
    I open my mouth, though I have no idea what I intend to say. Somehow, “everything” seems far too broad.
    I am saved from having to find words by the arrival of our cheese plate. “Thanks for ordering this.”
    “You said you were feeling light-headed. I thought it might be hunger.”
    This time when I smile, it is entirely genuine. “You were right, actually. Bray and I were going to grab something to eat when we went out shopping, but we got so caught up there wasn’t time. He grabbed a sandwich at the apartment, but I only grabbed a shower.”
    “I’m sorry you went hungry, but if you made the sacrifice to buy the outfit you’re wearing, then I have to say it was worth it. You look stunning.”
    “I’m glad you like it.” My words are soft, but they are heartfelt. I’d fallen in love with the dress the moment I tried it on. It’s black and the material is so light and soft it feels as though I’m wearing a cloud. The bodice is fitted, and cut low enough that it puts my rather average cleavage to good advantage. It has short, flirty sleeves, and a skirt that hits just above my knees and has a sassy little swing when I walk.
    I’ve never felt particularly sexy, but in this dress I think I could go sit at a bar and attract the attention of every male in the room. And though I’d bought it with no particular man in mind, I cannot deny that the way Malcolm looks at me now is making the torment I put my credit card through very, very worth it.
    “Malcolm …” His name tastes delicious on my tongue.
    He reaches across the table and takes my hand, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. “You can call me Mal,” he says. “Though I do love the way you say my full name.”
    “Mal,” I repeat, and then realize that I’ve been calling him that in my head on and off the whole evening. “That suits you, too.”
    “What did you want to ask?”
    I blink at him. “What do you mean?”
    “You said my name. I assumed a question was going to follow.”
    “Oh.” Once again, I blush. Frankly, I think I’ve broken some sort of blushing record this evening. “No. I—I just wanted to say it.”
    “Did you?”
    I can hear the heat in his voice. More than that, I can feel it. It winds through me, warming my blood and settling in all sorts of interesting places. My lips. My breasts. Between my thighs.
    I realize that I am about to moan and gently tug my hand away.
    “Now you’re being cruel,” he says.
    “Just careful.”
    “I didn’t realize hands were so dangerous.”
    “With you, I think that words are equally so.”
    His wide, sensual mouth curves into a grin. “Well, look at us. We’ve moved from small talk to witty banter after all. Shall I alert the media?”
    I can’t help it—I laugh. “Can I ask you a question?”
    “Anything.”
    “Have we met before?”
    He hesitates, then lifts his hand. And though I realize that he is only signaling the waiter for more drinks, it seems to me that he is stalling. “What makes you think that?” he finally asks.
    “I don’t know. Nothing specific. You just seem familiar.”
    “Maybe I