Page 16 of Midnight Kiss

“She seems lovely.” I offered her my arm.

Emily took it, and I escorted her down the stairs and toward the exit, forcing my thoughts away from the gorgeous woman beside me and to the book. That was what I had come for. If I had to befriend this woman to get it, then so be it.

“Did you have a good day?” I asked, even though I had watched her all day long. Every breath, every movement, every second of raised pulse when I drew nearer.

Right now, Emily’s heart beat out a frantic pattern against her throat, and she was … aroused. The scent of her threatened to derail the evening, so I turned my head away and inhaled the fresh night air as we stepped onto the sidewalk.

“—library,” she said.

I focused on her face again, my jaw clenched. “Yes,” I said. “The library. That must be an intriguing job.”

“It’s great,” Emily said. “I love books, and it’s what I’ve always wanted to do. Well, that’s not technically true. I wanted to be an author when I was a little girl.”

“Oh?” I guided her toward my black Porsche and opened the door for her.

“Wow, this is a nice car,” she said, as I fed her into it. She laughed under her breath and bit down on her lip. “I feel like I’m in a fairytale.”

I smiled at her and shut the door. Not a fairytale. A nightmare.

On the drive to the restaurant, Emily regaled me with tales of the library, the types of books she read, until finally … “I’m so selfish taking up all the air in here,” Emily said. “What about you, Alex? What do you do?”

“I dabble,” I said. “Investments, mainly. Equities, property, that type of thing.”

She gave me a smile. “Do you enjoy it?”

I steered the car into a parking space then turned to her, frowning. “Do I enjoy it?”

“Yes.”

It was the last question I would have expected from her. What did it matter if I enjoyed it? She wasn’t at all interested in how much money it earned me, but whether I was happy.

“It’s a living,” I replied.

Escorting her up to the restaurant—Michelin star, overlooking the city’s twinkling skyline—passed in a haze. Dinner was the same. Emily ordered a steak that she ate in perfectly proportioned bites, her lips parting to insert it between her teeth. She would steal the meat from the tines of the fork, and, bizarrely, I was jealous.

After the meal, I drove her back through the city, winding along the road as I considered broaching the topic. “Tell me more about your dream to be an author.”

“Alex,” she said, “I’ve talked so much about myself already. All through dinner.” She laughed. “I feel like I barely know you.”

“What I do is boring,” I said. “But you wanting to author books, now, that is fascinating. What type of books would you like to write?”

“It’s kind of embarrassing,” she said.

“I doubt it.”

“It is.”

“Hold that thought, Emily.” I said her name simply because I enjoyed it. If I couldn’t taste her then I would taste her name instead. “This is my favorite place to go for an evening walk.” I parked outside the cemetery.

“I—I mean, this screams serial killer, but okay.”

“Serial killer.” I turned toward her. “And what if I was?”

“Was what?”

“A killer?”

Emily’s pulse skyrocketed. “You’re not.”