Delilah made a feeble attempt at rejecting his offer. “That’s really not necessary. I can take a taxi.”
“Please, allow me. It’s the least I can do after all I’ve put you through.”
She gave him a gorgeous smile. “Thank you. That’s very generous of you.”
“Tell me what happened out there.” He tilted his head toward the window, looking out at the darkness.
She swallowed hard. “Some guy came after me in an alley. I ran and slipped, and he grabbed me. And then I ran, and he followed me. He was so close behind me when you opened the door.”
She breathed heavily, obviously reliving her ordeal as she spoke.
“Are you sure he wasn’t just helping you up when you slipped?”
She shook her head. “I’m sure. I saw his face; he wasn’t friendly. He was chasing me.”
Had she overreacted? Maybe the whole incident was completely innocent. Women sometimes read things into a situation which weren’t even there.
“Can you describe him to me?”
“I only saw him briefly, but he was big, Caucasian, maybe in his early forties. There was a scar on his cheek.”
“Do you think you’d recognize him if you saw him again?”
She nodded confidently. “Definitely.”
A strand of damp hair caught on her cheek, and he had to use all his restraint not to reach forward to brush it out of her face. She wouldn’t appreciate any more physical advances from him, not even the tender touch he craved right now.
Tenderness wasn’t something for which any vampire was known, least of all Samson. Lust, passion—yes, but tenderness? He rather savored this rare feeling.
He heard the front door open. Carl had a key to the house, as did his friends, except for Milo. A few seconds later Carl made himself known at the door to the living room.
“Sir, excuse the interruption, the car is ready when you need it.”
They got up from their chairs, and Samson regretted that he hadn’t told Carl to take his time. He had enjoyed the woman’s company and would have loved to enjoy her for a little bit longer. Enjoy her? What the hell was he thinking? It was better if she left now, before he did something really stupid. It had to end here and now.
“I’ll get my clothes. I left them in the bathroom.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll have them delivered to you tomorrow after they’ve been washed and pressed.”
Keeping her clothes for a little while longer would allow him to once again inhale her scent.
“But, that’s not—”
“—necessary?” He smiled. “Please allow me.”
It definitely wasn’t necessary, but his smile was so charming, Delilah couldn’t refuse him. It seemed he absolutely wanted to make it up to her.
“Carl, please drive Miss Sheridan home. She’ll give you her address. And make sure you escort her to the door and wait until she is safely inside. I don’t want anything to happen to her,” he instructed his driver.
“Yes, sir.”
She was flattered. He wanted to make sure she was safe.
“Thank you so much.” She stretched out her hand. “And Happy Birthday.”
Samson smiled and took her hand, but instead of shaking it, he slowly guided it to his mouth and kissed it lightly without breaking their eye contact. “Thank you.”
She felt a hot wave course all the way from her hand to her torso. God, he was handsome and a perfect gentleman—when he wasn’t assuming she was a stripper anyway. That was maybe something she could get past easily.
Delilah hesitantly turned away and followed the driver who led her outside, sheltering her under a large umbrella as he escorted her to a dark limousine. As she let herself fall back into the comfortable leather seats, she sighed. What a night! The thought of the thug who’d tried to attack her still made her shudder, but as a result of it she’d met the sexiest and most attractive man of her life, so who cared about the first part of the story?
“Where to, Miss Sheridan?”
She gave him the address of the corporate apartment. For a second she wondered whether she should ask him to drive her to a police station instead, but dismissed the idea. She didn’t want to spend half the night at a police station reporting the assault when most likely they’d never catch the guy anyway.
“Ah, that’s just a few blocks from here. We’ll be there in two minutes, Miss.”
Delilah settled back into the leather seats again and closed her eyes. Samson Woodford. Tall, dark, and handsome. The star in any woman’s wet dream. She touched her lips, the same lips he’d crushed with his. The brandy had obliterated his taste on her tongue, but she could still feel his body pressed against hers and his erection urging her to surrender to him.