His face and neck were tan, as were his hands. Even the skin which was exposed at the top of his shirt was dark, indicating that he spent a great deal of time outside. He was no paper pusher and certainly no accountant either. Yvette let her gaze sweep over him once more, then zoomed in on his hands. Scars. Lots of them: cuts, bruises, and burns. A stuntman, possibly. He didn’t quite fit in even though at the same time he belonged.
Kimberly’s movie was an action flick—with her being the proverbial damsel in distress—and there’d been more than one scene which needed a stuntman to stand in for the hero. Yvette had yawned during the entire performance at the theatre and was glad when the pointless movie had ended. This could easily be the guy who’d doubled for the male star. Even though it seemed impossible to hide his bulky muscled body and make anybody believe he was the young hero in the film. He was at least ten years older—somewhere in his early thirties—and much more mature than the lead actor. Yvette figured graphics and airbrushing could do a lot to make people believe anything. In any case, she’d have to check him out more thoroughly to make sure her assumptions were right, merely for Kimberly’s safety’s sake of course, and not her own inexplicable curiosity about the man.
When she raised her gaze to study his face, his piercing blue eyes greeted her. How long had he been watching her?
Four
Haven exhaled. The woman was stunning. An actress for sure, even though he’d never seen her in a movie. What else could she be with that porcelain skin and the short black hair that was styled back away from her flawless face? Her high cheekbones accentuated her green eyes, and her red lips were so plump and kissable, he felt his cock ache at the thought of her mouth on—
Haven tried to shake off the erotic vision tumbling through his mind. He wasn’t like his brother, who fell for every pretty face without thinking. But as he swept his gaze over her perfect body, appreciating the lush curves hidden under her black dress, he wondered why he’d ever faulted Wesley for his weakness. Right now, he was feeling that same kind of weakness he’d always chastised his brother for.
Haven’s cock expanded under his entirely too-tight formal suit which he’d rented at a tuxedo store down the street. It wasn’t like he was ever going to wear that kind of wardrobe again. There was no point in buying such a useless garment. But as much as he tried to concentrate his thoughts on his unusual attire, they instantly drifted back to the beauty across the room and to the way she made his cock throb with lust.
Clearly, that’s all this was: lust. His life had become too single-minded over the years—only concentrating on hunting vampires and searching for his sister—and he hadn’t allowed himself to enjoy the company of women for too long. He didn’t like being distracted by them. He had no time for family and love when all he wanted was to restore the family he’d lost.
It shouldn’t matter to him that this stranger, who didn’t shy away from the intensity of his gaze, inspired all kinds of desires, none of which were suitable for display in a public ballroom with hundreds of guests watching. The images currently charging through his mind were more suitable to a dark hallway closet where he could press the woman against a wall and fuck her until he’d slaked his lust and felt normal again. Already now, he knew it would take more than just one quick fuck. Maybe he’d have to have her under him for a few hours to get this feeling out of his system. And if she was any good, well, he could spare a whole night, but only after he’d taken care of what he’d come for. That didn’t mean he couldn’t go over there and get her phone number though.
Before he could change his mind, Haven walked up to her, only stopping when he was a foot away from her. To his surprise, she didn’t back away but stood her ground: the sign of a confident woman. And why wouldn’t she be confident? With her sultry looks, she could have any of the men in this room panting at her feet. Licking them even.
“I’m Haven.” He turned on his charm and started counting. Thirty seconds was all he would need to get her number. And not a fake 5-5-5 number either.
“Odd name.”
He inhaled her scent. She wore barely any perfume. It rather seemed as if her skin smelled of oranges. He didn’t know of any commercial perfume of that scent. “My mother was into odd things.”
She nodded as if she knew what that meant. “You were working on the movie?”
Was she trying to figure out if he was a big producer who could help her career? He wouldn’t give her that satisfaction. No, when she submitted to his touch, she would do so because of who he was, not what he was. “Stuntman,” he lied. It was a job unimportant enough for a woman like her, yet would show off his physical prowess. And being a bounty hunter wasn’t that much different from being a stuntman. Only that danger was more up close and personal, more of a surety. For him, no safety nets existed. No ambulance was waiting when he got injured. No crew stood by to help him out if he got in too deep.