Page 93 of Never Invite a Vampire to Dinner

“I provisioned for it. It’s not the same thing.”

“Julian, you packed a picnic for the woman you were going to refuse.”

He looks briefly, completely disarmed by the accuracy of that. “Yes.”

“Fourth?” I ask.

“There is no fourth.”

“There’s a fourth. Your mouth is doing the thing.”

He looks out at the water.

“Fourth,” he says finally. “I have described the experience as intimate. I would like to withdraw that description.”

“Withdraw it and replace it with what?”

“A warning.” His eyes stay on the water. “It is intimate for me. For you it will be a great deal more than that, and I would rather you knew beforehand than discovered it partway through.”

And I go very warm, everywhere, all at once, in a coat that smells of tar in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean in December.

“Where will you do it?” I ask, and my voice comes out wrong.

“The wrist is for strangers.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s a preference.” His eyes come back to mine finally. “Your throat. Please.”

Well.

I have thought about this. I want that on the record, because in about ninety seconds I am going to stop being able to think about anything, and I would like it known that I got here on purpose.

“Okay,” I say. “Tell me where to be.”

He sits back and holds out his arm. I climb across the cockpit in an oilskin coat the size of a tent and settle between his knees with my back against his chest. He takes the hat off my head, then unwinds my scarf one turn at a time, unhurried and precise. The cold finds my throat, and then his hand does. A small noise I did not authorize escapes my lips.

“Penny.”

“I’m fine.”

“Your heart is going very fast.”

“Yes, well, you can probably hear that from the other end of the boat, so I’d stop bringing it up.”

“I can hear it from the road.”

I turn my head. “What?”

His arm curves around my waist and pulls me closer.

“Across a room. From the other end of your kitchen. From the road when I walk you home.” His voice is quieter now, rough underneath. “Since October I have known where you are by the sound of your heart.”

I stare at the black water.

“That is both incredibly romantic and a little alarming.”

“Yes. That’s why I did not mention it.”