An Unacceptable Mate

Chapter Four

I couldn't believe I was nervous of all things when we finally reached the restaurant. For two hours I'd been psyching myself up. I'd even gone and bought the skimpiest dress that would most definitely be in a hooker's wardrobe if you were to search one.

Jake seemed elated. His eyes positively twinkled every time he looked at my face, black strapless dress or exposed legs.

Tonight was going to be tricky, I had to admit that much to myself. Jake was handsome enough, but really not my type. In fact, I hadn't been in a relationship, well, ever. I was strictly no-boys.

And yet I was on a mission to get into bed with one tonight just to avoid a certain someone.

His amber eyes flashed in my mind occasionally, especially when Jake reached across the small space between us to take my hand as we moved inside the fancy, way-too-expensive restaurant called Bloomers.

    "This place is so expensive," I gasped, my brows at my hairline. "You really don't have to spend your money on..."

He slid his arm around my waist and pressed his lips to my ear as a man in a dark suit led us to a vacant, candlelit table. "I'm paying for both of us, Charlie. I want us to enjoy ourselves and to forget all about work and bitchy colleagues, ok?"

I forced a smile.

There was a romantic circular table with a stem of blue wax and a flame at the tip in the centre. As the man, who I assumed was a waiter, pulled out my chair for me, I was, again, struck with sickening nerves at my objective this evening with Jake.

Was I really that desperate to avoid home and him? Surely it'd all be much simpler if I just confronted my mate; told him I refused to run away like a coward.

So far, that wasn't my main plan.

    "Can I get either of you any drinks?" the waiter asked in a deep, Italian accent, taking out an iPhone.

Wow, talk about modern. I kind of preferred the traditional pad and paper method of taking orders, but who was I to complain?

  "Your best wine, please," Jake requested in a heartbeat.

I blushed. They wouldn't ask for ID, would they? I was only two months from being legal to drink: eighteen. It wasn't that much of a crime if I had a sip...

    "Certainly," the waiter assured, typing away so quickly it was almost superhuman. His deep brown eyes lifted from the screen to lock with mine for a lingering moment and when he glided gracefully away, unnerved chills crawled over my skin.

That guy wasn't giving the best vibes.

  "So," Jake said, smiling widely as he leant forward, his hands folded in front of him. "You're seventeen, your name is Charlie Rose, you don't date: what else is there to know about you?"

The corners of my mouth quirked up and I inclined my head towards him as well, careful not to burn my neck on the candle by moving it to the side. "Not much. You're accurate with everything. Though, I do have a confession."

He exhaled, his minty breath brushing my face. It was inviting to say the least. "I do love confessions, promises and secrets."

I gestured for him to come closer and he did until my lips were at his ear. "I slay vampires for a living."

His husky chuckle filled me with a startling amount of lust. Wow. This guy was definitely practised in the field of women. "We can make it work," he asserted, turning his face into mine. His fingertips felt like ice against my flushed cheeks as they pushed back a lock of bronze hair.