His gaze met mine for a moment, then swept down my length, and the desire that stirred the air when he looked up again was powerful enough to make my wolf soul want to howl.

"You look fantastic," he said, swinging around and offering me his free arm.

I laughed softly. "I was just thinking the same about you."

"Then we're well matched." The gray-clad doorman opened the door and gave us a nod. Quinn continued, "Frances couldn't give us a table tonight."

Disappointment ran through me, then stalled as I saw the amusement in his bright eyes. "I'm sensing there's a 'but' to that statement."

"But I booked out the starlight function room for us instead."

I stared at him for a moment, then laughed. "That room is huge."

"So is, I presume, your appetite, because I have preordered all your favorites. Besides, what is the point of being a billionaire if I cannot splurge occasionally?"

I grinned. "I guess this means we'll have to make sure you get your money's worth."

The look he gave me just about smoked my insides, and it was all I could do to stop myself dancing with excitement.

Frances Wren, owner and chief hostess of the business, approached as we neared the maître d's station. She was a tall, willowy woman with perfect blond hair and sapphire colored eyes. She was also over five hundred years old, and didn't look a day over twenty. Vampirism did have its benefits.

"Quinn," she said, her Irish accent far more pronounced than his ever had been. "It's lovely to see you again."

He gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "I hope I'm not pushing my luck by booking at such short notice."

"The room wasn't being used, so it's hardly a problem. Besides, I owe you far more than a table a couple of times a week." She turned her attention to me, and her smile radiated a warmth that had my own lips reacting. "Riley. Lovely to see you again."

"Are you sure opening the starlight room for just the two of us isn't going to be a problem?"

She gave Quinn an amused look. "Rest assured, it isn't. And he did tell me it was a matter of life or death. For his clothes, that is."

"He might have been right."

She laughed softly. "This way, please."

She led us through the packed dining room. The color scheme was as muted as the light, and the overall impression the room gave was one of warm welcome. Wren's decor might be subdued, but the food was spectacular, and that was probably the secret behind its success.

We climbed the stairs at the back and reached the barely lit landing. The decor here was richer, all claret and gold, with plush velvet chairs and tapestries on the wall. Wren opened the double doors that led off the wide corridor beyond the stairs and ushered us through.

Like the hallway, the starlight room was plush and rich. Tapestries and old paintings lined three walls, but the fourth-the side that looked onto the street-was a smoky glass through which little could be seen. There was no ceiling in this room, just more glass. The sky was clear and bright above us.

The room itself was shadowed, the only light coming from the muted wall lights and the candelabra set up in the middle of the table. Two wineglasses sat near the candelabra, and an open bottle of wine waited in a freestanding chiller.

"Your meal will be up in an hour," Frances said softly, amusement dancing across her lips. "I hope that gives you enough time."

I waited until she'd left, then glanced at Quinn, eyebrow raised. "Time enough for what?"

"To enjoy the wine, of course." He rested his fingers lightly against my spine, guiding me across to the table. The heat of his touch sent little flashes of desire racing across my flesh, until it felt like my whole body was tingling.

"It doesn't take a whole hour to drink one bottle of wine," I said, sitting on the edge of the table rather than on one of the plush chairs.

"It does if you drink it with proper appreciation, rather than merely gulping." He handed me a glass, then picked up the wine and poured it. "Tell me about your day."

He sat down beside me, his long legs stretched out and crossed at his feet, his thighs brushing mine and practically sending my pulse rate into overload. I wanted him so bad the scent of it hung on the air, but the lusty aroma wasn't just mine.

He obviously had his seduction all planned, and though my blood practically boiled with the need for him, I wasn't in the mood to hurry tonight. Not when we had this big old room to ourselves, and all night to play.

"Did you know either Garrison Bovel or Armel Lambert?"

"Given your use of the past tense, I take it they've both been killed?"

His gaze moved from my face, drifting downward, until it rested on the swell of my breasts. My nipples hardened under his scrutiny, and it was all I could do not to undo the tiny buttons and allow him full viewing access.

"Yes, they have."

He took a sip of wine, then place the glass back down on the table and said, "I didn't know Bovel personally, but I did hear he'd been doing well with the importing business he'd set up. Armel was one of the older ones, so yes, I knew him."

His tone had my eyebrow rising. "I take it you didn't like him?"

"He was a player. He took risks. And all too often he included others in those risks-mostly to their detriment." He shrugged eloquently. "On another note, I always thought bright red lingerie wouldn't suit a redhead, but that bra looks lovely against your skin. I don't suppose there's panties to match?"

I took a sip of wine. The rich fruity taste rolled around my tongue and made me want to sigh in pleasure. "That's for me to know and you to find out later. We have wine and food to enjoy first."

His sigh was dramatic, but the effect was spoiled by the twinkle in his bright eyes. "And there's nothing I can do to change your mind?"

He raised a hand as he said it and trailed a finger across the top of my breasts, just above the bra's lace line. Though his touch was light, it seared my system with a heat that was pure and lusty. A tremor ran across my skin and the deep-down ache suddenly leapt into focus.

"Nothing at all," I said, voice husky. "Do you think someone could have held enough of a grudge against Lambert to kill him?"

"Easily," he said, his gaze thoughtful as his fingers slipped underneath the edges of my jacket. "But from what I understand, Bovel had nothing in common with Armel. No similar friends or interests."

His hand slid down lace, until he was cupping my breast. Casually, he brushed his thumb across the nipple, sending a ripple of pleasure across my skin.

I licked my lips, saw the knowing smile play across his mouth. The damn man knew which strings to pull to get me aroused, but I'd be damned if I'd let him win me this easily. Besides, drawing it out would only make the result all that more satisfying.

"Well, they do have one thing in common-they died the same way." I took another sip of wine but its taste was suddenly sour compared to the dizzy sweetness of his touch. "Both were drained, decapitated, and had their legs chopped off."

"It would have taken a great force to subdue Armel. He was a powerful vampire." His hand was on the move again, drawing back to the buttons on my jacket. One came undone, then another.

"There was no sign of a fight. It looks for all the world like he caught robbers in the act and they overpowered him."

The front of my jacket fell open. "Lovely," he murmured, then leaned forward and brushed his lips across the red lace. I close my eyes against the sensation, but couldn't suppress the shudder of delight.

But I wanted to play, to tease, and draw out the time before sex, so I pushed my butt back and put some distance between us again.

He smiled, but there was a determined spark in his eyes that suggested he wasn't about to give up his sensuous assault.