Don’t be ridiculous.
Ginny’s palms grew damp at the sight of him and she tried to be inconspicuous about wiping them on the hips of her blush-colored A-line dress. His unreadable eyes tracked the motion, however, so she stopped and dropped her hands, no idea what to do with them.
Last time she’d seen Jonas, he’d been in jeans and a wrinkled T-shirt. While he’d looked handsome in the clothes, they’d seemed out of place on his robust blacksmith body. They’d almost seemed too modern on a man whose energy reminded her of the Golden Era films she watched. Movies that celebrated a time when men kissed women like they meant it and a glance across the room could speak volumes. Or spark a love affair.
If only she was in a silk robe, brushing her hair and looking glamorous when the vampire climbed in her window. She’d give him a cool glance over her shoulder à la Grace Kelly and tell him to come back when he’d brought flowers.
You are not Grace Kelly.
Right.
Ginny trundled back to reality.
No, jeans and a shirt scrawled with Sharpie didn’t do Jonas an ounce of justice, maybe nothing would, but the gray wool pants and black button-down shirt he wore…they were definitely a fantastic start. Here was the prince Roksana had spoken about. A royal decree would roll right off his tongue.
Jonas’s hands were in fists at his sides. “Hello, Ginny.”
The way he said Ginny reminded her of the lowest note on a piano and made her toes curl into the rug. “Hello,” she managed.
He gave a slow headshake. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“And yet, here you are.”
“Yes.” His jaw flexed. “Roksana, would you please come out from under the bed? I’d like a report before you go.”
“Oh, I simply live to do your bidding, bloodsucker,” she said with a snort, rolling out from under her apparent hiding place, before hopping to her feet and sending Jonas a mocking salute. “It’s the stepmother who threatens her life.”
“What?” Ginny frowned, still absorbing the fact that Roksana had been hiding under her bed for the last twenty minutes. “What about my stepmother?”
Roksana ignored her, pacing in front of Jonas—who still watched Ginny like a hawk. “Stepmother wants to sell this place, Ginny does not. Perhaps she plans to murder Ginny, sell this heap and take the full profit for herself. It’s a tale as old as time. Family, greed, yada yada yada.”
“No,” she breathed. “No, Larissa wouldn’t do that. If she were planning to kill me, why would she bother asking me to sell? Why not just act? And anyway, she doesn’t have the body strength to…”
“To what?” Jonas prompted, eyes narrowing.
Knowing she couldn’t give away too much or she’d risk having her memory wiped, she zipped her lips. “Never mind.”
A good ten seconds ticked by. “Just so I understand, whoever is threatening you has considerable body strength. You are aware of this because they’ve used it against you? Is that what you’re telling me, Ginny?”
“No. I’m not telling you. On purpose.”
Jonas made a sound in his throat. “You’ll have my protection regardless—”
“Regardless of whether or not you fiddle with my head? That’s a huge regardless.” She crossed her arms over her middle and asked what she really wanted to know. A question had been prodding her all day long. “Jonas. Why are you so determined to protect me?”
His cool mask remained in place. “Maybe I’m not telling you. On purpose.”
Ginny gasped over having her words thrown back in her face.
Jonas raised an eyebrow, as if to say, your move.
Roksana split a look between them and cackled. “Watching you two is better than pretending to be a lost virgin to bait vampires.”
“No way that works,” Jonas commented, sparing Roksana a brief glance before gluing his attention back on me. “You’re free to go, Roks. Please be back before sunrise to relieve me.”
“Dasvidaniya.” Roksana threw a leg out through the open window and vanished from sight. Gone. Just like that.
Leaving her and Jonas alone.
“I really don’t need round-the-clock bodyguard service,” she said into the charged stillness. “I must be keeping you from something important.”
Without confirming or denying, Jonas took a slow lap around the room, cataloguing her movie poster for The Big Sleep, the Singer sewing machine on top of her dresser, thimbles scattered at its base. He leaned toward one of her bottles of perfume, but seemed to catch himself before sniffing it, cutting her a slightly sheepish sideways glance.
Jonas continued in an arc around her bed, the fairy lights dangling from her canopy highlighting his rich, black hair. He was traveling closer to her and with each purposeful step, the fluttering in her middle intensified. She could practically taste sounds, his presence made everything around her so much more vibrant, from the hum of silence to the sharpness of colors.