She pushed at his chest. "But it is. You know it is."
He released her and stepped back, frowning. "Why? Why is it impossible?"
She fisted her hand around the stress ball in her pocket. "We don't have a lot in common. I'm a . . . scientist, and you're not. I'm - "
"You're alive, and I'm not," he interrupted.
She winced. "My father could never accept you."
"What about you?"
"I . . . I don't know." She squeezed the ball. "I don't know you that well, really. We only met a few nights ago."
"Abby, you do know me. You see things about me that no one else does. Even myself. I haven't been able to look at myself in a mirror for eighteen years, but you . . . you are my mirror. When I see your tears for your mother, I feel the ones I shed for my father. And when you suffer, I understand that, too." His eyes glimmered with tears. "We lost someone we loved a few nights ago in battle."
"I'm so sorry," she whispered.
"And we do have a lot in common," he continued. "We're both hardworking and goal-oriented. We've both lived in the shadows, hiding from the public. We both get stressed out." He reached in his pocket and removed a ball. "It shows up in our hands."
She scoffed. "That doesn't bode well for a stress-free relationship."
He smiled. "I like your sense of humor." He stepped toward her. "I like everything about you."
Her chest tightened. She liked everything about him, too. Except the vampire part. That was a tough one to swallow. "It's still impossible. Completely, irreparably - "
"Don't say it!" He stared at her for a moment, then turned abruptly to walk to the other side of the gazebo.
She was so tempted to run to him, put her arms around him, and comfort him. Don't do it. You must resist.
He placed his hands on the railing and looked out at the stars. Moonlight fell on his face, and she eased to the side so she could see his handsome profile bathed in silvery light.
"I used to go camping in the mountains with my father, and we loved to get up early to watch the sunrise. Now, I can never see the sun. It's impossible."
"Would the sun harm you?" she asked.
"It would kill me." He tilted his head, still watching the stars. "When Dad's cancer spread to his liver, they told me there was no hope. It was impossible."
Her heart ached for him, but when she opened her mouth to say she was sorry, he continued talking.
"When I lay dying in the parking lot, and my mother begged Roman to give me a transfusion, he said it was too late. It was impossible."
Tears stung her eyes. She couldn't bear the thought of him dying. And he'd lost so much - the sun, his father, his mortality.
He touched a rose that was growing on the vine close by. "When I woke up Undead, I asked if I could ever be mortal again, and they said it was impossible."
A tear rolled down her cheek.
He plucked the rose. "It is possible now. Roman figured out a way, but I don't have any samples of my mortal blood. My mother burned the bloody clothes I was wearing when I was attacked." He pinched a thorn off the rose stem and tossed it outside into the flowerbed. "So for me, it's impossible. You can see why I dislike that word."
He turned and held the rose out to her. "Why can't you be possible?"
Her heart cracked. How could she hurt him when she was falling in love with him?
She drew in a shaky breath and wiped her cheek. She took a step toward him. Then another one.
His eyes widened.
She realized she was giving him hope, the first hope he'd had in years. She ran to him.
The rose tumbled to the ground as he caught her in his arms. "Abby." He held her tight, lifting her feet off the plank floor and swinging her around. The minute her feet touched ground, he was scattering kisses over her face.
A seed of joy burst in her heart and swept over her. "Gori." She clutched at his shoulders. He was so strong, so solid, and so wonderfully focused on her.
His nose nuzzled against hers, and his breath puffed gently against her lips. "Abby."
She lifted her gaze to meet his and stiffened. His eyes were glowing and red.
"I have no control over it," he whispered. "You will always know when I long for you."
Her hands delved into his soft hair and she cradled his head. "I thought you were planning to kiss me?"
A corner of his mouth curled up. "I don't need to ask permission?"
"I changed my mind."
"I always knew you were brilliant." He touched his lips to hers gently, then pulled back a fraction, waiting.
She closed her eyes, savoring the tension that hummed in the air between them, a dam about to break. And it did.
It shattered into a million pieces. He planted his mouth on hers, devouring her with passion.
She rode along on the flood, clinging to him as he held her tight. His lips were sweet and relentless. He tasted her, nibbled and coaxed till he took full possession, invading her with his tongue.
Heat and desire washed over her. A tiny voice in the back of her mind warned her she was in over her head, but she didn't care. She'd never been kissed like this. She could drown in his desire and beg for more. His passion pounded against her, one wave after another, lifting her higher and higher.
She groaned with disappointment when he suddenly broke off the kiss. "Gregori - "
"They're coming."
"You can - " Of course, she realized. He could hear.
"Charles and Angus," he whispered, his eyes gleaming red in the darkness. "They came out the side entrance. Charles must have gone to the security office to make Angus unlock a door." He tightened his grip on her. "Trust me."
Everything went black for a second, then she stumbled onto the ground.
"Are you all right?" He steadied her.
Hell, no. Her knees were wobbly, her heart was pounding, and her lips were still tingling. By George, that man can kiss.
She'd done it. She'd kissed him. She reached up to touch his cheek.
He turned his head to kiss her palm. "They're coming."
She looked around, but only saw trees. "Where are we?"
"At the back of the garden. You asked for a tour, and being a gentleman, I naturally obliged."
"Really?"
"That's our story, and we're sticking to it." He took her hand and led her down a path she could barely see in the moonlight.
In the distance, she saw Charles running toward the gazebo. Angus MacKay followed behind, his kilt swishing about his knees. She withdrew her hand from Gregori's. Their moment alone was over.
"Miss Tucker!" Charles disappeared inside the gazebo, then emerged seconds later. "She's not here!"
"Charles!" She waved at him and quickened her pace until she reached a well-lit area. "I'm fine!"
Relief swept over his face, quickly replaced by anger. "Don't ever do that again!"
"I was perfectly safe," she assured him. "I just wanted to see the garden." She glanced at Gregori, and thankfully his eyes were no longer red and glowing.
Charles shot a suspicious look at Gregori, then turned back to her. "I should take you back to the hotel now."
She nodded. "In a moment. Mr. MacKay, I understand you've been making plans for my trip. I want Gregori to come with me."
"Och, is that so?" Angus's eyes twinkled with humor. "I'm sure that can be arranged. If Gregori is willing."
"I am," he said quietly.
Abigail touched his arm. "Can you come to the White House tomorrow night and explain your plans to my father? I'd like to get his okay, so we can proceed as soon as possible."
Gregori nodded. "I can do that. Why don't you and Charles head toward the limo? I'll fetch your plant from my office and bring it to you."
"All right. Thank you."
His mouth curled up. "I hope you enjoyed the tour."
Her face warmed. She watched as he dashed toward the building at an incredible speed.
"He moves awfully fast," Charles muttered.
"Yes." Her blush grew hotter. It had taken him only a few nights to make her melt in his arms.
Angus led her and Charles back to the side entrance at a much slower pace. By the time they reached the foyer, Gregori had returned with the plastic container containing the plant she wanted to examine.
Angus entered the code to unlock the front door. "Rest assured, lass, that we will do everything in our power to keep you safe on yer trip."