Date with a Vampire

by Raine English

  Guystof couldn’t worry about the potion’s dangers now. This was his only opportunity to compete with the other bachelors on an even playing field. Being a vampire had too many disadvantages. And if he hoped to win, he had to appear as human as the next guy.

  Guystof turned his back to the sun and looked across the room to his companion. He would miss the old man. Although Blakesley couldn’t accompany him on his trip, he might be able to serve him in other ways. “Keep an eye on Theo, will you?”

  Blakesley chuckled. “Don’t trust your brother?”

  “I’d be a fool if I did.”

  “No need to worry, sir. You can count on me.”

  Guystof crossed the room in three long strides. He stood beside Blakesley and clamped his hand on the old man’s shoulder. “I know I can. You know as well as I how important this game is.”

  — : : —

  When the white stretch limo sent by Tristate Studios to take Melody to the airport parked in front of her townhouse, it seemed like the whole neighborhood lined up on the sidewalk for a look.

  “Excuse me.” She wove through the crowd, pulling her new lime-green paisley luggage behind her. Not exactly her first choice, but Ann had suggested she buy the brightly colored paisley instead of the basic black Melody had preferred, insisting she’d have a much easier time finding it at the airport baggage claim. There was no doubting that.

  The limo driver slid out from behind the wheel and headed toward her. A distinguished gentleman she guessed to be in his mid-fifties, he carried himself with an air that said he was used to working for the very wealthy. Why, with his navy suit accented by lots of shiny brass buttons, he was better dressed than she. Melody glanced down at her favorite brown slacks and plain white blouse and frowned. She felt very much like the librarian she’d always wanted to be, rather than the multimillionaire she’d become. His cool gray eyes gave her the once over, but his expression remained politely aloof.

  “Hello, Miss Johnson. My name is Rupert. I hope your trip to the airport will be a pleasant one.” He swung open the passenger door and held his hand out to her.

  Before accepting his assistance, she turned to her roommates. Mags and Billy were trying hard to cover their sadness with the phoniest smiles she’d ever seen, while Ann had her face buried in Gizmo’s fur as she struggled to keep the pug from leaping out of her arms and into Melody’s.

  Despite her best effort, her bottom lip quivered. “Come on you guys, cheer up. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  “Have a safe trip,” they chimed.

  Not wanting to prolong the good-byes, she gave Gizmo a kiss on the head, then took Rupert’s hand and stepped into the limo. He closed the door, then loaded her luggage into the trunk. She leaned back against the glove-soft seat, inhaling the rich perfume of fine leather and exotic wood.

  “It’s hard to leave loved ones, isn’t it?”

  Startled to discover she wasn’t alone, Melody flicked a tear from her eye before turning to the woman seated in the far corner across from her. Judging by her eclectic mix of clothing, the woman had a hard time choosing from which decade to dress. She wore white fishnet stockings, a mini skirt short enough to be X-rated, silver stiletto heels and a low-cut knit shirt that did little to conceal breasts too perfect not to have been shaped by some high-priced plastic surgeon. Bright red hair with glints of copper swirled eighties-style big around her narrow face. And her makeup. Way too much makeup. Granted, Melody was the natural type, but even she knew the woman had gone too far. When she smiled, a smear of lipstick coated one front tooth.

  “Join me in a glass of champagne?” she asked, handing Melody a fluted crystal goblet.

  She shook her head. What she didn’t need was alcohol. “I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you? I wasn’t told I’d have a traveling companion.”

  The woman giggled, then took a gulp of champagne, looking at Melody through the bubbles. “I’m your hairdresser and makeup artist, silly. And, boy, am I an artiste.The studio thought you’d be more comfortable with a little friendly female companionship.”

  Melody raised her eyebrows in surprise and held out her hand. “Melody Johnson. Pleasure to meet you.”

  The woman fumbled with the champagne glass, nearly spilling it on her lap when she tried to shake Melody’s hand. “Sugar.”

  Of course that was her name. It suited her perfectly. Melody turned to look out the rearview mirror and caught one last glance of her home before it faded into the distance. It was too late to turn back now.

  Shifting her gaze back to Sugar, Melody took a deep breath and smiled. She seemed nice enough, and at least Melody didn’t have to feel out of place around her. The woman’s sense of style was worse than her own.

  “I’ve got butterflies in my stomach,” Sugar confessed. “I’ve never been on a plane before.” She took a long drink of champagne, and Melody noticed her hand shook.

  Great. With her own nervousness threatening to swamp her, the thought of traveling with another novice flier did nothing to ease her mind. She hoped the combination of nerves and champagne didn’t wind up making Sugar sick. “Have you worked for Tristate long?” she asked.

  “This is my first gig.” Sugar must have noticed Melody’s look of shock, for she reached over and patted her hands. “Don’t worry, hon, I’ve been in the business for years. Just never worked for a big TV studio before. My days were spent behind a chair. I’ve worked on famous people, though. Mostly models. You know Jasmine Loka?”

  Melody nodded. “I’ve seen her in magazines.”

  “Yeah. She’s real famous. I do her hair.” Sugar nearly beamed with pride. “So it was a no-brainer for my friend Angela, who’s due to have a baby any day now, and I sure hope it’s soon cause she looks about ready to burst, to recommend me for the Fiji shoot. I mean, Angela’s been working for Tristate forever, and she’s real good, but nobody’s better than Sugar.”

  Melody hoped Sugar’s talent matched her ego. “I’m very pleased you’re here,” she said with a forced smile, then closed her eyes. She could feel a headache coming on. Melody knew it was nerves. She needed to relax, and the best way for her to do that was with a good book. Unfortunately, she’d packed her reading material in her tote in the limo’s trunk, so maybe she could doze a little instead. The ride to the airport wasn’t long, about an hour, but any amount of time worry-free would be a welcome relief.

  What seemed like seconds later, she felt a jab in her ribs—Sugar’s elbow.

  “Wake up, hon. We’re here.” Sugar bounced on the seat like an excited child.

  Melody glanced out the window as the limo pulled up to the United terminal. JFK swarmed with people. Rupert came around to open her door, but without waiting for assistance, Sugar bolted out the other side and proceeded to yank luggage out of the trunk. The way she manhandled their bags, Melody had visions of them popping open and their clothes strewn everywhere. Luckily, an airport employee took over for her.

  After thanking Rupert and watching the limo weave in and out of traffic as it roared away, she followed their mountain of luggage to check-in. Sugar jostled ahead in line with her airline ticket in hand. Melody fumbled through her purse for hers. From the corner of her eye, she noticed an extremely handsome man watching her. She hugged her shoulder bag closer to her body. Hadn’t Mags warned her about purse-snatchers targeting women traveling alone? Melody edged closer to Sugar—as if the perky bombshell would provide any protection. Still, better than nothing.

  “We made great time. There’s more than two hours till our flight leaves,” Melody said, glancing at her watch.

  “Good. We can freshen up and find somewhere to buy a pack of gum. I hear chewing helps to keep your ears from popping.”

  Trying to remain inconspicuous, Melody pretended to flick a piece of lint from her pants in order to catch a glimpse off to her right, where the handsome stranger had been standing. Shoot! He caught her staring. Maybe he didn’t want her purse, but her. Her cheeks grew hot. He must have
recognized her. He could be one of those persistent gold-diggers. She tapped her foot impatiently. Why wasn’t this line moving more quickly?

  The gorgeous man retrieved two bags from the same airport employee who had handled her luggage. He reached into the pocket of khaki trousers that hugged his thighs perfectly and pulled out his wallet, tipped the man, then took his place in line.

  Well, how much more paranoid could she be? The man had been waiting for his luggage, that’s all. Okay, he’d obviously been checking her out, but so what? Men had been admiring women for centuries. She had to stop thinking everyone who looked at her wanted her money. Maybe she needed this vacation far away from New York more than she’d realized. At least in Fiji, there’d be no need to look over her shoulder and wonder who might be watching her, wondering if she was the lucky woman who’d just won a fortune. The men on Dream Girl would be there for a different reason—to find true love or to find fame. Sure, they knew her story, and her bank balance. But they didn’t need her money.

  Each man could brag of his own success. She’d been briefed by the show’s producers on the bachelors they’d selected for her. Her bachelors included a millionaire businessman, a professional football player, a doctor, even a European count. Men she’d never have met in her previous incarnation as an impoverished librarian. Melody straightened her shoulders and moved ahead in line. Maybe, just maybe, she would find her soul mate. She hardly dared let herself think that way, but why not? Stranger things had happened—like a small town girl winning the lottery and getting on a reality TV show, for instance. Somewhere in the world, her true love waited. She just had to find him. For all she knew, he could be the handsome man who’d just been admiring her.

  Unfortunately, bachelor number one must have lost interest already. He gazed steadily ahead and not at her. Melody studied him covertly. Did he have a girlfriend? Maybe even a wife and kids. Sugar’s pointy elbow in her side jagged her back to reality.

  “You’re next, hon,” her busty companion said.

  The airline attendant scowled at her, clearly not pleased that she’d held up the line. “Miss! Ticket, please.”

  “Oops, sorry, daydreaming.” At the same time Melody plopped her paperwork down, Ann’s gold cross fell off her neck and onto the counter. She quickly scooped it up, dropped it in her purse and made a mental note to check the clasp. If it had fallen off elsewhere, it probably would have been lost.

  She was whisked through the check-in process with plenty of time to kill before their flight was called, so they decided to look for a ladies room, then a place where Sugar could buy gum. Melody cast a quick glance over her shoulder to the handsome stranger, but he stood at the counter engrossed in airline business. She’d never see him again. An unexpected pang of regret tightened her belly. Just as quickly, she shrugged it off. Talk about the world’s fastest infatuation! Dream Girl’s man-hunting premise must be rubbing off on her.

  When they located their gate, Melody was more than ready to spend the rest of the time reading. Sugar liked to talk, and she’d been chattering nonstop about the salon industry. Melody had learned more than she needed to know about perms and hair color. She settled into a chair and pulled a book out of her tote before placing the canvas bag on the floor.

  Sugar turned to her and blew a big pink bubble from between her fire engine red lips. The bubble popped and Sugar grinned. “If you don’t mind, hon, I’m gonna go hang out by the window and look at the planes.”

  Melody nodded. Thankful for a little quiet time, she slipped on her reading glasses and buried her nose in her book. But she’d barely cracked the cover when footsteps sounded behind her.

  “Do you mind if I sit here?”

  The thick, European, and utterly delicious accent poured into Melody’s ears. She looked up into the deepest chocolate eyes she’d ever seen. A rush of recognition jolted her from her book. The handsome stranger from check-in. Of average height, his thickly muscled physique was anything but average. His ash-blond curls fell over his forehead, shading finely sculptured features. His full, sensuous lips curved in the hint of a smile, and Melody had to make it a point not to stare. “Handsome” didn’t do him justice; “beautiful” came closer.

  She whipped off her glasses and kicked her tote out of his way. “Please…sit.”

  “Thank you. I hope I’m not interrupting your reading.” As he sat beside her, he leaned over to see the title of her book. The heady scent of spice infiltrated her nose. “Wuthering Heights. Ah, wonderful choice. I’m quite a fan of Catherine, as I’m sure you are of Heathcliff?”

  Forget Heathcliff. I’m a fan of yours. “I love the classics.” She hoped he didn’t see her trembling fingers when she closed the book and, along with her glasses, popped it back into her tote.

  “I couldn’t help but notice you in line earlier. Your luggage caught my eye.”

  Her luggage. Her lime-green paisley luggage had attracted this hunk. Not her money, or her looks. She wanted to laugh out loud. Instead, she retained her composure and smiled sweetly. “That was my friend’s idea.”

  “Interesting choice. I like it.”

  Melody would have to make it a point to thank Ann for her odd taste. “Are you on this flight?”

  “I have some business in Los Angeles. And you?”

  “I have a layover at LAX and one in New Zealand, then it’s on to Fiji.”

  “Where’s your husband? He’s not joining you on such a romantic vacation?”

  Oh, what a line! But coming from him it was more of a turn-on than a turn-off. A giggle escaped from between her lips, and she felt like a silly schoolgirl. “No, no husband. Just my…friend…over there.” She looked at Sugar, who stood by the window in all her New Jersey prom-queen glory.

  He raised a brow and politely made no comment. “Ah, well, perhaps you’ll find the man of your dreams while in paradise.”

  Maybe I’ve already found him. “Hmmm, perhaps. I guess you never know where you might find your soul mate. It could even happen at an airport.” Did she just say that? Oh Lord! Her face burned, and she knew it had to be scarlet. She wanted to crawl under her seat, or, better yet, die from embarrassment.

  But he smiled, exposing a row of even white teeth. “Yes, it might happen at an airport. Maybe even this one… Maybe even today.”

  This couldn’t be happening. She shouldn’t be flirting when even now the jet rumbled on the tarmac, ready to whisk her into the arms of her dream man. But it seemed forever since she’d been attracted to anyone. Not since she’d dated Greg Sinclair in college. The jock and party boy had done a good job of turning her off to men… At least that type of man. Their brief two-month relationship, if you could call it that, ended abruptly when he told her she was boring.

  The real problem—for him—boiled down to her refusal to sleep with him. Greg’s rejection had hurt nonetheless. It seemed her ideal man lived between the pages of her books. The classic heroes who existed only on paper—or apparently, appeared in airports. And the way this hot guy’s striking dark eyes delved into her own made her want to say, The heck with Fiji, I’ve found my man at the United terminal. Her breath hitched as she envisioned a night of wild, passionate love. She knotted her hands in her lap and tried to control her emotions. What in the world had come over her? She had to stop thinking such thoughts. She was a nice girl.

  “Your accent… Is it German?” she asked, quickly changing the subject.

  “Romanian.”

  “Oh. I’ve never met anyone from Romania before, not that I’ve met many Germans, either.”

  He laughed, a rich, hearty sound that set her pulse drumming. “There aren’t many of my kind who’ve ventured into this part of the world. They’re mainly still in Europe. Though I’m sure if they knew what your country was like and the people…the women”—his glance traveled over her, lingering on her lips—“they would come to America.”

  Okay. She had to get a grip. Her libido had her head spinning and heat thrumming through her veins. “What
type of business are you in?”

  “I draw blood.”

  Her brow wrinkled before she realized what he must have meant. “You’re a phlebotomist? I’ll bet you need a strong stomach to do that type of work.”

  “I don’t mind the sight of blood.”

  “Ick. A paper cut makes me feel faint.”

  He chuckled, then reached for her hand. Cool, almost cold, fingers twined around her hot, sweaty ones. His smooth lips brushed the back of her hand. Oh, to feel those velvet lips elsewhere, in other places… A tremor of lust tumbled through her.

  “It was a pleasure talking with you.”

  And you too, Melody thought. He could read her the phone book in that thick, sexy accent and she’d be one happy woman.

  He rose gracefully and smiled down at her. “Perhaps we’ll meet again.”

  Melody blinked and he—simply vanished. Where did he go? Frantically, she scanned the crowd forming around her gate. Gone without a trace. How could that be? He couldn’t just disappear into thin air. Do something! “Don’t go,” she called. “I don’t even know your name.”

  The airport intercom drowned her words. “All business class passengers traveling on flight 132, please board the airplane now.”

  Sugar galloped over to her, clearly anxious to see the inside of the plane. “That’s us, hon. Let’s go.” But when she saw the look on Melody’s face, she stopped walking. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”