The Trouble With Vampires (An Argeneau Novel)

by Lynsay Sands

  “Ask me what you have wanted to ask me since returning from your late lunch with Santo,” Marguerite said suddenly.

  Pet stilled and raised her head, and then tilted it as she considered the other woman. “You read my mind again.”

  It wasn’t a question, but Marguerite nodded. “I apologize. It is a habit that is hard to break. However, that subject is what you want to ask me about anyway. Whether Santo was telling you the truth when he said he could not read or control you.”

  “Was he telling the truth?” she asked at once.

  “Yes, he was. He cannot read or control you,” Marguerite said solemnly, and then grinned and added, “I fear all that passion you experienced with him came naturally, not through any control.”

  Pet flushed with embarrassment but ignored the last part of what she’d said and pointed out, “But you can read and control me. Why can’t he?” Pet didn’t wait for an answer but quickly asked, “Can the other men read me? I know Bricker controlled me, so he must be able to read me too. But what about Julius and Zanipolo?”

  “Yes. Everyone in this house can read and control you except for Santo. Well, and Parker, of course,” Marguerite added with a little smile, and then, her expression turning solemn, she said, “But I fear I cannot tell you why.”

  “Because you don’t know? Or—”

  “Because it is not my place,” Marguerite said, cutting her off. “Santo will have to explain that to you. When you are ready.”

  Pet was frowning over that rather enigmatic comment when Marguerite straightened with a pleased little sigh. “That is everything, I think. We should go below now. Parker and Santo are waiting.” Turning, she headed out of the room, leaving her to follow.

  Pet stared after her for a moment before picking up the cloth bag full of Parker’s school items and following.

  “Hurry, hurry, hurry.”

  Pet rolled her eyes at Parker’s harassment as she unlocked her apartment door and said with exasperation, “I’m hurrying, Parker. Just—there,” she said with relief as the lock clicked and she was able to push the door open.

  Parker raced ahead at once and disappeared around the corner to the left.

  “Take her to your room,” Pet called firmly after her nephew as she led Santo into the entry. Both of them were weighed down by bags, but Santo had the majority of them, and Parker had only carried his knapsack with Mrs. Wiggles in it. Which was why he’d been desperate to get inside as quickly as possible. The cat hadn’t moved since he’d zipped up the bag, and he was sure she was dying or scared or both. Pet thought Mrs. Wiggles was just a lazy old thing. She hadn’t moved much when he’d been carting her around the first night either, except when she’d tried to climb his head and that had been purely out of fear.

  “Your home is very nice.”

  Pet glanced around at that comment from Santo as they stepped out of the ten-foot-long entry and reached the main part of the apartment. From here they could see the high, light-colored walls and open concept layout. The kitchen was directly ahead of them with the dining area beyond it. Both were open to a sitting area on the right that was separated only by an island with a sink and indoor grill that ran the length of the kitchen area. Her office was beside them, running the length of the entry, but they could see part of the large, open living room beyond it from where they stood. To their left, a hall headed away, leading to the bedrooms.

  Pet tried to look at it all as he must see it and mostly what jumped out at her were the large windows in every direction. The outer walls were pretty much made of them, which was what she’d loved about the place when she’d first seen it, and what she still appreciated.

  “Thank you,” Pet murmured, moving into the kitchen to set down the groceries she’d carried up. They’d stopped at the store after picking up Parker. She’d put the perishables in one of her sister’s cooler bags once they’d got back to the house, so she didn’t bother to put them away just yet. They would be fine for a few more minutes, so she started back toward Santo, intending to take a couple of the bags from him.

  The man had her overnight bag, Parker’s suitcase, the bag that held the boy’s school items from the knapsack, and several more bags of Parker’s. He also carried the bags from the pet store. Santo didn’t let her take them, though. Raising them out of her reach, he said, “Lead the way and I’ll carry them to where they need to go.”

  When she opened her mouth to protest, he added, “It means I get the tour.”

  Chuckling, Pet gave up and led him up the hall. Stopping at the first door on their right, she knocked lightly and then opened it to reveal a bedroom in pale blue. “This is Parker’s room when he’s here.”

  She stood back for Santo to enter, and then followed and closed the door to prevent Mrs. Wiggles from escaping. While he set down Parker’s bags and the ones from the pet store, Pet moved to the bed where Parker was hovering over Mrs. Wiggles and petting her as he apologized for putting her in that “nasty old knapsack.”

  “She’s fine, Parks,” Pet said with amusement. “Look at her. She’s purring.”

  “She is now that she’s out, but how would you like to be zipped up in a nasty old bag?”

  Pet rolled her eyes and walked over to set up the litter box. She followed that up by going through the bags and separating the food and food dishes from the toys and catnip. Santo helped her with that, and then picked up the bag she’d placed the food dishes and canned food in and followed her from the room.

  “This is the guest bathroom,” she announced, pausing by an open door to a compact but full bathroom in pale earth tones. As Santo glanced in with curiosity, she said, “There’s also a half bath on the left of the entry.”

  When he nodded, Pet turned and continued down the hall to the next door on the right. “Another guest bedroom.”

  This one was done in earth tones like the guest bathroom.

  “Nice.” Santo nodded with approval.

  “Thanks.” Pet grinned and continued to the end of the hall where a door opened onto the left just before the hall turned away to the right. She opened the door and said, “Laundry room slash pantry.”

  Santo stepped into the long narrow room that stretched almost the length of the two bedrooms on the opposite side. The washer and dryer sat at the end to the right of the door, taking up the entire width of the narrow room, and long shelves on either side led away from the door to the left, running the length of the room.

  “I have never seen an apartment with so much room,” Santo said with wonder as he peered down the shelves holding everything from food to seasonal items.

  “I wanted space,” Pet said solemnly. “I get claustrophobic in small spaces. I’d be in a house except . . .”

  “Except?” he prompted with curiosity.

  “I don’t like mowing the lawn,” she admitted with a grimace. “Or shoveling sidewalks or weeding gardens . . . Besides, it’s safer in an apartment building. At least it feels safer with the security entrance and people nearby.”

  Santo’s eyes narrowed as she said that last bit, and Pet suspected he was wondering why security was such an issue with her. Since it wasn’t something she intended to discuss, she quickly stepped back out of the room and led the way around the corner to the two doors at the end of this short hall. She opened the door on the right first.

  “I guess this would be the master bath, though it’s not actually attached to the bedroom,” Pet pointed out as she stepped aside for him to enter the large room with a big shower, a spa bathtub, and a long counter with double sinks. Turning away once he’d looked around, she opened the door to her bedroom and then just shrugged and stepped back again, leaving him to enter alone.

  The moment Santo stepped into her room, she felt ridiculously exposed. Calling herself a coward, Pet forced herself to join him inside as he walked up to her bed and set down her bag. But when she started wondering if the queen-sized bed would be big enough to accommodate his length, she gave her head a shake and gestured to a
door on the left. “That’s a walk-in closet. It’s not huge or anything, but it’s better than just the standard two-door closet.”

  Santo walked over to open the door and peer in and Pet hoped it wasn’t a mess. She’d been in such a rush to pack and get out of here the other day after her sister’s call, it probably was, but there was nothing she could do about that now. He shut the door and then moved to the closed curtains and drew one aside enough to look out at the view.

  “The balcony runs the length of your apartment?” Santo asked, letting the drape fall back into place.

  “Yes,” Pet murmured, fighting the urge to turn and hurry up the hall away from him when he started walking back toward her.

  “Aunt Pet-tee!”

  Smiling wryly at Parker’s call, Pet released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and turned away from Santo to step out of the room.

  “What?” she called back, leaving Santo to follow.

  “Mrs. Wiggles is hungry,” Parker announced as soon as she came around the corner.

  “Then it’s good we got her food, huh?” Pet said lightly and then glanced back to see Santo coming up behind her with the bag of cat food and dishes in hand. Turning back to her nephew, she promised, “I’ll open a can and bring it to you and then figure out dinner. Good?”

  “Good,” he agreed.

  Nodding, Pet took the bag from Santo and led the way to the kitchen. She set the bag on the island and quickly began removing items from it as Santo walked around the outside of the island until he stood opposite her. He then crossed his arms and leaned against the counter to watch.

  Pet was very aware of his eyes on her as she worked and her gaze kept skittering to him and away. She was actually a little surprised that he was still there in her apartment. She’d driven her 86 back here, and he’d followed in the SUV with Parker for a passenger. The boy had insisted on riding with Santo, claiming the dark SUV looked safer than her little sporty Toyota. But Pet knew the truth was he disliked how she drove. To his mind, Pet had a lead foot and took the corners too fast.

  Trying not to be offended, Pet had merely shrugged. Santo had planned on coming anyway to handle the apartment manager should he somehow figure out they had a cat with them and raise a fuss. But that hadn’t happened. At least, he hadn’t suddenly popped out in the hall in front of them as they’d carted everything in, which he always did. So, perhaps Santo’s presence had actually helped, after all. Perhaps his size had been intimidating enough that the man had stayed safe in his own apartment instead of trying to harass her for a change. She knew it was all intimidation tactics. The apartment manager insisted he liked to run a “tight ship” and “keep his thumb” on things, but she’d noticed that while there were some men in the purchased apartments, he only rented to women, so suspected he just liked trying to keep them under his thumb. Pet was quite sure he’d be disappointed to know that she didn’t find him intimidating so much as just pathetic.

  Shaking her head, she retrieved the can opener from the drawer next to her and quickly began to open a can of something that smelled absolutely atrocious. Wrinkling her nose, she glanced to Santo again and found herself asking, “Do you want to stay for dinner?”

  Pet had no idea where that question came from. If Marguerite hadn’t assured her that Santo couldn’t read or control her, she’d have suspected he’d made her say it.

  “Not if that is what we are eating.”

  Pet glanced up swiftly to see the expression of distaste on his face and grinned with amusement. “No. I was planning to make chicken Caesar salad. This is for the cat.”

  “And she likes that?” he asked with disbelief.

  Pet chuckled and shrugged. “Pets have different taste than ours. Heck, our dog used to eat poopsicles. This is better than that. Maybe,” she added with a grimace as the rest of the food plopped into the dish looking like a cross between diarrhea and vomit. God, she wouldn’t eat this stuff if they paid her. Glancing back to Santo, she raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t asking me what a poopsicle is.”

  Santo stared down at the cat food with a sort of horrified fascination, but then seemed to remember himself and straightened. Meeting her gaze, he said, “My mother has always kept dogs. Some of them had the unfortunate predilection to enjoy eating other’s frozen waste. I presume that is what you are calling a poopsicle?”

  “Yes,” she admitted with a chuckle as she turned on the tap to rinse the second cat dish. Santo had really been trying to make an effort to talk since their shopping trip, and she appreciated it. And when he smiled at her as he was doing now, she just wanted to crawl across the island, up his chest, nibble on his ear, and ask him to have mad, passionate sex with her.

  “Yes.”

  Pet glanced up sharply at his words, her eyes widening. Had she spoken her thoughts aloud again? It was a bad habit with her. Something she’d already done with him once at least. So had she? And was he saying yes to having mad, passionate sex with her? And why did that thought please her when she’d decided she should avoid getting entangled with the immortal? Clearing her throat, she asked uncertainly, “Yes?”

  “Sì. Yes, I will stay to dinner,” he explained.

  “Oh, well, shoot.”

  “You did not want me to say yes?” Santo asked carefully, one eyebrow rising.

  “What?” Pet asked with surprise, and then realized she’d muttered her disappointment aloud, which she hadn’t intended to do. “Oh, no. I mean yes, of course I wanted you to say yes. I was just thinking about asking you something when you suddenly said yes, and my first thought was that it was in response to my question, so I was disappointed when I realized it wasn’t, which is silly, because I hadn’t actually asked it out loud or anything.”

  Realizing she was babbling in her embarrassment, Pet cut herself off and then decided to move away from the subject of her thoughts and said, “But of course I wanted you to say yes to dinner, or I wouldn’t have asked.” Grimacing, she admitted, “Though, I’m not much of a cook, so it’s just going to be a chicken Caesar salad and some frozen garlic bread. Well, hopefully the garlic bread’s not still frozen when I serve it. But no promises,” Pet added on a nervous chuckle as she decided the cat dish had been rinsed enough and straightened it to collect the water now. She kept her gaze focused on the dish then, very aware that Santo was staring at her, and hoping he’d let the original topic drop. Of course, he didn’t.

  “What did you wish to ask me?”

  “Oh!” She raised a panicked gaze to him but quickly dropped it again and tried to think of something, anything she could say rather than the truth. When her gaze landed on the overflowing dish of water, she promptly pulled it out from under the stream of water and held it out to him. “Help me take the cat stuff in to Parker?”

  Santo stared at her for a long minute before taking the water dish. He then leaned across the island to place his hand onto the dish holding the cat food as well. He didn’t pick it up right away. Instead, he stared at her silently, his face just inches from hers and said, “I suspect that is not really what you wished to ask me.”

  “Oh?” she squeaked, eyes wide.

  “Sì. And I think you should know,” Santo continued in a gentle rumble and then leaned forward just enough that his words were a soft growl against her lips as he told her, “The answer will always be yes.” And then he was gone. Pet could sense that before she opened eyes she hadn’t realized she’d closed.

  Swallowing, she peered at the empty space on the other side of the counter where he had stood, and then down at where the dish of stinky cat food had been, and then she wrapped her arms around her waist and bent over with a gasping squeal of, “Oh, my God.”

  Shaking her head, Pet straightened, but her mind was still squealing. The man was just so damned gorgeous. And he hadn’t controlled her the night before. And he hadn’t been rejecting her today. And she had no business being interested in an immortal. They were nothing but trouble. But he was so damned sexy! And he m
ade her pulse race and her body scream with interest. And he’d said the answer would always be yes, and she so wanted to ask that question.

  What was she going to do? How was she supposed to not melt into a puddle at his feet or throw herself at him? And he’d been in her bedroom! And why had she decided she wasn’t supposed to ask that question anyway? She was finding it hard to recall now with her lips still tingling from the feel of his mouth brushing hers as he spoke. And—

  “What?” Parker’s shocked question sounded from down the hall, interrupting her mind’s mad bouncing around inside her head. It was followed by a horrified, “Nooooooo!”

  Frowning, Pet started toward the hall just as Parker came hurtling out at her.

  “When you said you’d see to dinner, I didn’t think you meant actually cooking it. Please tell me you aren’t cooking! Please,” he cried pitifully, collapsing against her with his face pressed to her stomach and his arms wrapping around her upper legs. “Please, Aunt Pet, I’ll be good I promise. Don’t punish us so.”

  Pet scowled down at the little twerp as Santo came out of the hall too. His expression was shocked and alarmed until she growled, “Ha, ha, very funny, Parks.”

  “I’m not being funny,” he protested earnestly, pulling back to peer up at her. “You can’t cook, Aunt Pet. You’ll kill us all.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Pet muttered, beginning to flush now with embarrassment. “I’m just making chicken Caesar salad, Parker. It will be fine.”

  “How old is the salad dressing?” Parker asked at once.

  “What? I don’t know,” she admitted, clucking her tongue with irritation when he pulled away and moved to her refrigerator to search for the dressing. Sighing, Pet turned to Santo and reminded him, “I did mention I’m not much of a cook.”

  Head stuck in the fridge, Parker snorted with derision. “The last time she cooked for me I was sick for two days. Food poisoning.”

  “It wasn’t food poisoning,” she snapped. “You just had a tummy bug.”