The Art of Loving a Vampire (The Murdoch Vampires Book 1)

by Jaye Wells

  “Did you read all of these?” Jorge asked, motioning to the two long walls covered floor to ceiling with books.

  “I don’t think anyone could read all these books in a single lifetime,” he responded.

  Although, given several lifetimes one could, he thought with an inward chuckle.

  “This will work nicely, Mr. Murdoch. That table is large enough for both of us to spread out on,” Sydney said, motioning to the rectangular table in the center of the room.

  Jorge choked out a startled laugh. Then Sydney’s face turned red as the double meaning of her comment sank in.

  Logan stifled a chuckle of his own.

  “I meant, that is...” Syd struggled to recover.

  “It’s quite all right. I know what you meant,” Logan said and received a grateful look from her.

  “Now, let me explain what you’ll be looking through,” he said. “We tried to gather only those boxes pertaining to the late eighteenth century. My family is enthusiastic about preserving our history, so I am afraid there is a lot for you to go through—letters, bills of sale, contracts, etc.”

  Syd looked at the boxes as Jorge wandered around the room admiring the knickknacks.

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Murdoch. We’re used to plowing through archives larger than this,” she said.

  “Good. And please call me Logan. After all, you are going to be digging through my family’s past. We might as well be on a first-name basis,” he said with a smile.

  She hesitated a second. “Alright, Logan. Call me Sydney.”

  “Okay, Sydney. I will get out of your way so you can get started. There is an intercom by the door. Just buzz if you need something,” he said as he made his way to the doorway.

  “Logan, could you spare some coffee? I’m parched,” Jorge said. Logan could swear the man batted his eyelashes.

  “Of course. I apologize for not offering sooner. I’ll have Alaric bring in a tray for you,” he said. Then he nodded to Sydney before leaving them to their work.

  “I guess we’d better dig in and see how everything is organized,” Syd said, eyeing the boxes dubiously.

  “Can’t we wait for the coffee?” Jorge whined.

  “Logan’s butler will bring it soon enough. Sit down and help me,” she said.

  “Fine, slave driver,” he said and dropped into a chair at the large dining-room-sized table.

  Syd looked meaningfully from him to the mountain of boxes next to the table. He stared back and then slouched even further into the chair. She sighed and hefted one up onto the surface herself.

  “Okay,” she said after she opened the lid to the first box. “Luckily everything is grouped by year. This box is labeled 1794-95. Unfortunately, none of the file folders inside are labeled.”

  “Wait,” Jorge said, sitting up straighter. “Don’t we just have to focus on the years the piece was painted and stolen?”

  “Good question,” she replied. She thought for a moment. “Honestly with all the craziness of the last few days, it never occurred to me to ask Logan if they knew the exact years. I’ll have to check with him about that. But for now, let’s just concentrate on getting a feel for how things are organized. I doubt we’ll find anything concrete today.”

  Jorge groaned. “This is going to ruin my manicure.”

  “Quit your bellyaching and pick up a box,” she said and sat in a chair to start on her own box.

  They worked in silence for about fifteen minutes before a brief knock sounded on the door. At Syd’s acknowledgement, the door swung open.

  Syd felt her eyes widen at the man who strode into the room carrying the tray with their coffee. Wearing khaki cargo shorts and a bright red Hawaiian shirt which accentuated his broad shoulders, he was the embodiment of the classic surfer dude. His flip-flops made a thwapping sound as he walked toward them.

  “Hey, I’m Alaric. Logan said you wanted some coffee?” the blond god said.

  Syd glanced at Jorge, whose mouth had fallen open. He was practically drooling on the table.

  “You’re Logan’s butler?” Syd asked.

  Alaric smiled. “Actually I am his lab assistant and friend. I am just helping out by bringing you coffee.”

  Embarrassed both by her assumption and by Jorge’s continued open-mouthed adoration of the man, Syd jumped up to grab the tray from Alaric.

  “I’m Sydney, and this is Jorge. Jorge?”

  She waved a hand in front of his face, and he seemed to snap out of it. He rose slowly from his seat and sauntered over to Alaric, who was eyeing him dubiously.

  “Well, hellooo,” Jorge cooed.

  “Um, hi,” Alaric responded, backing away a couple of steps.

  Syd had to intervene before Jorge got them both kicked out for sexual harassment.

  “Jorge, your coffee’s here,” she tried.

  “How sweet of you to bring us coffee. Please, you have to stay and have a cup with us,” Jorge said eagerly.

  “Actually, I have to get back to the lab. And I am sure you have a lot of work to do too,” Alaric said. He looked at Sydney for help.

  “You’re right. Thank you for the coffee,” she said.

  “No problem,” he replied as he quickly made for the exit. “See you later.”

  “Oh, you can count on it,” Jorge said with a smile. Alaric all but ran out the door.

  “Dammit, Jorge. Didn’t we talk about not flirting this morning?”

  “I am only a man. I have no control over my baser instincts. It was bad enough when it was just that adorable Logan but to add the hunky surfer into the mix?” He shook his head. “It’s like taking someone on the Atkins diet to a donut shop.”

  “I am only going to say this once. Are you listening?” She waited to make sure she had his full attention. “If I see you harassing either of those men again, I will send you back to the museum and ask The Enforcer to give you a tutorial on proper organizational skills.”

  At his shudder, she nodded. “I see you understand how serious I am.”

  “Syd, I promise I’ll try to control it. But when you got mojo like I do, it’s hard not to expose it to the world.”

  “Yeah, well, keep your mojo to yourself,” she said, trying to hide her grin. “Now can we please get back to work?”

  “Okay, but would you mind if I had some coffee first? I am feeling spent from the morning full of eye candy,” he said.

  “Tell me about it.” She sighed. “Pour me a cup while you’re at it. And make it a double.”

  “No way,” Alaric said.

  “Come on, I’m busy,” Logan replied.

  “Look, I know you’re busy, but I am not going back in there to be ogled again,” Alaric said.

  “Sydney ogled you?” Logan exclaimed. He tried to ignore the stab of jealousy that hit his midsection.

  “No, that assistant of hers,” Alaric said with a shudder.

  “Who, Jorge? He’s harmless.”

  “Logan, I am a vampire. Every mortal is harmless to me.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “He made me feel like a sex object,” Alaric said, his expression sheepish.

  “Oh, please.” Logan laughed.

  “Okay, the real problem is you can’t hide out in the lab all day. Those are your guests. You can’t keep using me to avoid them,” Alaric said.

  Logan frowned. Was it that apparent? He knew he was avoiding having to deal with them, but he didn’t want it getting back to his mother he wasn’t trying his best to get the painting back.

  “I am not avoiding them. You know how important my work is. If I had my way, they would be at my mother’s right now.”

  “But they’re not. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to go talk to them. Although, I don’t really think it’s them you’re avoiding so much as her,” his friend said with a knowing smile.

  “I am going to kill Callum.”

  “Honestly, I thought he was crazy when he told me about the whole soul mate thing. But now that I’ve seen Sydney, I t
hink you should go for it.”

  “That’s ridiculous. First, she’s mortal. I don’t have to explain that one to you. Second, she’s here trying to do her job. The last thing she needs is a bunch of matchmaking vampires bothering her.”

  “Chicken,” Alaric said, followed by some annoying clucking noises.

  “I am not scared. I am just not interested,” Logan said and turned to adjust the gauges on a nearby centrifuge. Alaric was just trying to get a rise out of him. And it was working. All he wanted was to be left alone to work on his formula. He wanted to ignore his attraction to Sydney. Being around her would make that almost impossible to do.

  “Fine, but just remember denial ain’t just a river in Egypt.”

  “Oh, that’s original. You’d think after one hundred and twelve years on this earth you would be a little more creative.”

  “Forget the whole mutual attraction issue. You still need to talk to her,” Alaric said seriously.

  “Mutual attraction?” Logan said, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “Just because you can’t read her doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t.”

  “She’s attracted to me?”

  “You said you’re not interested, so I won’t bore you with the details.” Alaric turned away but not before Logan saw the sly grin on his face. “Now get down there and play the good host. Why don’t you invite her to stay for dinner?”

  “Like a date?”

  “No, genius, like a business dinner. You know, so you can discuss her findings, and she can ask you any questions she has.”

  “Hmm. Maybe I’ll do that. After all we both have to eat, right?”

  “Whatever works for you, dude.”

  Syd glanced up as Logan came into the library. She sat alone at the table. Jorge had cleared out an hour earlier after calling a cab to come get him. She stayed later than she originally intended, hoping to catch Logan and pick his brain.

  She looked at her watch. Seven o’clock. He had avoided her for ten hours.

  “So how goes it?” Logan asked with a friendly smile.

  “We went through a lot today, but I am afraid we’re going to need more information if we want to speed up the process.”

  “Actually, I was just going to fix a quick dinner. If you join me, I would be happy to try to answer your questions.”

  Syd stared at him, taken aback by the offer. The last thing she’d expected from him was an invitation for dinner. Was it like a date?

  Logan must have read the concern in her expression because he quickly added, “We both have to eat. And since we need to talk anyway, why not kill two birds with one stone?”

  Okay, not a date. She should be relieved, right? But she still felt nervous about being alone with him.

  “Will Alaric be joining us?” She asked, trying to keep the hope out of her voice.

  “No, he left a few minutes ago. Why?” He frowned.

  “Just wondering,” she said nonchalantly.

  “So how about it?”

  “Okay, but I insist on helping you cook.”

  “Deal. Although, I should ask: You’re not a vegetarian are you?”

  “Nope,” she smiled. “Carnivorous all the way.”

  Logan returned the smile, and she felt the butterflies in her stomach start dancing again.

  “A woman after my own heart. Steak it is.”

  Logan stood in front of the large gas grill on the back terrace of his house. The aroma of sizzling steaks swirled around him. Sydney stood a few feet away, leaning against the low wall that bordered the patio. He took a moment to admire her silhouette. A light breeze caressed her auburn hair as she lifted her face to the soft moonlight.

  He mentally shook himself and focused on making sure he didn’t overcook the meat. They had begun the meal preparation in the kitchen, as she prepared a salad while he rubbed the steaks with spices. Their conversation had been polite as they worked. But now out on the patio, with it’s soft light and beautiful view, things had gotten quiet.

  Keep it professional, he reminded himself.

  “What made you want to become a curator?”

  She took a sip of her red wine before answering.

  “I have always had a passion for history, and I love using art as a tool to interpret the thoughts and events of different time periods. And working with priceless works of art every day is amazing.”

  “Did you always want to work in a museum?”

  Syd laughed. The throaty sound echoed off the walls of the house. “For the most part. There was a period where I was ready to throw it all away for a more practical life, but luckily I came to my senses.”

  Logan sensed more to the story but didn’t want to pry.

  “So tell me about your work,” she inquired.

  “I help develop new therapies for our company. Callum has a full research staff, but I do independent experiments.”

  “Funny, you don’t really fit the scientist stereotype.”

  “How is that?” he asked, curious about how she viewed him.

  “You’re not geeky.”

  Logan chuckled.

  “Oh, I think you’d be surprised,” he responded. “My mother swears she’s going to padlock my lab one of these days because I spend more time with beakers and Bunsen burners than people.”

  “You certainly don’t look like a geek. No pocket protector, no pants pulled up to your armpits, and definitely not a geek’s body.”

  A flush spread over her checks. Logan guessed she hadn’t meant to mention that last part.

  “What kind of body do I have?” he asked, wanting to tease her.

  “You know, uh, not geeky,” she said, looking everywhere but at him.

  “How is it not geeky?” he pressed.

  “You’re just, um, toned, I guess.”

  “You’re blushing.”

  “No, I’m not. I am just flushed. It’s hot out here.”

  He decided not to remind her it was October. To ease her embarrassment, he asked, “How do you like your steak?”

  “Medium, please,” she responded.

  “Overcooked, you mean. Rare is the only way to go,” he said.

  “Yeah, if you like it bloody,” she joked back.

  He laughed uncomfortably as he took his steak off the grill. Her comment had hit a little too close to home considering he had chugged a bag of blood in the lab earlier.

  “Yours should only be a couple more minutes,” he said.

  “Great. I think I’ll use the restroom before we eat.”

  “You’re an idiot,” she said to her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She finished washing her hands and sighed as she dried them.

  What was she doing here? She should not be flirting with this man. She should be at home reading scholarly texts and planning her strategy about the painting. But no, she had to tell him he had a hot body. Might as well have said, Take me now, big guy.

  She took one more look at herself. “Be professional. This is a business dinner,” she said aloud. Then she turned and marched back to the terrace.

  Logan was setting the platter of steaks on the table when she returned. She took her seat, and they spent a few minutes filling their plates.

  She took her first bite and groaned. He could cook, too. Granted, men learned to grill practically in the womb, but this was the best steak she had ever had.

  “I take it you like it?” Logan asked, amusement clear in his voice.

  “Mmmm hmm,” she murmured because her mouth was still full.

  “I’m glad you like it. Steak is my second favorite meal.”

  “What’s your first?” she asked.

  He glanced up at her for a moment. “Uh, prime rib,” he said. His hesitation seemed odd to Syd. Why did she get the impression he wasn’t telling the truth?

  “But that’s practically the same thing,” she said.

  He shrugged. “What can I say? I like red meat.”

  His grin made her forget to chew for a second. Snapping her mouth shut,
she tried to refocus her thoughts.

  “So, I suppose we should talk about the research. I realized today we never discussed exactly what you know about the origins of the painting or its theft.”

  He took a sip of wine, and she got the impression he was stalling.

  “Actually my mother knows more about that than I do. She is the one who elected me to approach you about getting it back,” he said.

  “I guess I’ll need to talk to her then. But isn’t there anything you can tell me? With what little we know, it’s like searching for a needle in a haystack.”

  “I . . . uh . . . don’t know exact years, but I can tell you it was painted in the 1780s. I believe it was stolen around the 1850s.”

  “Do you know anything about Royce Murdoch? Maybe some insight into him would help me.”

  “He was the eldest son of a powerful family. I have heard he was into science and learning more than commerce or fighting,” he said.

  “Sounds a little like you,” Sydney joked.

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I guess he does. Anyway, I doubt you’ll find anything about him in the history books.”

  “Thanks, that gives me a little to go on. Do you think you could arrange a meeting with your mother soon?”

  “Actually, she left today to go visit our place in Asheville. She should be back in a few of days,” he said.

  Syd sighed. She knew it wasn’t Logan’s fault, but nothing about this task seemed easy.

  “Honestly, I hope to find the evidence before then, so it may be a moot point.”

  “Sydney, I’m sorry this is taking you away from the museum. I got the impression things there are tough for you. I’m sure being here doesn’t help that situation since you have to be away from your work,” he said.

  “You’re right. I am frustrated. It’s not really your fault. After all, if proof exists, then your family has every right to want it back. But let’s not talk about that anymore. I’ll just use what you told me tonight and hopefully things will work out soon.”

  They continued their meal in silence for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts. Then a question occurred to Sydney.

  “Were you born in Scotland?”