by Heidi Betts
He held up a hand to stop whatever argument she might have made. “I’d like you to celebrate the holidays with us, but not as my events planner. As my…lover.”
Swallowing hard, she felt her heartbeat kick up and her chest grow tight.
“And where would I stay until then?” she asked in a quiet voice. “Here or at my place?”
“Here,” he answered firmly and without hesitation. And then somewhat more uncertainly, “At least I would hope so, if you’re comfortable with the idea.”
“I have a cat,” she told him. “If I’m going to be away from my apartment for that long, and it’s not business related, I should probably bring him with me.”
He gave a quick nod. “I like cats. I think.”
She almost smiled at that. “Do they like you?”
His mouth twisted wryly. “I don’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve been up close and personal with one. But I’m not going to eat him, if that’s what you’re worried about. And even if yours doesn’t like me, this house is certainly big enough for the two of us to keep our distance from each other.”
“True. But are you sure you want me here?” Was she sure she wanted to be here when she didn’t have the job to use as an excuse? “Don’t you think things are moving awfully fast? What if we’re blinded by lust? What if one of us wakes up next week and realizes we can’t stand the other?”
Connor strode forward, reaching her almost before her eyes had time to readjust. Grabbing her arms, he hauled her up off the bed and flush to his broad, bare chest.
“I’m not going to change my mind,” he said, his warm breath fanning across her face. “The one thing I can promise you is that I’ve been around long enough to know my own mind…and my own heart. To know that whatever this is sparking between us, it doesn’t happen every day. And it isn’t going away anytime soon.”
Loosening his hold slightly, he let out a pent-up breath. “I understand if you’re nervous and want to take things more slowly. I’ll understand if you want to move back to your apartment or continue on in a strictly professional capacity until you’re feeling more sure of the situation.” A muscle in his jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth together. “I won’t like it, but I’ll understand and go along with it, if that’s what you need to feel comfortable about being with me.”
For a long moment, she said nothing, letting his words sink in, weighing her own thoughts and feelings.
“I don’t usually do this sort of thing,” she told him, needing him to know the truth so that he could make an educated decision about her. “I got it into my head that I should sleep with you only because my last boyfriend was a jerk. He cheated on me—with a vampire—and then tried to convince me it was my fault because I was cold and boring and inhibited.”
Connor raised a brow and she gave a small smile.
“What better way to prove I’m none of those things than to seduce a man I’d just met. And an immortal one, to boot.”
“You seduced me?” he murmured, more a question than a statement.
She tipped her head. “Didn’t I?”
“I thought I seduced you. I was going to apologize for rushing you into something you might not have been ready for.”
Her lips quivered as she chuckled. “Well, don’t we make quite the devious pair.”
Connor’s own mouth curved, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Are you sorry?”
She shook her head. “Are you?”
“You can ask me that,” he said, his tone a cross between shock and annoyance, “after what happened in your room and my asking you to stay here?”
She felt guilty for teasing him. But then, it wasn’t every day a mere mortal woman had a big, bad vampire wrapped around her little finger.
“A girl needs to be sure about a guy’s feelings for her before she agrees to move in with him,” she told him with a shrug of one bare shoulder, the sheet slipping half an inch to reveal the topmost curve of her breast.
Going statue still, his voice lowered and he said, “Does that mean you will? Move in with me, I mean.”
“Yeah. I think maybe I will.” Her reply sounded flippant, but inside, her stomach was trying out for the Olympics’ American gymnastics team. She could only hope she was making the right decision and not letting her desire to shed her inhibitions supersede her common sense. “I’m willing to give it a shot, anyway, at least through the holidays.”
Shooting her a wicked, satisfied grin, he doubled his arms around her waist and lifted her straight up off the ground. She laughed, his enthusiasm contagious.
He carried her the few steps to the bed and toppled them both down in the center of the wide, soft mattress. His mouth covered hers, and for the next several minutes, all she could think about was his kiss, his weight, his warmth.
The sensation of being wrapped in cotton candy and safely cocooned by this magnificent man washed over her. Even if moving in with him so quickly turned out to be a mistake, she knew it would be of the Sheryl Crow variety—her favorite mistake.
And if things between them worked out…Oh, her future was looking rosy, indeed. Learning to work through the night and sleep during the day was nothing compared to waking up in Connor’s arms. And any other differences they had…well, they’d work them out.
Unless, of course…
She pulled back slightly, already out of breath and feeling the heat of arousal pulse between her legs where his growing erection nudged.
“What about your brother and sister?” she asked, her fingers toying over his shoulders distractedly.
He frowned. “What about them?”
“Do you think they’ll mind if I move in with you? That you’re involved with”—she arched a brow—“a human?”
“My romantic life is none of Liam and Maeve’s business. And if they don’t like it, they can move out. It might be time for that, anyway,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “But for the record, they both seem to like you, so I don’t think they’ll mind one bit.”
That made her feel moderately better, but just to be safe: “Okay, but I think I’ll let you be the one to tell them.”
Connor chuckled, his lips lifting enough for her to see the sharp, white tips of his fangs. She must really be gone on him, she thought, because the sight of them didn’t bother her at all. Not anymore.
“Fair enough,” he agreed, lowering his mouth to kiss her again.
Just before their lips touched, she whispered, “Connor?”
“Hmm?”
“About that biting thing…”
A VAMPIRE IN HER STOCKING
TYPE A
The intercom on Vivian Harrison’s desk buzzed, followed a second later by her favorite voice in the entire world. Deep and masculine, it poured over her like warm honey and sent her belly flopping like a barrel of fish.
“Vivian, could you come in here for a minute?”
“Yes, sir,” she responded automatically.
It was two weeks into December, and everyone was clearing out of the offices for holiday vacation. A temporary staff would be moving in, because, of course, the news never slept—or took a holiday—but regular employees of DNN who had been with the news network long enough to deserve a few weeks off were more than happy to tidy up their in-boxes and vacate the premises.
And though the rest of the eighteenth floor’s nightly news staff had already cleared out, she was still here because Sean was still here, and it wouldn’t be right for an assistant to take off before her boss. Not that she’d want to.
Since they had no work pending, she didn’t bother grabbing a notepad and pencil. Instead, she pushed open the heavy wooden door separating his corner office from her work area and stood just inside, waiting.
Sean Spicer was behind his desk, a wide glass-and-chrome monstrosity that she knew for a fact had cost a bundle; she’d been the one to put through the paperwork. Boxes littered the surface, filled with items he apparently planned to take home with him over the holidays.
As always when she saw him, a jolt of longing struck her, making her breath catch and her knees go weak. He’d long ago shed his suit jacket, standing now in dress slacks and a simple white button-down, open at the neck, sleeves rolled up, leaving his forearms bare. His blond hair was ruffled after a long night of work and running his fingers through it probably two dozen times, as was his habit.
She only wished she could be lucky enough to share the practice so she could find out if the short strands were as soft as they looked.
“Is there something I can help you with?” she asked when he didn’t immediately tell her what he needed.
He stopped loading up yet another box, straightened, and finally met her gaze. His green eyes looked sad, reluctant, and a sudden wave of apprehension washed over her.
“No. Thank you,” he told her, moving around the desk to stand in front and lean against the opposite edge. He gestured to one of the matching black-and-chrome visitor chairs. “Come sit down for a minute.”
She did as he asked, the dread in the pit of her stomach growing with each passing second.
Oh, God, please don’t let him fire me.
Her mind raced over the past few weeks of work.
Had she done something, said something to necessitate her termination?
Was he moving to another network where he would be assigned a fresh, perky new assistant?
Vivian was no slacker, but she would also never be some bleached-blond, twenty-year-old intern with plastic boobs and more dark roots than brain cells.
Sean took a deep breath and blew it out, the hands resting on his upper thighs fisting and unfisting in an uncharacteristic show of nerves.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said in a low voice. “I’ve put it off as long as I could, but now…”
She swallowed, her heart banging in her chest like a child with a pot and a wooden spoon.
“I won’t be coming back after the Christmas holiday.”
Oh, no. He was moving to another network. And he wasn’t taking her with him.
She blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears of bitter disappointment. She could work for anyone, she knew, and was sure she’d get along well enough with her next boss. Even if she had to leave DNN and find a new job. But never again would she find a man like Sean, who gave her a reason to wake up in the evening, a reason to smile her way through her job every single night.
“I don’t understand,” she said, embarrassed when her voice wobbled.
How could he leave her when she’d been so good to him? The perfect assistant. A woman willing to give up nearly everything else to be there for him, on the job and off.
“I know. I’m sorry to break it to you this way, but I couldn’t seem to bring myself to say anything before.”
Reaching out, he took both her hands in his, their warmth comforting even as the touch of his skin on hers sent a different kind of heat to pool in a much lower spot.
“We’ve had a good run here, you and I,” he continued, his lips curving into a poignant half-smile. “I couldn’t have asked for a better partner in crime.”
She gave a watery laugh at the inside joke. He’d started referring to them as “partners in crime” a year ago when they’d worked on a story against his superiors’ wishes and done everything they could to gather the facts and get it on the air without losing their jobs.
“The truth is, Viv, that I’m, um…sick. Have been for quite a while, but I didn’t want anyone to know, so I’ve done my best to hide it. Rather than wasting away in the public eye, I’m leaving while I still look healthy and normal, and the official story will be that I’m ‘pursuing other interests.’”
Vivian heard him talking, heard his explanation of why he was leaving and not coming back after the holidays, but nothing past the word sick registered in her consciousness.
How could he be ill? He looked fine. More than fine, he looked amazing, just like always.
Well, all right, he’d lost a bit of weight in recent months and his pallor was less than tanned and robust, but she hadn’t thought it was anything to worry about. It was winter in Boston, after all; everyone looked like they could use a week in the Bahamas and would remain that way until high summer unless they went for the tanning beds or spray-ons.
And a man was allowed to change his diet and shed a few pounds without everyone immediately jumping to the conclusion that he was ill, wasn’t he?
How could he be sick without her knowing about it? She scheduled his appointments, took his calls. He’d had more out-of-office appointments lately, had been going out to lunch and dinner more often without specifics, taking more time here and there for himself. And there had been a few calls that had seemed odd, but nothing had set off blips on her radar as being terribly out of the ordinary.
Licking her lips, she forced her brain to slow down, to clear, to process what she was hearing and put it into some sort of neat, organized package that she could understand.
“How sick?” she asked, her voice barely squeaking past a throat tight with fear.
For a brief, tense second, he didn’t answer, but his eyes darkened and his jaw clenched. “I’m dying, Viv, of a brain tumor. There’s no coming back from this one.”
She knew she should ask what and how long and when, but the only thing going through her head at that moment was a gut-wrenching Noooooooooooooooo!
Her heart twisted, shattering into a million pieces inside her chest. The tears that had merely been pricks of concern behind her eyes when she’d thought he was leaving DNN for another network spilled over to roll down her cheeks in a waterfall of emotion.
“Oh, come on, Viv.” Sean went down on one knee in front of her, their hands still clasped together and now resting on her lap. “It’s not so bad. I’ve had a good life. I’ve accomplished a lot. And I got to spend the last few years eyeing a very pretty assistant while she worked hard to make me look good on camera and off.”
He was trying so hard to put on a brave front, even as anguish and regret shone through his forced smile, filling every line of his beautiful, clean-shaven face. Which only made her cry harder.
“Oh, Sean,” she sobbed, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tight.
She felt pathetic, weeping onto his shoulder and feeling sorry for herself when he was the one who was dying.
Dying. How could this be happening? Why was it happening?
Sean was such a good man. Thick as a redwood when it came to what was right under his nose, but smart and funny, decent and kind.
She’d been pining after him for ages, loving him from afar. Biding her time until he realized she was the perfect woman for him—well, almost perfect, anyway—and decided he couldn’t take another breath without kissing the red right out of her hair.
And now she was going to lose him. Not to another news agency, not even to another woman, but to the Grim Reaper. That cruel, fickle son of a bitch.
“Shhhh,” he whispered in her ear, making her shiver even as guilt and despair flowed like acid through her veins. “Don’t cry. It’s going to be okay.”
She lifted her head, certain her eyes were a swollen mess, and that she looked even worse when she wiped her running nose on the sleeve of her lavender satin blouse.
“It’s not okay,” she keened. “It’s never going to be okay.”
“It will,” he told her with a calm she couldn’t comprehend. Running a hand through her hair, he tucked a long strand behind her ear and offered a gentle, courageous smile. “It really will, Viv. You’ll come back after Christmas to a new boss with new ways of doing things, and pretty soon you’ll forget all about me.”
Whaaaaaaaaaa!
“No, I won’t!” she cried, angry now. At him and his cavalier attitude…at whatever dread disease was taking him from her…at the whole horrible, godforsaken world. Oh, how she hated them all!
“I could never forget you,” she vowed, holding his soft green gaze and pouring her entire soul into the heartfelt wo
rds. “I could never forget you, Sean. I love you.”
His smile widened, but even through watery eyes, she could see that he was just humoring her. Trying to placate the crazy woman who was staining his clothes and carpeting with her tears.
“I love you, too.”
He didn’t mean it, not the way she wanted him to, but at the moment, she didn’t care. She only cared that this was her last chance to be with him, to show him how she felt before…before there were no more chances. Ever.
Launching herself against him, she smashed her mouth to his and kissed him for all she was worth. She tasted her own tears on his lips, but also coffee, a hint of what she thought might be scotch, and something else…a flavor that went with the scent that was distinctly Sean.
It took a second for him to absorb her weight and the shock of her sudden assault, but once he did, his arms lifted to circle her waist and he was kissing her back.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, her skirt scrunching up around her thighs as he settled between her legs and she used them to pull him closer. Next thing she knew, his hands were at her blouse, slipping the buttons free, separating the silky material, and sliding it over her bare shoulders to reveal the lace and satin of her matching lavender bra.
His thumbs toyed with her nipples through the material for a moment before delving inside. She gasped at the sensation of skin on skin, of the rough pads of his thumbs bringing the tips of her breasts to achingly rigid peaks.
He kissed her throat, trailing his mouth down, then up again, licking, nibbling, blowing softly on the damp flesh. Lower, his hands pushed her skirt even higher, running his palms along the outside of her thighs and up to squeeze her buttocks. Fingers curling into the waistband of her panties and pantyhose together, he tugged them down. Down her legs, past her knees, and off her feet, right along with her three-inch, patent-leather pumps.
