Her Vampire Lover

Without another look at her, the man dashed back to his podium, his manner supercilious.

“I’m so sorry, miss. Henri can be a little full of himself. What can I get you?” the waiter asked with a polite bow and a welcoming smile.

Grateful for the change in attitude, she smiled and sank back into the comfortable bench. “A glass of cabernet and a menu would be nice.”

“Certainly, miss.” With a nod, her waiter rushed away and Sunny peered out the window. Dark shadows mingled with occasional bursts of lights from a passing station or the more muted glimmers from distant homes and towns. Not much to see of the countryside because it was night, but her return trip in a week would be during daytime and she looked forward to viewing it then.

The waiter arrived with her wine and menu, and hovered nearby as she perused it. Clearly he intended to honor the host’s request to move her along quickly. The menu had a nice selection, but given the prices on some of the items and the fact she had a budget to keep, she ordered the simplest and cheapest dish—the roasted chicken. Besides, some of the other choices were items she would not normally eat. Dining-wise, the adventure she had promised herself would have to wait a bit.

The waiter scurried to place her order, and Sunny picked up her glass and toasted the empty seat across from her. “To life and love.”

It was the way her parents had toasted each other for as long as she could remember. A drunk driver had taken their lives just last year and although she missed them every day, she was glad that they had gone together to their next adventure.

She sipped the wine. Dry, it had the barest hint of vanilla and berries. She placed the glass on the table, hoping that if it breathed a bit, the flavors would mature. As she turned to peer out the window again, she picked up on the growing silence in the room until it became unnaturally quiet, like the moment before a storm hit.

A second later, a low murmur grew and seemed to rush toward her like a tsunami bearing down on the shore. From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the host as he approached and of someone in a dark, impossibly black suit following immediately behind.

Preparing for the worst, she picked up her glass of wine and took a sip. Then she buried her attention on the dark, blurry images rushing past her window, until the reflection of the host standing beside the booth marred the view.

She turned to find him there, along with a man who could have been in one of those ads for expensive Swiss watches. Tall, lean and lethally elegant, she had no doubt that this was the count for whom the table had been reserved. Everything about him screamed rich and royal, from the perfect fit of what she now realized was a blue-black suit, to the snowy shirt with the perfectly knotted tie and the hand he held just so before him. His wrist boasted a large and obviously expensive gold watch. Swiss, of course.

“I’m sorry, miss. I warned you this table was reserved for the count. You’ll have to move,” the host said, but there was no hint of real apology in his voice. If anything, it had a nasty bite of “there, I told you so” in its tone.

While she tried to decide whether to cave and leave, or fight and maintain her ground, the count silenced the host with a polished and almost-careless gesture.

“Thank you, Henri, but that may not be necessary.”

The pitch of his voice was low and her toes curled as she imagined that voice in the dark, whispering the proverbial sweet nothings in her ear. Her gaze fixated on his lips, harshly masculine but full. A devastating smile came to them along with a hint of a boyish dimple at odds with his otherwise manly and proper appearance.

That dimple propelled her gaze upward. Her heart did a little flip-flop as she detected the glimmer of masculine interest. The curl that had begun in her toes at her first sight of him worked its way dangerously upward.

She licked suddenly dry lips and said, “I’m sorry, Count—”

“I prefer Gregori,” he replied smoothly and then gestured to the booth.

“Would you mind if I joined you for supper?”

Chapter 2

A bright stain of color worked its way across her cheeks and Gregori had a hard time deciding if it was from embarrassment or something else. He hoped it was something else, although there was a vibe about the woman that struck him as almost virginal. He couldn’t quite say why, because she was beautiful. Toffee-colored hair with streaks of sunlight framed a heart-shaped face with deliciously full lips. But it was her eyes that snared his attention the most. They were the dark violet-blue of the happy-faced pansies his father had used to plant to cheer up Gregori’s ailing mother.

That violet-blue gaze had been almost demure as it traveled over him at first glance.

He was used to women with a more direct approach and the kind of perusal that left no doubt about just what they wanted, which was fine with him. It was usually just what he wanted anyway. Especially because it gave them that bright taste of desire as he sank his fangs in for an after-sex bite.

But not this woman, he thought again, as he waited for her answer, anxious. He hadn’t felt that way in a long time.

“I wouldn’t mind.”

Funny response. She’d not said she’d like it or love it or any of the other expected replies.

Henri immediately jumped into the discussion. “She’s already ordered, Count. The roast chicken.” His nose twitched with obvious disapproval.

“A wonderful choice. The same for me. I’m sure it will be as delicious as always,” he replied with a glare at the host.

Holding out his hand, he introduced himself more properly. “I’m Count Gregori and you would be…”

She slipped her hand into his. It was warm, smooth and slightly moist from nerves. A skitter of desire worked through him as he imagined that hand trailing over his body.

“Sonja Dubcek, but everyone calls me Sunny.”

He held back a shudder at her nickname. Nothing sunny held an attraction for him. But as he brought her hand to his lips and her excited pulse registered against his vampire senses, he realized he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t acknowledge his interest in her.

“Sonja,” he said, enjoying the way her name fell from his lips. “If you wouldn’t mind indulging me yet again, I’d love to add a few of my favorites to our meal.”

“Of course. It’s not a problem.” She withdrew her hand from his overly long grasp and lowered it to her lap.

Inclining his head down to Henri’s shorter height, he rattled off his selections and after the host hurried off, he eased onto the bench beside Sonja.

His actions surprised Sunny. She had expected him to sit across from her. The booth seemed cramped with him beside her. He had seemed lean at first glance, but she realized now that he was a big man and broad across the shoulders. Although she scooted over as far as she could, his arm brushed against hers as well as against the side of her breast—until he turned a bit to face her.

“Tell me about yourself, Sonja.”

She almost didn’t want to talk because hearing him speak intrigued her more than it should. His baritone voice was deep and smooth, like a well-played cello. An upper-crust English accent bore traces of another, more subtle inflection. One she couldn’t place. She humored his request, intending to hear more from him during the course of their meal.

“I’m a high school math teacher in New Jersey on vacation. My flight was supposed to leave last night, but there were delays, so I only landed this afternoon.”

“You must be tired after such a long trip.”

“I am, but I’m also excited about visiting Prague and seeing where my grandparents were born. How about you, Count?”

“Gregori, please. I should have guessed you were Czech from the last name.” He motioned to the waiter, who immediately brought over a bottle and two wineglasses, and whisked away her half-full wineglass.

“I wasn’t done with that,” she said, slightly annoyed at his high-handed actions.

He surprised her by leaning in close. In a conspiratorial whisper he said, “I don’t like to complain, but the wine choices here are usually a bit limited. This one is from my private stock and I think you’ll enjoy it more.”

He poured them both a taste, but when she reached for her glass, he snared her hand and tucked it into his. “Let it breathe a bit while you tell me a little more about yourself.”

Sunny hesitated and examined his features. Ruthlessly handsome would have been a good way to describe him. His face was all strong, powerful lines, but as he smiled and cocked his head to the side, the boyishness returned and his dark brown eyes glittered with amusement.

Did he find her humorous somehow? she wondered and called him out on it.

“Do you find me funny?”

He shrugged and the blue-black wool of his suit stretched tight against those wide shoulders. “I guess you could say I’m used to women who won’t shut up about themselves. You’re a refreshing change.”

His candor tempered her anger. “Maybe you should stop hanging out with all those princesses.”