A Vampire for Christmas(14)



No, but I’m working on it.”

Trace laughed. “I’ll bet.” A part of him yearned to be that carefree again. No policies, traditions or family obligations hanging over his head, dictating his every decision, where the only concern was where you were going to go after work with your buddies to get drunk and get laid.

Then come with us,” Jackson urged.

He scrubbed his face, not sure why he was suddenly feeling this way. When he left Florida, he’d been eager to leave the life of a Guardian behind him.

Best behavior, remember?” He told Jackson about the two guys he’d pounded on last night. “God, it felt good to beat the living crap out of a couple of losers. I do miss that the only conflict you deal with is between your fist and a DB’s face. Now, all the sparring and conflict in my world is verbal.”

You’re so full of shit. Come on, you’re a natural at this stuff—schmoozing with the suits, getting them to agree with you. Besides, you’ve got it all. A job where everyone knows and respects you. A beautiful home. You’ve probably got women throwing themselves at you. I mean, you were a decent-looking sonofabitch before, but now that you’ve got power and money, you’re the man. I’m sure all the single ladies want a piece of that. And some of the married ones, too.”

I’ve been too busy with Council affairs to chase women.” He sighed. There was only one woman he wanted to find him irresistible and she was off-limits. He’d need to be satisfied with the memory of last night.

Speaking of carousing,” Jackson said, “are you going to throw that big holiday party again this year? Last year’s was the bomb. People are still talking about it—the party atmosphere, the food, the dancing, the sexy times. I hooked up with a couple of lovelies who did me right and I wouldn’t mind a repeat performance. Who says that under the mistletoe is just for kissing?”

No party. Not with everything that went down with Uncle George. The family is lying low.”

Aw, man, that’s the very reason you should throw a party. Everyone had such a good goddamn time.”

Trace shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

If you’re worried about the vote, what better way to spread goodwill than by throwing a party for everyone to enjoy themselves? A celebration of epic proportions will trump what happened with your uncle. Push it into the past.”

He hadn’t thought about it that way. Last year’s party had been great. He propped the pillow up behind his head. “Yeah, but it’s already late in the year. I’m not sure I could pull everything together in time. Besides, people probably have plans already.”

Some will, some won’t. Why don’t you just hire that cute little gal who handled everything for you before? She seemed pretty capable.”

His gut lurched as if Jackson had just punched him. “Charlotte?” The Guardian’s most notorious playboy remembered her?

Yeah,” Jackson answered. “Is she the one with the—” he gestured pointedly “—and the—?” another gesture.

Trace could feel his pupils dilating with anger. He wanted to grab his friend by the throat and shove him against the wall. Sure, he liked knowing that other men thought his woman was hot, but he didn’t want to hear it put quite so crudely. And he sure as hell didn’t appreciate knowing they were ogling her. Through narrowed eyes, he scrutinized Jackson. If the guy was thinking about her sexually, so help him, the shit was going to hit the fan in a very big way.

Charlotte was off-limits. She was his, and his only.

He rose from the bed and paced to the other side of the room, his heavy footsteps rattling a bunch of crap on one of the tables.

Wait. Why was he thinking so possessively about Charlotte? What was he thinking? Despite their hookup last night, she was definitely not his woman. He rubbed a hand over his stubble and listened to the rasp. What he needed was to be more like Jackson. After having sex, chicks became a distant memory. His friend was in it for one thing and one thing only.

Since she handled the party once,” Jackson continued, apparently clueless that he’d pissed Trace off, “this year should be a snap.”

It would be if she remembered she’d done it.”

What are you talking about?” Jackson stared at him for a moment before he narrowed his eyes at the realization and laughed. “You dog. You boned her and accidentally pronged her, didn’t you?”

Trace’s fingers curled into fists at the vulgar way he made it sound. If he had ever taken Charlotte’s blood, he’d have discussed it with her first and he’d have been gentle, so as not to frighten her. “No, I didn’t.”

Michele Hauf's Books