A Vampire for Christmas(17)

The place was just as she envisioned. A grand staircase led to a landing and branched off into twin sets of stairs that curved around to the second story. A massive chandelier with thousands of crystals sparkling overhead cast an array of colors against the walls. The effect was almost magical. She made note to capitalize on that somehow with the decorating. Marble flooring, not travertine, stretched in every direction. And straight ahead on a Louis XIV center table, Christmas lilies were arranged in a blown-glass vase.

She exhaled slowly. “Your home is absolutely stunning.”

He smiled, his eyes suddenly more blue than gray. A glint of something she couldn’t identify lurked behind them. “Thank you. The estate has been in the family for many years.”

Is it just you here?” She couldn’t believe she hadn’t brought that up on the phone. At her place, she’d casually asked if he’d ever been married, to which he’d answered no. Sure, he could’ve been lying, but she was almost positive he wasn’t. And yet now that she was here, she felt a little…uneasy.

Except for my grandmother, who arrived yesterday for the holidays, yes.”

Your grandmother?” A rush of relief eased her tension.

Yes, I’ll introduce you in a few minutes. You’ll love her.” An undefinable expression crossed his face for a moment. Resignation? Defeat? Was she reading him correctly? If so, for some strange reason, it made her feel…happy.

She took a few steps farther in the foyer until she was almost directly under the chandelier.

This place, these things seemed oddly familiar. As if she’d been here before, which was impossible and yet… She imagined hearing Christmas music playing in the background, silverware clinking against china, the sounds of laughter.

Something else was there, too. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Her skin prickled as if brushed by another lick of cold air and she rubbed the back of her neck.

Something frightening. She shivered and fingered the tiny beaded tassels on her wool scarf.

For goodness’ sake, she chastised herself as she unbuttoned her coat and slid her purse from her arm. There was nothing frightening about Christmas. Halloween—yes. Christmas—no.

Like any designer who could visualize things before they became reality, she simply had a vivid imagination. And this was a huge, if not Gothic, old mansion.

Okay,” she said, shaking off those ridiculous sensations. “Let’s get started.”



WHAT THE HELL had he agreed to? Trace asked himself as he led Charlotte into the sitting room. He was a weak man. That’s all there was to it. That, and a damn liar.

As the limousine pulled up the long driveway and stopped at the base of the stone entry steps, he’d watched from the upstairs hallway. The door opened and it had been those legs of hers he saw first as she climbed out. Her skirt had ridden up high on her thighs. A few more inches and he imagined he’d have seen her panties. She did a cute little shake of her ass as she pulled down the skirt then closed the gap in her coat. Heaven help him, that move had gone straight to his groin. He’d absently reached down to rearrange himself, then had taken the stairs two at a time down to the first level.

If he had any hopes of keeping things platonic between them, he had to stop letting Charlotte affect him that way. He couldn’t make the same mistake he made last year.

Ah, there you two are,” his grandmother said, setting down her daily crossword puzzle and smiling like a Cheshire cat.

Trace shot her a reproachful glance, still not believing she’d talked him into having Charlotte decorate the house.

After the conversation with Jackson about throwing another party this year, he had to admit the prospect did have its merits. So he’d consulted with his grandmother, whose counsel he’d always valued. Of course, she thought it was a wonderful idea.

Will Charlotte Grant be handling the decorations again, too?” she’d asked.

He wasn’t fooled by her cloying tone. “Absolutely not.” He’d planned to hire another firm to handle the party.

Little good that had done. His grandmother had almost made the call to Charlotte herself.

Now she rose hesitantly, pushing herself up from the sofa.

Grandmother, please.” He rushed to help her, steadying her frail body. “This is the woman I was telling you about,” he said pointedly. Although she’d lived a long time and had plenty of experience dealing with a human’s memory being altered, he felt the need to remind her that she was to act as if she’d never met Charlotte. He tried his best to ignore the stab of guilt at the charade.