A Vampire for Christmas(6)

He’d forgotten how easily her energies transferred to him. Or how easily his body accepted them. Most humans couldn’t feel when a vampire was absorbing their energies like this; they’d simply be more lethargic than normal. But Charlotte sure did.

Sorry about the static electricity. Happens to me sometimes.” Gently, he turned her hand over, trying to ignore the residual warmth flowing through his system.

There were some minor abrasions on the skin, he noted as he brushed off the dirt. Had she broken a bone? Torn a ligament? As gently as he could, he felt the joint. “Does this hurt?”

A little, but it’s nothing. If it’s bad tomorrow, I’ll go have it checked.”

A knot twisted in his gut as he thought about watching her drive off again the way he’d done last year.

Hold on,” he said, stalling. “Let me buy you a cup of coffee and we’ll get you some ice. There’s a late-night diner on the next corner. It’ll give you a chance to catch your breath before you leave.”

She seemed to be examining his hands as he held hers. Her wrists were tiny and he could easily encircle them with his fingers.

I don’t even know your name,” she said quietly.

It’s Trace.” He purposefully didn’t give his last name. She shouldn’t recognize it, and yet…

Well, it’s nice to meet you, Trace. I’m Charlotte.” She lifted her lashes, the turquoise blue of her eyes meeting his.

And after a moment between heartbeats that seemed to stretch forever, she agreed to have coffee with him.

Ten minutes later, they were sitting in a booth, staring at a plate of stale cake doughnuts they hadn’t ordered.

I’ll bring you that ice in a minute, hon,” their waitress said, heading back to the counter.

Charlotte looked at the doughnuts then raised her eyebrows quizzically.

Trace shrugged. “When you come in late like this, they bring out any extras to get rid of them. They’re not bad if you dunk them.”

I don’t eat carbs at night.”

That was right. He’d forgotten. “Suit yourself.”

He added cream to his coffee and stirred it around with his finger. Then he broke a doughnut in half, dipped it and took a bite.

When he glanced up, Charlotte was looking at him, a mixture of amusement and disgust on her face. “What?”

Ever heard of a spoon before? It’s an eating utensil first used by ancient Egyptians, originally made from ivory, bone and wood.”

He leaned back against the red vinyl and laughed. Yes, his dunking was rather uncivilized. Being a Guardian hadn’t done much for his manners. He often slipped back into old habits when he wasn’t thinking about it. “Thank you for that trivia lesson.”

My pleasure.”

He rubbed a hand over his stubble as he studied her. She lifted the white coffee mug to her lips, blew off the steam and took a sip. Evidently not finding it too hot, she took another one.

That raven hair of hers swung playfully against her delicate jawbone as she moved. Earrings with ruby and amber crystals dangled like pendulums. Her cheeks were still flushed from the cold, and she kept her lips parted slightly, even after setting down her cup, as if she were catching her breath.

Or as if they’d just made love.

Intimate memories immediately flooded his thoughts. He was as powerless now to resist her charms as he’d been when they first met.

Last year, his grandmother had hired her to decorate the family estate for the holidays. Despite trying to remain aloof, he’d found various excuses to be with her. Not only was she one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met, but he loved her funny stories, her sharp wit, her passion for making things beautiful. He could walk into one of the many rooms in the mansion and know that Charlotte had done something to it, even if he couldn’t put his finger on what had changed. All he knew was that the room had a better feel.

The fact that she cared about the smallest detail fascinated him. Things he’d never deemed important—the placement of a decoration, the way the lights needed to hang just so, the perfect pleat in a pillow—began to have meaning to him because they had meaning to her. Hell, he’d even gotten into the habit of doing the karate-chop thing to fancy pillows, because it was something she’d done.

Everything about her was unexpected, including the first time they’d made love. He’d been helping her decorate one of a dozen holiday trees inside the mansion—each one with a different theme. As he recalled, this particular tree had a forest animal motif or something. She’d been on the ladder, reaching forward to hang a wooden squirrel ornament, when she lost her balance. He’d caught her before she hit the floor. He still remembered how she’d smelled that day. Like vanilla with a touch of evergreen tree. She’d even had pitch on her fingertips.