A Vampire for Christmas(62)

Maids were for sissies, she thought with a smirk. Getting a chance to do anything domestic was her kind of excitement. It reminded her that she was just like everyone else, somewhere, deep inside, where no camera or television recording could ever venture.

She wrapped up the vacuum cord and tucked the machine away, then wandered into the bedroom to straighten the closet where she kept clothing year-round, but only winter stuff.

When finally she sat on the bed and realized it would be only an hour before the limo arrived to pick her up and take her back to her celebrity life, tears spilled down her cheeks. The bed felt too big and awkward when she sat on it alone. It was missing Daniel’s wide shoulders and strong, powerful muscles. And his intense kisses and even his sharp bites.

She stroked her neck. The bite ached a little. When she touched the small wounds it felt as if he were blowing softly upon her skin, marking her with his delicious darkness. Her blood stirred to think of the vampire who had stolen her heart with a kiss and a bite. And a dance.

That had been what made her fall in love with him, that dance in this very bedroom, swaying against him, learning there was more to the monster than just fangs.

You took the risk and it paid off. She’d gained confidence, and had made the decision to be seen with Parker on her own, no approval necessary. It hadn’t been a good decision, but she was learning.

But it had been a risk Daniel could not accept.

It would probably never have worked out. But she wished she’d had the opportunity to learn that for herself.

You did learn that,” she said. “It didn’t work out. End of story. The guy hates you because he thinks you’re Parker Troy’s woman. Ugh.”

So what if she had been ready to figure out a way to make it work? Singers had relationships with regular people all the time, and they managed to keep their private lives private. Daniel didn’t need to tour with her, and she could fly him in to major cities and meet him at hotels under an assumed name.

It would have been worth the trouble.

She’d gotten due karma after that stupid stage kiss.

So back to the crazy, monstrous life of a singer. She’d lose herself in her music and touring. It was the only way to keep thoughts of him away.

A flicker outside the window caught her attention. The streetlight beamed over fluffy, gently falling snowflakes. Olivia strolled to the window and before she could admire the sight, she noticed the man standing across the street, back against an iron fence fronting a walk-up brownstone, head bowed.

Willing him to look up, she pressed her palms to the cold window and it fogged around her hands. She wiped away the condensation but that only smeared the glass.

Rushing for a coat, she pulled it on, stuck her bare feet into her boots by the door and clattered down the iron staircase. Running toward the street, she didn’t pause to think that he might reject her. He had come to her. He wanted to see her.

They had a chance. They two—monsters—could really make this work.

Before she could cross the street, the familiar click of a camera and a blinking flash paused her at the curb. Daniel took one look at the photographer who’d been waiting around the corner and rushed him.



DANIEL HAD BEEN WATCHING the guy for fifteen minutes. He’d been lurking outside the front foyer of Olivia’s building, trying to pass himself off as just another guy, perhaps waiting for a friend, but Daniel had seen the glint of a camera lens sticking out of his pocket.

He’d wanted to go up the side stairs to Olivia’s apartment, but his suspicions about the lurker had been confirmed. Damned paparazzi. How had they found her?

This was not a situation he wanted to get into, but there was no way he was going to allow the guy to take photos of Olivia in a place she considered her sanctuary.

He dashed across the street and shoved the photographer against the wall. “Back off, buddy.”

You touched me!” the guy yelled.

Olivia tugged his sleeve “Let’s go, Daniel.”

Of course I touched you.” He jerked his arm from Olivia’s grasp and approached the man, who had the audacity to act affronted. “You’ve no right following the woman all over the place and taking pictures without her permission.”

She’s a public figure,” the cameraman argued. “That means she belongs to the public, buddy. They—we—put her where she is today. The least she can do is repay that generosity with a few pictures.”

Your concept of public and private is whacked,” Daniel argued.