Authors: Mary Hughes
His eyes were sharply blue, as if he was trying to beam something unsaid directly into my brain. Questions or concerns? Like what to wear to the face-off? Or concerns of a more fangy nature?
I took the card and rubbed my thumb across thick linen paper with embossed print. I turned it over. He’d written his cell phone number on the back in slashing black ink. “Thanks. You’re helping me, but to do what?”
“Fight Camille.”
“Good. Um, how?” I admit I had visions of Camille and me squeezed into strips of spandex, knives strapped to our thighs, me with a bandoleer of stakes across my chest, battling with halberds and maces.
One corner of Ric’s mouth turned up as if he saw the Xena images in my head. “I’ll help you nail your presentation. If I’m travelling to Meiers Corners, I want to go in on the side of right.”
“You’re a businessman. Any side with enough money is the right side.”
The other corner rose. “Winning against Camille isn’t going to be easy.”
“Of course it is. Meiers Corners as Vegas of the Midwest? Please. All I have to do is show pictures of showgirls in lederhosen. So wrong.”
His lips twitched. “I know you want logical arguments to win the day. But you’ll be dealing with a committee.”
“A committee is just people.”
“People who have personal agendas. Camille will play to that. She knows how to work the system.” He took my hands. “Despite her saucy siren act, she’s ruthless. She fights dirty, and she likes it. She’ll do whatever she has to. Lie, seduce, threaten. Schmooze. You won’t. That’s a handicap.”
“Being honest isn’t a handicap. Anyway, I’m not naive. I know how to schmooze.”
“Really? What is schmoozing but little white lies?”
“It doesn’t
require
lies.” I paused. “Maybe a little spinning of truth.”
His brows rose. “Isn’t that still on the evil side of the Lie Line?”
“Lying for profit is bad. But telling the truth hurtfully is bad too. They’re both on the same side of the Lie Line.”
“The evil side?”
“The dick side.”
He blinked. Then he laughed, a deep masculine chuckle that rippled inside me. The laughter lit his whole face, warming me, making me want to kiss his beautiful curved mouth. I leaned forward…he leaned forward…
We bumped heads. I sprang straight. “I never understand why people laugh when I’m just telling the truth.”
“Maybe it’s your delivery.” He had such a powerfully attractive smile. “Synnove, I do trust you, and definitely respect you.”
Happiness fizzed inside, like Synnove champagne. Then—“There’s a ‘but’ coming, isn’t there?”
“Now who’s the mind reader?” He said it lightly, but his gaze was warm. His thumb began to caress the back of my hand. “I trust you as an expert in your field, in medicine.
My
area of expertise is making the right impression, the right way. I’m trying to give you the benefit of my knowledge.”
“I can win without being another Dr. Bearsylls.” I paused. “Why do we have to bid at all? If you know my side is ‘the side of right’, make an executive decision and go with me. I mean come with me. I mean…” I blushed. “Pick my side?”
“I can’t.” His lips twisted, his smile self-mocking. “There are circumstances you don’t know about. Suffice it to say that for every nasty thing Camille can hand out, her boss can smack it down ten times harder. If I let this play out, there’s a good chance he’ll stay away. If not, we’ll all suffer his temper. And that’s vicious.” He sounded like he knew firsthand.
“But what if I lose the bid?”
His expression went dark. “Then appearances be damned. I won’t work for Nosferatu agai—I won’t work for him.” He cleared his throat, making what, for him, was a visible attempt to recover from that slip.
Work for Nosferatu
again
?
Ric’s hands tightened on mine. “Bottom line, Nosferatu and Camille are serious bad news. A real attack would be devastating. Best to simply avoid it. So. Here’s what you need to do to sell this. First you—”
“Wait.”
Sales
. Horrors of school fundraisers, rapping on door after door, selling nothing while my friends made sale after sale—remember, I was the plain, unnoticeable one—made me hyperventilate. “Why start now? The presentation is a week away.”
“The sooner you’re armed, the better I’ll feel. In case…” He stared past me at the blank wall, but the pain flickering in his eyes told me he was seeing something awful projected there. Maybe having to do with working for Nosferatu
again
.
I put a reassuring hand on his.
His eyes returned to me and the horrors faded. He gave me a small smile. “In case business calls me away.”
“Business.” I didn’t like any of this, not his evasiveness, not the horror in his eyes, and especially not his trying to teach me about
sales
. He’d blocked the Nosferatu topic so I threw up my own block. “No sales. I’ve memorized countless Latin terms but sales is different. Sales is hard.”
“Relax. Breathe normally.” He took me by the shoulders. “I’ll start with basics. Holiday Buzz has five departments.” He released me slowly. “Just a handful. Easy peasy.”
“
Easy peasy
?” I was panting, cold little puffs of air, my heart was thudding painfully, and worse, anatomical terms were starting to bubble up in my head. “My brain’s been coated in industrial nonstick. Unless the departments have a mnemonic device, like the one for the cranial nerves—Ooh, Ooh, Ooh, Topless Tiffany and Fat Valerie Got Vaginitis And Hepatitis—”
“Memory aid?” Grinning, he grabbed my hand. “Five departments. First is account services.”
He kissed my thumb, then flicked his tongue across the pad.
I stopped panting. Hell, I stopped breathing.
“Creative.” He kissed the index finger, butterfly light. Then sucked delicately at the tip.
My heart’s painful thudding stuttered. I swallowed, hard; hot liquid desire ran down my throat.
“Finance.” He kissed the middle finger, then licked and nipped the tip with deliciously sharp teeth, leaving me wide-eyed and squirming in my chair, and I still had two more fingers to go.
“Media buying.” He kissed my ring finger. Then, with a wicked glance, he ran his tongue from the base to the tip.
I jumped in my chair.
“And last but not least, production.” He kissed my pinkie. Then he ran his tongue along my whole throbbing hand, from pinkie to thumb and back again.
I squeezed my eyes shut—clenching everywhere, jaw, thighs, sweet inner muscles. “I’m not sure I’ll remember all that.” I opened my eyes and held up my other hand. “Repeat it?”
His grin widened.
And he did, in such a scrumptious way that sweat broke out on my skin and I nearly slid out of my chair. Finishing, he gave me a hot smile that managed to be smug, amused, delighted and pure wicked sex. “Again?”
“Nope, got it,” I said before my whole body went up in flames,
whoosh
. “What’s left for you to do?”
”Set the tone. The direction for the company. I make sure the agency’s thrust is positive. We only take on clients that have a definite favorable impact on humans and humankind.”
Humans and humankind
. Oddly, I wasn’t finding phrases like that strange anymore.
He kissed and licked the inside of my wrist. I squealed. “Five departments, positive impact.” Any terror I’d held over sales, Nosferatu or vampires in general, fled. “Stop that or I won’t remember my name, much less what you’re trying to teach me. So I convince five departments to take our account?”
“The departments are general umbrellas.” He dropped a kiss on my palm, closed my fingers with his and held my hand to his chest. Like holding it to his heart.
Wished-for image?
Or reality?
Yikes. Fluttering heart, sweaty skin, everything tinted rose… I was falling in love, treacherous because Ric Holiday was dangerous, powerful, smart and not even human. Worse, I wasn’t sure if I was falling in love with
him
, or who I wanted him to be.
I started to tug my hand away.
“Time to move on?” He gave my hand a regretful pat before releasing it. “All right. It’s not the creatives I’m worried about. Your colorful folksy town of Meiers Corners is right up their alley. But the number crunchers’ job is to keep things on time and under budget. And don’t get me wrong, they do a wonderful job and I’m grateful. Without them Holiday Buzz would be Holiday’s Bottomless Pit. But Camille will tailor her message to them, and she’ll nail it. Casinos? Instant money.”
“Lovely.” My heart was starting to race again. “What do I do to compete?”
“That’s what we’re here to figure out.”
For an hour Ric asked me detailed questions about Meiers Corners, some of which I knew, some of which I had to phone Twyla for. After she quit panting—did she and Nikos ever stop?—and no I wasn’t jealous—all right, maybe a little—we ended up putting her on speaker and Ric quizzed her until she explained everything to his satisfaction. He was very picky and got quite detailed. I think she made some of it up.
Then he and I conferred for almost another two hours, heads together, working on the proper tack to take. He didn’t kiss me again, but he sat close, his body heat and scent caressing me. In some ways the simple closeness was nicer.
Finally he sat back and considered me, his eyes a serious blue. “You’re exhausted,” he said flatly. “Your skin is gray, your eyes are bloodshot, and you’re sagging.”
“Thanks. You don’t look so good yourself.” Which was a real whopper. He looked delicious, like a chocolate sundae with whipped cream and cherries. Hmm, lunch time.
A fleeting smile twisted his lips. “This isn’t my best time of day. I’m more of a…night person.” He searched my eyes. “But perhaps you guessed that?”
I sucked in a breath. It seemed impossible. It sounded as though he was asking if I knew he was a vampire. “I might have guessed. I mean, my cousin’s significant other might be a ‘night person’.”
“Yes.” He was gazing over my shoulder again. “It can make for a difficult relationship.” Something in his tone or eyes made me think he meant him and me. Like maybe he was contemplating a relationship with me.
I held my breath, waiting to see if he followed up on it, maybe with a kiss.
“Well.” His gaze returned to mine. “I think we’re done for today. You should head out while it’s still daylight. Camille isn’t the best person to have working against us. I don’t think you’re in any actual danger, but I’d feel better if you’re safe with your cousin before the sun goes down.”
“Okay.” I rose, mind churning. He’d as good as said that not only did vampires exist, but both he and Camille were of the sharp-toothed persuasion. A truth, completely unasked for and totally unexpected. A secret not even my best friend had shared with me.
Ric trusted me more than Twyla. Zap me with a TENS. I shook my head, trying to clear it.
“Are you okay?” He was right on top of me. I sucked in air, got a noseful of hot spicy male and choked. He patted my back gently and I thought maybe here was the kiss coming, but after I was breathing more or less normally he stepped back and his hand dropped. He did look regretful. “You’d better go.”
“Yeah, while it’s still daylight, got it. Is the training all done, then?”
“Not really. We’ve made a good start but I’d like to do more. Tomorrow you could come to my penthouse…” His color rose and his canines got a bit longish. His fingers clenched. “No, better come here. First thing.”
“Okay.”
“Maybe not first thing.” His expression was unusually troubled, doubting. “Maybe give yourself a few hours.”
He was second-guessing himself for the sake of my safety.
He truly cared
. It made me fizz again. “I should start out after sunrise?”
He smiled, his azure eyes lighting like a dawn sky. “Yes. I’m glad we understand each other.”
When I left, I was smiling too.
I got back to the cabin plenty before sunset. But while I had avoided Camille, I walked straight into the Spanish Inquisition, and not the one with comfy chairs.
Not my fault. No one expects the Spanish Inquisition.
Well, except for the part where they gave thirty days notice.
But Twyla met me at the door of the cabin and dragged me in one handed. From the look on her face my secrets were grass and she was coming after them with a weed whacker.
Chapter Nine
“Holiday’s working with you? I thought you were avoiding him.” Twyla peppered me with questions as I stumbled into the cabin behind her. “What’s going on? Did the bra help?”
The bra. Thoroughly wet by Ric’s suckling outside the elevator. I glanced down. Thank goodness the blouse had dried without staining, or Twyla would have known how much the bra had helped.
“It’s a long story.” I caught sight of myself in the entryway mirror. Ric was right, my face was a bit gray. “How about another glass of that merlot?”
“And then you’re telling me everything—and I do mean everything?”
“Yes, all right.”
“Nikos!”
Soundlessly the second bedroom door opened. No noisy moans and creaking bedsprings came from behind the first. “Where are Elena and Bo?”