I placed the plate of overly cooked food in front of Daniel. His eyes traveled from the folder to the olive colored stoneware plate. Half-heartedly, I expected him to grab his fork and dig in. With a little resistance, I held back the urge to ask if there was a problem, giving him a little time to adjust his view of the breakfast.
Daniel stared at the plate for a moment. Finally, he picked up his fork, while I waited patiently for his response. I think the moment he poked it with the fork was the moment I decided I would take it away from him. As I reached over to snatch the plate from him, he grabbed it with both hands.
“What are you doing?” he exclaimed in a little higher pitched voice.
“You‟re poking at it with your fork like it‟s not dead yet,” I seethed.
Daniel pulled the plate out of my hand. We both stared at the plate as red bloodlines dripped down onto the plate from the omelet.
“You were saying?” Daniel‟s lips twisted into a grin. “Did you actually cook the steak before you added it to the eggs?”
I stood there and glared at Daniel in disbelief. No one told me that you had to cook the meat before adding it to the omelet. Tears welled in my eyes. I knew that my career as a chef had ended before it began.
Daniel‟s humorous expression continued as he set the plate back down on the table.
He turned to me, wrapped his long arms lovingly around my waist and then pulled me closer to him.
“Sweetheart, it is okay. You did your best. Actually it smells really good.” He held me close to him as the tears streamed down my face. “I will eat it. Don‟t worry.”
The last thing I wanted was for Daniel to eat a half cooked meal. Even if the eggs were scorched a bit.
“No,” I sniffed. “I‟ll just toss it in the trash and try again.”
“Julie,” he began as he stood up. “Really, it is all right. I like my steak a little tartar anyway. Please just sit down.”
I pulled up a chair across from him and sat down. Daniel walked through the kitchen to the refrigerator. I couldn‟t imagine what he was looking for. The coffee creamer was sitting on the counter. I had already set his favorite jelly on the table to complement the burnt toast. Daniel raised his head and backed away from the refrigerator. Then I saw the revolting item in his hands. It added the absolute insult to injury for any cook. Ketchup. I watched as he proudly marched back to the table, seated himself and promptly opened the top and squirted the red goo on top of the omelet. I cringed at the sight of the ketchup as it piled high on the eggs.
I pushed myself away from the table and stood up. I refused to watch as he dug into the culinary disaster with a fork.
“You never put ketchup on anything your mother makes,” I mumbled as I headed out of the kitchen.
“That‟s not true!” he called out behind me.
“Like what?” I called back to him as I reached the living room.
“Meatloaf! I always put ketchup on her meatloaf!” he yelled back to me.
I let out a growl as I made my way through the living room to my father‟s office. If my memory served me correctly, Daniel never liked meatloaf! I inhaled a deep breath, fighting back my tears of rejection and plopped down behind my computer. At least I could try to put my focus on something other than this morning‟s breakfast debacle.
It only took moments for me get lost in balancing my accounts and transferring money. I was consumed with the thought of one day actually hiring an accountant to do these things, but for now, I still had the financial reports to review from the companies in which my father owned stock. This wasn‟t my favorite chore. From the looks of everything, the companies were still making money, and I was still collecting a sizeable return. The money was electronically posted into my account. Thank goodness my father gave Thomas temporary power of attorney to handle all the legal matters as well as financial ones until I understood what I was doing. Thomas did a great job setting up the new bank accounts and having my name added to each account.
I looked up as Daniel appeared in the doorway. My emotions had stabilized, no more tears. I had even let go of the breakfast incident.
“I am running over to the office this morning. I want to see if I can find any computer files that may give me a little more information on Miller‟s project,” he stated, as he had my full attention.
“Did you find anything?”
“Nothing more than what we already know. Brendan Phillips may be our only link to find out more. I will see if I can track him down. Hopefully before something happens to him and the Department of Defense starts climbing all over our ass.”
“Daniel, we‟re not connected to any of Dr. Miller‟s work. Why would they even trace it back to us? DalMar rejected his proposal,” I reminded him.
“Yes, I know. But, there is still some slight chance they would link his research to DalMar. I cannot take that chance. I will be back home in a few hours,” he said as he dashed away out of sight.
Why was he so worried about DalMar? Could Daniel‟s research actually be linked to Dr. Miller‟s? Then the thought occurred to me, Daniel never really told me where he obtained the DNA he used for his research. It was something I was going to look into the first chance I had. For right now, I had reports to finish.
It couldn‟t have been more than a few minutes, thirty or so at the most, after Daniel left, that the doorbell rang. It was probably Charlotte coming over to bring muffins because Daniel and I didn‟t make it over for breakfast. I pushed myself back from the computer, and headed out of the office door.
As I made my way into the living room, I glanced up and my heart froze in my chest. It was Richard. I swallowed hard and pushed myself toward the front door.
Through the glass, I could see him clearly in the daylight. He was so damn breathtakingly beautiful. It made no sense to me how one person could be so utterly gorgeous, even if he was a vampire.
When he caught sight of me, I watched as he slowly removed his sunglasses. I was already stunned to see him standing in front of the door with black jeans and a dark grey sweater. The sleeves were pulled up to his elbows, showing off the paleness of his skin.
My thoughts were shaken as I allowed my eyes to travel over his seemingly well-built body. His sexy appearance was enhanced by the way he combed his sandy blonde hair straight back. My heart fluttered again as I watched his lips curl into a smile. I guess it wouldn‟t have been so bad if I hadn‟t expected the worst out of him. My dream still lingered in my mind, flashing before me as I made my way to the door.
Hesitantly, I grabbed the door handle and opened it. What on earth did he want? I inhaled a deep breath, preparing myself the best I could. No mishaps this time. I was sure of it. If indeed this vampire had me on his menu, I would at least be prepared to defend myself.
“Hello.” I managed cordially.
Richard‟s gaze roved over me then his eyes settled back to mine. “Hello, Julie. I hope I‟m not disturbing you.”
My heart raced, and the palms of my hands beaded with sweat. The muscles inside my body trembled at the sound of his deep alluring voice. I wasn‟t sure if it was the smoothness of the tones, or the luxurious way he spoke my name. Either way, it was very sultry and sexy. His voice had an odd effect on me, one of which made me uncomfortable. The sound of his voice sang melodies to my soul, reaching deep inside of me. It called out and awakened something deep within me. Just being in his presence evoked a certain desire within me. There was an uncontrollably alluring aura surrounding him. It drew me to him like a moth to a flame.
“A-a-actually,” I stuttered. “I was… um…was um, working on a few office things.”
I shook my head to gain better control. “Was it something in particular you wanted?”
His lips twitched into a smile. I could only guess what he thought. From now on, mental note, watch what you say to a vampire. I always managed to say the wrong things to Richard. If I recalled correctly, the second time we met I had offered him something to drink! Now, I realized, I had the audacity to ask him if there was something in particular he wanted. Damn it! Of course there was!
“Well,” he softly purred. His voice was silky and sultry. “For starters, may I come in? I would like to speak to you concerning your little werewolf problem.”
Hesitating, I opened the door for him. For reasons I couldn‟t explain, I allowed him entrance. At the same time I said a silent prayer he would behave himself. He stopped, paused for a moment, eyed me carefully then walked past me.
“We can talk in the office. That is, if you don‟t mind,” I stated flatly. I was sure he could hear the fear in my voice. Probably even smell it.
Richard followed me through the living room to my father‟s office. I immediately went to the desk, sat down and grabbed a folder. At least I felt a little safer with the dark cherry desk between us. Like a desk could offer me protection from this vampire.
Richard however, lingered in front of my father‟s massive book collection.
“Your father? He was a big fan of Edgar Allen Poe.”
“Yes, he was.”
“Ah, an old favorite?
Dracula
?” He teased as he pulled out the book.
I raised my eyebrow, astonished to see a vampire reading a book about a vampire.
Somehow, this was a very humorous moment for me. No one but me would find this amusing, but to see Richard, the most inhumanly beautiful creation I had ever seen, a vampire, reading Bram Stoker‟s
Dracula
… Unbelievable.
“Yes, it was one of my father‟s favorites. Have you read it?” I was almost teasing him, a point I couldn‟t resist.
“Actually, I have not. I really never liked the scary stuff.” His gaze caught mine. His lips twitched once or twice. “May I?” He gestured with the book.
“Please, be my guest.” I gestured with my hand.
Richard seated himself on the golden trimmed red sofa my father loved so much.
His right leg crossed over his left, poising himself comfortably as he opened the ancient book. Slowly he flipped through the pages. My computer screen blinked as the banking information came up. I wasn‟t sure exactly if it was Richard or I who was stalling.
“Richard, you mentioned the werewolves.” I broke the silence.
“Oh yes. I am terribly sorry. Forgive me, please.” He paused and looked up from his book. “I suppose I was somewhat side tracked. It appears there has been more activity in the area of the werewolves. They have been coming in from outside areas.”
My heart froze again. “What are you saying?”
“What I am saying is the werewolves are grouping together. More packs of them are coming into the area.” He closed the book then rose to his feet. With a few steps he was in front of the bookcase again, replacing the book in its rightful place.
“How do you know this?” My eyes widened.
“I have seen them.” He glanced up at me. “They are concentrating around the Fort Mountain area. Do you have any idea why?” He pulled out another book.
I sat back in my chair, clearly annoyed by his seeming lack of concern.
“I have no idea. Daniel and I were out there last night. We ran into two of them.”
“Hmm.” He chimed as he peered up from the book in his hand. “Maybe they were hunting you and Daniel.” His tone was more inferable than I would have liked to hear.
“And you know of this… how?” I leaned forward. My eyes narrowed as I glared in disbelief. “Unless, you were there.” I challenged.
Richard‟s gaze met mine. His eyes peered into my soul. A shiver ran through my body. He knew I was challenging him. My senses ran wild, igniting the wolf inside of me. The hair prickled on the back of my neck. I could almost sense the thrill of the hunt.
“Yes, I was there,” he stated firmly. There was no change in his expression. “They were hunting you. I had been following them. Lance and I killed three on the other side of the ridge. At first, we thought they were fleeing from us. I soon realized their attention was somewhere else. I followed them. Lance stayed behind. I caught your scent and immediately followed the two who split from the pack. “
“So you watched as we fought them?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn‟t help us?” I was astonished.
“It appeared to me you didn‟t
need
my help.” Tag.
Again, I rested back in my chair. My fingers drummed lightly on the armrests. I wasn‟t sure how to take Richard at this point. What if I did need his help? Was he waiting for me to be mortally injured before he stepped in? Worse yet, would he have waited for Daniel to be killed?
I watched his expressionless face turn back to the book in his hand. The pale fingers flipped through a few more pages. He stopped. Apparently, a specific passage caught his attention. The thrill of the hunt escaped me, replaced by my annoyance with his distraction.
“So what‟s up at Fort Mountain? Why were they there?” My voice was controlled.
“I was hoping you could tell me. It appears they were searching for something. I thought you might have an idea about this.”
“Nothing, I haven‟t a clue.” I was rather exasperated.
Richard‟s eyes lifted from the book. He carefully studied my face, then closed the book and replaced it on the shelf.
“Really, I do not understand where these authors acquire their information on vampires.” He turned to me again.
“Richard, you should know by now, a book is simply the imagination of the author.”
“Yes, I suppose you are correct. However, I must say I am a little disappointed.
Long and pointed fangs? Really.” He humorously snorted.
“Well, I suppose you could write one in better form. I mean, after all, you are a vampire. You have, shall we say, firsthand experience,” I challenged.