Into the Spotlight (5 page)

Jeannie stood in the center of the entryway, turning in slow circles. Her expression was equal parts awed and terrified. Clearly, she hadn’t expected the lazy staircases of hardened stone and marble leading up to terraced sitting rooms with nude sculptures of every age decorating the wall depressions, or the fountain grotto surrounded by reclining couches, sumptuous rugs and the kiss of gold on every surface. Her shock eased the bite of worry that she might be the sweetest of honey traps.

“Would you like to sit down?” Malcolm gentled his voice, aware that she might startle and bolt from the private audience, even though she hadn’t hesitated to accept it.

“I…” Jeannie’s voice faded off.

Malcolm smiled and reached out to take her hands. Holding both, loosely and with great care, he fought back the urge to kiss her on her overwhelmed lips. Instead, he guided her down the three short steps into the grotto. The water splashed softly, lapping at the edges and easing the tension coiling in his shoulders. “We can sit in here, or I have an office that’s a little more mundane.”

“Is this all yours?” Jeannie gestured to the sumptuous surroundings.

“These suites are my family’s, yes.”

“And you’re a vampire.” The last was not a question, yet curiosity and inquiry danced a reel across her features.

“Yes. Have you met vampires before?” He could get no sense of what she might be beyond pure desire created perfectly for him.

“No. Well, yes, but not up close. We’ve often had vampires in the audience and one of the other girls loved a vampire for a time, but he treated her badly.” Those eyelashes darted lower, hiding whatever emotion flickered in her green eyes.

Malcolm frowned. He found the urge to strangle the unnamed vampire for his unspecified bad treatment strangely provocative. Jeannie’s heart rate jerked unevenly, agitating him further.

“Sit.”

He released her abruptly before he threw her down on the lounge and delved into the erotic nature of her heartbeat. Startled eyes flickered back to him, but he ignored their plea and looked away. Striding across the room, he loosened his tie and shrugged off the jacket. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt or scare her, but the wild cadence of her heart combined with her heavenly scent aroused every predatory instinct he possessed.

“Where are you going?”

Malcolm braced his hand on the wood edging the door to the private office. “I’m going to order us some food. Is there anything you would prefer?”

“I… No, whatever you like.” The forlorn note hung in the air, calling him back.

Turning his head, Malcolm’s gaze skated over Jeannie’s form. She sat on the edge of a lounging chair, her legs together, ankles crossed, shoulders slumped and her wrists precariously perched on the cusp of her knees.

“Jeannie.” Malcolm dug his fingers into the wood, splinters spiking into his skin. He exhaled a slow breath and made his body turn fully to look at her. “Jeannie.”

The animated, sexy creature deflated further before his eyes. Loneliness rose up from her in waves, like heat on a blistering day. Malcolm kicked himself. His abrupt rejection contributed to the angst he could see shimmering around her.

“Truthfully, I am going to order food. You should eat. I want to order more water for you.”
And blood for me.
But he kept that part to himself. She didn’t seem altogether comfortable with his vampirism.

“I feel like I’m imposing.” She stood. “You came for a show. Not a lot of trouble. I should go.”

Malcolm released the door, blurring across the room before she could take a step.

“Shhh,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her. Her golden skin blanched as her heart audibly paused before beating at her ribcage like a hummingbird’s wings. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He was forever apologizing. He hated that.

“I didn’t think you could move that fast. I mean I’d heard, but wow.” Her words collided with his, her pitch rising three octaves on the strained notes of unease.

“I didn’t want you to leave.” The confession cracked the ache inside Malcolm wide open. Trap or no trap, he didn’t want Jeannie to go.

Ever.

Malcolm rubbed her back in a smooth, circular motion. He wanted…

He
wanted
.

Jeannie’s soft lean curves pressed into him. Flames of lust consumed his control.

“What’s wrong?” Jeannie’s breath teased his jaw, her lips were close enough to taste. Malcolm’s fingers traced the line of her figure to her hips, twitching against the silky fabric.

“I should apologize.” Malcolm lifted his head, focusing his gaze on the marble bust of some unknown Caesar. The man’s ice-cold features, forever chiseled into the stone, were hardly enough to dampen the ardor raging through him. Through his control.

“For?”

“For this.” He stole a kiss, swallowing the startled sound that escaped. He worried about resistance, but when her mouth parted, soft and yielding to his assault, Malcolm’s good intentions took a vacation.

He forgot about the food. He forgot about her request. He forgot about his cousin.

The world narrowed to the breathless moments between her lips and his
.
Licorice. Chocolate. Red velvet cake. Rum. An unidentifiable spice that he simply labeled Jeannie. The flavors collided, enticing his fangs. But when he thought to pull back, her hands were in his hair, holding him close.

Jeannie’s tongue slid past his lips and stroked a fang. Pleasure wrenched him to his knees and he carried her down with him. His hands ripped the red silk dress to shreds, peeling it off her shoulders and baring her skin for his mouth.

It pained and pleasured him to abandon her lips for the soft column of golden flesh. Spiced rum, strawberries, champagne and cream with a hint of salt greeted his tongue. His mouth paused on the pulse point, where her throat curved toward her jaw. The pound of her pulse beneath the flesh thudded through him. Desire hazed his vision and he fought the urge to draw a fang across the smooth surface, to taste the decadent ambrosia calling to him.

Heat surged over him. He lifted his head, naked want skating through his body. Her dress was gone. He ignored the scraps of it fluttering down. Intent on the way her body was formed, how her hips flared and muscles contracted.

Her lithe dancing form was toned and taut. Her stomach flattened and then flared to her hips. A small red heart decorated her right hip where it dipped to the juncture between her thighs.

Malcolm nipped lightly at her skin, his tongue tracing a path between her breasts to the tear-sized heart. Kissing it softly, he murmured against her flesh. “I can stop now.”

Please don’t take me up on that.

Jeannie’s hands slid up the front of his shirt. His breath froze in his throat. He could let her go. He would let her go. If she said stop. He would stop.

“Please.” She whispered the word, scooping his desire up in a fist hold. “I can’t…please stop.”

It took everything in him to let her go. A harried voice in the back of his mind barked at him. If he just kissed her, sampled her, sank his teeth into her…she wouldn’t go.
She would beg me to stay.

“My apologies.” The stiff words felt awkward against his tongue, and he forced himself to let her go, to retreat and allow her to repair her dress.

“No, I’m just…it’s been a long time. I don’t want you to think I’m someone who uses my body to get what I want.”

“I wouldn’t.” He had no reason to believe her, but he did. “Please, stay and have a meal with me.”

“Even if we don’t…?” The shy plea in her eyes wrenched at his soul.

“Absolutely. Can you put the dress back on or should I retrieve a robe for you? I will replace the garment.” The entire stiff length of his cock burned against his thigh, but he ignored the wanton demand. The urge to conquer her ripped at his self-control, but he wasn’t a youth, lost to the impulses of bloodlust. He wouldn’t be overcome.

“I can fix it.” She pulled the garment up, turning her back to him and he retreated further, seizing the phone to order their meal and put together the patches of his control.

Chapter Five

Jeannie’s hands shook as she tied the front of the dress together. Her heart kicked almost painfully against her ribs. Heat flamed in her blood, tingling from her breasts to her sex, and for the first time in decades arousal spilled through her. She fought for a measure of control as he spoke quietly into the phone, ordering up a meal.

She’d never wanted to beg so much in her life, but she wasn’t made that way. She needed his help and she couldn’t—she wouldn’t—prostitute herself. Satisfied the dress was closed, she smoothed her hands through her hair. Her neat chignon came loose during their kiss.

A shudder tingled up to detonate in her belly. Kiss seemed too mild a word for the soul-shattering connection.

“Jeannie?” Malcolm’s voice washed over her, quieting the tremors. She inhaled a slow breath, fighting for a measure of control and a smile, before turning to look at him. “You don’t have to stay.”

“I want to.” She meant the quick response. As nervous as he made her, she didn’t want to return to the dark, cold room she’d called home for over five decades. She didn’t want to leave him.

“You’re terrified.” He stayed next to the phone, having hung up with room service.

“I’m nervous. I didn’t expect that reaction… No, not your reaction.” She held up a hand to ward off his response. “My reaction. I haven’t been interested in a man in a very long time.”

“This disturbs you?”

Rubbing her palm in slow circles against her belly, she tried to quiet the herd of butterflies stampeding through her insides. “Please don’t be offended if I say, a little. You’re a beautiful man. I can still say man if you’re a vampire, right?”

His jaw relaxed with the hint of a smile and he nodded his head. “I don’t mind being called a man at all. Would you care to have a seat? The sitting room is just through there. It’s a little less opulent and we can enjoy the fire while we wait for our meal to be delivered.”

The wild heat suffusing her skin decried the need for a fire, but she followed Malcolm through the decadent living room into a serene sitting room with thick upholstered chairs, bookshelves and a cozy fireplace. It was as homey and relaxed as the exterior was over the top and opulent.

Sliding her shoes off, she curled up in one of the chairs and carefully tucked her legs under her. They would cramp if she sat this way for too long, but she hadn’t chosen a longer skirt. He waited for her to settle before pouring her a glass of water and sitting down in the chair angled to the right of hers.

“You’re a bit of a puzzle to me, Jeannie.” He crossed one leg over the other, elbow resting on the arm of his chair and two fingers pressed to his temple. His sensuous blue gaze roved over her.

“I’m not trying to be.”

“I didn’t think you were. How long have you worked here at the Arcana Royale?”

“A few decades.” Her answer gave him a bit of a jolt. She saw it in the way his eyes widened and in the dilation of his pupils. She could stare into his eyes all night long.

“So when you say it’s been a long time…?”

The corners of her mouth lifted in a fraction of a smile. She understood the intimation. “Yes, I did mean decades.”

If she were being truly honest, the closest she’d come to experiencing anything like that kiss happened in the back of Bobby Ray’s pickup truck after the Corn Husker Dance. That was also a lot like comparing a flat soda with a glass of sparkling champagne.

“You must like it here.”

She opened her mouth to deny that, but the sound of the doorbell and movement beyond jerked her head around.

“Ignore them. They will set up our meal and we can dine at our leisure.” Malcolm hadn’t moved from his chair, his gaze boring into her as though trying to peel apart the layers of her soul. She sat back slowly, anxiety riding every nerve.

“I like the women I dance with and I like Heidi, my stage manager. But I don’t…I don’t like being here at the Arcana Royale that much anymore.”

“Why not?” His simple responses were made all the more provocative because he never stopped staring at her. Surprisingly, the longer he gazed, the more accustomed to his penetrating scrutiny she became.

“Would you like being somewhere you can’t leave? Doing the same thing every night of your life? No breaks. No changes. My world…it doesn’t change. This—” She licked her lips, struggling with the words. This really wasn’t his problem, but she had to tell someone and she
wanted
that someone to be him.

“This, here…with you…it’s the first change I’ve had in a decade. Even the men who send back their requests to have drinks with me, I ignore them. Unless Heidi says I have to go, I just do my show and then return to my rooms below the theatre. I sleep and then it’s the next night and we perform again.”

“Why stay?” Somewhere in her story he shifted his posture and leaned forward, his knee precipitously close to her chair. If she just reached her hand out, she could stroke the fabric of his slacks.

“Because I can’t leave and that’s why I need your help.”

“You need money?” The guarded question shifted the suspicion in his gaze.