Date with a Vampire (3 page)

Guystof watched as the elderly gentleman with his thinning crop of salt-and-pepper hair and faded hazel eyes tried to make him comfortable. Blakesley’s efforts were well appreciated.

He took a careful sip of tea, then picked up the newspaper. It was turned to the Entertainment section. The woman gracing the front page was a beauty. Even on cheap newsprint, there was no denying her classic good looks, but it was the heading, “Multimillionaire to be New Dream Girl,” that caught his attention first.

“You sly devil.” He laughed, slapping the newspaper on the edge of the table and shifting his gaze to Blakesley, who was trying to creep from the room unnoticed.

With a hand on the doorknob, his butler turned to face him. “Sir? Were you referring to me?”

Guystof let out a chuckle from deep in his belly. “I’m amazed at how clever you are.”

Blakesley lifted a bushy white brow. “And how’s that, sir?”

“Don’t be coy, old man. You set me up to read this.” Guystof waved the newspaper in front of him. “Though it’s a splendid idea, it’s a gamble. Even if the producers select me, there’s no guarantee I’ll win the Dream Girl’s heart.”

Blakesley crossed the room in his stilted gait to stand before him. “I’ve no doubt she’ll fall in love with you, sir. None at all. For centuries women have been pursuing you. It’s been you, sir, who has not been interested.”

“But if this one was to select someone other than me, I’d have used up all my time, giving Theo control.”

“You’ll not let that happen, Count.”

Guystof smiled and rubbed his square jaw line with his fingertips. “Ah, perhaps she will be impressed with the title. What American woman wouldn’t love to become a countess, eh, Blakes?”

“Indeed, sir. Indeed.”

“It’s settled, then. Call the show’s producers.”

C
HAPTER
Two

M
elody swallowed the aspirin, then gently laid her throbbing skull back on the couch cushions and groaned. Last night’s farewell dinner had been a tearful event, and she’d wound up drinking more than she’d planned. One glass of wine with her meal had been her intention, but whenever her glass went below half full, someone would refill it, then offer up a toast. How could she refuse? Her friends and family had been so wonderful. Not only had they planned the dinner, but they put together a slide show of Fiji, the South Pacific island where
Dream Girl
would be taped. Her mother had done most of the work. No surprise. She owned a travel agency and was a control freak. Athena Johnson’s need to run her family’s lives may have led to her divorce, but Melody, her only child, was a devoted daughter.

Although Melody would have preferred to curl up in bed with a book, she was a good sport and went along with the whole party thing—even wore a gaudy purple-and-red plastic lei and chowed down on pineapple and roast pig. It wasn’t until Mags, Billy, and Ann kicked off their shoes to do a traditional island dance that things started to get out of control. Her father, a normally reserved accountant, had way too much to drink. She understood he was nervous about his baby girl traveling so far away, but dancing on the table was not a good thing. And then when Mom tried to pull him off and knocked the strawberry cream cake onto the floor instead, it was time to leave. And fast. Before the staff at La Folay threw everyone out.

There were plenty of hugs, kisses, and tears, and Melody couldn’t wait to get home. Once inside the tranquil walls of her apartment, she wondered if she was doing the right thing. Fiji was so far way. She might as well be going to the moon. And that feeling of dread had not gone away.

She’d tossed and turned all night, and as the pounding in her head increased, so did her fear. Starring in a reality show. Had she lost her mind? Twenty gorgeous guys would soon be vying for her love and attention. How would she cope? A blind date was enough to send her into panic mode, but twenty dates? And on national television? She squeezed her eyes shut to keep the room from spinning. Bile rose up in her throat, and she swallowed hard.

“Coool! Did you know that Fiji lies in the heart of the Pacific Ocean, halfway between the Equator and the South Pole?” The sound of Ann’s voice took her mind off her misery, at least temporarily.

“Uh-huh.” Melody opened her eyes and looked over at her best friend curled up on the easy chair across the room. With straight brown hair, pecan-colored eyes, freckled skin and a love for neutral-colored clothes, Ann was as nondescript as one could get, but she had more heart than anyone Melody had ever known.

“And did you know that it’s home to six species of bats?” Ann held a travelogue of the island on her lap.

“And I need to know that because…?”

“Because it’s interesting. Mel, you’re going to a beautiful tropical island halfway around the world. Imagine white sandy beaches, crystal-clear azure water, the gentle breeze blowing over your sun-bronzed skin. And I’ll be here in Hope, taking my wool sweaters out of mothballs. It might only be September, but winter will be here too soon for my liking.”

“I’d be happy to let you go in my place.”

Ann raised an eyebrow at her. “Don’t be ridiculous. You know I can’t do that. Besides, once you get there, I’m sure you’re going to love it. Just watch out for the cannibals.”

The thought of people eating other people made her stomach churn, and Melody clamped her hand over her mouth.

Ann giggled. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to gross you out. And by the way, that practice ended a long time ago.”

“Thanks. I feel much better now.”

Her friend uncurled her long thin legs and bounded across the room like a rambunctious puppy. She plopped down next to Melody on the couch. “I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow. I know you’ll only be gone a few months, but I’m going to miss you so much.”

A lump formed in Melody’s throat, making it difficult to speak. She fought hard to keep the tears clouding her eyes from spilling onto her cheeks. She mustn’t cry. She’d done enough of that last night. As she took a deep breath and swallowed, she tried to think happy thoughts.

“I’ll be back home before you know it. You’ll see.” Melody wasn’t sure if she’d succeeded in cheering up Ann, but she still felt awful.

“I want you to have this.” Ann reached behind her neck and undid the clasp to the tiny gold cross she always wore. Though both girls were Christians, Ann attended church weekly, while Melody was less regular. Christmas, Easter, and a Sunday or two sprinkled in between.

She pushed Ann’s hand away. “I couldn’t,” she sputtered. “I can’t take that from you.” Ann’s dad had been killed in a car accident when she was a little girl. It was the last thing he’d given to her.

“Okay, then, if you won’t keep it, just borrow it. Wear it till you come back.” Ann draped it around Melody’s neck and clasped it shut. “I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because we were talking about cannibals, but it’ll make me happy knowing you’ll have it on.”

Melody hugged Ann tightly. She couldn’t have asked for a more considerate friend. And she had to admit, she was beginning to feel a bit better.

— : : —

Blakesley’s intent stare was disconcerting. “I do believe I’ve come to like your new look, sir.”

Guystof gingerly touched his newly cropped, spiky hair. He’d worn it shoulder-length for hundreds of years, and the gelled hairdo felt unnatural. Perhaps stepping out of his seventeenth-century comfort zone wouldn’t be as easy as he’d anticipated. Certainly he didn’t look forward to donning his modern attire. Cargo pants and Birkenstocks lay at the opposite end of the fashion spectrum from his customary Armani ensembles.

The first thing he’d done after arriving in New York City was to update his appearance. That meant a shopping spree through Bergdorf Goodman and an appointment with Dominick, the city’s premier hairstylist. A necessary evil if he was to become one of the bachelors on
Dream Girl
. And his transformation had done the trick. The producers’ decision to choose him had been unanimous. He’d left Tristate Studios with a plane ticket for Fiji.

Guystof had one day to perfect his image; then he was off to a tropical island paradise to meet the woman he needed to make fall in love with him. That would be quite a task. He knew nothing of modern American women, but he knew one thing: he’d have to be comfortable in his own skin if he was to succeed. And that meant getting used to jeans. With a tug at his crotch, he pulled his pants down a bit and let out a sigh of relief. Denim would take some getting used to.

Guystof walked over to the window and looked out at the vast array of skyscrapers—all glass and steel sparkling like giant crystals. The view from the forty-second floor of the New York Hilton was spectacular.

The bright afternoon sun warmed his face, and he smiled. No need to hide from its rays now. He twisted the gold crested ring he wore on his right hand. Beneath the LeBreque shield was a tiny vial given to him by Blakesley. It held enough potion to keep him human for the duration of the show. One drop daily was all he needed to suppress his hunger for blood. He could do all the things mortals could, and that included enjoying the sunlight. But, as with anything that seemed too good to be true, there were drawbacks. Too much of the potion could be disastrous. Its side effects were unknown. Ambrus, his grandfather and a very fine sorcerer, had conjured the potion back in the sixteenth century in the hopes of reversing the curse that had turned his family into vampires, but he was burned at the stake before he’d finished testing it. Luckily, he’d entrusted it to Blakesley for safekeeping.

Guystof couldn’t worry about the potion’s dangers now. This was his only opportunity to compete with the other bachelors on an even playing field. Being a vampire had too many disadvantages. And if he hoped to win, he had to appear as human as the next guy.

Guystof turned his back to the sun and looked across the room to his companion. He would miss the old man. Although Blakesley couldn’t accompany him on his trip, he might be able to serve him in other ways. “Keep an eye on Theo, will you?”

Blakesley chuckled. “Don’t trust your brother?”

“I’d be a fool if I did.”

“No need to worry, sir. You can count on me.”

Guystof crossed the room in three long strides. He stood beside Blakesley and clamped his hand on the old man’s shoulder. “I know I can. You know as well as I how important this game is.”

— : : —

When the white stretch limo sent by Tristate Studios to take Melody to the airport parked in front of her townhouse, it seemed like the whole neighborhood lined up on the sidewalk for a look.

“Excuse me.” She wove through the crowd, pulling her new lime-green paisley luggage behind her. Not exactly her first choice, but Ann had suggested she buy the brightly colored paisley instead of the basic black Melody had preferred, insisting she’d have a much easier time finding it at the airport baggage claim. There was no doubting that.

The limo driver slid out from behind the wheel and headed toward her. A distinguished gentleman she guessed to be in his mid-fifties, he carried himself with an air that said he was used to working for the very wealthy. Why, with his navy suit accented by lots of shiny brass buttons, he was better dressed than she. Melody glanced down at her favorite brown slacks and plain white blouse and frowned. She felt very much like the librarian she’d always wanted to be, rather than the multimillionaire she’d become. His cool gray eyes gave her the once over, but his expression remained politely aloof.

“Hello, Miss Johnson. My name is Rupert. I hope your trip to the airport will be a pleasant one.” He swung open the passenger door and held his hand out to her.

Before accepting his assistance, she turned to her roommates. Mags and Billy were trying hard to cover their sadness with the phoniest smiles she’d ever seen, while Ann had her face buried in Gizmo’s fur as she struggled to keep the pug from leaping out of her arms and into Melody’s.

Despite her best effort, her bottom lip quivered. “Come on you guys, cheer up. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Have a safe trip,” they chimed.

Not wanting to prolong the good-byes, she gave Gizmo a kiss on the head, then took Rupert’s hand and stepped into the limo. He closed the door, then loaded her luggage into the trunk. She leaned back against the glove-soft seat, inhaling the rich perfume of fine leather and exotic wood.

“It’s hard to leave loved ones, isn’t it?”

Startled to discover she wasn’t alone, Melody flicked a tear from her eye before turning to the woman seated in the far corner across from her. Judging by her eclectic mix of clothing, the woman had a hard time choosing from which decade to dress. She wore white fishnet stockings, a mini skirt short enough to be X-rated, silver stiletto heels and a low-cut knit shirt that did little to conceal breasts too perfect not to have been shaped by some high-priced plastic surgeon. Bright red hair with glints of copper swirled eighties-style big around her narrow face. And her makeup. Way too much makeup. Granted, Melody was the natural type, but even she knew the woman had gone too far. When she smiled, a smear of lipstick coated one front tooth.

“Join me in a glass of champagne?” she asked, handing Melody a fluted crystal goblet.

She shook her head. What she didn’t need was alcohol. “I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you? I wasn’t told I’d have a traveling companion.”

The woman giggled, then took a gulp of champagne, looking at Melody through the bubbles. “I’m your hairdresser and makeup artist, silly. And, boy, am I an artiste.The studio thought you’d be more comfortable with a little friendly female companionship.”

Melody raised her eyebrows in surprise and held out her hand. “Melody Johnson. Pleasure to meet you.”

The woman fumbled with the champagne glass, nearly spilling it on her lap when she tried to shake Melody’s hand. “Sugar.”

Of course that was her name. It suited her perfectly. Melody turned to look out the rearview mirror and caught one last glance of her home before it faded into the distance. It was too late to turn back now.