Under a Vampire Moon (13 page)

“Darn, it’s not there.”

Christian followed Carolyn’s gaze to the table where they’d sat earlier. It was now occupied by a couple in their thirties who were smiling and kissing each other, but he could see that there was no purse on the table.

“Oh, pretty lady!”

Christian turned a scowl on the bartender at the call and followed when Carolyn headed that way.

“You forgot this.” Smiling widely, the man reached under the bar to retrieve a small black purse.

“Oh, thank you!” Carolyn rushed the last few feet to claim it, laughing and relaxed again. “I was afraid it was gone for good when I didn’t see it there.”

“No. I saw it when I was clearing the table and brought it here. I knew you would come back for it,” the bartender assured her.

“Thank you,” Carolyn opened her purse. “Let me tip you.”

“No, no, you buy a drink, I take a tip, but otherwise, it’s not necessary.”

“Oh.” Carolyn frowned.

“Let’s have a drink then,” Christian said, his scowl fading as the man inadvertently offered him an opportunity to get to spend more time with Carolyn.

“Oh, but I have to get up early to meet Genie for breakfast before she starts work,” she said reluctantly.

“One drink,” Christian coaxed.

Carolyn hesitated, then nodded, “All right then. But I can’t stay long.”

“Right. We’ll be fast,” Christian assured her.

Carolyn turned to the bartender, taking out her money. “I’ll have a white wine, please, and whatever he’s having.”

Christian caught her hand and urged her away. “I’ll get it.”

“But—”

“I’ll tip him. Besides, I want something to eat. I haven’t eaten in a while.” For about three and a half centuries, he added silently as his eye was caught by a passing waitress with a tray of something giving off the most delectable smells.

“Oh.” She hesitated.

“Go find us a table. I’ll follow with the drinks.” Christian watched as Carolyn turned to survey the available tables. When she started to move off, he pulled out his wallet and asked the bartender, “What’s good?”

“Our wraps are very popular,” he said at once.

“Two of those then, please, and—” He paused, at a loss as to what to order to drink. It had been a while since he’d indulged. Smiling wryly, he said, “Whatever your most popular drink is.”

Nodding, the bartender accepted his money and said, “Go sit down. I will bring your drinks and change.”

“No change. Just the drinks,” Christian said and turned to follow the path Carolyn had taken. She’d found a table in the corner along the rail overlooking the beach and was peering out over the sand and sea when he joined her.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said on a little sigh.

“Yes,” he agreed without bothering to look. She was the most beautiful thing there was here for him to see. His life mate. It made her more precious than diamonds and more beautiful than the loveliest flower to him.

Carolyn turned and smiled at him. “So tell me how you got into music.”

Christian hesitated and frowned. She needed to get to know him to trust him. The problem was in this area, as with most others, he had to be careful. He couldn’t tell her he’d been born in the late 15th century, etc. etc.

“The usual,” he said finally, deciding just to avoid too much detail. “I liked music, so my father suggested I try various instruments. I showed an aptitude for the violin, so he sent for a teacher to give me classical training.”

“Classical training?” Carolyn said with amusement.

Christian smiled faintly. That was pretty much the only kind of training there had been back then, but he supposed it surprised her because he played in a rock band. “Yes, classical. He hired the best in the country to teach me. I think he was hoping I would become an Italian Johannes de Sarto . . . Sarto was a Franco/Flemish composer who was popular a long time ago,” he explained when she looked blank at the name.

“Ah.” She nodded and then smiled wryly. “I take it your interests didn’t lie in that area though?”

“They did for a while, but it got boring playing the same songs over and over again. So I put down the violin and went to work for the family instead, and then picked it up and put it down over and over. I guess this is one of my picking-it-up-again phases.”

“Hard-rock violin?” Carolyn asked with a grin.

Christian chuckled. “Gia dragged me into it. Come play with us, she said. I did, and—” He shrugged. “I like it. It’s more interesting. The music gets into your blood. I’ve been playing with the band for ten years and am not yet bored.”

Carolyn’s eyes widened. “You must have been a child prodigy.”

He shrugged. “I was five when I started to play.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “And then Gia dragged you into the band. What was it? A high school band in someone’s garage?”

“Oh, God no. We were well out of school when we started. No doubt old enough to know better,” he added with a laugh that faded when he saw the way she was looking at him. “What?”

“Ten years ago you couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen,” she said slowly. “And you said you put down the violin and worked for the company several times before that, but—”

“I’m older than I look,” he interrupted quietly.

“Gia said that too,” Carolyn murmured, peering at him more closely.

He’d thought he was being careful, but he’d obviously have to watch every word he said. Carolyn wasn’t a stupid woman. Much to his relief the bartender arrived then with their drinks to distract her.

Christian picked up his drink to try it, searching his mind for a way to
keep
her distracted from his slip. But he grimaced and set the drink down after tasting it. It was far too sweet. He’d much preferred the drink he’d tried earlier, the slushy green one Genie had ordered and he’d copied. That had been sweet/tart, much more to his taste. He would have ordered it again if he’d thought of it.

“No good?” Carolyn asked sympathetically.

“I preferred the earlier drink,” he muttered. “But the bartender said these were popular.”

“I like the sweet/tart of lime margaritas too,” she said wryly. “Not too keen on sweet, sweet drinks.”

“No.” Christian repeated lime margarita in his head several times to be sure he recalled it for the next time. Not having consumed anything but blood for centuries, it was hard to know what he would and wouldn’t like whether it was food or drink. Everything was new to him now.

“How old were you when—”

“Oh look, the food’s here,” Christian interrupted with relief as a waitress approached with two plates.

Carolyn glanced around and they both sat back as the waitress set the plates on the table.

“Thank you,” Christian said, and then lifted his drink. “Could you take this away and bring me one of those slushy lime margaritas?”

She took the glass with a smile. “Of course. I’ll have this taken off your bill.”

“Oh, no, that’s not necessary. I . . .” Christian let his words trail off. The woman had just walked away with the drink.

Carolyn chuckled at his vexed expression. “It won’t go on the bill.”

“But I ordered it,” he pointed out.

“On the bartender’s recommendation and you didn’t like it,” she argued.

“She didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, but they’re all about service here, and considering the prices, they can afford to be,” she said with a shrug.

Christian peered at her silently. It
was
pricey here, and it made him wonder how she afforded it. She’d started life poor and worked hard to get a degree and a good job, but had the money situation changed that much through her hard work? Or had she married money? Unfortunately, he couldn’t ask without touching on her marriage, which was a subject he had to avoid to prevent her from withdrawing again. Or, at least, he’d have to approach it like disarming a bomb, delicately and with a prayer on his lips.

“What’s this?” Carolyn asked curiously, examining the rolled sandwich and chips on her plate.

“The bartender called it a wrap.”

“I can see it’s a wrap,” she said with amusement. “What kind is it?”

“Oh.” He hesitated but then grimaced. “I’m not sure. He said it was the house specialty and popular, so I ordered us both one,” Christian answered and then smiled wryly and pointed out, “Mind you, considering the lack of success of his recommended drink, however, this could be a mistake.”

Carolyn chuckled, but shook her head. “I don’t know. It smells delicious.”

Christian had to agree. The wrap was looking more promising than the drink had turned out to be. His stomach apparently agreed. Deprived of anything but blood for centuries and not complaining about it before this, it now gave a rumble loud enough that Carolyn actually heard it.

She laughed at his embarrassed expression. “You’d better feed that beast or it might crawl up your throat and do it for you.”

Christian smiled faintly, and picked up one half of the sliced wrap. He peered curiously at the pinwheel opening, trying to sort out what was in it. It looked like chicken, rice, peas, and other vegetables.

“Mmmm.” That moan from Carolyn drew his gaze to see that she’d taken a bite and was now rolling her eyes with apparent pleasure. “Try it. It’s good.”

Christian needed no further prompting. He took a bite, and immediately closed his eyes as flavor drenched his tongue. Food. Dear God, it had been centuries since food had appealed to him, but even when he’d been eating, he didn’t recall anything having tasted this good.

“Good, huh?” Carolyn asked with amusement.

Christian opened his eyes and stared at her, knowing she was the only reason the wrap tasted as good as it did. She’d not only reawakened all his appetites, but added an extra sparkle and excitement to them . . . and all with the simple fact of her existence.

It was rather bewildering really, Christian thought. He had no idea how the nanos chose mates, or how his mother seemed to sense when someone was a possible life mate for an immortal . . . and really, Carolyn was the most unlikely life mate he could have imagined. A wounded bird. But then, so had he been until little more than a year ago. Not as wounded as Carolyn perhaps, but wounded just the same. A son without a mother until Marguerite reentered his life. And Carolyn was a woman without a family. He could give her that. Parents-in-law, grandparents, and even brothers and sisters and a niece, as well as all the cousins and aunts and uncles anyone could want. Probably more family than any sane person would want to interfere in their life, he thought wryly.

“What are you smiling about?” Carolyn asked curiously.

“My family,” he admitted honestly, and when her eyebrows rose, he shrugged. “You make me think of them.”

She blinked and then chuckled. “If you were straight, I think I’d be insulted. Fortunately, you aren’t, so . . .” She shrugged. “I think I understand. You make me think of Brent too, and he’s the closest thing I have to family.”

Great, Christian thought on a sigh. He reminded her of her gay buddy. Wow, was that sexy or what?

“I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed him until now,” Carolyn said suddenly.

“Do you see him at all?” Christian asked.

“Oh sure, I go to BC at least once a year and he and Stanley come to Ontario two or three times a year to see his family. We get together then.”

Christian wanted to ask what Brent had thought of her husband, but knew better than to broach that subject.

The waitress arrived then with his margarita and he thanked her and took a drink, relieved to find it as good as he’d recalled. They ate in silence for a bit, and then Carolyn asked, “Do you travel a lot with the band?”

Christian took a drink to clear his throat and shook his head. “We mostly play locally. This is the first time we’ve played away from home.”

“Really?” She didn’t hide her surprise. “You’re very good. I would have thought you’d be in demand all over.”

Christian shrugged. “We’ve had requests to do gigs farther away, but always turned them down.”

“Why?”

“Because we all have day jobs we can’t be away from.”

“Really?” That had her curious. “What do you do during the day?”

“I work for the family construction firm. Most of us do,” Christian added. It was how they’d gotten time off so easily. Marguerite wanted them here, so Julius, his father, and their boss, had said to come. Christian also did occasional work for the council as an enforcer, but he couldn’t tell her about that.

“I can see you in construction,” Carolyn decided, her gaze sliding over his shoulders and chest.

Christian’s body reacted as if she’d physically touched him. His nipples even hardened, something he didn’t think anything but cold could cause. Well, at least not in a man. It had certainly never happened to him before that he’d noticed.

“I can see you working a jackhammer or slinging a sledgehammer,” she said with a nod and took a drink of her wine.

Christian chuckled. “Nothing so physical. I’m basically an overseer. I check on the sites, make sure they’re keeping on schedule, handle any problems that arise to hold up jobs.”