Unwrapped (3 page)

His brow knotted. Why couldn't women be as easy to read as a blueprint? He released his breath in a sigh. “I was wondering how badly you were injured.”

“I'm fine now. I was just a little light-headed before.” She sat up to prove it, bringing her full pouting lips inches from his. He might not be able to read her, but he sure as hell desired her. He had never wanted to kiss a woman so badly in his life. It was like her lips were magnetized and he was solid metal. But before he could kiss her, she got to her feet and started picking up the items that had spilled out of her purse. Since there was a lot of crap, he knelt down to help her.

“So what are you doing up here?” he asked as he lifted her wallet and handed it to her. “I'm assuming by the costume that you were coming back from a party.”

There was a slight hesitation before she nodded. “And I got lost.” She leaned over to reach the tube of lipstick that had slid under the coffee table, and her breasts swelled forth in twin mounds of bodacious beauty. “So if you can't take me back to Denver, do you think you could get me to a working phone?”

It took her grabbing the lipstick and straightening before he could talk. “I could if I didn't have a flat tire.” Now that his temper had cooled, he realized that she wouldn't have had time to flatten his tire. He'd probably run over a nail at one of the jobsites, so it had been slowly leaking air all day.

“Don't you know how to fix it?” she asked.

“Yes, but I'm not going to do it in a blizzard.” He picked up her phone and tried it. There was still no reception so he tapped the screen closed. A screen saver picture of two people popped up. Patrick didn't know why he was more interested in the skinny guy than the pretty dark-haired woman. Or maybe he knew why, but just wasn't willing to admit it.

“Are you married?” he asked.

“Not yet. I'm still working on it.” Before he could figure out what that meant, she got up and took the phone and her purse from him. “So if you're not going to fix the tire, just what am I supposed to do?”

In heels, or at least in one heel, she was only a few inches shorter than he was and sturdily built. He realized that he liked that about her. He was tired of petite women he had to worry about breaking. This woman looked like she could handle a man who liked things a little rough. And since she wasn't married, was in no way connected to his aunt's schemes, and was here…

Patrick smiled. “You're going to spend the night with me.”

“What?” she squeaked. “I can't spend the entire night with a…”

“Patrick.” He held out his hand. “And you are?”

She swallowed hard before answering. “In big trouble.”

J
ac stretched out in the deliciously hot water and propped her feet on the rim of the tub. It was funny how a nice soothing bath could make a girl accept the fact that she was stuck spending the night with a bloodsucking vampire. A bloodsucking vampire with hungry green eyes and hard, sculptured muscles that made Jac understand why all those women in horror movies offered up their necks. There was something extremely erotic about having your blood sucked by a really hot guy. Especially if he didn't suck you dry.

She touched the spot behind her ear. The indentations were still there, but no puncture marks. And she had to wonder if she'd let her overactive imagination get the best of her. It wasn't like it hadn't happened before. When she was eleven, she'd discovered spaceship-landing marks near the horse stables. At twelve she'd been convinced that a ghost lived in the attic. And when she was fourteen she and Gerald had spent the entire summer trying to catch the mass-murdering groundskeeper who buried his victims' body parts in the garden. She had been extremely disappointed when they turned out to be tulip bulbs.

But Jac had been young and impressionable when those things happened. Now she was an adult. An adult who knew the difference between normal incisors and sharp fangs. The man might not have fangs now, but he'd had them before. And he'd bitten her with them. Not hard. Just enough to scare the crap out of her and cause her to faint. Of course her tight bustier might've added to her lack of oxygen, along with the bolt of lust that had speared through her at just the touch of his firm lips.

The lust had surprised her. Jac had always thought that sex was overrated. It was nice, but not as nice as spending a day in the kitchen whipping up some of Granny Lou's recipes, or a night watching movies with Bailey and Gerald. And it wasn't even close to being as earth-shattering as her friends made it out to be.

Of course Jac had learned early on that wealthy, spoiled women had a tendency to exaggerate about everything, from how much money their fathers made to the authenticity of their breasts. Which was why Jac fit right in. She could stretch the truth about almost anything—including her sex life. Her friends all thought that Jac's boyfriends had been excellent lovers, men who had sent her over the moon and back again. But the truth was that she'd had sex, but she'd never really liked it. Yet all it had taken was the soft brush of vampire lips to make the spot in her panties light up like Times Square at night. Even now she felt all warm and breathless at just the thought of his kiss.

“Are you okay, Jacqueline?” Her vampire's deep voice came through the door, causing her to sit up and slosh water onto the floor.

“I-I'm fine, Patrick,” she called back.
Patrick
.
She had always liked the name. Patrick Swayze. Patrick Dempsey. Saint Patrick. Count Patrick.

There was a long pause before he spoke. “Well, I'm glad you're fine, but do you think you could hurry it up so I could take a bath?”

“Oh!” She jumped up and unplugged the drain before reaching for the towel on the rack. “Of course, I'll just be a second.”

She didn't waste any time toweling off and getting dressed in the clothes Patrick had given her. The gray sweatshirt had a Denver Broncos logo on the front and the pants an orange-and-blue swish. Since she couldn't stand the thought of wearing her bustier and Spanx, she went commando, enjoying the feel of the cozy, soft cotton against her skin. After pulling on the warm wool socks, she studied her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, and even in the dim light from the kerosene lamp, she could see the brown freckles that sprinkled her nose and cheeks. Her aunt had hated her freckles and forced Jac to cover them ever since she'd been old enough to wear makeup. But her aunt was dead, and Jac had no business trying to impress a vampire.

After putting her underwear in her purse, she picked up her wedding gown. The gown was pretty much ruined, but it didn't matter. Her next wedding would be small. Maybe just close family and a knee-length Versace. And not somewhere cold. Possibly Mexico or the Bahamas on Thanksgiving or Christmas. She would've liked a New Year's Eve wedding, but that was the deadline in Aunt Frances's will, and Jac refused to cut it that close.

She pulled open the door to find Patrick waiting just outside. He held a candle, the light flickering in the green of his eyes and on the bronze of his naked chest. As his gaze swept her from head to toe, she blushed with embarrassment and tugged on the ribbing of the sweatshirt.

“I didn't have a brush…and these clothes are a little big.”

A smile played on his firm lips. “You look cute.”

Cute
?
Jac didn't know why the statement annoyed her. She should be happy he thought she looked cute. Vampires probably wouldn't want to snack on cute women. Which might explain why Jac felt so annoyed. Deep down she really wanted to be his Hostess snack cake.

“Are you still cold?” he asked.

With his naked chest so close, she wasn't cold. She was burning up. “Actually I'm a little warm.”

“Really?” His gaze lowered.

She glanced down and realized that her nipples had pitched a little tent on either side of the Broncos logo. She quickly crossed her arms. “Well, I better let you use the bathroom—I mean, I should get out of your way so you can do…whatever you need to do.” She tried to scoot past him, but he didn't seem to be in any hurry to move.

“There is something I need to do.” He lifted a hand and smoothed her hair behind her ear, his hot fingers causing her to release a sound that she'd never released before—a cross between a high-pitched sigh and a breathy moan. The sound turned his eyes a shade darker as he dipped his head and gave her a thorough kiss that curled her toes in the wool socks. Then, without another word, he walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

Jac didn't know how long she stood there staring at the scarred wood of the door and fighting down the desire to follow him into the bathroom and ask for another toe-curling kiss. Her brain might know Patrick the Vampire was bad business, but her body hadn't gotten the memo. It took the sound of water filling the tub to bring her back to her senses.

No, Jacqueline. No. No. No. You CANNOT become a vampire's snack pack
.
Not when she had to concentrate on finding another husband and marrying him before the first of the year. Even a sexy, good-kissing vampire wasn't worth losing billions. She turned and walked into the living room. Patrick had taken the time to make up her bed. The sofa mattress had been pulled out, the pillows plumped, and a fluffy comforter invitingly folded back.

Dropping her dress and purse on the floor, she sat down on the mattress. Of course she couldn't go to sleep. Man or vampire, she wasn't that stupid. She would just sit there until morning. Morning couldn't be more than five hours away. Five hours that suddenly began oozing by like molasses out of a measuring cup.

The wind howled outside the window. The logs shifted in the fireplace. And a splash came from the bathroom. Since the sitting position was uncomfortable, Jac eased back against a pillow and stared at the dancing flames and glowing orange embers of the fire. She felt bad about leaving Bradford. Even if he was only marrying her because his mother wanted Aunt Frances's money, she should've talked with him before just running off. She also felt bad about wrecking Bailey's car and screwing up Gerald's hope for a career in catering. But there was nothing she could do about it now. When she got Aunt Frances's money, she would make it up to them. Her eyes slid closed.

Yes, Aunt Frances's money would fix everything.

Jac didn't dream about money. She dreamed about Granny Lou. Granny hovered over the sofa couch in her polyester pantsuit and platform shoes and warned Jac about vampires and adding too much salt to cream gravy. After the warnings, her grandmother sang Donna Summer's “Last Dance.” Of course Jac had never been able to ignore good music, so she jumped up on the mattress and danced while her grandmother sang. Jac had just completed an arm roll and finger point when someone grabbed her from behind and pulled her down to the mattress. As she was enfolded in hard muscles and warm skin, Granny Lou faded away, her singing drowned out by the loud thump of a heart and the sharp bite of a vampire.

Jac's eyes fluttered open, but the dream continued.

She was in Patrick's arms, and he was nibbling on the spot right behind her ear. Or not nibbling as much as tasting, his mouth open and his tongue swirling. His hand slipped beneath her sweatshirt, encasing her breast in strong fingers and rough calluses. It wasn't a gentle cradling, but rather a possessive, undulating squeeze that made her breathing as loud as her thumping heart. The weird sigh-moan escaped her lips again, then got muffled in folds of cotton as her sweatshirt was jerked over her head.

When Jac was free, she looked up to find Patrick leaning over her, the dying embers of the fire casting his shoulder-length hair in flaming gold and orange. He studied her with hot, intense eyes for only a moment before he lowered his head and kissed her nipple. He brushed his rough tongue over it once before sucking it into the heat of his mouth. It was like being plugged into a power socket. A burst of tingling energy shot through her body straight to the spot between her legs, where it settled into a sweet ache that begged for attention. As if they had a will of their own, her legs wrapped around Patrick's hard thigh as her hips did a bump and grind.

It briefly crossed her mind that she must look like her aunt's shih tzu, Walter, going to town on one of Bailey's UGG slippers. Patrick didn't seem to mind. With a deep moan that vibrated against her nipple, he slid his hand down her pants and gave her the exact friction she needed. His fingers expertly located her clitoris, and then found a rhythm that ignited her. The flame caught and sizzled through her body, causing her hips to lift, her muscles to tighten, and her eyes to roll back in her head as all the energy inside her expanded in an orgasmic shower of crackling light. As the sparks began to settle to the ground, Patrick's rhythmic strokes and nipple sucking slowed along with them. A contented shiver ran through her, and he gave her nipple a gentle kiss before rolling to his side. She heard the slide of a drawer, followed by a curse and the jostle of mattress springs.

Jac opened her eyes to find Patrick gone. He returned only a few seconds later, his perfectly honed body outlined by the fire. He stopped at the foot of the bed, and she watched as he tore open the condom and placed it on his erect penis. Her eyes widened, but before she could get over his size, he was back on the bed and giving her a hard, deep, possessive kiss.

His mouth tasted of beer and lust, an intoxicating combination that caused desire to swell once again. He pulled back from the kiss and jerked down her sweats, his gaze sweeping her from head to wool socks. She had never been proud of her body. Her hips and thighs hung on to every calorie she ate. And being appraised by such a perfect human specimen, it was hard not to feel a little embarrassed. She reached for the sheet, but he stopped her.

“I want to see you,” he said before he spread her legs and knelt between them. Her gaze settled on the condom-covered penis that jutted out in front of him. It had grown. Suddenly she didn't feel fat. She just felt hot. Especially when he released a low, hungry growl.

Jac instinctively placed a hand over her neck. But it turned out that he didn't crave her blood as much as her body. Hooking his hands behind her knees, he bent her legs and lifted her hips off the mattress. She barely had time to adjust to the position before she was impaled. This time the fuse was set from the inside out. The deep thrust set off a chain reaction of sensations that completely took Jac's breath and sanity. And before she could get them back, Patrick tightened his grip on her legs and thrust again. And again. And again. Until the sofa bed squeaked and rattled and Jac moaned and trembled. The orgasm that broadsided her was even more intense than the first one. It burst in a huge sunburst of colors and glimmering sparks that filled her entire body. When she finally floated to earth, she wasn't surprised that the words to Donna Summer's song popped into her head and seemed to fit perfectly.

Jac was bad. So, so bad.

And it felt so, so good.

Loud banging woke Jac from a sound sleep. She rolled to her side and tried to muffle the noise with her pillow. The banging continued. Giving up on sleep, she opened her eyes and blinked at the sunlight that streamed in through the small window. A small window she didn't recognize. She glanced around the room until her gaze landed on a plaid kilt slung over a scarred end table.

In an instant Jac sat straight up and grabbed her neck. The two tiny indentions were still there, but they weren't worse. Obviously her vampire was into sex more than blood. The banging stopped and was soon followed by a soft tap. Jac glanced at the window to find a woman peeking in, her gloved hand cupped against the frosty glass. The woman smiled and pointed to the door.

Jac nodded, and then as soon as she disappeared, scrambled for the ugly sweatshirt on the floor and slipped it over her head. After finding her sweatpants and pulling them on, she quickly checked the bedroom and bathroom. It was a waste of time. Her toothy lover was gone. When she finally got the door pulled open, the woman had moved off the porch and stood next to the sheriff's deputy's car. A car that sat in the exact same spot the white truck with the flat tire had been sitting in the night before. Obviously vampires could love you and leave you as easily as mortal men.

The deputy pulled the radio away from her mouth. “Jacqueline Maguire?” she yelled up at her. When Jac nodded, she went back to talking to whoever was on the other end of the radio while Jac huddled in the doorway and stared out at the winter wonderland.