Vampires Like It Hot

by Lynsay Sands

  Male laughter drew her attention to the door, and Jess sat up and glanced around. Her clothes weren’t there, which meant they were probably still on the floor where they’d landed when Raffaele had tugged them off of her. Out there where the men were, no doubt giving Raffaele’s cousins a clear idea of what they’d been doing while the two men had lounged around the pool.

  Yeah, that wasn’t embarrassing at all, she thought, and then rolled her eyes at herself. She was a grown-up. They were all grown-ups. Sex was a grown-up thing, she lectured herself as she slid out of the bed and walked quickly to the open closet to grab one of the hotel robes. It was a waffled white affair with gold trimming. Not especially soft or comfy, she decided as she pulled it on. But that probably kept guests from stealing them.

  Jess started to tie the belt around her waist, but then paused. Now that she was standing upright, she was aware of the dampness between her legs. In fact, it was starting to run down one inner thigh. Grimacing, she turned and headed into the bathroom.

  A quick shower was in order here before she had to face Raffaele’s cousins, she decided. Quick was the key word. Jess didn’t linger under the water. She got in, cleaned herself up, and got out. She was just as quick about drying herself off, but found herself considering the bags of clothes as she did. She briefly contemplated grabbing and putting on a fresh pair of shorts, underwear, and a top, but then shook her head. She wasn’t wasting the money on another outfit. There was nothing wrong with the clothes she’d had on earlier. She hadn’t worn them long enough for them to even be dirty. She just had to fetch them.

  Back in the robe, she tied it up this time, ran a brush through her damp hair, and headed through the bedroom. She paused at the doors to the living room, though, her head tilting as she noted that the men’s voices appeared to be growing fainter as if they were moving away. She listened briefly until the sound of the suite door closing reached her ears, and then opened the bedroom door and stuck her head out to see Raffaele turning to face her.

  “Oh! You’re up,” he said with a surprised smile as he moved back toward her.

  Relaxing now that she saw they were alone, Jess nodded and stepped into the living room, her gaze shifting around the floor in search of her clothes. Spotting her T-shirt in a little heap near the couch, she moved toward it, saying, “Yes. Did your cousins head back to the pool?”

  “Cousins?” Raffaele asked with confusion, and then said, “Oh, you thought—No, that was room service, delivering our breakfast.”

  Jess straightened with her T-shirt in hand and stuffed it in one of her robe’s large pockets as she glanced toward the table. She’d forgotten that he’d said he’d ordered breakfast. Now she recalled, and gaped at the various covered plates on the table. That explained why the waiter had been in the room so long. There were at least half a dozen large covered plates, but several smaller ones as well. There were also two white thermos carafes, cream and sugar, a variety of jams, butter, and what looked like little containers of peanut butter on an uncovered plate.

  “Are your cousins joining us?” she asked and, spotting her shorts and underwear in a knotted ball next to the table, moved quickly to scoop them up. She stuffed them in the robe’s other pocket as Raffaele moved to join her.

  “No. It’s just the two of us,” Raffaele said, pulling out her chair for her.

  “Thank you.” Jess settled in the chair and smiled crookedly as she watched him walk around to sit down. Most of her friends would have thought his manners were old-fashioned, but her father used to do little things like this for her mother. Holding her chair, getting the door for her, carrying things for her, letting her order first in restaurants . . . Jess had dated a lot of guys who didn’t bother with such niceties, but she liked that Raffaele did it. It made her feel special somehow.

  “What?” Raffaele asked suddenly when he caught her expression.

  “Nothing,” she said at once, and turned her attention to the table crowded with plates and cups. It must have taken the waiter forever to transfer the items from the cart to the table, and Jess found herself hoping that Raffaele had tipped him. The resort was all-inclusive, but Jess still tipped. Not extravagantly. She was still a student, after all, but she did tip here and there as she could for good service. She knew a lot of guests at the resort didn’t do that, precisely because it was all-inclusive. But with one of her jobs being a part-time booze jockey in a bar, Jess knew how hard the service industry could be. The majority of customers were okay, some were even great, but some could be demanding pricks, and others ungrateful assholes. Unfortunately, it only took one asshole to wreck your whole day. So, she tried to be patient and kind and always tipped to balance the scales.

  “It smells good,” Raffaele said as he began removing the silver covers.

  “Yes, but there seems to be an awful lot of food here,” Jess commented.

  “I was not sure what you would like, so ordered a variety,” he explained.

  Jess just shook her head and started to help remove lids as she said, “You know room service isn’t included in the all-inclusive thing, right? Your meals in the restaurants are free, but room service costs extra.”

  “Yes,” Raffaele said with unconcern as he set the last cover aside.

  Shrugging to herself, Jess peered at the selection. Her eyes widened as they slid over pancakes, bacon, sausage, omelets, and hash browns.

  “I hope there’s something you like,” Raffaele said when she simply stared at the offerings.

  “There is,” she assured him. “Several somethings I like, in fact.”

  “Good.” He relaxed a bit and peered over the food too. But when he noticed her glancing toward the carafes on the table, he said, “Orange juice and coffee.”

  “Wonderful,” Jess said on a sigh, reaching for the coffee first. She poured for herself and then for him, and then set the carafe aside and doctored her coffee with cream and sugar, vaguely aware that Raffaele followed suit.

  Both hungry, they ate in silence at first, but as Jess started to feel full, she found herself glancing toward Raffaele with curiosity and then suddenly blurted, “Are you married?”

  She didn’t know where the question came from. She hadn’t really thought it out. The words had simply tumbled from her lips. It had been one of the possible explanations she’d given herself earlier for why he hadn’t hit on her. Apparently, now that he had, and it had gone so far so fast, she’d worried about it. Raffaele stiffened and then raised shocked eyes to her face.

  “No,” he said firmly. “I’d hardly make love to you if I was already mated.”

  Jess blinked at the term make love. They barely knew each other, so calling it lovemaking was a bit of a stretch, but it certainly sounded better than some of the other terms he could have used. Offering him an apologetic smile, she said, “I didn’t really think you were.”

  “But you wanted to be sure,” he suggested dryly.

  Jess shrugged. “Some people wouldn’t care, but . . .”

  “You do,” he said quietly, and set his fork and knife down to meet her gaze and assure her. “I have no wife, no girlfriend, no mate of any kind. I am completely free of entanglement except now for you. I would never be unfaithful to a mate.”

  Jess relaxed and nodded, but asked, “Recent breakup?”

  His eyebrows rose at the question, and he shook his head, but then narrowed his gaze and asked, “What about you? Husband, boyfriend, recent breakup?”

  Jess shook her head. “My messed-up hours don’t leave much time for dating. I work the bar most weekends when everyone else is on their dates, have classes in the late morning and afternoons, and the gig at the clinic sometimes in the afternoon and sometimes in the evening. So, unless the guy wants to do things between nine at night and 4 a.m. on weekdays, or after the bar closes on the weekend . . .” She shrugged. “It makes dating hard.”

  “I imagine it does,” he murmured, and then asked, “Between nine at night and 4 a.m.?”

  Jess wrinkl
ed her nose. “The counseling center closes at nine, and I’ve always been a night owl.” She shrugged. “Probably to do with my childhood in the foster homes, lying awake at night listening for footsteps or shouting and such. Now it’s just habit after years of training, I think. I don’t usually fall asleep before three or four in the morning most nights, so I schedule my classes for afternoons, or later in the morning if they aren’t available after lunch.”

  “Perfect,” he said with a smile.

  Jess raised her eyebrows. “Why is that perfect?”

  Raffaele blinked, and then shook his head. “Sorry. I just meant . . . I’m a night owl too.”

  “Really?” she asked with surprise. “I’d think it would be hard to be a night owl as a construction worker.”

  “I don’t actually work in construction,” he explained. “I work for the family construction company, but I’m actually an architect.”

  “Oh,” she said with surprise, and then smiled wryly. “I guess that’ll teach me to assume things.”

  They both fell briefly silent again, and Jess picked at the food remaining on her plate, and then asked, “Do you suppose there are any American banks in Santo Domingo?”

  It had occurred to her that if there was a branch of her bank here in the Dominican, she might be able to withdraw money from her account once she had a passport to prove her identity. Maybe. Hopefully.

  “I do not know,” Raffaele admitted, his solemn gaze moving slowly over her. “If you have need of money, I—”

  “No,” Jess said quickly, shutting him down. She was not taking money from the man, and she was paying him back for whatever clothes she used. She’d rather try to sneak onto Vasco’s ship and get her stuff back than take money from Raffaele or his cousins. Borrowing from her family was one thing, but . . . Well, the truth is, she couldn’t move herself to actually borrow from them either. That had always been a thing with her. She hated asking anyone for anything. Probably because she was afraid of rejection or some damned thing. She didn’t know. It was just the way things were. She would rather do things on her own than depend on anyone.

  Realizing how silent the room had gone, she glanced toward Raffaele and then shifted uncomfortably when she noted the way he was watching her.

  “You have issues with money,” he said quietly.

  Jess shrugged. “My parents did all right, but they weren’t exactly the Rockefellers. And school is expensive . . . as I found out after they died,” she added under her breath. It seemed Raffaele had incredible hearing, however, and caught her words.

  “Did your parents not—” he began with a frown, and she cut him off.

  “My parents were wonderful, hard-working people. I was their only heir and got everything. Unfortunately, it was kind of a mixed bag. My parents had been paying for my education up until then. Whenever I asked if it was too expensive and suggested I should quit for a while and work to pay my own way later, they insisted everything was fine, that they’d put away for this. What they didn’t tell me was that they had put away what they’d expected to need for three or four years of college. My going further and changing majors, however, meant they’d dug deep into their retirement savings. Apparently, they felt they could sell the house later, buy somewhere smaller, and sink the extra money back into their retirement.”

  “I see,” he murmured.

  Jess shrugged. “I got the house, the little bit left of their retirement fund, and the insurance. What was left in the retirement fund was just enough to pay to have my parents’ bodies shipped back home and have nice funerals for them. The insurance was the true blessing. It was just enough for me to finish my schooling.”

  “And yet you work two jobs,” he pointed out with a small frown.

  “Of course. Well, I have to eat,” she said with amusement. “And pay taxes on my parents’ house, as well as water, phone bills, internet, etc.”

  “The insurance wasn’t enough to cover that?” he asked with surprise.

  “Did I not mention school is expensive?” she asked with amusement.

  Raffaele was silent for a minute and then asked, “You were unwilling to sell your parents’ house to ease the situation?”

  Jess glanced down at her plate, and pushed a bit of egg around with her fork before saying, “It’s foolish, I know. My life would be a lot easier if I did, but . . .” Grimacing, she raised her head, and admitted, “I’m not ready to let it go yet. And I may never be. It’s all I have left of them, and where I spent the best and happiest part of my life so far. I’d like to keep it and hopefully someday raise my own children there.”

  “You would like to have children, then?”

  She glanced at him with surprise. “Well, sure I do. And hopefully I will.”

  “Why hopefully?” he asked with interest.

  Jess shrugged and sat back in her seat. “Well, I’m twenty-seven now. By the time I get my degree, establish a career, and then find a man . . . I’ll be lucky if my ovaries haven’t shriveled up and fallen off. At least that’s what Aunt Zita tells me,” she added with amusement.

  “Is she related to Allison?” Raffaele asked with interest.

  Jess burst out laughing and nodded. “She’s Allison’s mother, and the two are as charming as each other.”

  “Hmm. The apple never falls far from the tree, and it seems every family has at least one apple tree,” he said dryly.

  Jess grinned and nodded in agreement.

  “Well . . .” He stood and began to stack plates. “I suppose I should shift this all out to the hallway and call down for someone to collect it.”

  Nodding, Jess stood and helped, gathering the plates closest to her and stacking them as he was doing. Shifting the collection of dishes to one hand, she then picked up one of the carafes with the other and led the way to the door.

  “Wait, let me get the do—Oh, I—”

  Jess glanced back and chuckled as she saw the exasperated expression on his face as he peered down at his full hands. Shaking her head, she caught the carafe between her inner arm and chest, and used her now-free hand to open the door.

  “After you,” she said lightly.

  “Drink jockey, did you say?” he asked with amusement as he stepped out into the hall to set his dishes and carafe down.

  “Booze jockey,” she corrected, passing him the items she held when he straightened and reached for them.

  “Booze jockey,” he murmured, turning to set the dishes down.

  It was when he bent that she saw them. Across the children’s play area next to their building, standing in the shade from the awning of the not-yet-open pizza restaurant on the edge of the resort property. Vasco and Cristo. Just standing there, watching them.

  “I think—Jess?” Raffaele cut himself off to ask as he straightened and saw her face. Clasping her upper arms, he peered at her with concern and then turned to glance over his shoulder. She knew he’d seen them when he stiffened and whipped back around.

  The next thing Jess knew she was back in the hotel room and the door was closed. It happened crazy fast. That or she’d blacked out briefly, because it seemed like she blinked and was in a different spot.

  “It’s all right,” Raffaele assured her, urging her away from the door.

  “It’s not all right,” she responded dully, but stopped and turned back to him to ask, “What if they follow us to Santo Domingo? What if they—?”

  “They won’t follow us,” he promised her quietly. “I’ll make sure they don’t.”

  “How?” she asked, not believing him, and then she added with frustration, “How are they even out there? They’re vampires and it’s daylight. It was daylight when they came into the room Allison and I share too. They shouldn’t be able to be out now.” Frowning, she added, “But it was daylight when they lured us onto their ship too. Mostly anyway. It was close to sunset then, though, and I thought—” Breaking off, she glanced to Raffaele to see the concern on his face and sighed unhappily.

  Great. Now he’d
think she had a screw loose. And she hadn’t even told him about what happened on the ship. She’d expected to have to come up with a lie, but he and his cousins hadn’t even asked . . . which was kind of odd, she decided.

  Frowning, Jess narrowed her eyes and asked, “Why haven’t you asked me what happened to make me jump off the pirate ship?”

  Raffaele stilled briefly and then raised his eyebrows and said, “I assumed it was too traumatic for you to want to talk about, and that you’d tell me when you were ready. Women don’t usually choose shark-infested waters over nice sturdy sailboats unless they feel more threatened by something on the ship than the sharks in the water.”

  “I suppose now you think I’m a crazy lady because of this talk of—”

  “No,” he interrupted firmly. “I do not think you are crazy. I think you are beautiful, and smart, and strong, and so very brave. I think you’re wonderful, Jess. A wonder, and I think I was blessed to find you.”

  Jess stared up at him wide-eyed, his words echoing through her head. “You do?”

  The small, uncertain tone of her own voice was somewhat startling. She hardly sounded like the strong brave woman he’d just described. Instead, she sounded young, unsure, and even needy. All of which she supposed she was. Jess liked to think she was strong and brave, and she had felt that way when her parents had still lived. They’d showered her with love and care and support, but when they’d died, she’d lost all of that loving support. Despite the care and concern of her aunts and uncles, she’d felt abandoned, alone. There was a difference between close family like parents or a husband, and relatives once removed like aunts and uncles and cousins.