Vampires and Sexy Romance

by Eva Sloan

  “Isn’t it obvious what I’m trying to do?” She tried the smile again, this time solicitous, but still tinged with desperation.

  “Okay, then why right now? What’s wrong?” Kevin’s gaze bore into Susan, demanding an answer.

  She made a little face, and sighed. “Nothing’s wrong... Well, everything’s wrong! Of course it’s all wrong!” She brought up her arms and disconnected Kevin’s hands from her shoulders. “I’m supposed to be on my goddamn honeymoon! I’m supposed to be here with my husband, happy and married and dreaming about my future!”

  Kevin groaned as she hit him in the chest with her fist. Susan looked horrified as soon as she did it, tears welling up in her eyes, but not spilling down her face. She kept them reined in, blinking them away.

  She peered into Kevin’s eyes with a blank stare. “And I’m supposed to be having ridiculous amounts of sex.”

  Kevin gulped. He felt his face flush, not knowing how to take her apparent decision to have that missed-out-on sex with him. He shook his head and closed his eyes to the need that burned in her eyes. “But why me, and why now when we’re both drunk.”

  “Because I need to get this over with.” Susan’s voice was sharp and brittle, and it made Kevin open his eyes with a start. The look on her face had changed again. This time the desperation was tinged with fear, and pain.

  “What do you need to get over with?” She was confusing him entirely.

  “The pain!” She sobbed, covering her mouth, trying to hold back what was pushing to escape her lips. She breathed deep for a few moments and let her hand fall from her lips. “If I can do this, then I can make the pain go away.”

  “Do what? If you can do what?”

  She shook her head, and she leaned down and kissed him again. This time was more urgent, yet less cold and desperate. This time, Kevin felt the heat rising in both of them, could feel himself losing his willpower, could feel the way their bodies seemed to connect even with their clothes on.

  But he could also taste the tears on her lips, and hear the rasp of muffled sobs in her breathing.

  He wasn’t doing this. He may have been dreaming about this very scenario every night since he’d met Susan, but he’d be damned if it was going to be like this. Not a drunken one-night stand, not after all these years, not with all she meant to him. They would regret it in the morning. They would never be the same.

  What if he lost her?

  He would not let himself do it. And he wouldn’t let her do it either. Kevin tore his face away, breaking their lip-lock. He rolled off the bed, picked her up and staggered into the hallway with her clutched to his chest, her arms restrained under his own. Susan giggled as he stumbled, still drunk, and tried to negotiate the turn into her room. But her giggling stopped short when he dropped her on the bed like a sack of potatoes.

  When the mattress stopped bouncing, Susan looked up at him.

  “If you remember any of this in the morning, then we’ll talk.”

  “But--”

  “Until then, stay in your own room!” He pointed his finger at Susan and felt the hurt and anger rip through his voice. “Never like this,” he muttered as he stomped barefoot out of Susan’s room, slamming the door behind him.

  Chapter 5

  WHEN DENTON CRANE CALLED with Mark’s exact whereabouts Liz’s plane had just landed in Colorado. “Perfect timing, Mr. Crane. Where is he?”

  Technically, she had lied to Kevin. Though she’d needed some more time to prepare for the showing, she had no intention of attending it. Curtis Browning was a highly regarded artist, and he trusted Liz with showing and auctioning his work, but they simply despised each other. But as a token of good faith Liz had left her assistant, the young and obscenely sexy Lance, in her place. And though Lance would hardly let himself be compromised by anyone, let alone some trite old art luminary, he did have a preternatural charm about him.

  By the time Lance was done with Curtis, he wouldn’t know what had hit him.

  This left Liz with plenty of time to hunt down cheating, dick-head Mark, which was exactly what she was doing two hours later as she entered the bar area of the Pine Mountain Lodge in Aspen, Colorado. She stopped at the periphery, finding the best angle to scope out the room. A few beats later she caught sight of her prey, leaning against the bar with a snifter of cognac in one hand, his other hand energetically pawing at the spandex-clad ass of the easily recognizable red-haired Shauna.

  Liz sauntered forward, keeping her eyes latched onto Mark’s smiling, drooling mug. The gathered crowd of vacationing attorneys and doctors and their surgically enhanced snow bunnies magically parted as Liz cut a swath through their number in a straight line to her objective.

  She came up behind Mark, tossed back her hair and shot her prettiest smile at the red-headed cocktail waitress. Shauna smiled back, and as if Liz had commanded her to with just the power off her mind, she tapped the still blathering Mark on the forearm and pointed behind him.

  He swung around, his face alight with happiness, his cheeks flushed like a Campbell’s Soup Kid--until his alcohol-hazed mind caught up with his radically changed reality. But by then, it was too late. Liz had smiled beautifully, had said his name as if she were greeting a long lost best friend, and grabbed him by the shoulders, using his own bulk as leverage, and planted her knee in his groin with a sharp, Tae Bo perfected motion. Immediately Mark’s face turned purple and his body curled up in the fetal position on the high gloss hardwood floor of the bar, where he unceremoniously heaved up his lunch and all the pretentiously overpriced cognac.

  Liz waltzed uncontested from the resort, stepped into the taxi that awaited her at the curb, and drove off to the airport again for a quick trip home before she headed down to Cancun. She smiled with satisfaction as she replayed her triumph in her head, over and over and over again.

  ~*~

  Susan never realized how many irritating, if not downright painfully loud sounds surrounded her, especially when she woke up. Usually those sounds just melted together to form a complex, though ignorable, mixture. As with most people, Susan was so used to these sounds that she needed to employ the use of an alarm clock.

  Happily, paradise had no screeching, ear splitting alarm clocks.

  But what paradise did have was a multitude of sounds that, as hungover as Susan was, left her in excruciating pain and begging the gods to kill her.

  Susan had woken with the sound of the surf in her ears, which created a dull ache in her head and made her stomach lurch. The wind blowing through the palm trees, the swoosh causing painful tingles to climb up her spine to the back of her neck, made her shudder. And worst of all--wind chimes.

  Wind chimes are supposed to be relaxing and peaceful, but with Susan’s hangover, they were clanging, deafening train wrecks, and no matter how she covered her head with the pillow, she couldn’t escape them.

  Hell is probably polluted with wind chimes!

  Susan scrambled out of bed and staggered to the door of her room, passing into the living room with the blanket still wrapped around her. She collapsed on the couch beside Kevin, and fell against him, holding her ears.

  “Turn on the TV!” she moaned.

  Kevin grabbed the remote and the large screen, flat panel TV blinked to life.

  “Turn it up!” Susan pleaded.

  Kevin complied and Susan leaned into him more, relaxing as the easily ignored racket of the television eradicated the deathly cacophony of the tropical paradise. Susan couldn’t remember the last time she’d been hungover. Probably after one of Liz’s art shows. Liz always had great after parties, where the wine and champagne flowed into the wee hours of the night. But whatever headaches those parties had caused were nothing compared to the throbbing, searing pain that now bloomed inside Susan’s skull.

  “Take me now, Lord,” Susan cried as she pulled Kevin’s brawny arm around her head, like a pillow, to quell paradise’s racket. She was ready.

  She could feel Kevin’s ribs shake as he laughed. She wa
s just about to retaliate by jabbing him in his stomach when she felt something smooth and cold press against her forehead. She opened her eyes and looked up. Kevin was holding a glass of liquid to her head. Pulling it back, she saw it was a sickly burnt orange color, and there were flecks of black, and chunks of red and green in there.

  Kevin took his arm back, leaving her vulnerable to the enemy sounds. “Remember my hangover remedy from college?”

  At that moment, Susan found remembering her own name to be taxing, so going back to the good old days took some thinking--it felt like a brick wall was between her and her recollections. But finally the memory of the orange concoction came back to her.

  “You made it after the Omega Pi party, beginning of senior year.”

  “And every time we got blitzed after that, which was a lot.”

  Susan shook her head, wrinkling her nose. “Yeah, and I remember it tastes freaking awful.”

  “Awful or not, it works like a charm.”

  Susan conceded that. Even though it looked like swill from the bottom of a dumpster, smelled like burnt rubber and tasted like vomit, the stuff worked. Now Susan just had to weigh all that was bad about it against having the hangover from hell all day.

  Her mouth went cotton ball dry just at the thought of chugging the nasty mess. But the wind outside picked up, and the wind chimes gained volume.

  “Give me that.” She snatched the cold glass out of Kevin’s hand and brought it to her lips. But she inhaled through her nose and the burnt rubber smell she remembered had a musky gym socks scent too. She held the glass out away from her and shook her head. “How did you make it smell worse?”

  Kevin guffawed. “It doesn’t. It’s just that island paradises smell so good, everything else smells worse in comparison.”

  Susan looked at him doubtfully.

  “Here,” he said, scooting closer. “I’ll hold your nose for you while you drink it.”

  “You gonna hold my hair for me when I puke it back up?”

  “Very funny. Now remember it works best if you guzzle the whole thing at once.”

  Susan just wanted to kick him in the teeth. “That wouldn’t be because it tastes like shit, would it?”

  Kevin grabbed hold of her nose and pushed the glass to Susan’s lips. “Everyone’s a goddamn critic.”

  As the chilly liquid flowed down her throat she had to admit, without the smell it tasted like generic cough syrup. Generic cough syrup with chunks of cherries and olives in it, and laced with tequila.

  Susan coughed as the last of the nasty stuff went down, and as Kevin let go of her nose, she reached for a tissue and gave her nose a swift, very quiet blow.

  “What the hell was that?” Kevin said, sitting back from her, his expression confused, as if he couldn’t recognize her.

  “What was what?”

  “You just blew your nose like a blond sorority pledge. What happened to the angry tuba?”

  He would have to remember something stupid and horribly embarrassing like that. Susan had always had a loud sneeze, often likened to a shotgun blast. And when she blew her nose it always sounded like a very loud, angry tuba. She hadn’t given it much thought in high school, and little more in college. But once out in the professional world and social situations, people stared at her like she was a circus freak when she cleared her sinuses. She had consciously toned it down. Toned down so far that now she made no sound at all.

  “Angry tuba went bye-bye,” Susan said.

  Kevin threw back his head and laughed, pulling her to him with his strong, muscular arm. “I guess that would put a damper on any dating situation.”

  The orange sludge calmed her stomach, and her mind quieted. “Mark looked at me like I was an elephant the one time I accidentally did it in front of him.” She swallowed as she remembered the horrified look on his handsome face. “Said it was tacky. He runs off with a cocktail waitress and I’m tacky!” She stiffened. At the thought of him judging her, and then standing her up on their wedding day, her hangover was quickly being replaced by pure, hot anger.

  “He doesn’t deserve the tuba,” Kevin said, kissing her lightly on the top of her head. “He doesn’t deserve you either.”

  Susan laughed, but it sounded wheezy and choked. She dropped her head down on Kevin’s t-shirt clad chest and listened to his heartbeat. Strong and steady. But when she wrapped her arms around his torso she could swear that steady heartbeat lurched and started to speed up. His chest felt so good, the solid bulk of him, that she leaned in more, snuggling into his warm, hard body--inadvertently pressing her breasts against him.

  She could hear his heart racing, and his breathing came in ragged gasps.

  Suddenly Kevin pulled away from her and was on his feet, looking flushed and sweaty, like he’d just run a mile. “How’s that hangover?”

  “What’s wrong?” Susan was still trying to straighten herself on the couch--she’d fallen over when he’d jumped away from her.

  “Nothing.” But she’d never seen Kevin look so nervous.

  “Then why are you acting like that?”

  Kevin got this pissed-off look on his face--jaw set, head tilted, hands on his hips--and those hazel eyes of his got all dark and sinister. It made a chill slither up Susan’s spine.

  “Last night...” Kevin said, his voice a harsh accusation.

  “Last night?” Susan struggled to remember what had happened. There had been the hang gliding, and dinner, and margaritas...and then Liz had called. Something about finding her a rebound fling, and then...

  She’d jumped her best friend’s bones.

  Susan closed her eyes and groaned. “Oh God!”

  “So you do remember,” Kevin said, his eyes narrowing.

  “I made a pass at you.”

  “I think it went way beyond a pass.” His eyes looked angry, but Susan could tell it was just for show.

  And it hit her, and the thought made the red hot anger from before well up inside her, ready to explode. She was sure her hair would burst into flame at any moment.

  “And you turned me down,” Susan said.

  “As any good friend--”

  “You turned me down!” she screamed.

  Kevin’s eyes bulged with surprise. “I-I...just--”

  Kevin backed away, his hands up as Susan rose from the couch. Good, he should run. I’m about to murder him! Liz’s words were whispering themselves in her ears again. Rebound. The fastest, easiest way to get over the pain of being dumped?

  And she was in pain. Every time she thought of Mark, every time she remembered how beautiful she’d felt in that wedding dress. Being there, in paradise, on her honeymoon, with no groom. The pain radiated from her chest, making all her limbs feel like they were withering, dying. Her head had never felt so ready to burst, filled with questions, convoluted thoughts, paranoia. The cure was as simple as sleeping with some hot stud...she had her own hot stud right there with her, and he was her goddamn best friend!

  “How could you say no?”

  Kevin’s jaw dropped, his eyes turning unreadable.

  “I’m in real pain here, and you won’t give me the one little thing I ask you for.”

  “Now wait a minute--”

  “I mean--” She could hear the hysteria in her own voice, which pissed her off even more. “It’s not like I’m asking for a kidney or something. Or for you to date my two hundred pound ugly sister.”

  “Suze, you don’t have a--”

  “All I wanted was for you to fuck me!”

  Kevin’s jaw dropped again.

  “It’s not like you haven’t wanted to!”

  The look that fell over Kevin’s face like a malevolent shadow instantaneously zapped the anger right out of Susan’s entire body. Kevin was pissed. And this time, for real.

  ~*~

  Kevin had had enough.

  He’d been the good friend, taking Susan away from her problems, bringing her down to Cancun. He’d played nursemaid, psychologist, pizza delivery boy, and barten
der. And he’d been so strong--though tequila impaired himself--and hadn’t let her take advantage of him, even though ninety-nine percent of him had so wanted her to.

  But now she was calling him out like he was some ungrateful letch. Who the fuck did she think she was?

  Susan opened her mouth as if she was about to say something, but Kevin snapped at her before she could utter a syllable.

  “You have no right to ask me for that!”

  Susan stepped back, a fearful look in her eyes.

  “Not you, not now, not ever!”

  Susan looked up at him as he towered over her. He was clenching his teeth so hard it hurt. Slowly he willed his breathing slower, and when he stepped back he started to walk toward the glass French doors leading to the beach.

  “I have to go,” Kevin said as he pulled the doors open and left the room, not looking back.

  ~*~

  What have I done? That’s all Susan could think as she stood in the middle of the hotel suite, looking out onto the pure white sands of Cancun, watching Kevin walk away, down the beach, and then slowly out of sight. What had she done?

  Good thing was she wasn’t thinking about Mark or the wedding or her feelings anymore. She was just plain horrified that she could’ve been so selfish, so thoughtless, so cruel. He’d done all this for her, in her time of need--and she had to face it, she was freaking pathetic with need about then. And not only had she tried to seduce him against his will, but then she threw his attraction for her, from seven long years ago, right in his face, like he was some juvenile pervert trying to cop a feel.

  When in reality he’s the best friend I have in the world.

  Sorry, Liz.

  Susan could no longer set one higher than the other. They both meant so much to her. And she hadn’t realized until he’d walked out that door that he meant the world to her. She couldn’t live without him. Not for a single day. How could she be such a fool, trying to use him like that, and just to dull her pain.

  She would make it up to him.