A Vampire for Christmas - By Michele Hauf Page 0,22
blonde, said something in her ear before ushering her through the crowd toward a side exit. When they got to the door, she spun around to face him. From the looks of it, she was arguing with him. Given his stiff posture and the stern set of his jaw, he was pissed. Clearly, they had some sort of history together.
A twinge of jealousy shot down Charlotte’s spine. Was she an ex-girlfriend? He hadn’t mentioned that he knew anyone who worked here, but then again, maybe the man was an Xtark employee, not the woman.
“Beats me,” Charlotte said breezily, though she was curious, too.
Rose Marie and Deb turned around to look just as the blonde put her hand on Trace’s arm and took a half step closer. Charlotte’s cheeks heated, the twinges of jealously turning into full-fledged barbs. She wished she could read his expression, but he was turned slightly away from where the four women stood.
“Looks like he’s trying to get her to leave,” Kari said, “but she doesn’t want to. Do you think he’s doing that because he doesn’t want the two of you to meet? Maybe she’s his not-so-distant ex and he thinks he can still can control her.”
“Jesus, Kari,” said Rose Marie. “Sometimes you go a little too far.”
Charlotte set down her plate and decided to scratch Kari from her list of friends. There had to be a reasonable explanation. The bar had no line now, so she headed over and was soon sipping on a glass of the house cabernet.
Could there be any truth to what Kari had said? Was the woman a former girlfriend of Trace’s? It certainly wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. Was that why he’d insisted on coming tonight, hoping he’d run into her? Staring into her wineglass, she considered that a moment. A man like him playing games? No, it wasn’t possible. If he wanted to see someone, he’d just do it. He wouldn’t make up some elaborate story just so he could come with Charlotte.
Someone jostled her arm, almost spilling her wine, and a conga line weaved past her. She quickly moved out of their way before one of the dancers grabbed her to join in. She took her wine and headed out to the lobby. The window display of a high-end furniture store had caught her eye when they arrived. With the crowds thinner there, she’d check it out, give herself a chance to collect her thoughts, then she’d head back in a few minutes.
She really needed to get a grip on her runaway feelings for a man she hadn’t known for long. First of all, she and Trace weren’t a couple. He’d made that abundantly clear when she’d arrived at the mansion. Business only. Which was fine, right? If he ran into an ex-girlfriend, big deal. Given his impressive physical attributes and his prowess in the bedroom, celibacy clearly wasn’t something he practiced. And second, even though there was something utterly magnetic about him—something she couldn’t quite put her finger on that was both exciting and comfortable—it meant nothing. She’d always been one to overanalyze things.
Sure, she felt at home with him and had really connected with his grandmother, but that shouldn’t surprise her. He was confident and seemed truly interested in her as a person, while Vik reminded her so much of her own grandmother. It didn’t mean that she had any claim to him or that she should harbor any expectations. No, she really wasn’t falling for him. Especially since he was now a client.
“So, who do we have here?” Charlotte spun around to find the woman Trace had been talking to towering over her. With pouty red lips and blond hair framing her face, she was beautiful, but her eyes were dark, cruel. “Are you already planning on what furniture to buy when you move in together?”
Damn. Kari was right. She had to be an ex-girlfriend.
Charlotte took a half step back. “I’m sorry. Have we met?”
“I know what’s going on. Are you hoping that he’ll change you, too? That you’ll need some well-made furniture built to last a lifetime?” The woman flashed a BOTOX smile, showing a row of perfect white teeth, but it didn’t reach her eyes. They stayed dark, unanimated, with just a rim of color around the pupils.
Alarm bells rang in Charlotte’s head, her skin suddenly cold. Oddly enough, Trace’s eyes would darken like this, as well, but with him, she’d never felt uncomfortable. Now, it was as if Charlotte were a