Bit the Jackpot (13 page)

The cat took advantage of the newfound space and curled up into a ball where Seamus's foot had been. Seamus turned on his side. The black cat jumped on the bed right where Seamus's face was. "Argh." He turned, but so did the cat, and he wound up with a furry tail in his mouth.

He pushed the cat's rump down until it lay on the sliver of bed between Seamus and the nightstand. "Stay."

Feeling squished and pissed off, Seamus flipped onto his back and watched Cara come out of the bathroom. Still wearing sweats. Still wearing a T-shirt, though it was a different one. An even baggier one.

"Aahhh, look how cute you all look," she said. "Where's Button? Button! Come here, baby."

The other Lab bounded into the room and leaped onto the bed. Cara slid in behind him. She lifted the Chihuahua off her pillow and cuddled him against her chest. The chest Seamus wanted to cuddle against.

The Labs grumbled at each other as they nudged and pushed for positioning.

"Cara, I'm not sure the bed is big enough for all these animals."

"Sure it is." She fixed the blankets over herself. "It's cozy and comforting."

Not the words he would have chosen.

"I'm going down to the casino with Kelsey and Alexis again tonight," she said, capping her words off with a yawn.

"That's fine." Even if it scared him, he couldn't see a legitimate reason to say no when she would have a bodyguard with her, and she'd be staying in Ethan's casino.

"I wasn't asking permission."

Seamus rolled his eyes and shifted, causing the black cat to shoot him a look of displeasure. He gritted his fangs. "Fine."

It was the only word he could manage, because this was a fine end to a long life. He was a vampire, for hell's sake. Strong. Bloodthirsty. Intelligent. And what else?

Whipped by a woman. A woman who lived with him, decorated his apartment, ordered him checks, and shared his bed, but who he had not had sex with.

She was silent for a minute. Then, "Do you think we need relationship counseling?"

"No!" He'd rather hack his own head off. And what kind of relationship did she think they had? Besides weird and asexual, that is.

"Well, you're very closed."

So was she. She'd yet to let him anywhere near her inner thighs in days. "Vampires don't go to counseling."

"Humph," was her opinion on that.

He wished he could read her mind and figure out what planet she was coming from, but her thoughts were shuttered.

"Good night," she said after a second.

That made him smile, just a little. "Actually, it's good day."

Brittany Baldizzi was still adjusting to the fact that she was half-vampire and her sister Alexis was now a full vampire, married to the president of the Vampire Nation. It was a big change, some of it a little unnerving. But she did appreciate that she could now call Alexis at all hours of the night.

She leaned her head on the edge of the bathtub to cool her flushed skin, and hit the button for Alexis on her cell phone. Even though Alex couldn't do anything to make the flu go away faster, it would make Brittany feel better to hear her sister's voice. Alexis had raised her when their mother had overdosed, and was Brittany's rock. Alexis would let her whine about how lousy she felt.

Actually, Alexis would probably come over and wipe her brow. Help her change her sweaty T-shirt. Tuck her into bed. Get her some ginger ale. All of which sounded very appealing from her hunched-over position on the cold bathroom floor.

She'd never been this sick in her life and it was awful.

Unfortunately, Alexis wasn't answering her cell phone.

When the voice mail came on, Brittany said, "Alex?" in a shaky, hopeful voice. But Alexis didn't pick up.

She dropped the cell phone and let a tear slip out of each eye and roll down her cheeks. She felt really damn awful. Like something had gone inside her intestines and started jackhammering through the interior walls. Not to mention she was light-headed and cold.

But other than her sister, she had no idea who she could call in the middle of the night on a Thursday for some sympathy and Pepto-Bismol.

Corbin popped into her head for some reason.

Brittany sighed and picked at her sweaty shirt, lifting it up and shivering when the cool air hit her wet skin underneath. Even if she knew how to call Corbin, she wouldn't. They didn't have a relationship or anything. He was just a vampire she had met in Ethan's hotel, and he had told her he was a scientist, researching a cure to vampirism. He had asked for a sample of her blood, and somehow, she wasn't really sure exactly how, but their clothes had fallen off and suddenly she'd been having amazing sex with him. But then, nothing. He had zipped on out of her apartment about a minute after he'd pulled it out, which had been fine with her because she'd been mortified at her behavior.

That should have been it.

It shouldn't matter. She really didn't even know him. But it still hurt, just a little, that he'd thought so poorly of either her or her sexual prowess that he hadn't bothered to call or anything.

And he was so cute. With his little Frenchie accent and his gray eyes. Corbin Jean Michel Atelier.

Her stomach cramped convulsively again. She lurched for the toilet and gripped her way through another round of heaves. When she pulled back, shaking, eyes watering, hair in her face, stomach sour, she heard the front door to her apartment open.

Thank God. It was Alex. She must have heard her pitiful voice mail and dashed over. Or somehow with her vampire senses she had detected Brittany's misery.

"Alex?" she whispered, eyes closed, hand fumbling for a towel to wipe her mouth.

"Brittany? What is the matter with you?" a voice asked from the doorway.

A voice with a French accent. Oh, shit. Brittany's eyes flew open. "Corbin?" she asked weakly.

He was standing in the doorway of her tiny bathroom, looking put together and suave in dress pants and a deep blue dress shirt that complemented his fair hair and gray eyes. She hadn't seen him in four weeks, and he looked even cuter than she remembered.

There was no telling what she looked like, and the look of horror on his face wasn't encouraging.

He strode into the bathroom and bent down in front of her, pushing her hair back off her face and running his eyes over her. "What is wrong, Brittany?"

"The flu."

"Do you have a fever?" He pressed his cool palm onto her forehead. "It doesn't feel like one to me, but you are clammy. And you vomited, yes?"

"Yes." And forgot to flush the toilet. Mortified, she reached for the handle. He beat her to it and pushed it down forcefully. Lovely. Just lovely. The only man in her adult life she had ever mooned over and he showed up right when she'd puked her guts out. She probably had saliva on her cheek to complement the sweat-soaked sticking-up hair.

But he startled her by reaching out and lifting her into his arms. "Corbin! Stop, I'm all gross."

"Hush, Brittany. I'm taking you to bed."

Despite her queasy stomach, his word choice made her blush, remembering the last time they'd been in her bed. His grip tightened on her. He felt good. Strong. Solid. She indulged in leaning against him, appreciating the fact that she wasn't alone. Her sister Alexis was the strong one, who liked solitude. Brittany craved company.

With one arm, he pulled back her white and pink bedsheets and deposited her gently on the bed. Brittany sighed in relief. The bed felt good to her sick body. Then he turned and rummaged through her dresser.

"What are you looking for?"

He came back to the bed with a T-shirt in his hand. "Getting you a fresh change of clothing. Your shirt is soaked."

It was also making her shiver. She held her hand out for the clean shirt. "Thanks."

But he didn't give it to her. Instead, he dropped it on the bed, grabbed the hem of the shirt she was wearing, and yanked it up.

"Corbin!" she shrieked. Hello. She wasn't wearing a bra. Before she even finished squawking out his name, he had the shirt completely off her. She was naked except for soft cotton sleep shorts.

Naked with Corbin and the flu. It was a cruel irony.

"I am not going to ravish you," he said in an offended tone, his French accent increasing. "I am a doctor, if you recall. I am trying to help."

She knew that. But it didn't make her feel any less of a doofus. She wanted to turn him on, not puke on him. "I know." Her arm sort of slid across her chest to cover her breasts. It was just too weird to be half-dressed. "Thank you."

He watched the arm movement. A small smile crossed his face as he bunched up the new T-shirt. "You do not need modesty around me."

Brittany didn't answer as he tugged the top on over her head. She helped get it down over her chest and then sank back into the pillow, exhausted. He got her a glass of water and a wet washcloth to wipe her face. He pulled the covers over her and patted everything in place. She still felt like hell, but it pleased her to have him cosseting her, taking care of her.

"Why are you here, Corbin?" she asked when he pulled a stray hair off her lip.

Now it was his turn to look embarrassed. He folded his arms and frowned. "I heard your distress so I came."

"You can hear my thoughts?" He had been able to do that before. That was how she had contacted him several times. Before they'd had sex and he'd run off.

"I did no such thing as running off." He looked indignant. "You told me to leave."

That answered her question on his mind-reading capabilities.

Brittany felt herself smiling. He did like her. He had just been embarrassed like she had. That made her feel so much better. "You're right. I did. But thanks for coming tonight."

Her eyes drifted closed. She was so tired all of a sudden. Exhausted.

"You are welcome,
cherie
," he whispered. Cool lips pressed against her forehead. "Sleep, Brittany."

So she did, feeling warm and protected.

Waking up with Cara next to him was Seamus's new favorite part of the night. In her sleep, Cara didn't roll her eyes at him or make prisoner cracks. When she was sleeping the hard, intense sleep of a fledgling vampire, she always sought him out. She moved her body over and over on the bed, until she was touching him. And she even snaked her arm across his waist or chest on a daily basis.

It gave Seamus immense satisfaction, a pure happiness to wake and have her embracing him, giving him her trust in her sleep.

When she woke up, usually thirty minutes to an hour after him, she liked to talk. He liked to listen.

"Mmmm," she said on a yawn, leg still thrown over his. She let her eyes open briefly then closed them again. "I was dreaming and it was nice, but weird. My grandmother barely spoke English, and now that she's sort of lost her grip on reality, she only speaks

Korean, but in my dream she and I were shopping, like we used to do, every Sunday. We were on the bus going to the grocery store, and she was speaking English, like it was her first language. What do you think dreams mean, Seamus?"

"I think they're wishes and worries, churning through our unguarded brains while we sleep."

"I like that." She lifted her head and her hair fell over his chest as she smiled at him.

Seamus loved the feel of that satin cascade of hair tickling his bare skin. He loved Cara's femininity, the way she was all soft, everywhere, her skin, her body, her heart, her eyes.

"What did you dream about?"

Without hesitation, he told her the truth. "You." He'd been dreaming about her every night, drinking his blood, tasting hers, their bodies intertwined, their minds open to each other. It made him ache, and for more than the physical release his body craved. He ached to have Cara in a way that was fuller, more complete and permanent than what he had now. It felt like they were playacting at living together, and that it could all go away at any second.

"You dreamt about me?" She smiled, her eyes darting down to his lips. "Which one am I? A wish or a worry?"

"Both."

Cara was winning. She was up sixteen thousand dollars on an initial investment of two thousand. She felt the adrenaline surging through her as the dealer set her hand out facedown. She was concentrating hard, ready to call it quits after this deal.

A small crowd had gathered around the table since she was winning heavily. Alexis and Kelsey flanked her, cheering her on.

Her opponents were three middle-aged men from Texas who were sure they could beat her. She was sure they were wrong.

"It's our game," one said in a slow drawl. "Texas Hold 'Em."

She ignored him and turned her card. Bets went around. The thickest of the three, who had to sit two feet out to accommodate his rounded belly, folded. The others met and raised.

It was going to be iffy. The one with the cowboy hat had to have three of a kind given the pair of jacks he was showing and the fact that he kept leaning forward eagerly.

She had a full house tens up.

And miraculously, the guy had nothing but the pair. When they showed their hands, the crowd burst into cheers and applause. Cara let out a victory yell. She had won twenty-two freaking thousand dollars. It was unbelievable. Just like that. When she gave Alexis Ethan's two grand back, she was going to have twenty thousand dollars.

"Oh, my God. You just killed him!" Alexis jumped up and down. "That was awesome."

Cara grabbed her chips from the dealer, heart racing, and stepped onto the rungs of her stool. "Yeehaw!" she yelled to the crowd gathered, grinning like crazy. Damn, this felt good. She'd been so cooped up in Seamus's apartment, doing nothing but decorating to annoy him, and while it was working, he didn't seem to have any intention of kicking her out. Because she had figured something out—Seamus was a really nice guy. He tolerated all her changes and demands with a stoic calm that amazed her.

It made her like him, damn it.

Meanwhile, she had discovered the horrible truth about herself. Not only did she like Seamus, but she liked being a housewife. It was just as she had always suspected, all those years of making dinner for her grandmother, and rearranging the furniture in their tiny apartment. She liked domestic tasks.