Don't Blackmail the Vampire (7 page)

“I know.”

Her hands dug harder into his as she skated over an imperfection in the ice, and he fought the urge to pull her closer, to make this a real dance over the ice. He knew he could sweep her around with little effort. And with more than a small amount of work, hard shell surrounding her or no, perhaps he could sweep her off her feet.

The weight of the idea hit him, and he halted their progress across the ice. With effort, he tugged his hands from hers and forced a smile. “Time to take off the training wheels.”

Hazel eyes widened, revealing a bit of fear, before narrowing in acceptance of his challenge. She was going to make a go of it. Not that he’d doubted her; she didn’t back down from a challenge.

He watched her for the first couple of minutes, unable to drag his gaze away from her less-than-graceful movements. Why was her unsure skating so endearing? He shook off the thought, and with Rachel’s movements still at the back of his awareness, he skated closer to Kristen.

“Nice moves,” he called.

Kristen tossed her hair over her shoulder and gave him a killer smile. “Thanks! Not doing so bad yourself.”

Flirtatious comments and shallow compliments were passed back and forth. Kristen was charming and fun. But she didn’t resonate with him. Didn’t stand out as special or unique. She was just another nice girl.

Since when had that made a difference? Not standing out too much was normally just fine for him. But he couldn’t seem to summon any interest in their flirting. It wasn’t that she was with a nasty fellow like Brent. It wasn’t even that she had stolen him from her best friend. He was simply bored.

Brent skated up and muttered a joke about women and athleticism, to which Charles forced a laugh. Kristen rolled her eyes, obviously used to Brent’s attempts at humor, likely not seeing—or not acknowledging—the venom beneath.

Rachel continued to skate away from them, going so slowly around the circle that he feared she’d eventually just stop and get stuck. She made it all the way around the skating rink once before she slipped and landed on her butt.

Without thought, he left Brent in mid-sentence and skated to her, moving so quickly that he threw off shaves of ice when he came to a stop.

“I’m fine,” she said grumpily before he could ask.

“I see that.” With a quick tug, he pulled her up from the ground and she slid immediately against his chest. Her hands settled at his waist, and her breasts pressed close to him. With her face only inches from his, he could smell her spicy cinnamon scent. Her shampoo?

Their eyes met and her breath caught, betraying her interest, even if he hadn’t heard the sudden kick her pulse gave.

“Sure you’re okay?” he murmured. The hand he’d pulled her up with slid to the small of her back. Holding her up—stabilizing her—not pressing her against him. Carefully, he slid her hair out of her eyes with his free hand.

“I’m fine,” she repeated. But her voice was breathless. Her eyes dropped to his lips, and for one brief moment, there was no disguising the hunger in her gaze.

His teeth pricked with a sharp need, and he leaned closer, gripping her body against his in a way that had nothing to do with keeping either of them stable.

Her widening eyes warned him before his own senses kicked in—not something that ever should have happened.

Crass laughter behind him. “Should we leave you two alone?”

Brent.

…

“Would you like me to help rub away the soreness?” Charles waggled his eyebrows at her. Back in the privacy of her room, Rachel grinned at his silliness.

“A butt massage? You wish.” She kind of wished, too, but she certainly wasn’t saying that. But she didn’t try to remove her arm from his, even though she refused to lean on him any more than she absolutely had to in order to stay upright. The ankle was bothering her more than her behind, but she’d still tried to refuse his help once they’d gotten off the ice.

With a grin on his lips, he hadn’t argued, he’d just ignored her and hadn’t let her go.

His eyes twinkled and he cocked his head to examine her butt, like he might be serious about the massage. With her face burning, she looked away so he wouldn’t see her blush, and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. Huh. Not so bad. A little soreness, but considering the fall, she wasn’t in much pain.

Except for her pride.

Whatever. Her pride fit in perfectly with her butt and ankle. She didn’t have the time to slow down and nurse any of it. “I thought ice-skating would be more like roller-skating.”

“Are you good at roller-skating?”

“Not really,” she admitted. But at least she could stay on her feet. Mostly.

He sat next to her on the bed. “You know you’re making it a little rough for me to make nice with Brent. Let alone flirt with your sister.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m constantly forced to pull you out of snowbanks and keep you upright while you skate.” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “It’s like you don’t want me to seduce her.”

“Of course I don’t want you to seduce her.” Feeling bold, she tapped his forehead lightly. “It’s like you don’t listen to anything I say.”

“I listen just fine. But it doesn’t change the facts.”

“Oh? What are the facts, then?” She twisted to see him better, and even more so she could move the pressure from sitting down to a less bruised part of her bottom. “Educate me.”

With a quickness of a cat, he reached across the bed to grab a pillow, then scooted it under her arm so she could get more comfortable. “The most important fact is, your sister isn’t going to leave Brent.”

Her stomach dropped. “She will—we just have to—”

“Take your own advice and listen.” His voice was gentle, with just the slightest chiding note that made her want to reach out and flick his nose, just to annoy him as much as he annoyed her.

Yeah, that was a great plan, seek to annoy the vampire in her room. A surge of nervous laughter surged in her throat, but she swallowed it down. “Okay. Listening.”

“She has proven beyond a shadow of doubt that she doesn’t have it in her to leave him—not unless she had good reason to believe that her soul mate—or whatever the hell romantic fantasy she has labeled him with—is someone else. You” —he tapped her nose like she’d tapped his forehead— “won’t allow seduction to be part of the plan. And simply interesting her in someone else isn’t going to do it.”

She swallowed to loosen her jaw enough to speak. “You’re saying that plan B is hopeless.”

“No. I’m saying—you know, I’m not sure I want to tell you if you continue to listen so poorly.”

Exasperation warred with amusement and worry and she pushed herself up from the bed, ignoring her aching body when it protested. “If you don’t tell me this instant I swear I’ll bite you.”

He went still—oddly still—for a second longer than felt normal to her. “Will you?” His voice was deeper than normal. Off. And she was fighting her own body not to lean toward him, close the less than twelve-inch distance between them. Not to kiss him like he’d kissed her—so softly in the moonlight. Not to push this weird little barely-there flirtation and see where it led. Definitely not.

Because she couldn’t. More than a moment of happiness for her was on the line. This was about Kristen’s future. No matter how much she wondered what it would be like to kiss him—to really be kissed by him.

“Tell me why it’s hopeless,” she said. Not a push. Not with anger. A simple demand.

“I think plan B, like you said, is a no-go. Plan A is still a good idea, but Brent is on his best behavior here. He wants to impress me. I don’t see him easily cheating on his fiancée in front of someone who might find that disgusting. He’s too clever to make that kind of mistake easily.”

“Crap. And you’ve been so helpful to me. He might…”

“Think I like you? Exactly. Is he going to cheat on his fiancée in front of a guy who may or may not condone cheating? And who might just be going after his fiancée’s sister?”

A rush of heat crawled up her neck to her cheeks. “You
aren’t
going after his fiancée’s sister.”

He ignored her. “We need to adjust the plan.”

She threw herself dramatically back onto the bed, wincing only slightly as her butt came into full contact with the mattress. “I can’t think of a better plan. This is as awesome as my planning skills get when it comes to something like this.”

“Lucky for you, you have me. I see two options. One, you let her fall for another prince—an infatuation that will hurt when she finds out it isn’t forever, regardless of whether the truth is ever shared with her. She’ll be hurt, but she’ll get over it.”

“It’s wrong, Charles. Like a line I can’t cross and still feel…” She sat up on the bed, trying to find the right words.

“Like you’re the good guy for doing all this?” He sat next to her, leaving only inches between them.

“Yes.” She looked down, then felt his hand slide softly across her skin to cup her jaw. She turned to face his icy blue eyes, but they weren’t hard. There was a softness in his gaze. And gentleness. And for some reason, it made her body flush with awareness even more so than his flirting grin.

“You’re doing the right thing as you believe it. And for what it’s worth, I think she’s lucky to have you as her sister.”

Her tears burned and she looked down. He released his hold.

“You said there was another option.”

“Yes, but a trickier one, not so easy nor so cut-and-dried. And achieving it may not be as clean as the other method.”

How could it be worse than urging a man to seduce and then leave her sister? There wasn’t a dirtier path than that—not one she could see Charles suggesting, anyway. It wasn’t like he was going to murder Brent in the woods and make Kristen a young almost-widow.

Would he?

Lost in thought, she flinched when he touched her again, his hand sliding up her shoulder. Without thinking, she leaned into the touch.

“I’m not plotting a homicide, Rachel.” He moved his hand above her shoulder to twirl a bit of her hair around his finger.

“I never said—”

“You wear your thoughts on your face.”

She glared. Let him read that thought.

He chuckled, and the low and sensual sound sent spikes right to her core. “Luckily for you, I’ve already thought of a better plan.”

A rush of hope hit her at his confident tone. “Oh?”

“We’re going to make him think I’m smarmy. A player. A jerk after his own heart. Someone he’d never worry about cheating in front of. Hell—we’ll make him think that will
impress
me.” He continued to play with her hair distractedly, his gaze locked on the dark threads.

“How?” It was odd. Only a couple of days before, she would have sworn that’s exactly what Charles was. But now, she couldn’t see it. Sure, he was still attractive in that playboy-like way. He was still a flirt. He’d
kissed
her, after all, seemingly randomly. But the jerk part? Not after he’d been so kind to her—dug her out of a snowbank. Carried her down a hill. Helped her up off the ice.

The idea made sense, there was no arguing that, but how to execute?

“Think about it. What do we know about Brent?”

What to say about Brent Strub? Most of the things that first came to mind were neither polite nor helpful. Objectivity was what she needed, but it was a difficult thing to grasp in this situation. Her worry for Kristen—and her gut-wrenching fear for her own relationship with her sister—made it difficult.

“Just start with the facts, Rachel.” He touched her chin playfully.

“Okay…he’s twenty-eight years old. Ivy League education—Cs the whole way.”

“I’m guessing Cole was the only reason he got Cs.”

She started. The same idea had rattled through her brain since she’d met Cole a year ago. “Maybe. But it’s not because Brent is stupid.”

Charles turned thoughtful. “No. Lazy maybe, but not stupid.”

“He’s single-minded when he wants something, and he hates to lose. He’s athletic, and can be charming. And he’s a master at manipulation.” She swallowed hard. “The way he twists things sometimes with Kristen, makes her doubt herself, I think that’s the worst part.” She mentally shook off the sadness. “Arrogant. He’s arrogant.”

“Full of himself.”

“Yes.” Sudden panic gripped her chest and she forced in a deep breath of air. “Charles, what if this doesn’t work?”

“You know what the downfall is of someone like Brent? He thinks that everyone is like him. That everyone is just as dirty. Just as immoral. It’ll be easy to convince him that I’m just like him. I just need a catalyst.”

Hope surged through her body, filling her with sudden energy. She carefully hopped up from the bed and turned to face Charles. She grasped the vampire’s shoulders and shook him gently. “Yes! Oh, you’re a genius.”

Rough against the soft skin of her arm, his hand squeezed one of her wrists. “Now we just have to figure out the details.”

“The details? Maybe you could tell him a story—make something up about cheating on an ex—”

“No. Our time here is limited. We need something far more dramatic. We need a statement. Something he can’t ignore.” His hand came up again, this time to slide down her jawline. The move was so subtly seductive, for a second, she forgot what they were talking about.

A cold feeling washed over her, and panic jumped into her throat. “No way. That’s not a good idea.”

“Why? Because it would be humiliating for you for a few days? Think of the pain your sister stands to be in for the rest of her life.”

Rebellion surged in her at the blatant manipulation and she wanted to argue, but guilt quickly stamped out the urge. Dammit. He was right.

“Fine,” she managed through gritted teeth. “Let’s work out the details of how you’re going to seduce me.”

Chapter Five

If Charles hadn’t already been convinced of her love for her sister, of her steel resolve that getting Kristen away from Brent was the right thing to do, he would have realized it the second she agreed to his plan. Not only would it be humiliating for her—an
d Rachel did n
ot strike him as a woman who took humiliation lightly—but it would happen in front of a man she loathed.

Her loyalty was something he’d rarely seen outside of his own family.

But he held his tongue when the offer to help her longer than this week, should it be necessary, pressed against his tongue. Who knew where he’d be next week? If Brent didn’t prove to be the one threatening Alice, Charles couldn’t hang around Rachel forever, scheming ways to break her sister’s engagement, no matter how much he wanted to.

“What is it?”

A pretty lie came to mind, but he ignored it, deciding to share an almost-truth instead. “I want to promise that I’ll be able to help you after this week, if we don’t break them up in time. But I can’t make that commitment.”

She studied him before she spoke. “You’re strangely honest.”

He jerked back at her words. No one, least of all a woman, had ever accused him of
honesty
before. Hell, his brothers barely believed him half the time. Even worse, he didn’t think the warmth building in his chest at her reaction was disgust at her assessment. “You barely know me.”

Big hazel eyes wide, she blinked slowly. “You’re right. But I feel it in my gut.” She scooted closer to him on the bed, and he could feel the heat from her body, only inches from his own.

“You aren’t the type to listen to your gut.”

“You’re right.” She licked her lips and there was a sudden energy between them, sizzling in the air like a shock waiting to hit whoever moved first.

Just a taste.

Misgivings far behind instinct, he took her mouth. He’d meant a sweet, soft kiss. Maybe a little brotherly—not that his thoughts after they touched had been brotherly—like the one they’d shared behind the pub. But at the first taste of her soft, perfectly lush and warm mouth, he was lost.

Her tongue slid against his, sweet and perfect and so welcoming that it threw him off guard. He’d expected her to resist. He’d expected her to tell him no and give him that iron stare. He’d expected a fight.

Instead, she gave him fire.

Her arms came around his neck and her body melted against his. Soft breasts pressed against his chest as he held her close and explored her with his mouth. Giving as good as she got, her tongue dipped into his mouth even as he teased her and crushed her body closer to his.

The need to trail kisses down her neck, her stomach, her breasts, was overwhelming. What would she look like under those spinster outfits? If what he could feel beneath his hands, against his body, was any indication, she’d be breathtaking.

He pulled back, cradling her face, but holding it firm, when that luscious mouth tried to take his again.

“I thought you didn’t date,” he murmured. His mind screamed at him to shut the fuck up and kiss her. Keep kissing her until he made her scream his name in pleasure, until he relieved the painful ache in his cock. But he had to be sure that she really wanted him first. Had to figure out what the hell this was.

“I don’t date.” She nipped at him playfully.

“What are we doing, then?”

“Getting caught up in the moment?” Unease crossed her face and she scooted back from him. Hands aching from the effort of it, he let her go.

“I’m not seducing you for real?”

“You wish,” she teased. “But that wouldn’t be right.”

Hell yeah, he wished. “It felt pretty damn right.” But he’d stopped it? Why? He was an idiot, obviously.

“Charles. I’m not a virgin.”

What the— “I could have told you that.”

She grinned. “I like being alone. Going solo. It’s the way my life stays comfortable. But this”—she gestured between them—“I thought it was just me. It should totally be just me because you’re so far out of my league.” Her eyes widened in sudden panic. “I mean—is it just me?” Her face scrunched. “No, you definitely kissed me. I just kissed you back.”

Hell, no matter how it complicated things he couldn’t let her think that he didn’t feel the heat, too, for even a second. “It’s not just you. And don’t put yourself down. So…what are you saying?”

“We’re adults. Kissing you back felt right. Despite the blackmail and shenanigans.” She smoothed his shirt, her palm firm against the material, and his body pulsed in response. “What is it that you want so badly from Brent, anyway? It can’t have anything to do with boats of any kind. The man knows as much about sailing and yachting as I do about ice-skating.”

How much to tell her? Strangely, he wanted to tell her as close to the truth as he could, which didn’t leave much anyway. “It has nothing to do with yachting—even though I’ve dangled an amazing opportunity under his nose in the field.”

She went still. “An amazing,
imaginary
opportunity?”

“Perhaps.” He tapped her nose. “But I do need him to keep me around a for a while anyway, so your blackmailing ways should continue to work just fine on me.”

She sighed heavily. “I know it’s wrong to kiss the guy I blackmailed into helping me break up my sister and her soon-to-be, but in a week, you won’t be in our lives anyway. I guess I thought—no, scratch that, I didn’t think.”

A week. She kissed him knowing they had only a week, and he was pretty certain, despite the stubborn line of her jaw and the seriousness in her eyes, that he could convince her to kiss him again. Could convince her to let him see what was under her oversize sweater and comfortable jeans. Convince her that an affair with him would be mutually satisfying, and something that they could make work in the circumstances.

But he didn’t want to convince her. She was unfailingly honest. Not something he was used to, and worse, she thought he was honest, too. In reality, he lied to her every time he spoke, even if he was doing it more and more by omission.

She thought she knew him, but she didn’t. And she never would.

“Unless you want to make out some more, we should probably get our plan straight for tomorrow,” he said, forcing a casualness into his tone. His body still thrummed with need, and she was so damn close. Close enough to touch.

The smile on her lips turned uneasy. “This could be tricky.”

…

They’d decided the only definite way to make sure everyone got the right idea was to wait for them to come to Rachel’s room, letting them essentially catch them in the act. In an effort to make it look real, Charles showed up at six o’clock in the morning, hair still mussed from sleep, wearing the same outfit he’d worn to dinner. She let him in with butterflies in her stomach, and suppressed the urge to smooth his hair.

They were supposed to meet everyone for breakfast at seven, so they could get to the slopes early and get a full day of skiing in. But instead of meeting everyone as planned, they waited.

“Are you certain they’ll both show up?” He’d asked the same thing the night before. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who was nervous.

“Yes. When neither of us show, and don’t answer our phones, Brent will definitely come with Kristen.” Not out of concern for Rachel, she was sure of that, but because he’d love to catch her in a compromising position. He’d always thought she looked down on him—which she did, but he also totally deserved it—and would jump at the chance to do the same.

“He is kind of a bastard.”

“Why is it you want to work with him, then?”

“I
want
nothing of the sort.”

“Well, isn’t that evasive?”

“Thank you.” He sprawled on her bed, arms wide, and closed his eyes. “Now stop trying to get info out of me. It’s too early.”

Gingerly, she sat next to him. The kiss they’d shared the night before felt so fresh, so real. Her lips had buzzed for hours after he’d left. Why had she kissed him? No, not only kissed him, she’d practically suggested that she was adult enough to handle a short-term affair with him. And she was almost certain that wasn’t true.

Besides, she knew so little about him. Or did she? She’d always been a great believer that actions spoke louder than words, and his actions had said volumes about the kind of man he was.

Vampire. The kind of
vampire
he was. Sheesh. How could she keep forgetting that?

But none of that was something she wanted to talk about with him, especially since she was so on edge already. “It’s not
that
early.”

“I’m a creature of the night.” Slitted eyes peered at her suspiciously. “Good God, you’re not a morning person, are you?”

She arched a brow at him. “And if I am?”

With a deep sigh, he closed his eyes. “That would settle it, I’m afraid. We could never be friends.”

“How unfortunate.”

“Mmm,” he murmured. Then, as she still searched her mind for an appropriate response, Charles began to quietly snore.

Pressing her hand against her mouth, she stifled a laugh. It would probably be an hour or so before Kristen texted. Another fifteen minutes after that, maybe, before there was a knock at the door. Might as well let the man sleep. It was, after all, Rachel who had insisted he get here so early. She hadn’t wanted to chance any of the other members of their group seeing him sneak down the hall to her room. That sort of sloppiness would ruin the plan.

So she let him sleep. It would have been polite to let him be, to pull out her laptop or go look at the dark landscape beyond her window. But she couldn’t seem to pull her eyes away and let the opportunity to study him pass. His hair just brushed around his forehead and ears, still disheveled and unbrushed, but in a sexy sort of way.

Most people appeared more relaxed while sleeping, like the weight of their issues was finally off their shoulders for a few brief hours while they slept. Charles didn’t look much more relaxed than normal, but then, he rarely appeared to carry any tension. It would be easy to think that he didn’t care much about anything. That everything slid off his back easily. But somehow, she didn’t think that was true.

She shook her head and pushed up off the bed. Now she thought she knew him well enough to assume so much about him? Silly and fanciful.

Besides, he’d shown a more serious side last night. She’d seen it the instant he pulled back from their moment, from the intimacy of their kiss, from their easy conversation. His expression had closed off, yet his lips turned into the perpetual flirtatious grin he seemed to never fail to wear. And as quickly as the connection between them spiked into something almost tangible, he’d cut it off.

The text message came not long after she’d finished replying to a few emails. And the knock at her door came almost exactly ten minutes later. She shut her laptop and then went to poke the sleeping vampire. But he was already awake, and sat up at her approach.

“Showtime,” she said quietly. “Put on your game face.”

With a wink, he went to answer the door while she kicked off her slippers and burrowed back under the covers.

“Charles?” The shock in her sister’s voice was clear, and it would have brought a smile to Rachel’s face had it no been followed by a loud, derisive snort.

Brent.

The dishonesty of what they were doing hit her. Charles’s typical light tone flowed, and though it registered that he was being charming, she couldn’t concentrate on the actual words. Too many worries pounded in her skull.

Surely Kristen would see through this bit of theater. Rachel was a terrible liar, and had never been able to hide her real feelings.

The voices grew closer.

“Rachel? Are you all right in here?” The worry in her sister’s voice clenched her heart. She was a terrible person. Not only trying to break up her sister, but lying to her and making her worry.

“I’m here,” she forced out, sitting up in the bed.

Kristen’s concern immediately dropped away, only to be replaced by a smile that lit up her face. “Oh, my. I see we’re interrupting.”

Rachel opened her mouth to argue, then snapped it shut. Heat rushed to her cheeks even though she knew she hadn’t done anything worth being embarrassed about. Her thoughts ricocheted between wanting to correct her sister’s assumption, and telling herself to keep her mouth shut because the plan was actually working.

Kristen backed out before either voice in her head could win. In record time, she’d cleared the door with a “We’ll see you on the slopes!” and a laugh that was only partially muted by the door shutting behind her.

Silence overtook the room, and she stared at the spot her sister had practically run from. Then she collapsed back onto the bed. “Oh my God.”

“You okay?” Charles asked, sounding like he wasn’t sure if he should be amused or worried.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” She so wasn’t. But she would be. Things were going according to plan. That was a
good
thing. “Did Brent look convinced?”

A pause. “He looked as satisfied as a cat that just killed a bird.”

“That’s graphic.” But she couldn’t help a sudden surge of happiness. “This just might work.”

“It might, indeed.”

…

Giving Rachel the cold shoulder officially blew.

They sat across from each other in a quiet restaurant just down the road from the lodge. The urge to give her a reassuring smile was like an itch beneath his skin. One he couldn’t scratch, no matter how much it ached. Not that he was being openly rude to her—they’d decided against that. But his polite-yet-distant attitude made it plain to all that what had happened the night before hadn’t been serious. Not to Charles, at least. Rachel was taking the opposite approach.

“The waitress is waiting for you,” Kristen said, giving Charles an icy glance. How her attitude had shifted since discovering them together this morning. Of course, they’d made an effort to ensure everyone noticed how they were acting.

Brent hadn’t seemed to notice the undercurrent, or maybe he just didn’t care. Hell, maybe he had something more important to worry about—namely planning the exact wording for more threats against Alice. Or worse, plotting how to carry out those threats.