Holiday with a Vampire 4 (9 page)

Chapter 2

T
he cold wind whipped against Angel’s hair, sending damp wisps lashing at her cheeks. She took a deep breath, the cool air piercing her lungs, then exhaled slowly to hold back the tears. Coming to the holiday tree lighting had always been a tradition she’d shared with her mother ever since she’d begun singing in the choir. But now her mother was gone.

The colored lights, seen through a veil of softly falling snow, looked beautiful against the black sky. Even though the love and support she’d received after her mother’s death four weeks ago had helped, she still felt too sad to mingle tonight and stood apart from friends and acquaintances. The clear, pure voices of the New Harmony High School choir soared in the cool air. Her eyes burned, welling with tears at the thought of her mother being gone.

The last gift from her mother, the oval gold locket around her neck, had only arrived that morning via a big brown delivery truck.

The words from the note still swam before her eyes.

Dearest Angel,

It is time for me to pass on to you something very special. This locket has been handed down from mother to daughter for generations in our family. It is a talisman of sorts. Keep it close at all times and pass it down to your daughter after you pass. A man will come asking for the locket. He’ll offer you a choice of a lifetime, but whatever you do, don’t give him the locket. It’s your key to keeping the good luck he’ll grant you and your children, and their children. Know that I miss you, more than even you miss me. You were the most wonderful part of my life.

Love Forever and Always,

Mom

Her mom had worn the locket for as long as Angel could remember. She’s seemed so sad whenever Angel would ask about it that she hadn’t pushed her mother for more information. She’d only ever opened it once.

Her mother had been in the shower and left the locket on her dresser. Angel had been fourteen when she’d snuck into her mother’s room and opened it to find the image of a searing blue eye staring back at her. It was a man’s eye, not anyone she recognized. Her father had had brown eyes. She’d thought it was strange her mother didn’t have a picture of her father or her in the locket. But whenever she’d asked about it, her mother had said it was merely an important family heirloom.

Angel clicked open the locket and the same blue eye stared back at her, making her breath catch. She had the oddest sensation of being watched, as if the owner of the blue eye was able to see her just as clearly as she could make out the flecks of silver in the iris.

She’d never gotten answers from her mother about the locket and only had the cryptic note as consolation. She pulled off one of her red knit gloves to brush back the tears, then let her fingers slip over the cool metal of the locket.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” A husky male voice spoke just over her shoulder. She didn’t recognize the intriguing Irish accent and turned to see who he was, her fingers reactively tightening on her locket.

No. She’d never seen him before. If she had, his was a face she’d never forget. His dark brown hair acted as the perfect foil for the brightest blue eyes Angel had ever seen.
Stunning
was the word that came to mind. Snowflakes stuck to the thick rim of his dark lashes. The brilliant blue of his eyes softened features that were a little too intense and harsh. Or perhaps it was the play of colored Christmas lights and shadows that gave the appearance that he wasn’t having as much fun as the small crowd listening to the choir.

A little breathless, she pulled on her glove and forced a smile.

“Yeah, they are. Claimed to be New Harmony High School’s finest choir in thirty-five years.” Her smile widened a little at the humor dancing in his eyes. “Which tells you just how small New Harmony really is. Every year is their best year. Still, it’s the best show around during the holidays.” She stuck out her hand to shake his. “Angel Edwards. Choir of ’03.”

His lips lifted in a casual smile that made her stomach somersault as he clasped her hand in his much larger one. A charge of electric current raced right through the knit of her glove and up her arm. “Cullen McCormack, nice to meet you. Sorry I missed your operatic performance. I’m sure 2003 was the choir’s pinnacle.”

Even though they’d only briefly touched, it left a profound impression on Angel. She shook her head. “That’s kind of you, but as you can tell I’m here, not singing opera somewhere, so it can’t have been that good.”

There was an indefinable allure about him. Something she couldn’t put her finger on. Cullen was hot. That wasn’t in question. But it was more than that. He seemed to radiate sex appeal on a level she’d never seen from a guy. And it wasn’t the cocky, I-know-I-could-have-any-woman-I-want kind of appeal; it was as if he’d been a male model for the statues of Greek gods. He was comfortable in his own skin, which stirred up a little bit of envy inside her.

She’d never been one of the popular kids. She was too fascinated by history and art to really fit that mold. She’d dreamed of getting out of New Harmony, traveling, seeing the world and historic places, but it had never seemed to materialize. Her mom counted on her too much at the shop. But with Mom gone, there wasn’t much to hold her here any longer—except the shop.

She stuck her hands deeply into the pockets of her red wool coat. “So, what are you doing in New Harmony, other than stopping to watch them light the tree and hear the best school choir this side of the Great Lakes?”

“Stick out that badly, do I?”

Angel smothered a small laugh and tilted her head back, watching the snowflakes drift down like magic from an endless dark sky. “No,
stick out
isn’t right.” She slid her gaze to meet his. “
Overshadow,
maybe?”

He chuckled, and the warmth of it seeped away the tired ache in her bones, if only for a moment.

Cullen caught her gaze. “I’m in town on business. I saw the flyers for the tree lighting and thought it would be an interesting way to pass the evening.” He paused for a second, shifting his weight as if he were working through what to say next. “Would you like to go for a coffee?”

For a second she just stared mutely at him, mesmerized. Why, out of anyone here, would he pick her? Given her current morose mood, she wasn’t exactly the best company. And he was a total stranger. She had no business going with him anywhere. “Thanks, but I don’t drink coffee.”

“Hot chocolate?” The dark brow over his right eye lifted, making him look impossibly hopeful and charming at the same time.

Angel grinned. Perhaps she was making more of it than she should. The note her mother had enclosed with the locket had shaken her, that was all, she told herself. He was simply a good—no, gorgeous—looking stranger asking her out for hot chocolate at a public place. It wasn’t as if it could lead to much. And it being the holidays, why shouldn’t she show a little warmth and kindness to someone as obviously alone at the moment as she was? “Now, that I can do, once the lighting is finished.”

He smiled and it went straight through her.

Chapter 3

O
nce the crowd gathered around town hall began to disperse, they headed for The Beanery—the small coffee shop on Main Street that was still one of the few places open at this time of the evening.

Apparently half the people at the tree lighting had the same idea. The Beanery was packed. The bell over the door chimed merrily as they entered. Warmth and the heady smells of hot coffee and a hint of cinnamon hit Angel in the face, tempting her to pull off her gloves. She flexed her stiff fingers, then grasped Cullen’s sleeve, afraid she’d lose him in the crowd.

In the bright lights of the small coffee shop, he looked bigger and even more handsome than he had in the shadowy lights outside in the square. Bigger and more handsome, and even more unlikely to be escorting plain Angel Edwards.

Should she just tell him she changed her mind? Instead, she said, “There’s a small table over there,” nodding toward a table barely big enough for the two chairs on either side of it. Considering the former occupants had only just left, the seats were probably still warm.

He nodded. “Why don’t you hold down the table and I’ll brave the counter?”

Angel glanced at the line. He was brave. It stretched all the way across the shop back to the door.

“What do you like in your hot chocolate? Wait. Let me guess. Hint of cinnamon and whipped cream?”

Angel could tell her mouth had dropped open slightly because she could taste the coffee-saturated air on her tongue. It was as if this total stranger had reached in and read her mind. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

He gave her an enigmatic smile. “Good guess.” He pulled out a chair for her at the table.

Angel sat down, her brain spinning and her gaze lingering on his broad shoulders encased in a tailored black wool coat as he headed for the end of the line. No one, not even Alex Sterling, her on-again, off-again boyfriend, had ever read her that quickly before. And if anyone should have been able to read people, it should have been Alex. He was the county’s district attorney, for pity’s sake. It was his job to peel people apart and reveal their secrets. Angel pulled off her gloves one at a time, setting them on the table, then unbuttoned her jacket, wrapping it around the back of her chair.

Mom had had high hopes for her and Alex. She had, too. But Angel hadn’t had the heart to tell her mother the truth once she’d figured it out: Alex wasn’t interested in her as more than a friend with benefits. Marriage wasn’t likely. Not when he thought he had much better prospects than Angel and far greater aspirations than just becoming district attorney. He wanted a wife that could take him to the governor’s mansion, perhaps even further, not a small-town antiques-shop owner. She didn’t stick out enough, or rather parts of her stuck out too much. She wasn’t polished and attention grabbing.

Unlike Cullen.

Cullen commanded attention—kind of the way a
Secret Service agent might. Gina Wiggins, who worked at the post office, turned to give him a good long look, then swiveled around and whispered to Connie Parsons right in front of her. Angel watched the news spread, person by person. She thought he’d created such a stir because he was taller than people around him, but it was more than that. He had an elusive movie-star quality to him that drew attention.

He moved a step forward in the line and turned, glancing back at her. Angel sucked in a startled breath, her cheeks flushing with heat and her heart pounding hard. He’d probably sensed she’d been staring at him. She broke the visual connection between them and worried the knit of her gloves between her fingers as she rearranged them on the table. Who was she kidding? Just the cut of his expensive coat, suit and red silk tie spoke of wealth, and his commanding presence bordered on aristocratic. Men like Cullen McCormack didn’t date or fall for girls like her. Alex was proof of that. And Alex didn’t even hold a candle to Cullen McCormack.

Angel sighed. For once she wished a guy like Cullen could see past the extra fifteen pounds on her frame, her plain brown hair or her less-than-chic wardrobe. Perhaps take a moment to get to know her as a person, not as someone to assist them with whatever they wanted.

“Be careful. It’s hot.” She glanced up to find him holding a plain, cream-colored paper cup, the mound of glistening whipped cream on top wavering slightly.

“Thank you.” Her fingers grazed his lightly as she took the cup, and Angel’s heartbeat bumped up a couple of notches at the zip of electrical current between them.

“My pleasure.” Cullen settled himself into the chair opposite her, his large hands dwarfing the cup he held. “Thank you for being so welcoming to a stranger. It’s not often I get to have a hot drink with an equally hot woman.”

Angel about snorted her sip of hot chocolate. “I sincerely doubt that. Based on the reaction in here, you look like you’d have no end of female company.”

He chuckled and took a sip of his coffee. He had nice lips, well sculpted, perfect for kissing. Angel shook the thought from her head. Why on earth should she care? And why even think about him this way? He was a stranger. A beautiful stranger, and she was just being...kind. Or perhaps he was the one being kind to an obviously plain woman.

Cullen nodded toward her. “That’s a beautiful necklace you’re wearing.”

The chatter of customers and the hissing sounds of the cappuccino machines faded away, becoming nothing but a buzz in the background as Angel focused in on his voice. Her fingers touched the warm metal of the locket.

“Yes. A gift from my mother.” She cleared her throat at the last word.

“So, a family heirloom?”

She nodded.

“Do you mind? I’m a bit of an enthusiast about antique jewelry.”

It was an odd request, but she wasn’t sure she could deny him—anything. Cullen leaned forward, close enough that Angel could smell the clean scent of soap mingled with a spicier fragrance of cloves that lingered on his skin.

Angel’s throat swelled shut. She couldn’t do more than hold still, even as her whole body trembled while his hand reached toward her. His fingertips gently skimmed the base of her throat, sending a throb of awareness through her body. He grasped the locket and flipped it open.

She swallowed hard. Had this been a different situation, he’d have been close enough to kiss her. And Angel was all too aware of how his nearness spiked every female fantasy she had. Her lips tingled as if she’d just slicked on a mint lip balm.

She heard the locket click shut. His intense, heated gaze flicked up to meet hers. “This is very unusual. I’ve never seen anything like it.” His fingers once more brushed her skin as he lay the locket back again just below the hollow of her throat. Even in the middle of a crowd, he managed to create a sensual haze that made her feel as if there was only the two of them. She struggled to pull together a string of coherent words.

“Are you an antiques collector?”

“Of a sort.”

His answer didn’t satisfy her curiosity. “Personal or for retail?”

He smiled. “More of a personal collector. Occasionally I’ll find items of particular interest to a client.”

“So, more like a picker.”

He raised a brow and picked up his coffee, taking a sip as if considering her comment. “A high-end one, I suppose.”

Gorgeous, mysterious and totally unattainable. Definitely what she didn’t need.

“Now that you’ve gotten to ask me a personal question, it’s only fair if you let me ask you one in return.”

Angel shrugged. “I’m not all that interesting. Go ahead.”

His eyes sparkled. “What’s the story behind the necklace? You said it was a family heirloom?”

Angel took a fortifying sip of her hot chocolate, letting the creamy texture and rich flavor fill her mouth. “My mother always wore it. She passed away recently and left it to me.”

Cullen raised his cup of coffee in salute. “My condolences on the loss of your mother. That can’t have been easy. The way you talk about her, you two must have been close.”

Angel worked hard at blinking back the heat gathering in her eyes. She did not want to cry. Not here. Not now.

“Did she ever say where she’d gotten it?”

Angel took a deep breath and shrugged. “My grandmother. But she passed away before I was born, so I didn’t get to know her.”

Cullen nodded. “Well, you’ve been more than fair in your answer. Your turn. Ask me a question. Anything.”

In her chest her heart double-bumped. “Have you been in a serious relationship before?”

“Oh, yes.” He cast his gaze down to his coffee cup, a crease forming between his brows as they drew together.

“I take it from your expression it didn’t turn out well.” The brilliant light that had been in his eyes before had dulled. Angel winced. She wanted to take the words back the second they’d slipped out.
Smooth move,
she derided herself. Perhaps this was why Alex was reluctant to take her anywhere in public. Her annoying habit of speaking first and thinking later meant there were plenty of times she found herself wishing she could take her words back. “Sorry, that was really none of my business.”

* * *

Cullen waved away her concern with a flick of his hand, then leaned back in his chair, his fingers scraping across the sweep of hair lingering over his eyes. “Let’s say the split was a mutual thing.” Mutually destructive. Marie had sought to destroy him with her curse of immortality, and he’d sought to avenge himself by burning her cottage to the ground.

Angelica’s pretty mouth trembled into a half smile full of insecurity. Of any of the women he’d met, she needed his help more than most. She was fragile inside, either from the recent loss of her mother or the rejection of the clod who’d clearly broken her spirit. A sour feeling swirled in Cullen’s gut. He’d bet it was the man who made her insecure. The scent of pepper spiked the air around him. He sincerely hoped only he could smell it. As a vampire he could scent the emotion on the air, but occasionally so could a perceptive mortal.

“So, what’s your best relationship advice, then?” she asked, her voice cracking.

He could tell her to never cheat on a voodoo priestess, but it wouldn’t make a bit of sense. So, he chose the next best thing.

“Know precisely what you are getting into.”

Angelica nodded, her lips closing around the edge of her cup. When she was done taking a sip, the soft pink tip of her tongue swept over her top lip, removing the trace of whipped cream lingering there. His body tightened.

“Good advice,” she said.

Too bad he couldn’t give himself any. This wasn’t at all going how he’d planned. And he’d been so certain this time could be, would be, different, but already he was finding himself far too interested in Angelica. It was always harder to make a mark of someone if one knew them too well. One started to have feelings. Messy things, feelings. Always muddling one’s judgment.

“You sound like you’ve had a serious relationship that didn’t go as planned,” he replied easily, his tone smooth and unruffled.

She sighed, her fingers absently swizzling the thin red stirring straw in her cup. “Let’s just say I was more into him than he was into me.”

“He’s a stupid bastard,” Cullen said without heat. “Men usually are. We often don’t know the value of what we have until after we’ve lost it. You’re smart and beautiful. I’m sure he regrets it.”

Angelica’s eyes widened slightly. Her throat moved reflexively as she swallowed the words, but Cullen heard them all the same, echoing in the thoughts he read.
He’s already had me. Alex’s never going to be interested in anything else. I’m not suitable for a politician’s wife.

“You can tell all that just over a cup of hot chocolate?” Her voice held a slight tremor.

Cullen hadn’t met the man and already hated him. Whoever this moron was, he certainly didn’t deserve her, and it angered Cullen that this nameless cad had so thoroughly compromised Angelica’s confidence. “So, is it over between you—or are you still hoping he’ll come around?”

She offered him a weak smile and deftly changed the subject. “So, you’re in town on business?”

Cullen leaned back, taking a long drink of his coffee as he contemplated how to respond. He was certain she still had affections for this Alex chap. The thought both irritated and depressed him. Like the other women he’d met since the curse, it was clear Angelica would give anything to be with the man of her dreams, without even a thought about what her life could be like if it spanned centuries. And the situation was all the more unfortunate since it was as clear as ice to Cullen that Alex didn’t deserve her.

“This area is an antiques dealer’s playground,” he replied, not missing a beat. It was close to the truth. He did collect antiques. It didn’t matter that at the time of their original acquisition they’d been new or that he still had an eye and affinity for things from his mortal past.

Her smile widened a bit. “I know. That’s why I have a shop here.”

“You deal antiques, as well?”

Angelica shrugged. “It’s more like the family business. I simply inherited it.” Her hand absently strayed to the locket.

She’d just handed him the opening he needed. Cullen ruthlessly held himself in check, not daring to stare at the locket. But the knowledge that he might be getting his hands on the locket infused the dark ichor in his veins with the buzz of anticipation. If she appreciated antiques, perhaps she could be lured by immortality. Considering he liked her, acting as her mentor through the change into a full-fledged vampire wouldn’t be too troublesome.

“I’d like to see your shop while I’m here.”

Her gaze connected with his. “You would?” The slight tremor in her voice belied the glint of interest in her eyes.

“Of course I would. Can we go now?”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“Eight is hardly the middle of the night,” he said drily. “I must admit to curiosity, and I’ve never been good at waiting. Unless you have something else to do tonight...?”

She shook her head. “I’ll take you now if you don’t mind a short walk.”

He gave her an encouraging smile. “I think I can rearrange my schedule for that.”

A pretty blush infused her skin, making his fangs ache. He’d made a conscious effort not to feed from any of the women who held the locket, but he was damned tempted to make an exception in Angelica’s case.