ROMANCE: Bear Naked Passion (Billionaire Bear Trio Book 2) (4 page)

The Vegas Vampire Affair

The Vegas Vampire Affair

Heather watched her friends dancing wildly, her heart sinking. This was supposed to be the bachelorette trip of a lifetime. She and Jake were getting married this weekend, and they’d arrived early to get everything organized. A chapel wedding shouldn’t be so hard, but it was a big deal and their parents had been over the moon to know they were having a destination wedding. The families would be united in a couple of days, and Heather couldn’t wait to share the experience of Las Vegas, lights and craziness and all, with her parents and Jake’s family. But tonight, it all felt a little lonely. Jake was at his party at another hotel on the Strip and Heather and her friends had opted to stay at this hotel, checking out the in-house entertainment rather than wandering around, as she suspected Jake and his friends were doing.

Heather sighed and sipped her white wine, settling her tiara more securely on her head. They’d had a fabulous dinner, and she’d wanted to go back to their suite and have girl talk, but her friends had other ideas. They were all single and ready to mingle. So Heather was kind of stuck here as they ordered drink after drink and drifted from the VIP area to the dance floor. Someone had to watch the purses.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Heather thought with a sigh. She wanted excitement, she wanted something…more. Her friends knew it, too. They’d suggested she should flirt with every man they ran into, sometimes going so far as to nudge her into a man’s path. Yeah, that had done wonders; all she’d done was trip and fall at his feet. And the guy, some Hollywood wannabe, hadn’t even removed his sunglasses, much less helped her up. Instead, he’d muttered “clumsy” and went on his way. Charming.

The problem was her friends didn’t like Jake. Oh, they tolerated him just fine. He was a nice guy, they all said, a little sad smile on each of their faces. But Heather knew they wanted more for her. Sometimes she wanted more for herself. Jake was a manager at a retail store, with no aspirations of moving up from that position. And while the company and chain were good, solid brands, Heather couldn’t imagine a life where she was married to a store manager forever. As a Vice Principal of a high school, she’d be bringing in most of the income, and her benefits were better. It seemed uneven to her, but Jake, at thirty-five, was perfectly content earning twenty-eight thousand a year, with his meager benefits. And his high lifestyle. He’d always rushed out and bought the latest and greatest electronics, with his discount from work, of course, but Heather wished that he’d contribute to the bills, or even their lifestyle. He seemed to enjoy the finer things in life much more than actually paying for them.

There had always been a Heather and Jake and everyone took it for granted that they’d get married someday. They’d been best friends in first grade, had been each other’s first—and only, in Heather’s case, anyway—kiss. She’d lost her virginity to him on prom night, and when he’d proposed, she’d said yes automatically. They’d been living together for so long that the next step seemed obvious. Only…Heather wasn’t so sure any more. Seeing how happy her friends were just made it even more clear that she was entering into a life with someone she loved like a brother, but who didn’t set off alarm bells or rockets or anything. He was just comfortable—like her favorite robe. Like he…

Robe? Had she really described Jake as a robe, threadbare but soft? Was that what she was entering into? How could she live her life with a robe, for God’s sake?

Panic gripped Heather—she had to get out of here. Now! Shelly came back to get another gulp of her drink and Heather grabbed her maid of honor’s arm. “Can you stay with the purses? I think I drank too much. Meet you in the suite.” She didn’t wait for an answer, just hurried out of the club. Heather wound her way around the gaming areas, keeping her head down. She wasn’t the sort of girl men looked at anyway, so she was able to make it through without anyone stopping her. She stumbled when she got to the elevator banks and stopped still, trying to keep her panic at bay. As she punched the up button, she caught a look at herself in the reflective surface of the elevator doors.

Great! Her blonde hair was tousled, her eyes were red, her royal-blue dress had hiked up a little and her tiara just looked stupid. A tiara, really? What the hell had she been thinking? She’d let herself get swept away by the thoughts and idea of being a princess for one night, and what had it gotten her? A couple of free drinks, a few creepy guys flirting with her, and a tiara. And the realization that her soon-to-be husband was a comfortable threadbare robe.

For some reason, that robe was a defining point for her. A robe. A robe!?!? She couldn’t consign herself to that life, could she? Heather was vaguely aware that she was hyperventilating and couldn’t stop. She looked a total mess, and then the doors to the elevator opened, hiding her reflection from her. Probably best anyway. Two other elevators opened at the same time, their occupants heading excitedly toward the gaming floor. It all seemed so happy and fun; nothing like Heather was feeling.

She slid into the elevator, moving to a back corner after pressing the button for her floor. She expected a bunch of people to join her, but instead, only one man glided in, smooth and easy. He hit the button for her floor, too, even though it was already lit. And then he turned to her, and her heart skipped a beat.

He was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, maybe six feet tall, with dark hair, shining glossy in the harsh light of the elevator. His olive-toned skin and deep eyes—they might have been brown, but she suspected they were black—gave him a look that could have been Mediterranean, or could have been Native American. His cheekbones were sculpted and high, lips were lush, and oh God, he had a body that didn’t quit.

“Good evening,” he said, his voice cultured and soft.

“Hi,” she replied, feeling a little off-kilter. He was so good-looking and something about him commanded attention. She took in a breath as the elevator started moving.

“Have fun?” he asked, and his serious expression turned into a wry grin. She was momentarily confused, and then she realized that her tiara was still on. Thank God she’d told the girls that there was no way she’d wear that silly sash that proclaimed she was a bride-to-be.

When she didn’t answer, he continued speaking. “What is the occasion and do you wear that all the time?”

“I…no. Bachelorette party.”

“And are you the lucky lady?” he asked, moving in closer. Why weren’t they on their floor already? It seemed as if they’d been traveling for an eternity. Heather’s breath caught when he moved a couple of steps closer.

“Yes,” she whispered, her heart racing, her body doing things that it had no business doing. She was going to get married, and she didn’t need to be distracted by…this.

“That is unacceptable,” he said, coming closer still. It shouldn’t have thrilled her, it should have terrified her, but she was feeling anything but terror. God, was she getting turned on this easily? How did that happen? With Jake sometimes it took a half hour to get her as ready as she was right now, her panties dampening, her nipples coming to hard, aching points. Her breathing—God, she was so not ready for this.

Ready?

What was her body thinking?

“Who-why?” she asked, biting down on her bottom lip before she asked more. Before she…before she what? She screwed up her courage. “You don’t know me. How can you say that?”

“I know you,” he assured her, his smile turning a little scary. Why that turned her on even more, she didn’t know. She wanted to be defensive, wanted to feel fear instead of desire, but her body was reacting in the vein of a too-stupid-to-live heroine and disobeying her as much as possible.

Not good. At all. She didn’t know this man—for all she knew, he could be the ones her mother warned her about. Don’t talk to strangers worked a lot better when she was six years old and he wasn’t so damn compelling. If a little strange.

“No, you don’t know me at all,” she retorted, feeling a bit of bravado creeping in. “I’ve never met you; trust me, I would have remembered.”

“I didn’t say we’d met, only that I know you…Heather. I know your type. I know the way you move and operate.” He closed the distance between them, standing so close to her she almost lost the ability to breathe. “I know you’re questioning what this is between us, but trust me; I think you know something is missing in your relationship. It is me. Give me a chance, Heather.”

She had to be dreaming this because gorgeous men so did not do this in her world. Not to her, with more than a few pounds on her frame. As pretty as she was, she was never mistaken for the prettier girls in her group. It was only on a night like tonight that she would have caught the notice of a handsome man. Who apparently knew her name—My God, had they had a stripper delivered to the VIP area? When he hadn’t found her there, had he followed her? It made sense, and explained how he knew her name.

“What’s your shtick?” she asked him just a wee bit sarcastically. “What song do you dance to?” She sang a few bars of that song proclaiming tonight was going to be a very good night that was popular a few years ago.

“Why do you think I dance?” he asked, amusement shining in his eyes
.
“Do you think I’m a stripper? Is that it?”

She nodded, eyeing him. “You’re not?” His surprise seemed natural, his chuckle adorable. Why wasn’t this elevator moving faster?

“No, Heather, I’m not. Would you like me to be?”

“No!” She was an almost married woman. Well, maybe almost married. God, she was a mess. “I want you to be…whatever you are.”

He sighed dramatically, leaning against the wall of the elevator, and gave her a gentle smile. “The thing is, Heather, I don’t think you’re ready for whatever I am. Are you? Do you want to leave this life behind for a little while?” His words were so mysterious and while she knew she should say no, while she knew this would label her reckless, at best, in any world, she had a deep sense of safety with him. And a niggling sense that if she didn’t say yes, her life would be colorless and boring, which was…strange. She didn’t know why it meant something all of a sudden for her to connect with this stranger.

“I’m getting out of this elevator on our floor. If you want to explore this, follow me. If you don’t…” He gave her a smile. “Then I wish you many fruitful and wholly exciting years with your spouse.”

Exciting? A robe? So not exciting. Suddenly, she knew what she had to do, and when the elevator dinged and opened on their floor, she watched him turn left down the corridor. Her suite was to the right. Heather hesitated only a moment before turning left and toward eternity.

Dante knew she was following—it was as he expected, as was destined. Though Heather would always have free will. Dante just wish she could be told the entire story, about her and her expected fate.

It had taken more time for him to find the woman for him, and when he’d discovered it was school administrator Heather who was his foretold mate, he’d been shocked and not more than a little surprised. Foretold mates didn’t tend to be in such mundane and mainstream careers. He’d been tracking her for a couple of weeks, had even considered stepping aside if her marital aspirations seemed solid enough. But they weren’t; Dante knew that. She wasn’t cut out for a life where she bore the burden of responsibilities—financial, emotional, and maturity wise. He didn’t care for her fiancé at all, not the way he treated his lady, nor his lack of responsibility toward her. It didn’t take a man as old as Dante to know that opening a door was appropriate, to know that you always deferred to the lady in your life. But her fiancé did no such thing. It was always Jake’s way. From observing them, Dante sometimes wondered if Jake didn’t cry out for a little discipline.

Never mind those thoughts, Dante told himself, striding down the corridor to his suite. It was elaborate and not needed, but he had the money to burn and it had placed him on the same floor as Heather. When he’d made his decision the other day to pursue her wholly, he’d had to try to find a perfect time for it. In the build-up to the wedding, she’d been so busy and with too many people. Dante hadn’t dared sweep her off with a gaggle of girlfriends around. Though some of them might have applauded her choice of a stronger and more solidly mature man.

He opened the door to his suite, leaving it ajar with his foot. When she appeared in the doorway, several seconds later, he gave her a big, broad smile, trying to hide his relief. Knowing something deep inside and making it a reality were two very different things. She could always have said no, or turned in the opposite direction or…really any outcome would have meant his failure.

“So glad to have you join me, Heather,” he told her, removing the silly tiara made of plastic. If she wanted one, he’d get her one of metal and precious jewels, not that travesty probably found in some party supply store.

“Who are you?” she asked, looking up at him, her lips parted slightly. The bright red lipstick she’d worn earlier had worn off, leaving her lips touched by the softest of pinks, moistened by her saliva rather than some sticky, chemical laden gloss.

“Dante,” he said by way of an introduction. “From Milwaukee, just like you. In fact, I’ve been watching you.”

He wondered if that had been too much, when she’d looked at the door, so he stepped back, moving deeper into the suite. No use in scaring her right off the bat like this.

“You have?” Her uncertain tone called to something deep inside him and he longed to soothe her.