SEDUCTIVE SUPERNATURALS: 12 Tales of Shapeshifters, Vampires & Sexy Spirits (121 page)

Apparently this was one of those years. He had purposely made a point of wanting an SUV this year. She’d asked him to confirm at least twice. He had, but now that he had arrived and was about to drive what he’d ordered, somehow it wasn’t good enough.

“I’ll change it for you in the morning. It’s too late now. You’d have to wait at least an hour or more for someone to bring you a different car.”

“Fine. I’ll drive this cumbersome thing, but in the morning see to it that I have a black Mercedes waiting in front of the hotel.”

“Yes, Mr. Spencer, I’ll get right on it.” A blatant lie. Hilly had no intention of trying to change his wheels this time of night. Still, she liked to placate him when he was in this kind of mood. She’d learned over the years that arguing over what he’d said or didn’t say was a waste of time for them both.

“Good.”

“Anything else?”

“I take it you received my birthday flowers?”

Hilly glanced over at the two dozen pink roses that had arrived early that morning at her condo this time. She had two shelves filled with brightly colored vases from his birthday and holiday wishes. There was a time when she’d tried to take herself off the list, but when he asked her about the missing roses on her desk, she’d had to make up some wild excuse and she’d immediately put herself back on the list.

At least he tried to be a caring person.

“Yes. Thank y—”

He interrupted her. “Great! Happy Birthday, Hilly.”

“Thanks,” she told him, but her phone beeped telling her he’d already disconnected.

Hilly picked up her plate, scooped up an enormous bite of cake and shoved it into her mouth, thinking that Sarah was right:
Dillon Spencer is an asshole.

* * *

There were times in Dillon’s life when everything came together like a perfect wave, when he felt at peace with his decisions, when he knew he’d accomplished his goals, and his dreams seemed attainable despite reasoning that told him the contrary . . . this was one of those times.

He rolled on his back in the king-sized, four-poster bed, and opened his eyes to the bright sunlight pouring into his favorite room at Hotel Colorado. An effortless smile stretched across his face as the familiar scent of gardenias tickled his nose.

He was alone, at least in the physical sense of the word. The scent of gardenias was said to belong to a friendly ghost, which Dillon doubted to be true. Still, ever since he was a kid and had traveled to this hotel with his mom, he’d awoken to the scent of gardenias with no earthly explanation for the strong fragrance except for a few tall tales of a chambermaid named Irene who liked to haunt a few of the rooms.

His room, the Molly Brown room, happened to be one of them.

But despite the specious visit from the afterlife, his mood could not be altered. There was absolutely no mortal person around to force him into doing anything he didn’t want to do or to persuade him into thinking a certain way about an issue, or to encourage him into listening to bullshit he had no use for. No obstreperous client to deal with, and no father to report to. Best of all, he didn’t have to pretend to be enamored of a woman he could barely tolerate let alone marry.

He was sure there were plenty of text messages on his phone from Nanette to intrude upon his private world, but for the next hour or so he intended to ignore the outside world and focus on relaxation, something he sorely needed.

He stretched out on the comfortable bed, pointing his toes while he reached behind him for the headboard, hoping this feeling of serenity would linger throughout the day and his L.A. life wouldn’t somehow manage to come crashing in.

For the next two weeks, all he had to do was hang out with his grandmother, visit with good friends, and enjoy the majestic surroundings.

He thought about his morning as he stared up at the paper-white ceiling, how he intended to take a long soak in the whirlpool tub and read an actual newspaper before he stepped one foot out of the historic hotel. Hilly had ordered him three newspapers: the Wall Street Journal, USA Today and the Post Independent, a local rag from Glenwood Springs. He needed to feel and smell a real newspaper, one he could fold, rip out articles from, and hold in his hands again. A luxury he had no time for during his day-to-day demanding life.

Out of all the things he enjoyed doing on this hiatus from law, a morning soak in the tub and the time to thoroughly read each of the newspapers was probably somewhere at the very top of his list of greatest pleasures, right alongside spending time with his plucky grandmother. They had the entire two weeks planned out, and later that day he’d be picking her up to bring her back to the hotel so they could get started. He’d been looking forward to seeing her for the last few weeks, and now that the time had arrived, he felt as anxious as a little boy waiting to go out to play.

His grandmother meant the world to him and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. He and his mom had spent every summer with her when he was growing up. She’d taught him how to swim in the hot springs pool right across the street from the hotel, brought him on countless hikes in the surrounding mountains, along with bike rides and picnics when his grandfather was alive. There was no way he could repay his grandmother for all the love and comfort she’d given him over the years, but at least for two full weeks in October, he could give her what they both had agreed was the best gift of all: time together. And, truth be told, she enjoyed the hotel as much as he did and he knew she looked forward to her stay.

She was the reason he made the trip to Colorado each year. The reason why he could tolerate his partnership at Spencer and Spencer, could put up with his father’s admonishments, and could live the lie he had so carefully cultivated.

And now that she had reached seventy-five on her last birthday, and was showing signs of slowing down, she was the reason why it was time for him to break the promise he’d made to his mom. His mind was made up and soon, if everything went according to his plan—which included stealing Hilly Thompson away from Spencer and Spencer—his life would finally be his and he’d be running his own law practice.

His grandmother had wanted him to open a practice in Colorado, but Dillon knew that idea was impossible. For one thing, Nanette would never agree to the move. She was the ultimate Valley Girl and nothing could ever pull her away from California.

His grandmother would have to be content with his move away from his dad’s control. He couldn’t wait to tell her the good news. She’d been after him to start his own practice for years, and he was finally ready to do it. He had everything in place and had marshaled up the courage to finally break away from his dad, taking virtually nothing with him but the sheer tenacity of will that his mom and his gram had in spades.

The thought energized him as he rolled out of bed, prepared a hot bubbly bath in the large whirlpool tub, finally adding the scented bubble bath he’d purchased in a high-end men’s store on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. Then he retrieved the tray of strong coffee, warmed milk, an assortment of muffins, and his three newspapers from right outside his room door.

He sighed. Yet another example of how fabulous Hilly was at her job.

As he stepped into the luxurious bath, the warmth giving him immediate goose bumps, and before he picked up the local paper that he’d placed on a wooden chair within arm’s reach, his mind wandered to Hilly. He couldn’t help it. For one, he needed to call her and tell her not to bother swapping out his SUV for a sedan. He’d changed his mind. He liked the SUV. It seemed safer to drive something bigger on the icy roads.

Of course, Hilly always seemed to know these things before he had a chance to tell her, but still . . . he told himself he should call her to make sure, knowing it would be a chance to add her sweet voice to his perfect morning. And as soon as he finished reading all his papers, enjoyed a couple cups of coffee, ate a muffin or two, and was on his way to pick up his gram, he’d do just that.

* * *

The pretty young woman with the long blond hair pulled back in a tight ponytail ordered a regular sized coffee from the male waiter behind the counter: no flavorings, no steamed milk, and no espresso. The older woman, Margarita Green, stared in delight as the young woman took her coffee over to the milk kiosk next to the front door, poured in real cream and a packet of real sugar then was on her way, smiling at a curly haired child just coming into the café with his very pregnant mom.

Margarita couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the young woman as she walked out of My Blue Heaven Café and into the snowy Colorado night.

Margarita watched the woman’s every move through the large front windows of her café. She’d owned the café for more than fifty years now and for the past twenty, had lived above it in the tiny one bedroom apartment. She enjoyed her life in Breckenridge and all the warm-hearted friends she’d made over the years. It was her home, had been ever since she and her departed husband had stumbled on the small town during a ski trip the first year they were married. They each fell in love with the tranquil village almost as quickly as they had fallen in love with each other. Back then, Margarita operated on instinct and spunk, both of which she still clung to.

Two traits her scholarly grandson seemed to sorely lack, or at least he chose to not show.

Now as she watched for him to pull up in front of the café at any moment, she couldn’t help but notice the young woman as she met up with a female friend. The friend held a monster sized paper cup of what had to be some kind of espresso-foaming concoction she could only sip due to its blistering high temperature, purchased at Margarita’s competition, the cookie cutter coffee house across the street. Margarita had tried their coffee wanting to see what all the fuss was about, and decided it tasted like sweetened battery acid. She never could understand the attraction. But then most people were like sheep and, sadly, the individual thinker had become a rarity.

Not so with the pretty blonde girl laughing with her friend out on the snowy sidewalk. What a person drank said a lot about who they were on the inside and, so far, Margarita liked what she saw.

Her grandson was late picking her up. Usually, he’d arrive much earlier in the day and hang around the café for a few hours, catching up with old friends. This time he had phoned to tell her he’d gotten delayed, and he’d have to postpone catching up with everyone until the back end of his trip.

She didn’t really care as long as he was still willing to take her to their favorite place in the entire world, the Hotel Colorado in Glenwood Springs, for a long visit. Something the two of them had been doing for the past ten years.

Still, as much as she cherished their time together, she longed for him to find his soul mate, his one true love, a woman who he deeply loved and who would love him in return. And that certainly wasn’t that Nanette girl. The fact that he hadn’t brought her to Colorado spoke volumes. He simply didn’t love her.

Margarita could rest easy if only he would stop trying to live someone else’s life and focus on his own desires.

She wondered if there was any way she could bring the young woman standing in front of the café and her grandson together. Arrange some kind of meeting, or better still, concoct an old fashioned love spell. Logic told her she was silly to think this way. The young woman might already be married or she might have a myriad of ugly traits.

Instinct told her otherwise.

And instinct had never failed her.

Admittedly, Margarita had grown weary in her golden years and hadn’t thought of using her spiritual ability in quite some time.

When she was a much younger woman, she never thought twice about casting spells. She wanted everyone to be in love and she would spread her magic around like pixie dust, then sit back and watch with delight as one happy couple after another would come into her café to announce their wedding plans.

Love spells were the only magic she would ever consider. Anything else might bring evil into her life and there was enough evil in the world. She didn’t need it knocking on her door.

She had stopped spreading love dust the day her precious daughter left this world. Margarita had turned bitter after that, especially because the man her daughter had married had turned out to be a tyrant. Try as she may, Margarita had had no power over her own sweet daughter’s love choice.

She wondered if she had power over her grandson’s love choices or was he exempt just like his mom had been. She’d never thought about trying to cast a love spell on him before this very moment; perhaps because she’d never seen the right girl.

This was the right girl; this was his soul mate, his partner for life. She knew it deep in her soul and knew she had to act quickly or the moment would pass.

Fortunately, today she’d worn the sapphire ring her mother had given her, passed down through the generations for just this purpose. She would have passed it to her sweet daughter on her thirty-fifth birthday, but fate had stepped in and taken her well before that day.

The ring now lay hidden under her white coat. It didn’t fit on her arthritic fingers anymore, so she’d slipped it on a long silver chain that very morning and hung it from her neck without giving it a second thought. She couldn’t remember how many years it had been since she’d worn it last, and yet, out of the blue . . . her blue heaven . . . she had managed to have the mystic ring ready when she needed it most.

As she stepped outside and as the cold surrounded her, she reached under her coat and clutched the ring. Instantly, the familiar warm tingling sensation swept through her as she silently began mouthing her love chant:
Just Dillon and she, and baby makes three. They’re happy in my blue heaven.

Her fingers vibrated as she held the ring in the center of her chest, and a radiant blue light flashed outward between her fingers. It only lasted a few seconds, much less time than it used to, but she hoped it had been enough for the universe to hear her request.

It was time, she thought, while still clutching the ring and watching as the two women crossed the street just as her grandson pulled a black SUV up to the curb in front of the café.