Free Christmas Moon by J.R. Rain

had anything to worry about, as far as I could tell. She was herself an actress slash model slash Lover Girl cosmetics spokeswoman (her latest gig) who was blonde, stacked, and toned from head to toe. If Barbie ever needed a body double, Dana was your gal.
    But I guess even Barbie might have issues with watching Ken smooch another girl.
    “ I don’t get all this vampire fascination,” Dana mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling at the screen as Daniel sunk his teeth into Lila, giving her “the eternal kiss” of night.
    “ You’re kidding, right?” I responded, looking away as I grabbed a handful of popcorn. “Are we watching the same movie? Vampires are sexy.”
    “ What’s so sexy about drinking blood?”
    I paused. Okay, she had me there. “It’s not the blood thing,” I countered. “It’s that they’re mysterious. Dark. Forbidden. The ultimate bad boys. Besides,” I said gesturing at the screen, “you have to admit that Ricky looks hot in pale make-up.”
    Dana sighed. “Yeah. I know. Too hot.”
    “ You know, there are worse things in the world than dating the guy every woman in America is lusting over,” I teased her.
    She threw a piece of popcorn at me, but smiled at least. “Well, with any luck, after he finishes shooting the sequel there won’t be any more Moonlight movies.”
    “ Aww,” I whined before I could stop myself. “Why not?”
    “ Ricky’s invested in this new club, and if it does well he said he’ll be able to slow down a bit with the acting. Which,” she clarified, “means more time with moi and less time with her.”
    “ Tell me about the club,” I said to cover my disappointment at losing my new favorite film series.
    Dana perked up, crossing her legs under her on the sofa. “It’s called Crush, and it’s got this totally chic little spot on Sunset. Apparently Ricky’s business manager suggested investing in it, so Ricky’s now something like a one-sixteenth owner. I’m going to check it out tomorrow night. Oh! You should totally come with!”
    I bit my lip. “Me? At a nightclub?” Okay, a few months ago, I would have jumped at the chance to check out a hot new club from the cushy VIP section reserved for one-sixteenth owners. Fashion, fun, and Hollywood nights were things I had lived for. But recently something had come along to change all that. Okay, I guess you could say two somethings.
    Number one: My husband, Detective Jack Ramirez, L.A.P.D. homicide. He was tall, broad shouldered, and built with all solid muscle. His hair was dark and always a week past needing a haircut, his skin a warm honey color year round, and his eyes were a chocolate brown when they crinkled with laughter at the corners and a deep, dangerous black when he was in the mood for something a little more naughty. When a girl had a guy like that at home, what did she want to go out for?
    And clearly we’d been spending a lot of time “in” together as I now had a reason number two to stay home: The Bump. In about twenty-two weeks I was told that said growth would actually become a living breathing human, but at the moment, it was just The Bump, a basketball shaped growth under my favorite T-shirt. (Which, even though it was stretched to the max I refused to give up in favor of the tents that passed as maternity clothes. Whoever said that maternity wear was “so much cuter” now than in the past clearly had a very loose interpretation of the word “cute”.)
    My first reaction to the two little lines on the pee stick had been surprise, then elation, then horror at the idea I was soon to be responsible for an entire life. Horror had settled into a dull sense of panic that I could most of the time smother with chocolate covered popcorn and hot cocoa, but it was still bubbling just below the surface enough that a nightclub wasn’t high on my list of to-do lately.
    Dana must have seen the hesitation in my eyes as she looked down at The Bump too.
    “ Come on, it would be