Free The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance by Trisha Telep Page A

goosebumps rising on cue.
    “He’s a vamp. Trust me. And when you think about it, it makes perfect sense, him being here.”
    “It does?”
    “Sure. This place looks totally fake, so it’d be the ideal place for real vampires to hang out, undetected.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “See him? Up there. Beside the urn.”
    I spotted the guy. Not too tall or too dark, but he did have that pretty-boy pout down pat. And while his clothing didn’t scream “I’ve seen Underworld fifty times,” it was suitably dark against his pale skin. “He definitely looks anaemic enough.”
    She followed my gaze. “No, not him.” Gripping my chin, she redirected me. “Him.”
    I looked. I looked some more. “Holy shit.”
    I’m not usually one for gorgeous guys, but one glance at this one and my ovaries were doing the cha-cha. He was at least six foot two and built. God, was he built. Wide shoulders, muscular biceps, slim hips, perfect ass. With effort, I pulled my gaze back up to his face, which was a sculptor’s dream. And, naturally, he was blond. And tanned. And so not a vampire.
    When I said as much to Tiffany, she rolled her eyes. “Yes, he has a tan. So what? You said they can go out in sunlight.”
    “But . . . But that’s ...” I ogled some more. “As a man? Perfection. As a vampire? So wrong.”
    He still stood at the bar, his gaze fixed regretfully on a no smoking sign. I glanced down at his hand to see him toying with an unlit cigarette. A smoker? Normally a deal breaker, but in this case, I could adjust.
    I did direct Tiffany’s attention to the cigarette though.
    “And that proves what?” she said. “He’s a vampire. No chance of lung cancer, emphysema, smoker’s cough. I bet he doesn’t even get nicotine stains. Why not smoke?”
    Now the Nordic god was heading our way, three drinks effortlessly fitting into his big hands. Big square hands, workman’s hands, the kind with old calluses that would scratch deliciously against the skin as he ...
    “He’s mine,” Tiffany said.
    I shook off the lust attack and nodded. “I know, and I won’t interfere.” Like I could anyway, though Tiffany was kind enough not to point that out.
    He handed us our drinks and Tiffany introduced me.
    “Adrian,” he said, then excused himself and scooped a nearby table and chair, and set them up for us. A gentleman too.
    “I hope you don’t mind me hiding out over here with you two,” he said. “This place is—” an almost nervous glance over his shoulder “—not exactly my speed.”
    Tiffany shot me a knowing look, as if this proved he was indeed a creature of the night, desperately trying to convince us otherwise. When I asked whether he was local, he shook his head.
    “I’m working with a construction crew on a big job up here. Just got in this morning, asked the motel clerk for a good place to grab a drink and he suggested here.”
    And so we started to talk. And the more we did, the more I really wished I’d taken my hairdresser’s advice about that stylish new cut or splurged for that amazing dress I’d seen last week at the mall.
    Adrian wasn’t just gorgeous. He was a real sweetheart, the kind of guy that usually only comes in a much plainer package. Of course, the cynical part of me tried to insist he was an actor, part of the ad campaign we’d seen earlier, but I’d been around enough actors in my career to know Adrian was just what he seemed - a good-looking, small-town construction worker looking for some company in the big city. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the one he’d chosen to play the role of “company”.
    We’d been talking for about a half-hour when Adrian took the cigarette from his pocket and rolled it between his fingers. He sheepishly joked about the bad habit, then asked Tiffany if she’d like to step outside for some air while he indulged. He was gentleman enough to extend the invitation to me, but in a way that said he was really hoping Tiffany would come alone. Naturally, I was gracious and