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Alison took another spoonful with an appreciative moan, then gave her a curious look.
“Do you enjoy cooking?”
I used to.Pushing the memories aside, she shrugged.
“When I have time. My grandparents ran a restaurant and I used to hang out there. I picked up a lot.”
Will rejoined them and they sat down to eat. He was just as enthusiastic about the stew, and they lingered over the meal. Despite another wave of guilt over the need for secrecy, she managed to avoid going into any details about her current occupation, leaving the impression that she worked in IT. Since she ran her own website, it was technically true, but that didn’t ease her guilty conscience.
As she was getting up to return to her room, she had the unsettling sense of being watched once again. They’d eaten their meal in the part of the kitchen that had once been a back porch. Now enclosed with windows and lush with greenery, it made a pleasant contrast to their snowy surroundings, but she found herself peering out into the darkness again.
“Is something wrong?” Will asked, but she shook her head.
“Just my overactive imagination. Thank you both for a lovely evening. I really enjoyed myself.”
“You should join us again tomorrow night if you don’t have other plans,” Alison suggested.
“I’m afraid I do, but perhaps we can do this again before I leave. Good night.”
When she got back to her room, she drew the curtains back. The moon had risen, glistening on the undisturbed snow, but she still couldn’t quite shake the feeling that someone was out there, staring at her.Don’t be silly, she told herself, firmly drawing the curtains closed again.
The last thing she needed was a sleepless night prior to her return visit to Midnight Manor. She picked up a book and went to run a bath, determined to forget all about hidden watchers in the night and brooding restaurant owners.
CHAPTER 3
Damian drew back into the shadows under the trees when the curtains opened, not that she would be able to see him. Most of the myths about vampiric abilities were just that—myths—but under the right conditions he could veil his presence from most onlookers. Right now he would have preferred to be able to turn into a bat instead so he could have flown up to perch on her windowsill and observe her more closely.
He’d been unable to restrain his curiosity about the mysterious food blogger, but it turned out his suspicions were right. She was indeed the curvy little human with the delectable scent. Although she had finally responded to one of his messages and agreed to give the restaurant a second chance, she’d continued to keep her identity a secret. She’d also been deliberately vague about when she would return, but Flora had alerted him that the woman who had visited in November was coming back today.
But even after he’d confirmed his suspicions, he continued to linger outside the inn, watching. Observing her laughing and talking with Will and Alison over their meal had awoken thefeeling of isolation that had driven him to open his restaurant in the first place.
Fuck,he thought as her curtains closed again and he finally began to drift back through the woods towards Midnight Manor. Although he’d tried to convince himself that his rudeness towards her had been due to her condescending comments, rather than his overall rage and embarrassment, he still felt an unusual sense of guilt about his lack of manners.
In his defense, he had never claimed to be a nice person. Charming, yes, but there were only a few people whose wellbeing actually interested him. So what was it about her that had upset him so much? Perhaps it was the earnest look in those big eyes as she’d attempted to tell him—him!—how he should run his restaurant. As if he hadn’t dined at enough of the world’s finest restaurants to know exactly what he wanted. It hadn’t helped that her scent had made his mouth water with the urge to taste her and his eyes kept returning to her bare, tempting neck.
Not bothering to turn on the lights, he entered the back door of Midnight Manor and went upstairs to his private quarters, immediately going to the big gable window and gazing back in the direction of the inn. He couldn’t see it from here but he had the momentary fancy that there was a soft pink glow coming from the direction.
Ridiculous, he told himself, and drew the long, heavy velvet curtains closed before hesitating indecisively. He was a creature of the night, partially because of his sensitivity to sunlight and partially because of the restaurant hours. Usually he had plans for the nights when the restaurant was closed, but he hadn’t made any arrangements tonight.
He briefly considered strolling down to the Moonshine Tavern, but it would be crowded and noisy even on such a cold night, and it would be far too easy to take out his conflicting emotions on one of the barbaric werewolves who frequented the place. Instead, he prepared a small plate of perfectly ripened triple creme, stone wheat crackers, and succulent grapes, poured himself a crystal goblet of blood, and settled in his chair by the fire with his latest book.
Despite the adventurous tale, he was unable to lose himself in the story as he usually did. The normal noises of an old house seemed particularly loud tonight and he finally abandoned the effort to read. He washed his dishes and retired to the enormous velvet draped bed that was one of his favorite places in the world. But even after he’d closed the curtains and reclined back against the silky Egyptian cotton sheets, the restlessness remained.
Not that it had anything to do with the woman at the inn, he assured himself.Wendy.Although she wrote her blog under the ridiculous name of Sunny, Flora had told him that she had registered as Wendy and he assumed that was her real name. No, his inability to settle must be due to the season. He appreciated the shorter winter days, but people preferred to remain inside when it was cold and it made it more difficult to feel as though he are actually a part of the town.
Fuck. Now he was turning maudlin. With an exasperated sigh, he threw back the covers and got up. After wrapping himself in the ornate brocade dressing gown that had been a Christmas present from his brother, he poured himself a glass of wine and took it out on the front balcony to look out over the town. The Christmas tree in the Town Square had come down, but strings of lights still adorned the streets, adding to the gold glow fromthe windows of the houses. He sat watching until the last house went dark, then took himself back to bed, finally falling into a restless sleep.
He was not in the best mood when he came downstairs the following morning—a mood that was not enhanced by finding Cody mopping the kitchen floor. Cody was his busboy, a lanky brownie with a scraggly fringe of beard and a large quantity of shaggy brown hair beneath the slouchy red cap he always wore.
“Why are you mopping the floor, Cody? You did that Saturday night and we’ve been closed since then.” He only opened four nights a week during the winter.
“Dude.” Cody gave him a reproachful look. “I keep telling you to call me Kai.”
Even though Fairhaven Falls was a five-hour drive from the ocean, Cody had decided that his true destiny was as a surfer. He was working at the restaurant to save up for a summer move to the beach and had adopted Kai as his surfer name. Damian bit back an impatient remark and forced himself to moderate his tone.
“Kai, why are you mopping the kitchen floor?”
“Well, duh. Because it was wet.”
