The Undead Next Door(13)

He halted and stared at her.

Heather lowered her gaze to the pillow in her lap and tugged at the fringe. "My dream of leaving Schnitzelberg and becoming a fashion designer was deemed too dangerous. I needed to stay home and have a safe career. The boy I was dating in high school was too dangerous, too, 'cause he wanted to go into law enforcement."

She dug her fingers into the pillow as a surge of anger rushed through her. "I let Mom order me around. She was so miserable after Dad died, and I wanted her to be happy. But she was never happy. The more I gave, the more she demanded. She even picked out my husband for me."

"Cody?"

"Yes. He was so dependable. So predictable. And even more controlling than my mother. I felt so smothered, like every creative need inside me was slowly being strangled to death."

Jean-Luc sat beside her on the couch. "At least you have a beautiful child."

Heather smiled. Boy, this man knew how to say the right thing. "Bethany makes everything good. She's the most perfect creation."

"What happened to your mother?"

"Fidelia called her one morning. She'd had a bad dream about a car accident. My mom was supposed to go see her that day for a reading, but Fidelia begged her to stay home. Well, my mom refused to drive anywhere then. She was calling me every day to run errands for her, and I had my own house and a two-year-old to keep up with. It was so annoying, but I did what I could."

"You have the patience of a saint."

"You mean doormat. My mom went outside one day to get the mail." Heather motioned toward the front yard. "The mailbox is out by the curb. A neighbor's cat ran into the street just as a car was coming by. The car swerved to miss the cat—"

"And hit your mother?"

"No, they managed to brake in time." Heather turned on the couch to face Jean-Luc. "My mother was so afraid, so certain of her own death that she had a heart attack. It was fear that killed her."

"How terrible."

"It was. I was devastated. But at the same time, I had this sudden revelation." She leaned toward him. "I had let fear control my life. Fear triggered my parents' deaths. Fear caused me to make all the wrong decisions. I wasn't living. I was cowering in a self-made prison!"

His eyes narrowed. "I understand. Too well."

"And that's when I declared war on fear. I filed for divorce the next day. Everyone thought I was behaving strangely out of grief, but it took something as bad as grief to make me open my eyes and reclaim my life."

Jean-Luc rested his hand on top of hers. "You realize what you must do?"

"Hmm?" It was hard to think with his slender fingers wrapping around hers.

"You must pursue your dream. Take the job I offered you."

"I don't want you to feel beholden to me because of this Louie thing."

He clasped her hand in both of his. "I offered you the job before Lui came. You have talent, Heather. It is not too late for your dreams to come true."

"How do you always know the perfect thing to say? I'm not used to men being that…smart."

His mouth quirked. "I suppose that's a compliment. Whatever wisdom I have, it's from watching people over the years. They live and die, their lives so short and precarious. I know your life is too short to be wasted."

Once again she wondered how old he was. "You're…very kind." She retrieved her hand from his grasp. "Not at all like my ex. I swear that man is like a…vampire."

Jean-Luc stiffened. "Non. He is not."

"I mean he's like an emotional vampire. He completely drained me. All my dreams, my self-esteem, my beliefs, my energy—it was all sucked out till all that was left of me was a lifeless doormat."

Jean-Luc regarded her, a look of dismay on his face. "That is how you envision a vampire?"

"An emotional one, yes. Thank God the real, creepy, monster ones don't exist."

"Right." Jean-Luc loosened his collar.

"But you, you're completely the opposite."

He eyed her warily. "How's that?"

"You listened to me. You accepted my story and my conclusions. You recognized my dream as something precious and worthwhile, and you're willing to help. You don't tear down others in order to build yourself up." She touched his arm. "You're a sweet man, Jean-Luc. Thank you."

He placed his hand on top of hers. "You believe I am good?"

"Yes." She smiled. "And I'm not just saying that because you're my new boss."

He smiled back. "Then you're coming to work Monday?"

"Yep." Her grin widened. She was going after her dream.

"I am glad." He squeezed her hand.

Her heart felt light enough to float to the ceiling. The friendly gleam in his eyes looked so genuine. Good Lord, had she finally found the perfect man? A man who understood her dreams and wanted her to succeed.

His gaze lowered to her mouth and became more heated. Her throat went dry. The light, airy feeling grew more dense, more electric. More heavy with desire.

With a jolt, she realized he meant to kiss her. A flood of emotions swept through her as her heart raced. She was flattered. Excited. Tempted. Terrified.

She jumped to her feet. "Time for bed. I mean—" Her cheeks blazed with heat. "Time for me to say good night." She eased past him and the coffee table.

He stood. "As you wish."

"Good night, Jean-Luc."

"Jean."

Whatever. She hurried into the foyer. She much preferred the name Jean-Luc. It made him sound like a starship captain, but young. And with hair. "If you need anything from the kitchen, just help yourself."

"I'll be fine." He followed her. "Emma and I will be leaving shortly before dawn. I'm afraid you'll be on your own during the day until Angus can send a bodyguard."

"We'll be fine." She headed up the stairs.

"I'll return tomorrow evening right after sunset."

Her heart skipped. Saturday night with a gorgeous man. "Okay."

"Heather, a moment please."

She paused with her hand on the banister. "Yes?"

"You mentioned how Fidelia found that missing boy. If she could help us locate Lui, that would be a tremendous help."

"Oh. That's a good idea. It would be easier if she could handle something that belongs to Louie."

Jean-Luc's eyes lit up. "We have his sword and the cane he used as a sheath. I'll bring them tomorrow night."

"Okay." She paused, not knowing what to say. "Good night." She ran up the stairs.

"Sleep well, Heather." His whispered words followed her up, reaching her like a soft caress.

She slipped into her room, her heart still pounding. Emma had asked her to leave the door ajar, but she closed it firmly. She needed a barrier between her and Jean-Luc. He was too attractive, too appealing, and too damned mysterious. She knew next to nothing about him, except that he seemed too good to be true. He'd learned a whole lot about her tonight. And still, he had wanted to kiss her.

She should have let him, an inner voice scolded. She shouldn't have chickened out. Wasn't she at war with fear? But she had to be careful. Where men were concerned, she'd made some bad mistakes. But hadn't she learned from them?

Tomorrow night he'd come again. She'd have another chance to get to know him. And maybe, just maybe, tomorrow night she'd let him kiss her.





CHAPTER 7




The next night, Jean-Luc sped toward the town of Schnitzelberg with an ice chest filled with bottled synthetic blood strapped into the passenger seat of his black BMW. The sun had set ten minutes ago. He gulped blood from a bottle of Type AB positive, still cold since he'd been in too big of a hurry to warm it up.

The problem was, if he was awake, so was Lui. And if Lui had discovered who Heather was and where she lived, he could already be there. Jean-Luc had wanted to teleport to her house immediately after awakening, but Emma had convinced him he needed to arrive like a normal mortal.

Heather should be all right, he reassured himself as he turned off the highway and entered the town. Emma had teleported to her backyard five minutes ago. She would have alerted him telepathically if something was wrong.

Still, he hated not being there. He hated that Heather and her daughter had been dragged into his feud with Lui. If anything happened to them…how could he endure the guilt of more innocent mortals dying?

Heather's story last night had made him take a hard look at himself. He now realized what lay hidden beneath his guilt and anger. Fear.

He'd risen far from his humble beginnings as an orphaned stable boy. He was a knight by the time Roman transformed him in 1513. He'd become a musketeer, owner of the most prestigious fencing academy in Paris, a lieutenant-colonel in the Vamp army, and now he was coven master of Western Europe, in addition to being a designer and successful businessman. He'd poured all his energy into outward success in an effort to be the master of his own destiny. But beneath it all, the same old torment continued to plague him. The fear of being powerless.

As a lowly stable boy, he'd been powerless to the whims and political machinations of the masters over him. He'd sworn never to be a pawn again. And he'd succeeded until Lui came into his life in 1757.

He should have let Louis XV die that year. But no, Jean-Luc had done his duty as a royal bodyguard, and he'd stopped the mortal assassin Damiens.

The mortal had only been a pawn. Lui enjoyed using mind control to make mortals do his dirty work. He'd succeeded twice before, using mortal scapegoats to kill two kings—Henri III in 1589 and Henri IV in 1610.