Heather finished the stole for the first gown and proceeded to the pattern-making stage for the second outfit. As time went by, she found herself looking forward to seeing Jean-Luc again.
He showed up about eight-thirty, as handsome as ever. Her breath caught, just looking at him. I know you love me. God help her, was he right? What else could explain how she was drawn to him even when she knew the truth about him?
He looked over her work while they waited for Ian to wake up. Ian woke and stumbled to his feet to see if he'd grown. Heather handed Robby a measuring tape.
"Congratulations, ye're now six feet tall," Robby announced. "And ye need to shave."
Ian grinned, rubbing the whiskers on his jaw.
"We should have some Blissky to celebrate," Phineas suggested.Ian laughed. "Ye're always looking for a reason to have some Blissky."
"I have a bottle in the security office," Robby said. "Let's go."
The three male Vamps sauntered off, leaving Heather alone with Jean-Luc.
"What's Blissky?" she asked.
"A mixture of synthetic blood and Scottish whisky," Jean-Luc explained. "Roman has made our meals much more interesting with his Vampire Fusion Cuisine."
Heather made a face. "Are you kidding me?"
"No. We now have Chocolood, blood with chocolate, a favorite among the lady Vamps, and Bubbly Blood, blood with champagne for those special vampire occasions."
Heather laughed. "What would that be? Moving into a new, improved coffin?"
The corner of his mouth tilted up. "Now you're mocking me. You know exactly where I sleep, and it's not a coffin."
Her face warmed with the memory of his bed.
"Would you like to see what I've been working on? It's in my office."
She hesitated, not knowing if she was ready to be alone with him behind closed doors.
His smile faded. "I would never harm you, cherie. I would do anything to protect you from harm."
Anything but stop her from falling in love with him. And that might cause her great pain sometime in the future. She sighed. Love never came with a guarantee. It was always a leap of faith. She just wasn't sure she wanted to take that leap.
Was she letting fear rule her life again? Sometimes caution was the wise choice. Then again, too much caution could be really boring and…sad. What if she spent the rest of her life regretting her cautious wisdom?
She took a deep breath. "I can stop by for a few minutes."
"Good." He walked slowly toward the door, waiting for her to accompany him. He made no attempt to touch her, and she was grateful for that. He seemed to understand that she needed time. And she needed answers.
"Why did you come to Texas?" she asked as they started down the hallway.
"I needed to disappear. The media was questioning why I never grew older."
"So you're in hiding?"
He nodded. "For twenty-five years. Then I can return to Paris, posing as my son."
She wanted to ask if he ever considered having a real son, but she lost her nerve. "So you're going to be in Schnitzelberg for a while." How could she go back to her normal life, knowing that a vampire who loved her lived right down the highway?
"I can still go places. I just have to be careful. I can't afford to be spotted by the media."
"How on earth do you travel?" She paused as they entered the showroom. "Don't tell me—you're stashed in a coffin in the cargo bay of a 747."
He winced. "That would be awful. Travel is actually very easy for us. We just teleport."
"Teleport? Nobody teleports, except in sci-fi shows."
"Vampires teleport."
She gazed around the showroom, speechless. She turned back to Jean-Luc, and he vanished.
She gasped. "Jean-Luc?"
"Yes."
She jumped and spun around. He was behind her. "Oh. That was too sneaky."
"It comes in very handy. That's how my guards were able to bring your daughter's toys here."
She narrowed her eyes. "You could teleport into my bedroom whenever you like, even with the door locked?"
"Yes. But don't forget—I'm an honorable man."
She winced with a sudden thought. "Then Louie could teleport here. He could go straight to my bedroom—"
"Heather," he interrupted her, touching her shoulder. "An alarm goes off the second anyone teleports into the building. It went off last night when Simone returned."
"Oh. So that's why you barged into my bedroom."
"Yes."
He really was protecting her. "I appreciate how hard all of you are working to keep us safe."
He smiled. "When this is all over, I think we should go on a date."
"You mean dinner and a movie?" She scoffed. "I'm not volunteering to be dinner."
He chuckled. "No, but I could take you somewhere out of the public eye, like Angus's castle in Scotland or Roman's villa in Tuscany."
What a rascal. He was dangling a carrot that she found hard to resist. She'd always longed to travel.
"I have Vamp friends all over the world who would welcome us," Jean-Luc continued. "We just have to be sure that I'm not recognized. Or that the sun hasn't risen."
"You mean you would take me with you when you teleport?"
"Yes. It's quite simple, really."
She snorted. "That's easy for you to say. You're talking about turning me into some kind of…vapor, then hoping I materialize with my head on straight."
"It's perfectly safe."
"It doesn't sound safe."
He tilted his head, considering her. "I'll show you how it works now, then you won't have to worry about it."
She stepped back. "I'm okay with worrying. I'm really quite good at worrying."
"We'll just go to my office." He pointed to the second-floor window that overlooked the showroom. "And then later, when I take you on a longer trip, you won't be afraid."
Good Lord, he was so enticing. "I might agree to a date sometime in the future. But that doesn't mean I've agreed to that courtship idea of yours."
"Fine. We'll do a practice run now." He moved closer.
Her heart lurched. Oh God, she'd agreed to teleport.
He placed his hands lightly around her waist. "There are a few things you must do for it to work."
"Like what?"
"Put your arms around my neck and hold tight."
She slowly moved her hands up to his neck. "What now?"
He wrapped his arms around her. "Now you kiss me."
She scoffed. "They never did that on Star Trek."
"Their loss."
"What if you're teleporting alone or with a guy?"
He winced. "All right. I lied." He gave her a rueful smile. "But you can't blame me for trying."
She swatted his shoulder.
He chuckled. "You do have to hold me tight, though."
The room began to waver, and Heather grabbed his neck for dear life.
"Trust me." His soft words whispered in her ear just before everything went black.
She felt a floating sensation, then a solid floor beneath her feet. She opened her eyes. She was in a large office. "That was spooky."
"You'll get used to it."
She stepped back, and he released her. She wandered around the office, noting the two leather wingback chairs, the desk, computer, and file cabinets. She stopped by a worktable that was strewn with beautiful fabric in shades of green and blue. A pile of peacock feathers begged to be touched. She stroked the soft fronds.
"I knew you would have to touch," he spoke quietly behind her. "You like texture."
Her skin prickled with goose bumps. "How did you know?"
"I've been watching you." He moved close beside her. "You like the smoothness of silk against your bare skin. You like to touch chenille and velvet." He picked up a peacock feather. "This reminded me of you. It holds all the different shades of green and turquoise that I see in your eyes.
They change slightly when you're smiling or frowning or…climaxing."
She shot him an annoyed look. "Your eyes change, too."
He smiled and handed her a stack of sketches. "What do you think?"
She looked them over. He was so talented. He managed to draw on centuries of fashion experience and create something both classic and new. "They're beautiful."
"So is my inspiration." He stroked the edge of the feather down the side of her face and down her neck.
She dropped the sketches and paced toward the window. She gazed down at the mannequins, stark white in the dark showroom. "I need to know more about you."
"What do you wish to know?"
She leaned her forehead against the cool glass. "Everything. You know everything about me."
He sighed. "There's not much to tell. I was born a poor peasant, the son of Jean who cleaned out the stable. I don't recall a family name."
She turned to face him. "What about Echarpe?"
"I acquired that name after I was transformed. Some Vamps gave it to me as a jest. After women…encountered me, they would wear a scarf to hide the marks." He shrugged. "Echarpe means 'scarf. "
She winced. "A sad joke."
"Much of my life has been a sad joke. I have…fought to be where I am today."
She could relate to that. "Is it true what you said the other night—that your mother died when you were young?"
Frowning, he sat in one of the wingback chairs. "Both my parents died. I was orphaned by the age of six. The baron allowed me to sleep in the stable and take over my father's duties."