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Rosemary Laurey is back with another wickedly delicious tale of love, lust, and the otherworldly with a new, and decidedly sexy, twist…
Some Guys Are Real Animals…
Antonia Stonewright isn’t about to change her views on love. A sexy mortal companion is fine every now and then, but a soul mate? A partner for life? Please. She was burned once, and hundreds of years haven’t healed the wounds. But reclusive potter Michael Langton is…different. His gorgeous wares are perfect for her new art gallery—and his gorgeous body is perfect for her. She can’t get enough of his toned muscles or his amazing, dark eyes. Their nights together make them both purr with pleasure—except in Michael’s case, purring comes naturally. So much for finding a regular boyfriend. Antonia has a truly sexy beast on her hands…
“Great stuff!” —Romantic Times on Kiss Me Forever/Love Me Forever
USA Today bestselling author Rosemary Laurey is an ex-pat Brit, retired special-education teacher and grandmother who now lives in Ohio having a wonderful time writing and letting her imagination run riot. Visit www.forevervampires.com and www.rosemarylaurey.com for contests, freebies and excerpts.
Chapter One
“This is it!” Antonia Stonewright announced, opening the
wide front door. “What do you think?”
Elizabeth Connor looked around the beautifully proportioned hall; the wide, curved staircase with its shallow, broad
steps; and the airy drawing room just visible through the half-
open door to her right. “It’s absolutely lovely. No wonder
Dixie hated to leave.”
“Part of me thinks it a shame to use it for base moneymaking activities, but heck, we’ve tried for a year to rent it
out with no luck. Seems the locals consider it tainted.”
“That oily estate agent said as much.”
Antonia creased her high forehead. She’d been as unimpressed with Mike Jenkins as Elizabeth had. “Nasty little
snirp, wasn’t he? Mind you, he was helpful—dealing with
painters and electricians and so forth. No doubt made a little
on the side, but it’s done.” She walked across the polished
floor and opened wide the double doors into the drawing
room. “This is going to be one of the main sales rooms.”
The only furniture was the built-in corner cabinets. “When
are the tables and other stuff coming?”
“In the next couple of weeks. Sooner, if we’re lucky.
We’ve still got the outside work to do. Dismantling some old
buildings and removing an air raid shelter left over from the
Second World War and expanding the stables to make the
tearoom.”
“And when will that get done?”
“Right away, now that I’m here.”
Elizabeth didn’t doubt it. Vampires had a way of getting
what they wanted. “Want to unload the computers and so
forth?”
“Might as well. We don’t have an audience, so we can
work at our own speed. We can set up our office in the breakfast room.”
Elizabeth threw open the back doors of the van. It was
packed to the roof with desks, computers, a printer, and filing cabinet, everything Antonia deemed necessary to set up
a temporary office. “We should have taken sleazy Jenkins up
on his offer to come out to the house with us. He could have
helped heave this little lot. He did offer to help whenever we
needed, didn’t he?” Elizabeth couldn’t resist a grin. The man
had fairly oozed at them. “We could call him over. He’d
make dinner for you.”
“Spare me! I’m particular where I put my fangs.”
Antonia was particular about everything, including the
exact positioning of desks to avoid direct sunlight from the
French windows. And she was not happy that the promised
phone line was not connected. “Make that the first priority in
the morning,” she told Elizabeth. “That and internet connection. I’m getting this show on the road if I have to throw
glamors over half the population.”
They had everything set up in time that would have left
mortals blinking. Antonia surveyed the room with grudging
satisfaction. “At least it looks as if we mean business. I’ll drop
you at the car hire place, and we can meet back at the hotel.”
“Let me see the attics Dixie mentioned first.” Antonia obviously didn’t like the idea. Too bad! It hadn’t been that long
since the entire vamp colony had been very happy to have a
witch on their side.
Antonia followed her into the kitchen and up the narrow
staircase, concealed behind a door. At first sight they were in
two attics with pitched ceilings and tiny windows overlooking
the garden, but . . . Elizabeth looked around. The shelves were
bare, but in the middle of the floor sat three packing cases
addressed to her. She pulled one open, delved in the shredded
packing, and pulled out a jar with spidery, dark handwriting
on a yellow label. She was actually looking at mandrake root.
Bless Dixie! She had it all packed up as promised. Elizabeth
pulled out half a dozen jars—some almost empty; others
containing shriveled contents, ground powders, desiccated
leaves or petals—before realizing Antonia was watching with
a wry expression. “I’ve never before had a chance to actually
go through an old-time herbalist’s storeroom.”
“Don’t forget the lot you inherited this from were more
than little old lady herbalists.”
“I know, but not all of this is harmful. Look, this is arnica.
Used to heal bruises and aches.” She set the jar on the table
and smiled at Antonia. “You’ll be telling me next that your
mother kept all this on her kitchen shelves.”
Antonia smiled. “No, ghoul. My father had a skilled herbalist in his service. My mother spent her time trying to convert my father to her newfangled Christianity.”
That was a conversation for another day. “What am I
going to do with all this? Have it sent on to Tom’s, I suppose.” They were eventually converting these attics and the
kitchen into the caretaker’s accommodation.
Not often Antonia laughed, but that tickled her funny
bone. “Better warn him first. On the other hand, since he’s
sleeping with a witch, he can’t be too put out at...”
“Stow it!” Inelegant, yes, but really, vamps did have a
tendency to intrude.
“You mean you’re not sleeping with him?” Antonia deserved a shove in the ribs for that, but no point in risking
breaking an elbow. “We don’t actually sleep that much,”
Elizabeth replied with a grin. “I only need a couple of hours
a night, assuming I feed, and talking about feeding, I really
need to before I go meet the Collins’s. Don’t want to get
dizzy driving.”
“Think you can last while we check the rest of the house?”
She could.
They went through every room: The long drawing room
with sliding doors that gave onto a parlor that looked over
the back garden and caught the morning sun. The dining
room paneled in exquisite pear wood with beautiful built-in
china cabinets and a vast mirror in the overmantel that Antonia
avoided. Upstairs were five rooms, and the old book room still
lined with shelves. “We can take those out if we need too,”
Antonia said, “but I keep hoping we can find a bookseller to
join us.”
They ended up in the kitchen with its vast Aga and delft-
tiled fireplace. “We are keeping those, aren’t we?” Elizabeth
asked. Seemed a shame to yank them out.
“Yes, but not here. The Aga will be a feature in the tearoom. Not sure what to do with the tiles.” She frowned a little as if thinking. “I knew a potter once. Dutch. Refugee.
Odd people, potters.” Elizabeth was tempted to ask when
and a refugee from which war? But Antonia ran her hand
through her short hair and said, “Let’s grab something for
you to eat and then get you a car.”
They were heading for the door when the bell chimed.
Antonia opened the door to a smiling, bright-faced young
woman in the advanced stages of pregnancy. “I’m Emma
Gordon,” she said. “One of your neighbors. I nipped in to
say hello and bring you a basket of goodies. I thought with
moving in, you’d like something to nibble on.”
If the fates were kind, there would be meat in the basket
of goodies. “How nice of you,” Elizabeth said. “You live
close?” This had to be the Emma Dixie had mentioned.
“Next door but two. Just past the new semidetached. That’s
us. I thought you could use a cup of tea. There’s a thermos in
there and cups. I know what it’s like moving. We just moved
half our stuff next door, and it took me ages to find spoons
and spare socks.”
“Won’t you come in and join us?” Antonia asked. “We’ve
not much furniture, but we’ve desks and chairs.”
It didn’t take long to unpack Emma’s basket of goodies
and pour tea.
“You moved next door?” Elizabeth asked. Seemed odd.
“We needed the space. Where we are used to be a terrace
of four cottages. Then they got converted into two houses.
We bought ours when Peter was born. This”—she patted her
bump—“will be numbers four and five. Plus I run a catering
business—you’ve got a few samples there.” She nodded toward the basket. “So, when our next door neighbor moved
away, we got a truly frightening mortgage and bought the
other half. It’s brilliant. We have bedrooms and to spare, and
a wonderfully massive kitchen for the business.” She smiled,
her eyes twinkling. “Ian says I have the shortest commute to
work in history: downstairs and turn left.”
Elizabeth took a sip of tea. “The catering business sounds
fantastic, but a heck of a lot of work. How old are your children?”
“The eldest is in school. The other two in a play group
this afternoon, and when they’re not, I have a wonderful au
pair, Nina from Sweden.” The scent of meat from the basket
was getting close to overwhelming. Steak, from what it
smelled like. “She’s fantastic, and the sprogs love her, and
even better, listen to her,” she paused. “That’s enough about
me. If you ever need food for a party or dinner, my phone
number and price list is in the basket.”
“I’ve heard great things about your food.” Elizabeth said.
Emma stared. “Was it Mike Jenkins?”
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