Into the Spotlight Read Free Page A

Mystery Lounge thinned in the hour since the second show ended. Jeannie dressed in a white silk draped tunic over a lightweight skirt. The soft material helped her feel sexy. Stan hovered silently a pace behind her, following as she let herself into the Lounge from the basement stage. The darkened room left the customers hidden in a dance of candle and shadow.
    Jeannie paused as though letting her eyes adjust to the gloom, but she hardly needed to. She knew where Blue Eyes had been sitting. Her gaze hunted the area, hungry for the sight of his eyes, gleaming flames in the darkness. Stan nodded to the grotto tables, a silent shadow, neither urging her onwards nor offering comfort. His only job was to see to her safety and make sure she made it back to the bunker.
    Her breath caught inside her throat. Blue Eyes stood a dozen feet away in one of the private alcoves, a grotto table for two. The shadows parted as her gaze grew more acclimated to the gloom. His jaw was thick, square and chiseled. His nose was blunt, crooked in two places, suggesting a hint of a brawler. Full, firm lips stretched into a grin that flashed a pair of fangs.
    Her heart paused.
    Vampire .
    The surreal fog that shrouded her on stage drifted lazily across her mind, an inducement, an invitation and an incense tailor-made to entice her. Jeannie’s mouth pulled into a smile and she walked—no, she glided—to where he waited.
    Closer, his suit was warm earth tones, with a shirt the shade of carnelian and a russet brown jacket. He was rough elegance. Her gaze traced the lines of his face, from the grooves of his mouth to the dimples in his cheeks that deepened with his smile.
    This was a man—vampire—used to grinning. Jeannie slipped her hand into his outstretched palm, unsurprised when the warmth of his skin sent electricity racing through her. The unfamiliar sensation—the friction of life—catalyzed in her blood.
    “Thank you.” Not even his touch prepared her for his voice. “Thank you for joining me.” It washed over her like hot spring rain, startling and welcome. “I can assure you, I am in not in the habit of such requests, but I could not resist the urge.”
    “Thank you.” She wanted him to keep talking. She wanted to drown in the rain. “For asking me. I don’t receive many requests.”
    Laughter rumbled out, a snort that echoed with humored disbelief. “I find that very hard to believe.” He carried her hand to his lips and caressed her knuckle with a kiss. “But I am delighted nonetheless.”
    Excitement nuzzled her belly on butterfly wings. “Then I should amend my earlier statement.”
    “Yes?” He cradled her hand, holding her a willing captive.
    Playfulness danced through her, purging the lethargy of sameness from her veins.
    “I receive a lot of requests, but I rarely answer.”
    “That, I believe.” He tugged her hand, drawing her closer, and swept his hand toward the table, bowing slightly. “Would you do me the honor of joining me?”
    “Of course.” Jeannie glanced at Stan, but he was already leaning against the wall, becoming one with the woodwork. He wouldn’t listen or watch, yet he would see and hear everything.
    The vampire pulled out a chair, and Jeannie slid into it, crossing one leg over the other. Her date’s lingering gaze on the white skirt’s part and her exposed flesh sent a flush of pleasure coursing through her.
    Unexpected, but far from unwelcome. She’d forgotten what it was like to be teased and to tease in return.
    “Before I allow you to buy me a drink, I do have a question for you.” The words startled her, but Jeannie rested an elbow on the table, cupping her chin in one hand.
    “Yes?” The vampire circled around and took the seat to her right rather than the one across from her.
    “Who are you?”
    “My name is Malcolm Reynolds. And you are?” He grinned, a flash of fang in the dim light.
    “Jeannie. Jeannie Williams.” The name rusted in her mouth. Dry flakes coating her