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chair in the corner, and ran his hands through his hair in exasperation. In 1781, he had been the eldest son of the Earl of Mexborough. Being a member of the Irish peerage did not exactly translate into acceptance into London society. However, it did not stop Burney from enjoying the fruits of his position. He’d been carousing in Paris with some of the lads he met at Eton, dissolute sons and heirs apparent who had nothing else better to do with their time than fornicate, gamble, and drink to excess.
    Being bitten and turned into a vampire one raucous night at a drunken orgy had not been expected. The reasons were not important. He’d learned to adapt to his new life-state. So here in this mid-range motel chain two hundred thirty-one years later, Burney sat, weary, worn, and, he thought, emotionally dead inside.
    Burney glanced at his Patek Philippe watch. The time was nearly one in the morning. Dean Brooks’ wildflower and lavender scent filled his nostrils. She must be out of her room. He jumped to his feet and sprinted for the door. Opening it quietly, he observed her headed for the vending machines. He slipped his card key in his sweat pants pocket and closed the door behind him. Dean must have sensed him coming as she whirled around to face him.
    “Can’t sleep?” he asked.
    She wrinkled her sexy little nose. Burney leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.
    “I took a shower. I swear there’s no cologne. Even if there was some trace, it’s bloody gone now.”
    She shook her head. “I still smell it. Not as strong though.”
    Leaning toward him, she inhaled. Her brief nearness hardened his prick again. Dean shrugged and turned back to the vending machine. She fed it a bunch a quarters, pressed the buttons, and then leaned down to fetch her candy bar. Burney bit back a groan as he was treated to a fine display of jean-clad, luscious ass.
    She stood upright. “Maybe a blast of chocolate will help me sleep. Either that, or the sugar will keep me awake.”
    “Why not come to my room? I have Bailey’s chilling and lots of ice.”
    Burney tried to sound casual but the invitation dripped with lust. He also knew they could do plenty of things besides drinking to help her sleep. He was wide awake, as this was his time. All his senses were fired and on full alert. Say yes .
    “Well, sounds tempting, but I have to get up at the crack of dawn and head home. I have to work tomorrow.” Dean took a few steps away from him and gave him a dazzling but dismissive smile. “It was nice meeting you, Burn.”
    She headed back toward her room.
    Ah love, you won’t be escaping me that easy. Not at all .

Chapter Three
     
     
    Bedford-on-the-Hudson was a sleepy little mid-state New York town, nestled next to its river namesake. A place at one time Deanna wanted to escape. Now that she was twenty-six, it seemed a fast-paced life in New York City wasn’t going to happen. Until recently, she’d lived with her parents in the small bungalow she’d been brought up in. She now resided in the granny house at the edge of the property, the one her Nana used to live in. Deanna redecorated the one-bedroom to suit her tastes and purposes, and with its small bath and kitchenette, the place afforded her some semblance of privacy. She paid a nominal rent, as living in an apartment on her own was financially impossible. Her job as price coordinator at Byron’s Department Store didn’t pay much. Byron’s was a local business hanging on by the skin of its teeth, thanks both to the economy and the Walmart Super Center in nearby Newburgh.
    Deanna should’ve made plans to find employment elsewhere, but she’d worked at Byron’s since high school graduation. Loyalty played into her decision to stay put, but so did the calm, comforting routine she really didn’t want to shake up.
    Standing in Ladies’ Wear, Deanna used the scan gun to check the prices of racks of clothes against markdowns that had been uploaded into the computer system.