Under a Vampire Moon (2 page)

“Don’t be silly.” The woman suddenly beamed. “We’d be happy to share. We’re only waiting for our table to open up in the restaurant next door.”

“So are this pretty lady and her friend,” the bartender announced happily, setting the glasses down and moving to pull out a chair for Carolyn even as the other man pulled out one for his wife.

Carolyn gave in and said, “Thank you,” as she slid into the chair.

After asking the couple what they’d like, the bartender slipped away to get their order.

“Well, this is lovely,” the woman said with a pleased little sigh and then held out her hand. “I’m Marguerite Argeneau.”

“Argeneau-Notte,” the man corrected gently, pronouncing it Ar-zsa-no-No-tay, and the woman blinked, then laughed with embarrassment.

“Marguerite Argeneau-Notte,” she admitted wryly, and explained, “It’s new. I’m not used to it yet.”

Carolyn managed a smile and accepted the offered hand as the woman continued, “And this is my wonderful husband, Julius Notte.”

“Carolyn Connor.” She held on to her smile as the man now took her hand in a firm, warm grip, then sat back and cleared her throat. “Honeymooners?”

“Yes,” Marguerite chuckled. “But we’ve been married for weeks. I should be adjusting to the name change by now.”

“You’ve been here for weeks?” Carolyn asked with interest.

“Oh, no. We only arrived a couple days ago,” Marguerite said. “We had some family matters to tend to back in Canada before we started our honeymoon.”

“Oh.” Carolyn blinked. “You’re Canadian?”

“I am.” Marguerite smiled. “You?”

“Yes, Toronto.” Carolyn lifted her wineglass to her lips, but paused and set it back down thinking perhaps it would be better to switch to water or Diet Coke. She really wasn’t much of a drinker and didn’t want to end up in the bathroom stall next to Bethany. That thought made her glance in the direction her friend had disappeared to as she wondered if she should go check on her now.

“What a small world. I’m from Toronto too,” Marguerite said happily, reclaiming her attention.

“Are you?” Carolyn asked turning back.

Marguerite nodded, and then smiled at her husband and leaned into the arm he’d placed along the back of her chair, adding, “But Julius is from Italy, so we are going to split our time between Canada and Italy for now despite the fact that his business and family are in Italy.”

“You’d miss your family if we stayed only in Italy,
cara
. I want you happy.”

Carolyn managed another smile as Julius bent his head to press a gentle kiss to Marguerite’s lips, but just barely. Their love and happiness was actually painful for her to witness. Turning her head away, she glanced again in the direction Bethany had taken, thinking she should definitely check on her. And where was Genie? Their reservation was for seven thirty and it was nearly that time now.

“Are you on vacation?”

Carolyn glanced back, relieved to see that Marguerite had straightened, putting some distance between herself and her husband.

“I—yes.” She raised her glass to her mouth to hide her expression as a grimace claimed her lips. A moment of silence passed as she sipped her wine, but it was just a sip. The tequila appeared to be ruffling its way through her brain as it was, leaving her confused and depressed. Alcohol was not a cure for depression, Carolyn thought, and promised herself she wouldn’t let Beth urge any more on her.

She set down her glass and glanced up to find Marguerite eyeing her solemnly, her expression concentrated. It felt like the younger woman was looking right through her and seeing the failed wasteland of her life.

“Perhaps I should check on Beth.” Carolyn pushed back her chair and stood, but paused as Genie suddenly appeared and caught her up in a hug.

“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry. I meant to be here half an hour ago, but just as I was leaving the office I got a call that the band I hired for the next week had to cancel. They were supposed to start tomorrow night, but there’s been a death in the drummer’s family.” She released Carolyn and turned to drop into the empty chair beside hers. “I’ve been making frantic calls ever since, trying to replace them, and then saw the time and thought I’d better get down here and explain.”

Carolyn sank back into her chair as Genie grabbed Bethany’s glass of wine and took a deep swallow. Carolyn glanced to their table companions. “This is Genie Walker, a friend of ours from university, and the reason we decided to vacation here. Genie, this is Marguerite and Julius Notte.”

“Hello, I hope you’re having a nice stay,” Genie said, her professional face sliding back into place as she set down Bethany’s glass.

“Yes, lovely,” Marguerite assured her. “You work here, then?”

“She’s the entertainment coordinator for the resort,” Carolyn said.

“Soon to be ex-entertainment coordinator if I don’t find a replacement band that can be out here by tomorrow night,” Genie moaned and stood up. “I’m sorry, Caro, I have to go. I ran into Beth on the way here. She was headed back to the villa. She says she’s fine, but wants to lie down. I promised I’d keep you company for dinner, and I will, but I really need to find a replacement band first. I’ll come back and join you the minute I find one. But it might be a while. I—”

“That’s okay.” Carolyn stood up as well. “I’ll just go back to the villa and order room service. We can have dinner tomorrow night instead.”

“Sit,” Marguerite ordered.

Carolyn stiffened at the sharp order, but found herself immediately sinking back into her seat though she didn’t recall deciding to. Genie, too, sat down again, she noted with confusion and felt concern begin to stir within her, but as soon as it began to rise, it immediately receded, leaving her calm and relaxed.

“You will both be joining us for dinner,” Marguerite announced with a smile. “I have just the band for you.”

At least, that’s what Carolyn thought she’d meant, though band had sounded like man. But then the tequila was really kicking in now so she’d probably misheard.

“Carolyn?” Julius asked and Carolyn glanced to him, but he was looking at Marguerite.

Nodding, the woman beamed at him. “Christian must come.”

Julius’s eyebrows rose and he turned to peer at Carolyn with new interest, and then pulled a cell phone from his pocket and began to punch in numbers.

One

“S
o . . . what do you think your mother’s up to?”

Christian Notte tore his attention from the cliffs sloping down to the sea and glanced over his shoulder to his cousin. Despite the question, Zanipolo was peering out the window of the resort van, his eyes glued to a scenery none of them normally saw . . . at least not in daylight.

He eyed the man briefly, noting that he’d slid sunglasses on and let his black hair out of its usual ponytail so that it partially curtained his face, offering more protection from the sun glaring through the windows. His gaze then slid to the other passengers in the van. Giacinta shared the seat with Zanipolo, sitting directly behind Christian. Her eyes were positively eating up the passing scenery through the huge sunglasses she’d donned, her long blond hair offering her some protection as well.

Behind them sat Santo. The drummer had been the first to get in and had immediately laid claim to the back bench seat, sprawling out and rubbing his ringed fingers wearily over his shaved head as the others had settled in. He was getting sun from all three sides, and with no hair to protect his head from it, but then that was probably why he’d claimed the backseat, Christian thought grimly. Santo would always take the worst, most uncomfortable position, and leave the better spots for the others. It was his way . . . and never failed to annoy Christian.

“Well?” Raffaele asked, drawing Christian’s gaze to the man who sat on the first bench seat, beside him. The last member of the band, Raffaele was dark-haired like the other two men, or like both of the other two men would be if Santo didn’t shave his head, but his hair was cut short. He also had the Notte black eyes with flecks of silver that all of them had.

“Don’t ask me,” he said, settling back in his seat and returning his gaze to the passing seascape. “She said the scheduled band had to cancel and we would be perfect to replace them.”

“Uh-huh,” Zanipolo said with a laugh. “Because every couple wants their son and niece and nephews hanging around on their honeymoon.”

“It’s possible,” Raffaele said thoughtfully. “Marguerite hasn’t let Christian far from her side since finding him and Julius again.”

Before Christian could comment, Giacinta said, “She’s found him a life mate.”

The words were spoken with a certainty that brooked no argument and Christian had to resist the urge to glance back and ask if she really thought so. He’d suspected it himself when he’d gotten off the phone with his parents. His father had been the one who had called. Julius Notte had simply said, “Your mother wants you here. Gather the band together and fly to St. Lucia at once.”

Christian had just stiffened up over the autocratic order when Marguerite took the phone and began to babble excitedly about the resort’s scheduled band canceling, and the resort needing a replacement band, and she was so proud of him she’d played the video she had of them on her iPhone for the entertainment coordinator, and the woman had thought they were brilliant too. Everyone would love them she’d assured him. Besides, she was missing her handsome son, and . . .

Well, really, by the time she’d finished gushing in his ear, Christian had found it hard to refuse his mother.

Mother.
He smiled at the word. Christian had lived more than five hundred years without one, dreaming of having both a mother and a father like his cousins had, imagining what she would be like. What his life would be like. And now he was finding out. It was even better than he’d imagined.

Marguerite Argeneau-Notte was the most nonjudgmental, loving woman he’d ever met. She showered those she cared for with a love and warmth that slid around them like a soft, warm blanket, a cushion from the rest of the world.

“Well?” Raffaele said, nudging him when Christian remained silent.

“Well what?” he asked, pulling himself from his thoughts.

“Do you think she’s found you a life mate?”

“I don’t know,” he said and pondered the possibility. Since his parents had found each other again, Christian had spent a good deal of his time in Canada, getting to know his mother and other siblings. Each of those siblings was newly mated. While he’d enjoyed getting to know them, he’d also found it almost painful to be around such happiness and joy while he was still single. The thought of joining their ranks was . . . well— He shook his head. A life mate. He had been alone so long now it was hard even to grasp the idea of having a mate of his own.

“It’s a life mate,” Giacinta announced firmly. “There is no doubt.”

This time Christian did glance back and ask, “Why are you so sure?”

“Because that is the only reason in the world that your father would allow her to send for you on their honeymoon,” she said with a shrug.

“Yeah,” Zanipolo agreed. “She’s right . . . you lucky bastard.”

“Don’t get his hopes up,” Santo growled from the back. “What if you’re wrong, Gia?”

“Well, I guess we’ll find out soon enough. We’re here,” Raffaele announced, drawing their attention to their surroundings as the van slowed at a large sign with the resort name and logo on it. They turned down a curving lane and Christian glanced around. There wasn’t much to see at first and then the way ahead opened up and he noted the buildings and villas climbing the mountainside on their left. On the right it was flat and littered with what appeared to be stores and shops. A large main building lay ahead, and there was a walkway between it and the shops on the right. Through the opening they could glimpse beach and blue sea and then they were turning into a circle in front of the main building and coming to a halt.

Christian followed Raffaele out of the van when the driver opened the door. He tried to tip the man, but the driver grinned and waved his money away, assuring him it was all taken care of as he moved over to speak to someone in a white shirt and dark pants with a clipboard and a name tag.

“Where’s our luggage?” Giacinta peered up the road the way they’d come.

“I’m sure it’s coming,” Christian said mildly, but couldn’t resist looking for the second van himself. It didn’t hold just their luggage, but the coolers of blood they would need while here.

“Oh yes, it is coming.” Their driver was suddenly beside them again, and began to usher them toward another van, explaining, “I cannot drive you to your villa, but they will take you.”

Christian glanced toward the new van with the resort logo on it, and supposed outside vehicles weren’t allowed on the private roads.

“They will bring your luggage when it arrives,” the man added as he urged them into the new van. “Have a nice stay.”

Before anyone could respond, he’d closed the door and stood smiling and waving as the van moved slowly away from the entry.

“You are the new band.”

Christian tore his gaze from their old driver to turn forward and peer at their new one, noting the white shirt and dark pants. “Yes.”