Under a Vampire Moon (31 page)

His mother nodded her approval, but added, “Christian, while I agree that it may be better for you to admit you’re straight and lure her to bed so she can experience what it is to be a life mate . . . Well, it might not work,” she warned. “I still don’t think she’ll be comfortable with someone she thinks is so much younger than she is. It might make her run.”

“Then I’ll chase her,” he said firmly. “But she won’t know about us and what we are, so no one can wipe her memories. Right?”

“Right,” she agreed soothingly.

He relaxed a little, and added, “And it might work the other way. It might increase her feelings for me.”

Before she could respond, Zanipolo entered, holding up Carolyn’s missing shoe. “It took me a while to find it. Mostly because I was looking at the bottom of the hill and it was at the top. The strap’s broken. I think it’s the reason she fell.”

Christian took the shoe, muttering, “One of her shoes broke the night we arrived too.”

“That’s odd,” Marguerite said. “Carolyn has money, she isn’t likely to buy cheap shoes.”

“Hmm.” He peered to the doorway as the clip of high heels warned that the women were approaching.

“Here we are,” Gia said gaily as she led Carolyn into the room.

Christian’s jaw nearly hit the floor when he got his first look at the transformed Carolyn. Gia had an entire selection of outfits she wore onstage, all of them tight, with short skirts and low-cut necklines. But he’d never really noticed how tight, short, or low-cut they were. He was noticing now. Dear God.

He wasn’t sure how Gia had done it, but she’d somehow squeezed Carolyn, who was much curvier, into a black leather outfit that halted perhaps an inch below where he suspected her panties stopped. As for the neckline, it wasn’t low it was nonexistent. The dress was sleeveless, strapless, and rode across her breasts to drop between them low enough to show she had no bra on. Not that he couldn’t tell that by the way her breasts were practically crawling out of the petal-shaped cups covering them. Or trying to; he was sure there was a hint of rose peeking out of one cup.

“Is that a nipple?” he asked in a squawk.

Carolyn glanced down and muttered, “Oh.”

She then began tugging at the top of the dress, explaining, “I wanted to wear my bra. My boobs are too big and I always wear a bra, but Gia said noooo.”

“The straps would show,” Gia pointed out, helping her tug the leather up to cover her better. She then stepped back and nodded, satisfied they’d done the trick.

“See?” Carolyn said with a shrug. “She kept saying that upstairs too.”

Christian made a choked sound. Her shrug had undone all their efforts to tame her breasts back into place. Now there was a rosy crescent above both cups.

“I like it,” Zanipolo said with a grin.

“Stop looking,” Christian snapped, resisting the urge to rush over and cover her up. He scowled at his mother. “She is not wearing that in public. She—”

“We can tape it in place,” Marguerite said soothingly, moving to help Gia readjust the dress again.

“Tape it?” Christian asked with disbelief. “To
what
?”

“Do you have dress tape, Gia?” Marguerite asked, ignoring him. “If not I have some at my villa, I can—”

“I have some.” Gia headed for the door. “I should have thought of it myself.”

Christian was silent, his gaze sliding over Carolyn again. Gia had put her in black stockings and sandals. The sandals had four-inch heels and the stockings stopped a couple of inches below her skirt, leaving a tantalizing strip of pale thigh on view. Gia had called them thigh highs when he’d once teased her that her stockings didn’t go all the way up. Christian didn’t remember thinking the thigh highs looked particularly sexy on Gia, but damn . . . Carolyn had fine legs, he thought.

“You’re right. She definitely has a fine set of gams,” Zanipolo agreed.

“No one calls them gams anymore,” Christian snapped. “And get out of my head.”

Zanipolo just chuckled.

Christian glared and then turned back to the women. “Mother, she can’t go like this.”

“Why is that, dear?” Marguerite asked with interest.

“Because I’m too old to wear an outfit like this,” Carolyn laughed with a shrug that suggested it should be obvious . . . and dislodged her top again.

“You are not,” he snapped. Damn, the woman had a fixation with her age, he thought and moved forward, intending to cover her boobs. He hadn’t taken a step before his father caught his arm.

“Your mother can handle this,” Julius said with amusement as Marguerite moved back to adjust Carolyn’s dress again. “And why can’t she go like that?”

“Because those heels are too damned high. She’ll fall over in her state.” He figured that would carry more weight than admitting that he didn’t want other men looking at her in the dress.

“I probably will,” Carolyn admitted on a laugh. “I’m not very graceful.”

Christian stared at her with amazement. He’d seen her dance. How the hell could she think she wasn’t graceful?

“Robert always called me Clumsy Car,” she announced, rolling her eyes. “It was his idea of an endearment.”

“Robert sounds like a very nasty man,” Marguerite said.

Carolyn nodded as they both tugged at the top of her dress, and said conversationally, “You know, Marguerite, he really was . . . and he had a vile temper too. Very unpredictable. He was kind of scary, actually. I was so glad to leave him. Life’s much nicer without him around insulting me all the time. He didn’t think I could do anything right.”

“I found my tape,” Gia announced, returning to the room and moving to join Marguerite in front of Carolyn.

Christian frowned and craned his head, trying to see what they were doing.

“There,” Marguerite said with satisfaction as she stepped back.

“Perfect,” Gia pronounced.

“Then we should go,” Zanipolo said. “The van arrived just as I found the shoe. I—” He hesitated, his gaze sliding to Carolyn before he said carefully, “I convinced him to wait for us.”

Controlled his mind, Christian translated in his head, moving to take Carolyn’s arm to lead her to the door.

“Oh good, I’m starved,” Carolyn said cheerfully, and then glanced at Gia. “Don’t let me forget and bend over or anything.”

“Why can’t she bend over?” Zanipolo asked, trailing them out of the kitchen.

“Because her panties would show,” Christian guessed in a growl, imagining that in his mind and wondering what color they were.

“No they wouldn’t,” Carolyn said cheerfully. “I’m not wearing any. Gia wouldn’t let me.”

“
What
?” He turned to his cousin in horror.

“They were ripped,” Gia said defensively. “She couldn’t wear ripped panties with that getup.”

“And you thought
none at all
would be better?” he asked with disbelief. They couldn’t go. He should take her to his room now.

“Gee, Christian, you’re hurting me,” Carolyn muttered, trying to free herself of his suddenly clenched fingers.

He released her at once, shocked that he’d squeezed so hard, but peered at his father questioningly when he caught his arm and pulled him aside. “What?”

“I have to tell you something,” he said. “Santo, escort Carolyn to the van.”

Santo immediately took Carolyn’s arm to lead her out, and she tipped her head back to peer up at him with awe. “Wow. You’re really tall, huh, Santa?”

“She kept calling him Santa upstairs too. It was making him crazy,” Gia said on a chuckle as she followed.

“What did you want to say?” Christian asked his father impatiently as the others trooped out.

“Flesh colored,” Julius announced, and took Marguerite’s arm to walk her out.

Christian stared after him blankly, slow to realize what he was talking about. But then he recalled that he’d wondered what color Carolyn’s panties were before he’d known she wasn’t wearing any. Flesh-colored was the answer. But he’d already known that. His father had just held him back to keep him from dragging Carolyn off to his room.

Growling, he strode forward, intending to say something rude to his father, but he got outside and slowed as he heard his mother say, “I don’t know why you two seem to be at odds so much, Julius. But I wish you wouldn’t needle him so.”

“We’re not at odds,” Julius assured her as they walked. “Christian is just frustrated and scared of losing his life mate so is taking it out on me.”

“And when he’s not, you’re deliberately drawing his fire,” she suggested.

Julius shrugged. “It’s safer for him to turn his anger on me than elsewhere. Definitely safer than turning it on Carolyn or doing something else to mess this up.”

“You’re a good father, Julius Notte,” Marguerite said as they approached the van, and then added sadly, “I wish all my children had been so lucky.”

Christian paused as his father halted at the van and turned her to face him. “They had you, Marguerite. I’m sure they’d agree that more than made up for the lack in their father.”

Marguerite gave him a watery smile. “I love you, Julius.”

“And I love you,
cara
.” He pressed a kiss to her lips, and then lifted her into the van. Pausing, he glanced back to Christian then. “Well, now that you’re done eavesdropping, are you going to go close the door? Or do I have to do that as well as get you your woman on my honeymoon?”

Christian looked over his shoulder. In his rage, he’d left the villa door wide open when he’d stormed out after them. That rage was gone now and a lot of his frustration and fear with it. He wasn’t alone. He had backup. If there was a way to claim Carolyn, his parents would help him find it . . . on their honeymoon, no less. Turning back, he grinned and said, “Get in the van, old man. I’ll do it.”

Julius smiled. “Just see you don’t trip over your own feet while you do, pup.”

“You’d be there to catch me,” Christian said with confidence.

His father nodded solemnly. “And if possible I always will.”

“Thank you for that,” Christian said quietly and returned to close the door.

Fifteen

“H
ow are you feeling, dear?”

Carolyn tore her gaze from the stage where Christian was playing his heart out—well, Christian and the rest of the band, she supposed, though you couldn’t tell from her. She’d hardly glanced at the rest of the band all night. Which just proved she was an utter idiot, Carolyn thought on a sigh, turning her gaze to Marguerite.

“Fine, thank you,” she answered politely, though it wasn’t true. It had taken a huge meal she only vaguely recalled, a dozen cups of coffee, and about five hours, but she was sobering up. Which really wasn’t a good thing, Carolyn decided, shifting uncomfortably on the edge of her seat and tugging at the short skirt of the dress she wore. She was perched on the very edge of the chair because the darned skirt was so short it didn’t cover her whole butt when she sat and she didn’t want to place her bare ass on the seat. What had she been thinking allowing herself to be poured into the thing?

Well, that was a bit of a ridiculous question, she supposed. In truth, she hadn’t been thinking at all. It was probably a good thing she had never taken to drink. She obviously didn’t handle booze well, Carolyn decided and tugged at her skirt again, grateful that she was in the back corner of the deck where no one could see her bare butt cheeks hanging off the front of the seat.

At least, she hoped no one could, Carolyn thought and glanced nervously around just to be sure, only to freeze, eyes widening when she spotted Captain Jack weaving his way through the tables in their direction.

“Oh dear,” she muttered, worried that he’d forget she was supposed to be Christian’s beard and say something to give away the game.

“What is it,
cara
?” Marguerite asked.

Carolyn hardly noticed the endearment she was so used to them from this group. Honestly, Italians must be the most affectionate people she’d ever met. Every one of them had really been very sweet and welcoming from the start, she thought absently as she warily watched Jack draw nearer.

“Carolyn?” Marguerite said.

She glanced around with a start, and flushed. “Oh . . . er . . . uh . . . ,” she stammered, her usual eloquent self when in a panic.

“Carolyn, isn’t it?”

She swung her head back at Jack’s voice, eyes wide when she found he’d reached the table and was smiling at her quizzically. “I . . . er . . .”

“It is Carolyn, isn’t it?” he asked with feigned uncertainty. “You were on the Soufriere cruise today with your boyfriend. Christian I think his name was?”

“Oh, yes,” she breathed with relief, smiling at him gratefully as she realized he was going to uphold her position as Christian’s beard.

“I thought so,” Jack said, beaming. “We just got in from the night cruise and I came up for a drink, spotted you and thought I’d come congratulate you on winning the shake-your-booty contest. I didn’t get the chance onboard ship.”

“You won a contest?” Marguerite asked with interest.