Chapter One
“Your mad crush accepted the invitation to tonight’s viewing at the club.” Jane Van Kamp’s thick British accent held a hint of teasing.
“My ‘mad crush’?” Drake Halston muttered, his eyebrow shooting up. “Didn’t realize I had one.” He was English as well, but his intonation was much more subtle because he’d been in the States longer than Jane. By nearly two centuries, to be exact.
“Please,” his assistant scoffed good-naturedly as she left her desk, positioned against the far wall of his enormous office. “I know it typically takes more than a mental fantasy to make you hard, but the mere thought of Shana White does the trick every time. She sends your cock and your barely beating heart into a complete tizzy. In the decades I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you so hot for, or infatuated with, any other woman.”
Feigning disinterest at the mention of the woman who was supposed to be the object of his secret desire—a vampire lusting after a human was an obvious recipe for disaster, after all—he continued his work at his own desk. Though he added, “I’m always hot for you, Jane.”
She laughed softly. “Stop flirting with me, I’m still on the clock.” She picked up the iPad sitting on an end table next to the tufted, pewter-colored sectional. The device controlled the video surveillance equipment throughout Drake’s club, Body Scenes. She played with the settings as she said, “Besides, what goes on behind closed doors between the two of us isn’t rose-petals-on-the-bed, candlelight-and-music, core-shaking lovemaking. It’s just sex, so you don’t have to seduce me with flattery or feel guilty that another woman rocks your world.”
He frowned at her flippancy. Shelving the part about feeling guilty—because there was validity to that observation, since he genuinely adored Jane and didn’t want to hurt her feelings now that she knew about Shana—he said, “I’ve never seduced you. I’ve always waited for you to come to me.”
“Yes. And neither one of us has any delusions about what our sexual relationship is all about—scratching an itch. That’s all. Your attraction to Shana, however…” She wagged a brow at him. “That would be rose-petals-on-the-bed, candlelight-and-music, core-shaking lovemaking. If you ever got around to speaking to her, that is.”
He groaned. Of course he’d never spoken with her. That’d be the equivalent of throwing all the volatile ingredients for said disastrous vampire-human recipe into a bowl and whipping up a soufflé of trouble.
It was difficult enough for him to keep from repeatedly playing her recorded performances with an international orchestra or downloading her photo from the Internet and using it as a screen saver. He didn’t need to add any fuel to the already blazing fire that was his desire for Shana White.
“I know you think it’s best to admire her from afar,” Jane continued. “But you’re just torturing yourself. And, quite frankly, it’s rather painful to watch.”
Quite frankly, it was rather painful to experience. He’d been right earlier. He didn’t have a mad crush on the woman. He had a maddening one.
And it didn’t help matters that he had no outlet for his sexual frustration. Jane hadn’t approached him for after-hours activities in months. In fact, the last time they’d been together was days before he’d come across Shana’s press picture and been instantly ensnared.
Well, bloody hell.
His jaw clenched as his gaze dropped to the computer screen. His guilt mounted. So Jane had known all this time. Damn it. He didn’t want her to feel as though he’d found someone else. In the grand scheme of things, he hadn’t. Shana was strictly a private yearning. A never-to-be-realized fantasy. An unrequited desire he hoped would eventually fade.
Though he had to admit, he’d never been so enthralled before, as Jane had accurately surmised. It was a bit unnerving.
“I know better than to get involved with a human,” he said.
“But you’re falling for one anyway.”
“I haven’t even met her, Jane. I don’t know anything about her.”
“You’ve been scouring the Internet until the wee hours of the morning, learning everything you possibly can about her.”
And finding it wasn’t nearly enough to sate his curiosity or his desire for her. Letting out a long-suffering sigh, he said, “Let’s leave my infatuation out of this, shall we?”
“Impossible. She’s downstairs.”
His gaze snapped to the sixty-four-inch flat panel mounted on the wall above the black marble-trimmed fireplace. The footage currently displayed was from a security camera positioned at the entrance of his exclusive Manhattan nightclub and naughty art gallery.
Sure enough, the raven-haired beauty who’d taken up permanent residency in his mind was here in the flesh. She passed through the first red-velvet-roped entrance and approached the podium, where she handed over the invitation to the club he’d personally mailed to her last week.
Jane must have been tracking the comings and goings downstairs on her own computer, knowing Drake would want to be alerted
the moment Shana arrived.
He had several minutes to watch her, as the line for admittance into the hedonistic hotspot was a long one and the process for allowing the guests inside was slow, due to the verification procedures the doormen were required to follow. Entry into Body Scenes was granted only when the invitation in hand was confirmed to be an original and the person who possessed it was indeed the individual specifically issued the coveted summons.
All of New York society was in hot pursuit of an invitation to the club, which featured extravagant murals painted on naked flesh, the erotic joining of body parts completing the sinful scenes. The popularity of the club wasn’t strictly regional, though. Drake received dozens of requests every week from international A-listers—celebrities, dignitaries, rock stars, politicians, Forbes’ millionaires and billionaires… Everyone who was anyone wanted a peek inside Body Scenes.
The club was only open one weekend a month and there were a number of regulars for whom he ensured access. For the most part, he was adamant about not allowing reporters or photographers in, though he’d made an exception when he’d issued standing admittance to trendy blogger and freelance writer Yvette Samson. She was avant-garde and a celebrity in her own right, after all.
Tonight he was bending his rule once more for Yvette’s colleague, Shana. The former musician turned journalist had become a web sensation over the years. She’d reportedly turned down a host spot on The View as well as an offer for her own prime-time talk show on HBO. She’d made a point of staying true to her online audience and Drake found her integrity as appealing as her curvaceous body.
She stood at the entrance to the club with Yvette, both women dressed to the nines, but in contradictory styles. Cutting-edge Yvette wore a strapless mini-dress in red, complementing her blonde hair and slim figure. Sophisticated Shana looked drop-dead gorgeous in a silver satin one-shoulder gown that featured a slit all the way up her shapely right leg. A visual that made Drake’s cock even stiffer than before, when he’d merely been ruminating over the prospect of Shana accepting his invitation to the club.
“Well,” Jane said as her gaze slid from the large screen to Drake, where he still sat at his desk. “You certainly know how to pick them. She’s sensational. Even more dynamic than I’d originally thought.” She uttered this last statement with awe in her voice. She reached for the back of a chair positioned in front of the tall hearth as though to steady herself.
“My reaction to Shana as well,” he said, not at all surprised by how caught off guard Jane was by Shana’s sultry appearance. Photos didn’t do the woman justice, he decided. And he was convinced a TV monitor couldn’t fully capture the vibrancy she naturally exuded. Actually, it was more than that. “She radiates a raw sensuality that’s nearly impossible to ignore. Even in photographs.”
Drake knew from personal experience through all that research he’d done. And he’d invested an exorbitant amount of energy and effort into keeping his distance from her these past several months. It was exhausting, but he was cognizant of the boundaries he needed to maintain. Inviting her to the club was the closest he’d ever get to her. He’d stay in his office tonight, as he always did, though this particular evening it’d be hell to hide up here when she was down there.
Jane gripped the chair a little tighter. “Pure animal magnetism,” she said in a low, throaty voice. So unlike her normal, cultured tone. “This woman has it in spades. She puts Sofia Vergara to shame.” Her chest rose and fell a bit faster, drawing Drake’s attention to her small, firm breasts. A perfect handful, he knew.
He was in desperate need of easing the sexual tension coursing through him and Jane’s response to Shana only exacerbated the problem. He didn’t miss the way her nipples puckered behind the shimmery, lavender camisole she’d paired with a snug, eggplant-colored skirt. His thumbs suddenly itched to sweep over her hard peaks, pebbling them further and making her moan.
A hint of desire made her bright eyes sparkle and her glossy lips parted slightly as her breathing grew more shallow than normal.