Chloe
Chloe’sphonebeganto ring just as she got back into the office after another unsuccessful showing of the cottage on Golden Dawn Avenue. What was wrong with the place? When Tilly broke the curse, maybe she’d have to book her for an exorcism.
“Hello, this is Chloe Bloom of Crowley Lake Realty,” Chloe answered automatically.
“Chloe, hi,” an unfamiliar voice said. “This is Amanda Summers from the Small Business Awards team.”
Chloe felt a flicker of excitement in her stomach and bit her lip to stop herself from letting out a highly unprofessional squeak.
“Oh, hello,” Chloe tried to sound nonchalant and polite. “What can I do for you today?”
“Well, it’s just that we’ve received your RSVP for two guests, and that’s fine, but we do need their names and any dietary requirements by the end of the week. For place cards, I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course, “Chloe said. “I’ll just double-check calendars and get back to you. If that’s okay?”
“No problem!” Amanda sounded breezy and unconcerned. “End of next week is fine.”
“Thank you so much,” Choe said, and the call ended.
But when it did, she sat and chewed the lid of her pen ferociously. She was inviting Julia, of course. Julia had already organised a babysitter for Harriet and Jude. They had even talked about what each was going to wear. But the other ticket was a problem. She had originally planned to invite Jesse, but now that things were different with Maxwell, she kind of wanted to ask him. Would he want to come? It wasn’t like his particular dietary requirements would be available on Amanda’s drop-down menu. And it would be boring for him, but then Maxwell always told her he was so impressed by her hard work and—
“I don’t know what to do,” Chloe told the chewed-up pen. “Should I invite him?”
The pen, black and now pitted with aggressive tooth marks, did not reply. Not that she wanted it to. The last thing she needed was a talking pen.
In hindsight, maybe Chloe shouldn’t have combined her evening run with visiting Maxwell. It had seemed like such a good idea, but now she was on his doorstep with red cheeks and sweaty hair. Not exactly alluring.
She considered jogging home and coming back later. But he could probably already smell her; it would be much more embarrassing to just leave.
Gingerly, she knocked on the door.
A moment later, it opened to reveal Maxwell looking the picture of relaxed elegance in a faded denim shirt and dark jeans. She felt even more ashamed of her appearance when she looked at him, so fresh and crisp he could have walked straight out of an upmarket catalogue marketing designer clothes to men over forty who wanted to look “with it“.
“Um, hi,” Chloe said. “I was out jogging, and I thought I’d just drop by…”
“And I’m very glad you did,” Maxwell said, and before she could be worried about how sweaty she was, he pulled her tight against him and kissed her, deep and hungry like he had been waiting for her lips. “You’d better come inside, or very bad things are going to happen on this heritage-listed veranda.”
“But I’m all gross and sweaty and—”
“Gorgeous,” Maxwell finished. “But I take your point. You need some water and rest. Come on, don’t make me manhandle you.”
And the flash of wet heat that went through Chloe at those words had nothing whatsoever to do with her run. This man – vampire – was going to be the death of her; he really was. If it was possible to die from unbridled lust, she was on her deathbed.
“Thanks,” Chloe said, stepping inside and following him down the hall into the kitchen.
She was grateful as he passed her a tall glass of cold water. She gulped it down, catching her breath.
“I can’t believe you run outside in this weather,” Maxwell said. “Have treadmills not hit Crowley Lake yet?”
Chloe smothered a laugh. “It’s not as good for you, running on a treadmill,” she told him. “You get a much better workout on uneven terrain, with the hills and the little dips in the ground.”
“It’s certainly more gruelling,” Maxwell said. “I imagine that’s why you prefer it. You’re a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?”
“Not for punishment!” Chloe said, although her brain helpfully provided images of Maxwell punishing her in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with rough terrain. “I just like pushing myself to do things that are challenging.”
“An achievement junkie, then,” Maxwell said with a smile. “But I knew that already.”
“You’re probably right,” Chloe said, setting down the empty glass and collapsing gratefully into one of the stools at the breakfast bar.