Page 2 of Flirting With Disaster

She snorted. More likely, she’d just chose to ignore them in the arbitrary pursuit of some diaphanous dream of love, family…belonging. Maybe she needed a change in her life.

Jude scanned the ba

r. No televisions, thank goodness. No one here would recognize her. Except maybe that dark, mysterious creature skulking in the corner like he was one of the damned.

She sipped her drink and squinted. He looked dangerous. Maybe he was a plant by the castle owners. A brooding, enigmatic monster to add some whimsy to the Halloween season.

She glanced back at the flyer on the bar. Mystical Adventure.

From the looks of it, Mr. Mystical, Dark, and Handsome was contemplating murder over a scotch. He wore all black with a messy length of hair accented by a widow’s peak.

Dracula, yes. He would be Dracula tonight.

He turned and glowered in her direction, and her gaze drifted to the long, ragged scar down his left cheek. He didn’t look amicable. More spine-chilling in an I-want-to-eat-you kind of way.

Typical, provocative specter material.

She shivered. Definitely The Beast of Castle Alainn.

“Steven, I’ll have another, please. These are quite refreshing. Do you use an herbal tea?” The words had some trouble exiting her tongue. Steven just smiled and left to fill her order.

Nine-fifty-nine. Maybe Evan would stab himself in the privates with one of his knitting needles. She snorted and iced tea shot from her nose. She grabbed a napkin and held it to her face, torn between laughing and crying.

He’d used her. Used her on national television to catapult his nonexistent acting career. He’d be famous after this. And she’d be ruined.

She glanced at the grand clock behind the bar. Her heart raced and her breathing became labored. Tears swelled in her eyes.

“You need help, miss?”

Jude stiffened. That deep rasp sent chills down her body like a good head massage at the hairdressers. She wiped at her tears with the sleeve of her cardigan. “Only if you happen to have a shotgun with a real strong scope.”

“I left it in my pickup with some roadkill I picked up for dinner and a carton of unfiltered Camels.”

She turned and encountered…The Scarred Beast. Her breath caught at his sheer masculine beauty, despite the jagged scar running from his temple to his chin and marring his high cheekbone. His eyes were the color of rich whiskey, reflecting the candlelight in the room. And his hair… A decadent, wavy brown that beckoned her fingers.

His angled brows lowered over those ethereal, piercing eyes. “What’s his name?”

Jude gaped, transfixed. He was doing that mind trick thing vampires did. She was sure of it. “I call him Asshole,” she muttered.

The Beast smirked. Not an amiable smirk, by any means, the left side of his mouth slightly crooked from the scar. “I’m sure.”

“Here’s your drink, miss,” Steven interrupted.

Beast continued to stare into her eyes, doing his mind trick thing, keeping her captivated with his savage beauty. “That will be enough, Steven. Ms.…?”

“D…Darling…” She couldn’t dare tell anyone her real name for fear of connecting her with The Harry Strubel Show.

“Ms. Darling has had more than enough.” Her false name poured from his beautiful lips like smooth, heated rum…with a twist of suspicious intuition.

Something in the back of her muddled mind protested. “On the contrary, Steven. Thank you very much.” She grabbed the glass while glaring into those vampire eyes, wiped blindly at the rim with her napkin to be sure it was relatively clean, and chugged.

She slammed the glass down on the bar and folded her hands in her lap. Hopefully, she hadn’t dripped any on her Brunello Cucinelli, organza, waterfall maxi.

“I hope you enjoyed that. Those drinks contain about five shots of liquor.”

“Nonsenssse.” She flicked her wrist at the young bartender. “Steven has made me a special iced tea, knowing I’m from New York. Are the tea leaves grown on Long Island?”

Steven smiled as he washed a glass. “No, but the alcohol may have been distilled there.”

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