“Jared?”
At last he moved again, his fingers easing through her hair.
“Um.”
“That was ... wow.”
“Well, you know, I try.”
He sounded as if he were making an effort to speak lightly.
“Definitely different; I’m not sure I want to try it every night.”
“Why not?”
“You bit me.”
“Bit you?”
“Well, you know ...”
“Love nibbles.”
She didn’t want to mention the fact that love nibbles didn’t usually draw blood. After all, it had been ...
Spectacular.
“Jared?”
“Hm?”
“I love you.”
It seemed he was a long time answering. But then he turned, drawing her very close to him, holding her tenderly.
He was shaking.
“Jared, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing ... I’m just cold. Whoa, so cold!”
“Well, you silly man, you were standing in front of an open window watching snow.” His lips brushed her forehead with a kiss. So different. Now, a touch as tender as a breath of sweet, warm air.
He was still shaking.
“I’m getting another blanket.”
She got out of bed, stumbled over something in the dark, banged her toe against the bedstead, and swore.
“Jared ... a light would be nice.”
“Cindy, just come back to bed,” he told her.
“I’m trying to get you a blanket,” she informed him.
“Just come back to bed.” He let out an impatient sigh. A second later, he was up, drawing her into his arms. “You’re all the warmth I need.”
She smiled, wondering if he could see at all in the darkness how he had touched her.
But when they were back in bed, huddled together as close as two peas in a pod, he was still shaking.
She said no more, though; she just tried very hard to give him all her warmth.
She wished Jordan could see just how sweet he could be at times. He really was a beautiful man.
And to think ...
There had been times lately when she had thought that she was becoming a monster herself.
A green-eyed monster. She’d harbored such doubts! But tonight... she was simply ashamed of herself.
He loved her. Completely, she thought Cindy slept with a smile curving her lips throughout the night.
Little cuts ... a few drops of blood. They meant nothing. Nothing at all.
CHAPTER 6
Cindy and Jared were not at the breakfast table in the morning.
Jordan thought wryly of the way they had been the night before. Good for them.
Jared must have left her room and jumped his wife for the second time that evening. So much for romance fading with time and marriage!
At the rooftop restaurant, Jordan ordered coffee and a croissant, remembering that she was to head off to see Tiff’s rented palazzo soon. She studied the advanced reading copy she had of the vampire book and jotted down notes on a few of the comments she wanted to make in her review. When she’d finished a second cup of coffee, it was still early. She headed back to her room, calculating the time in the States.
One in the morning.
Due to the fact that her work was heavily syndicated, she got her assignments through an agent, rather than an editor. And Liz Schultz, her agent, was a night owl and a close friend. She had been the one to see a book review Jordan had written for a magazine and taken her into syndication. Liz had been new at her job; they had each taken a chance on the other. Their struggles, frustrations, rejections and triumphs had created a solid bond between them.
Liz wouldn’t mind a call at home at this hour.
Jordan dialed the number through her phone card and was surprised when Liz answered almost immediately, sounding as if she were no more than a room away.
“Hey, Liz. It’s Jordan.”
“Jordan! Hey kid, it’s great to hear from you. Wait, never mind. You’re going to tell me that you’re having too much fun, that you don’t want to do any work.”
Jordan laughed. “No, I wasn’t going to say that at all. I was going to tell you that the director’s vampire book is great. I’m going to fax the review to you soon, I’ve got all my notes. I’m just going to type ‘em up this morning, and then the review will be there.”
“Gory stuff, huh? But tell me, how is Venice?”
“Great. I’m having a wonderful time. I’ve always loved the city. This is different, though. You should see some of these costumes up close and personal. They’re amazing.”
“And the parties? Any good men?”
Jordan hesitated, thinking about the contessa’s ball.
“Oh, Jordan, I’m sorry, maybe it’s still too soon?”
“No, no, Liz, nothing like that. No, I was just thinking that having the vampire book with me was kind of strange?”
Liz let out a gasp. “I should never have given you that book!”
“Liz, no, wait, just listen. Do you remember me telling you that Jared was mainly concerned about one ball?”
“The one given by the princess or the duchess or whatever?”
“Contessa. Contessa della Trieste.”
“I remember you telling me about it, yes. To Jared, it was like being invited to the White House or something. Was it spectacular?”
“No, it was horrible. And bizarre. I was in an upstairs ballroom, dancing, having a fine old time, then this storyteller started a tale about a horrible man who killed his wives. He grabbed people and they started falling ... then all these other people in the room grabbed one another and where one woman fell, I saw this huge pool of blood.”
“Oh, my God, Jordan!”
“Anyway, a wolf got me out of the ballroom?”
“A wolf?”
“A man in a wolf’s costume. He put me in a boat and disappeared.”
“Oh, my God! Did you get the police, what happened? I didn’t read anything about it in the papers, and you know how many international newspapers I take?”
“As it happened, it was the contessa’s idea of fun. And by the way, I did make the local papers.”
“What?”
“I went to the police, the police went to the palazzo, they got the contessa, and Jared and Cindy, and they all explained to me that the entire tiling was a show. Naturally, it was written up in the papers the next day that an American woman had gone a little crazy over the evening’s entertainment.”
“Entertainment?”
“I thought it was awful, but?”
“But she’s a contessa, so whatever, is that the thinking?”
“I guess. But the next morning, I read the vampire book, and it was even more fascinating.” On the other end of the line, Liz hesitated. “I don’t know, Jordan. Maybe I was wrong, sending you that particular book. Maybe you should come right home. That book must have just made it all worse.”
“No, Liz, honestly, I was glad to have the book. And you’ll like my review.”
“I’m sure the author will be glad. Strange material ... but popular, it seems.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve just gotten in another one, to be published next October.”
“On vampires?”
Liz hesitated. “Vampires, cults, Satanism, copycats, rumors ... there’s a really interesting chapter on defense against vampires. The author is a cop.”
Jordan’s fingers tightened on the wire as she felt a spasm of pain. “A cop?”
“A fellow in New Orleans who has worked some really bizarre cases. He doesn’t say that vampires exist, but he suggests ways of dealing with people who think they’re vampires. His book goes back into the ancient legends and all as well?interesting reading.”
“Send it to me.”
“Jordan, all this reading may not be good for you under the circumstances?”
“I am not a fragile person about to go over the edge. If this book is by a police officer, I very much do want to read it Send it by FedEx. The earliest delivery possible.”
“You don’t think that the contessa’s entertainment ...”
“Was real?” Jordan hesitated, remembering dancing with Ragnor?and his comments about the contessa.
Yes, he did think that the woman was a criminal
Dangerous . . .
“Liz, I’m keeping my nose clean, behaving rationally, I’m just a civilian visitor to a beautiful city, and especially because of Jared, I’m being as cool, collected and courteous as I can be. But I want that book.”
“You want to get your ass on a plane. If that woman is dangerous?”
“Liz, I’m staying in one of the most beautiful hotels in the world, with my cousin and his wife just next door. I’m fine. And the police think I’m a little crazy, so they’re keeping an eye on me. Send me the damned book. Please.”
“All right. All right. But I’d better hear from you frequently.”
“It’s a promise.”
They said their good-byes, and Jordan hung up. She glanced at her watch.
It was late enough for her to go down to the concierge and get instructions on how to walk to the palazzo that Tiff Henley had rented.
Sal D’Onofrio loved his work, and he loved Venice.
The mornings now tended to be quiet. Party-goers at Carnevale were usually late sleepers. But it was also a good time for work in Venice because there were so very many people here. And every human being with an ounce of romance in his or her soul was compelled to take a gondola ride.
He had already taken a couple of early-bird British women for a two-hour ride among many of the canals. They wanted to see the buildings of Venice, to go off the beaten track. He had taken them far, singing away.
They’d loved his singing.
They’d tipped him generously for his tunes.
But he didn’t sing for money. He sang because it was fun. One of the British women had joked that a good singing voice must be a requirement for all gondoliers. He had told them that no?some gondoliers couldn’t sing worth a single lira?they had just gotten lucky. He had told them, too, that not all gondoliers were exceptionally good looking?they had gotten lucky in that aspect as well. And few had his gift for languages. He’d never had much schooling, only what had been required; he had always known that, like his father before him, he would be a gondolier. He had a natural ear for languages and was fluent in French, Spanish, English, and Italian. He could converse somewhat in German and knew a smattering of Russian. He was good looking, and even the other gondoliers admitted grudgingly that he had the best singing voice. Italian, however, was a language made for singing. Those who came for rides usually wanted to hear Italian songs sung?after all, they were drifting through the beauty of Venice.