Kimberly Raye - A Body to Die For

And so she’d abandoned him to find someone else to feed the beast that lived and breathed inside of her.

As for love…She hadn’t loved him, and he hadn’t really loved her. He’d been mesmerized by her, seduced by her vamp magic like any other weak human.

But he wasn’t susceptible to her now.

Even if he did have an aching hard-on.

“What do you say?” The soft voice pushed into his thoughts and pulled him back to the present. To the smoke-filled bar and the horny woman sitting next to him. “Would you, um, like to come back to my place?”

Yes.

The answer was there on the tip of his tongue despite his self-made vow. He needed her. To ease the pain inside his body, feed the hunger and fill him with a burst of energy.

He felt so tired at that moment.

So damned hungry.

His gaze hooked on the lipstick imprint on her glass again, and his chest tightened. “I’m afraid I’m a little busy right now.” He slid several bills onto the counter and reached for the bottle of Jack Daniels. “But you have a nice night, sugar.” He turned and left her staring longingly after him.

Because even more than Garret Sawyer needed to feed, suddenly he needed to forget.

The dark hair.

The true blue eyes.

The luscious body and fragrant skin.

The damned voice that echoed over and over in his head “I can’t be with you like this.”

And so he sank down at the nearest table, touched the open bottle to his lips and did what he hadn’t done since Viv Darland had walked out on him all those years ago.

He started to drink.

And he didn’t stop.

“HOW’S THIS?”

“Move a little to the right,” Viv told the short, balding, forty-six-year-old man who stood behind the counter of Skull Creek’s one and only motel.

It was two hours since she’d left the Iron Horseshoe, and she was desperate for a distraction. Something to pass the time and get her mind off Garret and the anticipation bubbling inside of her.

Enter Eldin Atkins.

He was the owner of the Skull Creek Inn and, more importantly, the oldest bachelor in town. He’d inherited both the motel and his grandmother, Winona, when his parents had retired to a small fishing port on the Gulf Coast. Eldin made all the reservations and looked after Winona while she puttered around, straightening rooms and poking her nose in everyone’s business.

Or so Viv had heard from the waitress over at the diner.

Since Winona did most of her nosing around during the day when Viv had her door barricaded and her shades drawn, she’d yet to run into the old woman.

Eldin was a different story altogether.

The minute Viv had mentioned that she was a photo journalist, he’d gone above and beyond the call of duty to make her stay as memorable as possible.

He’d brought fresh towels every morning and had even upgraded her room for free. She now occupied the one and only deluxe suite with a full-size bathroom and a kitchenette.

Not that she needed the latter, but Eldin didn’t know that. He was just out to attract as much attention as possible because he’d already tried every on-line dating service in the free world, and he still hadn’t had any luck with the opposite sex.

He was hoping like hell that some poor, lonely female read the travel article, saw his picture and realized that, despite his thinning hair, introverted personality and live-in grandmother, he was a halfway decent catch.

He didn’t wear women’s underwear (not since Double Dog Dare Ya night back in the tenth grade) and he didn’t suck his teeth and—and this was the biggee—he had his own business.

Sort of.

Technically, his parents still owned the place, but once they kicked the bucket, the Inn would be Eldin’s free and clear.

Well, his and Winona’s, but his grammy was already older than dirt, so how much longer could she actually last?

Bottom line, he wasn’t such a bad guy. The article would be a prime opportunity to show the single women of the southwest (and a few east coast states where the travel mag had been picked up) all that he had to offer.

Tonight he wore an orange Hawaiian-print shirt, beige walking shorts and a pair of tan boat shoes with tube socks. He had a king-sized Snickers bar in his left shirt pocket and a Slim Jim in the right.

“You’re going to put my e-mail address in the article, right?” he asked. “Just in case somebody is of a mind to reach me? For a room, that is.”

Or, more importantly, a date.

“E-mail and snail mail,” Viv promised. “Say cheese.”

“Wait a second.” Eldin slicked his eyebrows down, threw his shoulders back and puffed out his chest. One hand paused on the wall of room keys and the other gave a little salute. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“So, Eldin,” Viv said as she checked the shutter on her camera, “do you always stand that way when you’re checking someone in?”

He seemed to think before letting out a deep breath. “’Course not.” He switched angles and struck the same pose. “I usually stand like this on account of it’s my good side,” he said, his words tight as he tried to suck in his sizeable beer belly. “Go on,” he gasped. “Shoot.”

Viv snapped a few pictures before pausing to check the shots on her digital screen.

“Where do you want me next?” Eldin asked after gasping for several deep breaths. “Over by the fireplace? I could build a fire. I know how.”

“That’s good to know. And I would take you up on it in a heartbeat…” Viv checked her flash. “…if it wasn’t ninety plus degrees outside.”

“Forget the fire. I’ll just hold a few chunks of wood. Maybe I should take my shirt off to look like I’ve been out chopping all day—”

“No,” she cut in, desperate to ignore the sudden image of Eldin shirtless. “These are supposed to be action shots. A day in the life of stuff.” She stared deep into his eyes to press her point home. “That means natural.”

He looked confused for a split-second before he seemed to relax. “Let me just straighten the magazines here like I do every night on account of my granny and her dad-burned group are always messing things up. Why, it takes days to get this lobby back to normal after one of her danged meetings.”

“Shame on you for talking about an old lady,” said a crackling voice as an ancient-looking woman walked from the back room.

She wore a purple flower-print dress, white orthopedic shoes and knee-high panty hose. She had a shock of white hair curled into tight sausages that covered her head like a football helmet. Bifocals hung from a chain around her neck and sat low on her nose.

“If I was a few years younger,” she continued as she deposited a cardboard box on the counter and wagged a finger at Eldin, “I’d take a skillet to your hind end. Just pay him no nevermind,” she turned to Viv. “He hates my meetings because he has to give up the TV and bide his time until we’re finished.”

“You took three hours last time,” Eldin whined. “I missed Grey’s Anatomy and So You Think You Can Dance .”

“You watch too much TV. You ought to be doing other things with your time.”

“Like what?”

“The front walkway needs power washing.”

“But that’ll take hours.”

“That’s the idea.”

“But I been standing all day. My feet hurt.”

“That’s ’cause you’re putting on too much weight.” She snatched the Snickers bar out of his pocket. “Steer clear of the snack machine, and you won’t have such a big gut puttin’ so much pressure on your tootsies. Why, I been standing over eighty years, and my feet don’t hurt a bit.”

“But that’s my dessert.” Eldin eyed the candy bar in her hand. “Dessert is one of the four basic food groups.”