Always an Eaton - Rochelle Alers Mills & Boon Kimani Arabesque

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that he was dark and brooding. I suppose when I said brooding works if he were a vampire, he took it as a challenge.”

      “There you go, Chandra. You just said the operative word—challenge. Preston Tucker’s bound to have an ego as large as the Liberty Bell, so he expects you to put your money where your mouth is.”

      “It’s either that or...”

      “Or what?” Denise asked when she didn’t finish her statement.

      “Nothing.”

      Chandra had said nothing, although there was the possibility that Preston had read her journal. He hadn’t mentioned that he’d read it, and she didn’t want to ask because she didn’t want to know if he had. The only way she would be able to find out was to work with him.

      “I’m going to do it, Denise. I’m going to help the very talented P. J. Tucker develop a vampire character for his next play.”

      “Hot damn! My cousin’s going to be famous.”

      “Yeah, right,” Chandra drawled. “I’ll let you know how it turns out.”

      “You better,” Denise threatened. “I’d love to chat longer, but I have a board meeting in ten minutes.”

      “Are you coming up to Paoli this weekend?”

      “I plan on being there. I’ll see you in a couple of days. Later.”

      “Later,” Chandra repeated before she ended the call.

      She sat, staring at the sheers billowing in the cool breeze coming through the open windows. To say she was intrigued by Preston Tucker was an understatement. Something told her that he didn’t need her or anyone’s help with character development. Did he, as Denise claimed, like her?

      Chandra shook her head as if to banish the notion. She knew she hadn’t given off vibes that said she was interested in him. After her yearlong liaison with Laurence Breslin she had sworn off men. Whenever she affected what could best be described as a “screw face” most men kept their distance. The persistent ones were greeted with, “I’m not interested in men,” leaving them to ponder whether she didn’t like them or she was only interested in a same-sex liaison. She liked men—a lot. It was just that she wasn’t willing to set herself up for more heartbreak.

      She went back to the task of researching schools. All she had to do was update her résumé and submit the applications online. Flicking on the desk lamp, she scrolled through her old e-mails until she found the one from Preston, her fingers racing over the keys:

      Hi Preston,

      I’m available to meet with you Friday. Please call or e-mail to confirm.—CE

      She didn’t have to wait for a response when his AIM popped up on the upper left corner of the screen.

      PJT: Hi CE. Friday is good with me. What time should I pick you up?

      CE: You don’t have to pick me up. I’ll take a taxi to your place.

      PJT: No, CE. You tend to lose things in taxis.

      CE: You didn’t have to go there.

      PJT: Sorry.

      CE: Apology accepted.

      PJT: Will call tomorrow to let you know when driver will pick you up.

      CE: O.K. I’ll see you Friday. Meanwhile, think of a name for your vampire.

      PJT: He’s not my vampire, but yours. So, you do the honor.

      CE: O.K. Good night.

      PJT: Good night.

      Chandra logged off. She mentally checked off what she had to do before meeting with Preston. She still had to unpack, call her sister Belinda and update her résumé. During lunch she’d called the salon and was given an appointment for Thursday at eleven. The Eatons had planned a get-together at Belinda and Griffin’s for Saturday to celebrate Sabrina’s and Layla’s thirteenth birthday. She wasn’t certain what her nieces wanted or needed, but decided to give them gift cards. Then, there was her ten-year-old nephew whom she would meet for the first time. Aunt Chandra would have to buy him something, too.

      * * *

      Chandra waited for the driver to come around and open the rear door for her. As promised, Preston had arranged for a driver to bring her to his apartment building. He’d also arranged for them to have brunch.

      She gave the doorman her name and three minutes later she came face-to-face with Preston Tucker for the second time when the doors to the elevator opened.

      Preston stared, completely surprised. He almost didn’t recognize Chandra. She’d changed her hair. The braid was gone, replaced by a sleek style that framed her face and floated over her shoulders. It made her look older, more sophisticated.

      “You look very nice.”

      Chandra couldn’t stop the pinpoints of heat pricking her face. She’d lightly applied a little makeup and changed outfits twice before deciding on a tailored charcoal-gray pantsuit, white silk blouse and black patent leather pumps.

      “Thank you.”

      Preston not only looked good, she thought, but he also smelled good. He wore a pair of black slacks and matching shirt and the stubble on his chin gave him a slightly roguish look. He’d admitted to being dark and brooding and his somber attire affirmed that. She didn’t have to go very far to find the inspiration for her vampire. Preston Tucker was the perfect character.

      “Have you come up with a name for your vampire?” Preston asked as he led Chandra down the hallway and into his apartment.

      “I have,” she admitted.

      He closed the door and turned to stare at her. “What is it?”

      “Pascual.”

      Preston angled his head. “Pascual or Paschal?”

      “Pascual. It’s Spanish and Hebrew for Passover. The name is somewhat exotic and implies that he’s passed through a portal from another world to ours.”

      “If the setting is New Orleans, shouldn’t you give him a French name?”

      Chandra drew in a breath, held it and then let it out slowly. They hadn’t even begun to work together and already he was questioning her. “I thought you said Pascual is my vampire.”

      “He is, Chandra.”

      “Then, please let me develop him the way I want, Preston. And that includes giving him a name that’s Spanish. Remember, France lost control of New Orleans to Spain, then regained it before it was sold to the U.S.”

      Preston looked sheepish. “Unfortunately, history and languages weren’t my best subjects.”

      “I have you at a disadvantage because my sister teaches American history to high school students.”

      “What do you teach?”

      “How do you know I’m a teacher?”

      Reaching for her hand, he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “Today you look and sound like a teacher. Besides, you didn’t deny it. By the way, are you on sabbatical or are you playing hooky?”

      Chandra’s lips twitched as she tried not to smile. She knew she had to remain alert with Preston. He probably processed everything she said within seconds. “I’m in between jobs.”

      “Come with me to the kitchen. We can talk while I cook.”

      Her eyebrows lifted. “You write, direct and cook. I’m impressed. What other talents are you hiding?”

      Throwing back his head, Preston let loose genuine laughter.

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