Sweetblood 02.5 - Enchanted by Blood by Laurie London Page A

him, that move had gone straight to his groin. He’d absently reached down to rearrange himself, then had taken the stairs two at a time down to the first level.
    If he had any hopes of keeping things platonic between them, he had to stop letting Charlotte affect him that way. He couldn’t make the same mistake he made last year.
    “Ah, there you two are,” his grandmother said, setting down her daily crossword puzzle and smiling like a Cheshire cat.
    Trace shot her a reproachful glance, still not believing she’d talked him into having Charlotte decorate the house.
    After the conversation with Jackson about throwing another party this year, he had to admit the prospect did have its merits. So he’d consulted with his grandmother, whose counsel he’d always valued. Of course, she thought it was a wonderful idea.
    “Will Charlotte Grant be handling the decorations again, too?” she’d asked.
    He wasn’t fooled by her cloying tone. “Absolutely not.” He’d planned to hire another firm to handle the party.
    Little good that had done. His grandmother had almost made the call to Charlotte herself.
    Now she rose hesitantly, pushing herself up from the sofa.
    “Grandmother, please.” He rushed to help her, steadying her frail body. “This is the woman I was telling you about,” he said pointedly. Although she’d lived a long time and had plenty of experience dealing with a human’s memory being altered, he felt the need to remind her that she was to act as if she’d never met Charlotte. He tried his best to ignore the stab of guilt at the charade.
    “Don’t fuss over me,” she said to him. “I’m fine. And you must be Charlotte. How do you do, my dear?”
    Charlotte extended her hand. “Very well, thank you.”
    “I’m Victoria Westfalen, but please, call me Vik.” An impish look crossed her face and he felt the beginnings of a headache. Although she was in the twilight of her life, having lived through many centuries, she was as sharp as a tack and had a wicked sense of humor. “It really is lovely to see you…” Her voice trailed off and she hesitated. Trace held his breath. She wasn’t about to say again, was she? “No wonder Trace is so enamored,” she continued, spinning a gnarled finger in the air. “Turn around, dear. Let me look at you.”
    “This isn’t a fashion runway,” he growled, his mood darkening. “Miss Grant is here to do the decorating, not to be a decoration herself. That is, if she’ll even take the job.”
    “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Trace. I just wanted to get a better look at her, that’s all. When you get to be my age, looking in the mirror doesn’t have the same appeal it once did. Seeing a cute young thing like her brings back an old lady’s fond memories from a long time ago.” There was that sparkle in her eye again, no doubt caused by the knowledge that Charlotte had no idea his grandmother wasn’t referring to a point in time approximately eighty years ago. More like quadruple that.
    Charlotte laughed. “I don’t mind. My grandmother used to do the same thing. Though she also corrected my posture, told me to enunciate and examined my hands to make sure I was using the miracle cream she ordered from TV. I…I miss it, actually.”
    “I’m terribly sorry. How long ago did she pass?”
    “Several years ago now,” Charlotte answered. To Trace she said, “You’re a lucky man to still have yours.”
    “Well, you come sit next to me, my dear.” She patted the sofa next to her.
    Trace ran a hand over his jaw. She might as well have said, “Come into my lair where we will plot against the sensibilities of my grandson.” Last year, she’d made no bones about how much she liked Charlotte. Unlike the old cronies on the Council, his grandmother had always been progressive in her thinking.
    “Trace,” she continued, “will you have Marcel prepare a pot of tea and a few finger sandwiches? And the cream scones, too. Charlotte had a long drive out here and