Must Love Vampires Read Online Free PDF Page A

the kitchen was a foodie’s wet dream. Top-of-the-line appliances, gleaming silver in the overhead light. Obsidian marble countertops and central island. And two racks hanging from the ceiling at opposite ends of the large space—one holding a variety of wine and cocktail glasses, the other a variety of cookware.
    Chuck’s idea of a gourmet meal was Hamburger Helper, so most of what she was looking at was lost on her. But on behalf of culinary students everywhere, she could certainly appreciate Raines’s taste and attention to detail.
    She wondered if he actually used this part of the penthouse, of if it was just for show. Or maybe he had a personal chef. Or a stable of women who stayed the night and then cooked breakfast for him in the morning.
    Wait. With a shake of her head, she asked herself what the heck she was doing thinking semi-jealous thoughts. That wasn’t like her at all . She’d never even met Sebastian Raines—unless she had, indeed, fainted at his feet. But even that couldn’t be considered meeting-meeting him.
    She’d been following him, sure, but in a purely investigative capacity. Like a scientist observing gorillas in their natural habitat. The fact that she found him moderately attractive was beside the point.
    And wait times two. What was she doing wondering about his eating habits, when her whole hypothesis was that he was a vampire, and therefore didn’t eat regular food? Or didn’t need to, at any rate. She wasn’t entirely clear on the whole do they?/don’t they? thing when it came to the food issue.
    Her research had uncovered differing opinions on the topic. Some claimed vampires became deathly ill if they consumed anything but fresh (meaning straight from the source) human blood. Others said they could eat and drink anything they liked, but it didn’t nourish them the way blood did. Which meant that they could take human food or leave it, but they couldn’t forgo true feeding (i.e. blood— gack! ).
    So the kitchen—as outstanding as it was—could be just for show, too. To which she offered a hearty Bravo, Mr. Raines!
    Noticing that the cat was once again staring at her from its perch on one corner of the marble counter, she cleared her throat and dragged her mind back to the matter at hand. She wasn’t here to get orgasmic over Raines’s plush, multimilliondollar digs.
    But, oh, it would be so easy.
    Before her knees went any weaker, she began a thorough search of the kitchen. Cupboards and drawers, refrigerator, oven, dishwasher.
    “Okay,” she muttered to herself, “this is not helpful. The cupboards and refrigerator are all full, and he even has three kinds of garlic on hand.” Garlic! What kind of vampire was he, dammit?
    She slammed a jar of the stuff down on the counter, making the cat jump.
    “Sorry,” she apologized with a wince. “But this flies in the face of everything we’ve been told, little black kitty cat. Either I’m wrong, or hundreds of years of myths and legends are.”
    Stepping back, she looked around, trying to decide where to dig around next. “But I’m not wrong. I can’t be. I need this story, and I’m going to find my proof.”
    Her gaze snagged on the glass-fronted, floor-to-ceiling wine cabinet beside the fridge. “Ah-ha! I’ll bet this is it,” she continued talking to herself—or, if anyone ever asked, Raines’s cat.
    Yanking open the narrow door, she started pulling out one bottle after another, lining them up on the counter. There had to be three dozen, at least. And judging by the labels, some of them were old.
    Old enough to have been brought over from the “old country”? (Wherever that was.) Old enough to have been bottled by Sebastian himself, if he’d been some seventeenthcentury vintner?
    Or maybe he’d simply been carrying some of these around with him since he’d been turned. That was certainly one way to get your hands on a bottle of uber-valuable wine without falling victim to its equally staggering price tag.
    She