The Vampire Who Loved Me Read Online Free PDF

don’t you go home before your husband wakes up and realizes you’ve crept out of his bed?” He arched the dark wing of one brow before leveling his iciest look at her, the one that had been known to freeze grown men in their tracks. “If you linger, I’m afraid you’ll end up with nothing but regrets.”
    She lifted her chin, her smile fading. “Are you threatening me, sir?”
    “If you’d like, you can take it as a warning.”
    “And if I don’t choose to heed your warning?”
    “Then you’re a bloody little fool,” he said, making no apology for his crude language.
    “I’m not leaving until I get what I came here for. You owe me and I’ve come to collect.” Revealing the tiniest crack in her composure, she reached up with trembling hands and drew off her bonnet.
    For one fleeting second, Julian was almost thankful he was a vampire because it took a supernatural effort to keep his features schooled in indifference. She was, beyond the shadow of a doubt, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. The sable curls piled atop her head were matched by the graceful arch of her brows and impossibly thick lashes that ringed eyes the same dark blue as the Aegean Sea at midnight. The delicate bones of her face were narrow at the chin and broad at the cheek. Those cheeks were blessed with a hint of natural color, as if someone had taken a rose petal and lightly dusted it over her satiny skin. She possessed a natural sophistication that all of the expensive powders and rouges in the world couldn’t duplicate. Her mouth tilted upward slightly at the corners, just enough to make a man wonder if she was laughing with him or at him.
    And all Julian could think as he faced this paragon of feminine beauty was that he wished she’d put her damned hat back on. Without theveil to hide her eyes, her gaze was too frank. Too challenging. Too blue. Desperate to escape her presence for reasons even he couldn’t fathom, he surged to his feet, nearly dumping the sputtering brunette onto the floor.
    He swirled the last of the port around the bottom of the glass before bringing it to his lips. “You can’t be one of my creditors, my dear, because I’m sure I’d remember dunning someone as lovely as you,” he said, giving the word an inflection that was impossible to ignore. “And if you’re not one of my creditors, then I suggest you step out of my way because I don’t owe you so much as the time of day.”
    Returning the glass to the table with a forceful thump, he claimed the brunette’s hand and took a step toward the stairs.
    “That’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Kane.” Her fingers steady this time, she reached up, jerked off the velvet choker and tossed it on the table as if it were a wager he could never hope to answer.
    Julian froze in his tracks, mesmerized by the sight of that graceful throat. A throat that should have been as creamy and flawless as therest of her, but was instead marred by the faded scars of two distinct puncture wounds.
    As Julian lifted his disbelieving gaze to meet the defiant blue of Portia Cabot’s eyes, he knew his luck had finally run out.

Three
    He hadn’t recognized her.
    Julian Kane had looked right at her with the same burning dark eyes that had haunted her dreams for the past five years and betrayed nothing more than the faintest flicker of interest. Or was it annoyance?
    Apparently their time together had meant so little to him that he barely remembered her. And why should he? Portia thought. In the years since he’d been gone, he’d probably had dozens—she stole a bitter glance at the blowsy brunette still clinging to his hand—no, hordes of other women only too eager to help erase her from his memory. Why should he remember one awkward seventeen-year-old girl who had blushed and stammered and practically thrown herself at him every time he sauntered into a room?
    As the initial rush of hurt passed, Portia had to fight the urge to fly into a towering rage. Despite her boast