Read Online Tempted in the Tropics by Tracy March - Free Book Online Page A

wearing flip-flops in January grinned and said, “She’s gentle, too. She was my vampire last year. Didn’t hurt a bit.”
    “Back by popular demand?” Lane asked the phlebotomist.
    She smiled. “I’m here every year. Best blood drive I’ve staffed. The people in this town are so… I don’t know how to explain it. Kind. Giving. Eager to help. You don’t find that as much anymore.”
    “We’re a crazy old bunch,” the flip-flop lady said.
    Lane couldn’t argue. At least she hadn’t mentioned magic.
    After Lane was relieved of about a pint of blood, the gentle, friendly vampire put a bandage on his arm. After he’d sat quietly a while, she asked, “See you next year?”
    “Not likely. I’m just passing through.”
    “Too bad.” She smiled. “This place could use some young blood.” She gestured toward the back corner of the hall. “If you’re not feeling dizzy, head on over to the refreshment area and have a snack before you leave.”
    Lane made his way to the snack table, where a group of Red Hat ladies sat at a large round table, drinking orange juice from plastic martini glasses and eating cookies served on china plates. Nothing like making a party out of a blood drive.
    “Dr. Anderson!” one of the ladies exclaimed.
    Lane remembered seeing her as a patient a few days ago. Good thing she hadn’t had on the hat she was wearing now—a red cloche with a confetti of purple feathers randomly attached, presumably from the pair of purple birds precariously perched on top. He would’ve felt compelled to perform a thorough mental assessment of anyone who would willingly wear a hat like that, he thought with a smile. But in this context, it made more sense—if only just a little. Another woman wore a red boa, and a tiny white-haired lady wore a pair of purple-sequined suspenders and a red baseball cap with a curly W on the front.
    “Have a cookie.” Bird Hat Lady offered up a platter of cookies that looked like a picture from a recipe book.
    Lane picked an oatmeal-pecan-chocolate-chip concoction and took a big bite. “Wow,” he said before he even swallowed his first chunky-chocolaty-cinnamon bite. His Miss Manners mom would kill him if she were here. “These are awesome.”
    “Did you make a wish?” Nats Lady asked.
    He shook his head, eyebrows lowered. “Should I have?”
    The ladies looked knowingly at one another.
    “They’re magic,” Bird Hat Lady said. “Paige made them. All her mama’s recipes have a little magic in them. I had a brownie at Sweet Bee’s one day, then went over to the drugstore and won fifty dollars on a scratch-off.”
    Lane winced.
    “I lost five pounds eating fat-free muffins,” another woman said. “That’s magic enough for me.”
    “I’ve got you all beat,” Nats Lady said. “I bought one of those Nats pies before the World Series. Ate a slice during every game—and they won!”
    Lane caught her eye. “Go Nats!”
    “World Series champs.” She raised her orange-juice martini and took a sip. She’d probably freak out if she knew Lane was going to play his guitar for Cole Collins’s wedding.
    A lady sitting next to her said, “I hear you don’t believe in Paige’s Special Recipes.”
    Here we go.
    “You can ask her about it yourself,” said one of the women who hadn’t yet spoken. She pointed at something behind Lane and he turned.
    In the corner, Paige stood behind a table, serving cookies and happily chatting with her dad and a bald man wearing overalls. Lane’s heart leaped at the sight of her wearing snug jeans and a long-sleeved pink T-shirt with a yellow Sweet Bee’s logo on the front, her hair all long and loose. Her dad whispered something to her and she tipped up her chin and laughed out loud, not seeming the least bit self-conscious. Had he ever seen Stephanie that relaxed and comfortable with herself? Or any of the prim-and-proper girls he’d dated over the years?
    He turned back to the Red Hat ladies. “You all enjoy yourselves.