Midnight Sun, Inc. (Crimson Romance) Read online

  Midnight Sun, Inc.

  Debbie Vaughan

  Avon, Massachusetts

  This edition published by

  Crimson Romance

  an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

  10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

  Blue Ash, Ohio 45242

  www.crimsonromance.com

  Copyright © 2013 by Debbie Vaughan

  ISBN 10: 1-4405-7028-0

  ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-7028-5

  eISBN 10: 1-4405-7029-9

  eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-7029-2

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art © 123rf.com; istockphoto.com/robvann; clipart.com

  In memory of Willy, Nov. 1998 — Jan. 2011

  For Karen, Jamie, Donna, David, Terri, Ash, and Stan who loved this story from its conception. Their encouragement, faith, and advice kept Midnight Sun, Inc. as well as my hope alive. I love you all.

  Thank you to Jennifer who wanted my story for Crimson Publishing, my editor Teresa who helped perfect it, Julie for putting up with me, and the rest of the staff for all their efforts to make my dream a reality. You rock!

  Contents

  Dedication

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  About the Author

  A Sneak Peek from Crimson Romance

  Also Available

  CHAPTER 1

  Ow-ow-ow — my feet are killing me! For the life of me I couldn’t figure out why I was standing here in shoes a size too small. No, that wasn’t entirely true. My best friend Dee, who knew me far too well, had shoved the employment section of the paper in my face and followed that up with the loan of painful footwear.

  The neon blinked seductively.

  MIDNIGHT SUN TANNING SALON

  Grand Opening Celebration: July 4th Weekend

  “We cater to all persuasions”

  When exactly had vampire become a persuasion? When they stepped out of the coffin, figuratively speaking, and everything we thought we knew about them went in the toilet — figuratively speaking?

  Like any new species, they were put under the microscope, poked and prodded by the greatest minds of our time. Conclusion? Hollywood got it wrong. Imagine that!

  DNA proved they didn’t descend from Vlad Tepes. Well, except for that small Romanian sect, but they hardly counted. So where had they originated? Aliens from outer space? Mutant viruses brought to Earth on asteroids? Gypsy curses? Secret government gene splicing experiments got my vote, although I didn’t really give a rat’s ass. They were vampires! I had lost my ever lovin’ mind when I read the “Help Wanted” in the paper. Dee hadn’t needed to twist my arm in order to get me to apply for the job. The owner would probably recognize my vampire fetish and send me packing. No matter, until he did, I’d get to sit down.

  I dropped all my notes in the trash, and stared at the seemingly normal storefront. Neon sign, business hours on the door, promotion placards in the windows, so, why the odd sense of foreboding? This certainly wasn’t the first job I’d applied for, although it might come in second for the weirdest. I chalked the sensation up to nerves, gave myself a shake and took a deep breath. Onward!

  As I opened the door an icy blast of AC froze the sweat trickling down my cleavage and turned my nipples into hard pebbles. So not the look I was going for. As I scanned the walls for a door marked “office,” a handsome cowboy approached.

  “May I be of some assistance, ma’am?” he drawled as his gaze dropped to my chest.

  His dark hair was brushed away from his bronzed face, leaving the chiseled features clear. I noted large greenish eyes, a square jaw, and a narrow straight nose above a wide, full, sensual mouth. He appeared to be in his early thirties. The black tee pulled tight across his chest read in bold gold block, “Midnight Sun Tanning Salon” and in smaller red script, “We cater to ALL persuasions.” At about six foot four, with broad shoulders and narrow waist, he had the longest legs I’d ever seen. The tight jeans, molded to his body, ended with the toes of worn cowboy boots under the hem.

  I managed to drag my eyes up from his crotch long enough to say, “I’m looking for the boss.”

  “You’ve found him. Tom Thornton.” He stuck out his hand. “Would you be my next appointment?”

  Nice start, Connie! Ogle the boss. I swallowed hard before accepting his offered hand. “I’m Constance Bennett — Connie.”

  The tanning system worked well. I’d never have guessed he was a vampire. So much for my notes. Baring little resemblance to his tuxedo clad magazine photos — he was far more handsome in the undead flesh.

  “You must promote your own product Miss Bennett, don’t you agree?” He held onto my hand longer than necessary before letting my fingers slide through his, as if reluctant to release them.

  “Well, that’s some product! I couldn’t get that dark if I lived in the Sahara.” My hand tingled when his slipped away.

  He smiled. A dimple appeared in his chin, and just possibly, a little drool on mine.

  “Sure you could if you spray one on. Too much sun isn’t good for your complexion — a trait we share.” He laughed and my face heated. His fangs extended a wee bit.

  Something about fangs was in free fall in my brain, and with luck, would land eventually. I was pretty sure he didn’t plan to eat me — with the blood substitutes it just wasn’t done … So, why did he go all fangy?

  A Cosmo interview with a vampire rock star claimed most of his kind preferred human sex partners. He stated a sign of arousal in a vamp, is the extension of their fangs. But their fangs came out when they lust for blood as well.

  Okay, so is the boss man going to eat me after all? Or does he just think I’m cute? My heart missed a beat. While either idea should have been cause for concern, they were having the opposite effect.

  I had sworn off men, but he wasn’t exactly a man. The thought gave me pause, but I managed to summon my best smile. “Am I late?”

  “Nope, you’re right on time.”

  He crossed the floor, opened the office door and ushered me through. Closing the door behind us, he indicated a chair across from a massive desk. A Remington bronze rested on the leather top, a cowboy on a bucking horse. I smothered a grin as the words to Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy rambled through my head.

  Grandma had always said that devil music would rot my brain. Unsettling to think she might have been right about something. After I was seated, he eased himself into his own high backed leather chair.

  “For me?” He pointed to my fol
der.

  “Yes. Sorry. My resume.” I slid the file across the desk top. “I’ve included a letter of recommendation from my current employer.”

  He opened the packet and scanned each sheet. “You’ve had a number of jobs considering your age.”

  “I’m twenty-five.”

  “Really? As old as that?” He snorted. “You’re applying here, why? Dr. … Smith … says you’re an excellent employee, always on time, willing to stay late, work weekends, good with the clients. Why leave?”

  Good question.

  “It does seem the perfect job, except for the low pay and no health benefits.” I paused to collect my courage. “And there’s Willy.”

  “You have a child?” He began thumbing through my paperwork again.

  “No.” I produced a photo from the bowels of my purse, which I handed across the desk. “This is Willy.”

  “A dog?”

  “Yes sir. As you can see from the photo, he’s handicapped.” I took a breath and continued. “I got him that cart. It’s like a doggie wheel chair. He gets around fine.” His look of dismay didn’t change. “His bladder must be emptied every four hours — so he needs to come to work with me.”

  “Miss Bennett, I’m confused, so bear with me. You want to bring him to a tanning salon, but you can’t take him to a veterinary clinic?”

  He was confused? Welcome to my little club!

  “Yes I could, did … do! So many animals coming and going all day make him feel threatened and nervous. He’s snapped at some of the clients’ pets. If I stay there he’d have to be caged all day. He hates that.” I hoped he thought my story plausible because if he needed a better explanation, I didn’t have one. Willy snapping at anyone was hard to accept.

  “So you think this would be a better atmosphere for — Willy — ?” He cocked an eyebrow.

  “You need someone for the graveyard shift, right? Oh Shit! Sorry — ” His burst of laughter cut me short. I wasn’t sure what set him off, but he took several minutes to regain his composure. With a roll of his hand he motioned for me to continue.

  “He wouldn’t take up much room. I could take him out on my breaks and bring an extra dog bed to put somewhere out of the way … ”

  “Aren’t you jumping the gun a bit? You don’t know what the job entails and I haven’t decided if you’re the right person for the position,” Mr. Thornton said in his slow way.

  Either I was losing my hearing or his drawl seemed less pronounced. There was also the possibility I was too focused on his lips to pay attention to the words coming from between them.

  “There won’t be many humans here at that hour and some of my kind, require … special handling. Small things can set them off.” He paused. “Plus, dogs as a rule don’t care for us.”

  “Would I be working the shift alone?”

  “No, a vampire will be on duty as well.”

  “I don’t see the problem. I’ve been around the mentally ill before.”

  His icy glare made me instantly regret my choice of words. “Really?”

  “My Mother was a paranoid schizophrenic.” He didn’t ask for my family history. Why bring it up? “You’re referring to VLDD, right?”

  “I see you’re acquainted with the syndrome.” He searched my face before asking, “And how is your mother?”

  “Dead.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. We weren’t close.” Why did I tell him that?

  “Any other family?”

  “No,” I said louder than intended. His eyebrow raised a notch. Neither of us spoke. I blew it. Working for a vet should be the ideal place for Willy and me, and why mention my Mom was a basket case? What on earth is wrong with me these days?

  Waiting for the inevitable, I wondered if Mr. Thornton thought insanity ran in my family. I glanced around the office, but my eyes kept roaming back to the metallic, golden sun logo pulled tightly across his chest and the large well defined muscles in his neck and arms. My actions and reactions worried me.

  What the hell I was doing? When my best friend Dee made the suggestion, the idea made sense. I needed a job with more pay and better benefits. This one offered both — plus the Vampire factor. My interest in the undead bordered on obsession. I was the nut job who rooted for the monster at the movies. And, the boss man was yummy! But I swore off men, years ago.

  Glancing up, I found myself being studied intently by sparkling gold-flecked hazel eyes.

  The sudden raging of my hormones was unsettling. I gave myself a mental shake, stood, and offered my hand.

  “I’m sorry to have wasted your time Mr. Thornton.”

  He stared at me like I’d offered him a dead fish and stood so abruptly he almost overturned his chair. He took my offered appendage and held on. Tingles spread up my arm.

  “Don’t be so hasty, little lady,” he said, back in full cowboy persona. “Let me show you around and explain how things work.” He crossed the room and held open the door.

  “I get the job?”

  “You may not want it,” he cautioned, ushering me through.

  CHAPTER 2

  So began the tour, twenty-four tanning rooms in all. Half contained traditional tanning beds, half spray booths. One side of the hall was vampires only. The human side had restrooms at the end of the hall. Vamps don’t need them.

  Warning signs in the human rooms explained about skin cancer and management not being held responsible for any injury incurred during the tanning process. Humans must sign waivers when they bought a tanning package. Apparently the boss didn’t worry about a vamp suing.

  If vampire scientists hadn’t been working on treatments for the vampire version of seasonal light deficit disorder, VLDD, pronounced Vlad, the use of tanning beds would never have occurred to them. Apparently the tanning bulbs lacked something, some key element in the sun’s spectrum; the element that caused vampires to burn.

  In severe cases of the syndrome, vampires had been known to commit suicide by staying out after sunrise, thereby incinerating themselves. The tanning beds relieved their depression, which was great, but, vamps don’t tan because their skin cells regenerate far too rapidly. So back to square one, right? Wrong.

  The spray on tan for humans worked for vampires, too, but only until they rose the next night. Again … the regeneration thing. The guy who came up with the idea was raking in the dough, and I was staring at his ass as I followed him on our tour. Mr. Thornton’s jeans fit extremely well.

  If not for that tight ass, the tour would have been a yawn fest. As it was, I struggled to make eye contact. Why my long dormant libido had chosen this moment to reawaken was beyond me.

  Many precautionary signs dotted the walls and doors:

  BOTTLED REFRESHMENTS ARE AVAILABLE IN THE LOUNGE AREA;

  WE EXPECT OUR STAFF TO BE POLITE AND WILL TOLERATE NOTHING LESS FROM OUR PATRONS;

  And last, THIS BUILDING IS MONITORED BY SURVEILLANCE CAMERAS INSIDE AND OUT.

  The postings were necessary. Not everyone had been happy when a few brave vampires first made their presence known. Each country now maintained a vampire registry. The authorities kept close tabs on any “new” vampires. Many laws on the books and pending in the legislature dealt with vampires adding to their numbers. A couple of years ago, only five vamps registered in the state of Arkansas; now, a little over two thousand. Few of them newly made.

  Many top scientists, CEOs and a vast number of entrepreneurs belonged to the ranks of the undead. What could the government do when the top of the tax base announced they were vampires? I, and many others, believed the government had been aware of what they were for a long time. Any minority with enough money could find its way into the pockets of bureaucrats, making it very difficult to tell who sucked who dry.

  Most humans were quickly coming around. It’s hard to dislike the person who signs your paycheck or the EMT who jump-starts your heart. But vampires were still expected to toe the line.

  Mr. Thornton explained again and again
that although everything was automated, the time humans spent in the tanning beds must be closely monitored. Timers did occasionally malfunction and he wanted no mishaps. Each bed required sanitizing between clients with a disinfecting spray, again only on the human side.

  Vampires apparently, don’t catch cooties.

  “Goggles are mandatory for humans and vampires alike and must be worn the entire time they’re in a tanning room. Even though these beds can’t burn us, our eyes are incredibly sensitive. Without goggles they might suffer irreparable harm. Do you understand?”

  “Sure, it’s the same with us; like looking at the sun with our eyes dilated.”

  “Correct. I don’t wish to frighten you unduly. I’m sure most of our clients will be law-abiding citizens, but as with humans, our personalities vary. At no time is a human patron allowed in the tanning rooms with a vampire. Also, you will want to be aware of your dog’s whereabouts at all times.”

  “Why would anyone hurt Willy when you have a Razorback Red vending machine in the lobby?” I referred to Arkansas’s own brand of vampire beverage, best served at a warm one-hundred-one-point-five, porcine temperature. “Willy is a very good judge of character. Besides, antelopes and lions drink at the same watering hole — not a problem unless the lion is hungry. Maybe you need one more sign? PLEASE EAT BEFORE YOUR VISIT.”

  He laughed. “You do seem determined. Why don’t we try a test period? Don’t turn in your notice just yet.”

  He didn’t appear to be covered up with applicants. It took a brave individual to work the ‘graveyard shift’ anywhere, but even more so when the clientele supposedly came from the grave. Although they did rest during the day, a coffin wasn’t a prerequisite, just somewhere out of the sun.

  We returned to the office and filled out the usual paperwork which he would hold until my position became permanent. The uniform policy would be a little lax for the same reason. The logo tee, shorts in black or tan as opposed to gold lamé, and thank God, comfortable shoes. The grand opening was scheduled for Friday, two nights from now. Nothing like jumping in headfirst!

  “Now, about some color, you mustn’t be paler than the patrons. It wouldn’t be good for business. I suggest the spray process. We wouldn’t want to ruin your lovely skin.” He held the office door open and waited for me to proceed.