"No, wiseguy, I'm just smart. I know a no-win situation when I see one. There's no way to win against a vampire prince, a playboy who has probably known enough women to fill Madison Square Garden. Besides, you can't have everything your heart desires."
"Who says?"
"Me."
"I see."
Revamping her strategy, Sam changed the subject. "You have an excellent command of the English language," she remarked sincerely.
He brushed the compliment aside. "I have traveled a great deal, and spent time in both England and America."
"While the Iron Curtain was up? How did you manage to leave Russia during that time period?" Sam asked curiously.
"With a great deal of caution."
Sam began to relax. She took a sip of wine, savoring both the tart berry flavor and the Prince's arresting gray eyes. "And now the Iron Curtain is gone, and you've moved here. Do you miss your homeland?"
"At times. But I travel back and forth. I like America for its uniqueness, and for the ingenuity of its people. A very independent people. This country is also large and very beautiful. But I do find some of the customs strange."
"Such as?" Sam was genuinely curious. She also loved hearing him speak, his slight accent giving the words a sexy spice.
"Sometimes I am watching television and I see people wearing cheese on their heads."
"Football games in the great northern states," Sam acknowledged, grinning. Cheeseheads did look kind of funny.
"And New York. I like to walk around in New York and study people. Sometimes I see certain persons running around with bags and picking up their dogs' waste. Odd custom, that. Where are they planning to take it? I even saw a mugger accost one such woman, and he stole the bag!"
Sam snorted. "I bet he got the surprise of his life when he opened it. I wonder if he was caught. I'd love to see the judge's face when that came to court."
Petroff shared her smile a moment. "I also find American business odd."
"How?"
"I didn't invite you to this castle to do business, and yet here you are. I didn't invite you to remove my ghosts, but that's your plan. You do know I could have you arrested for trespassing. Were you even worried about that? Are you so reckless in your actions, or are you relying on your pretty face to save you?"
Sam gulped. "I look terrible in stripes, so jail time just wouldn't do. But you wouldn't send me there, anyway. In spite of your reputation, you really are a gentleman. I can tell. And my plan wasn't reckless, it was just good business sense. You have a bunch of ghosts you don't want, and I'm a Paranormalbuster!"
Damn, why had Prince Pete had to bring up her sneak attack now? The night had been going so well. She'd hoped to have him eating out of her hand by dessert—well, not literally, but at least to have stirred his interest enough to discuss his other homes and whether he had uninvited intruders at them.
"Why would you think I wouldn't have you arrested for trespassing?" he asked crisply, clearly surprised.
Sam shrugged. "You're too smart to get rid of one who'll provide a service free of charge. You've heard of my reputation, and you know I'm the best in the business," Sam returned confidently.
Her logic annoyed him, though it was correct. Prince Varinski did employ only the best, and he did prefer freebies. "Still, what you've done has given you an unfair advantage over the competition."
Tough taffy, she thought. What the competition had done to her had been unjust, unfair and unethical. Too bad she couldn't directly bad-mouth Monsters-R-Us. But clients rarely liked to hear the dirt on one business dished out by their competition—or rarely trusted it.
"Monsters-R-Us has been very busy lately," she hedged. Retaliating against the Strakhovs' own sabotage had been taking the Russian bull by the horns, but she drew the line at publicly calling them cheats or corporate crooks when it hadn't been proven, even if the shoe of sabotage fit; her father had taught her better business ethics than that.
"And you aren't?"
"You've just offended me. Triple-P Inc. has a lot of business. I just happen to be sharp enough to want yours too, to know how important it is, even though I'm swamped. Fortunately for you, I happened to have a short break, so I decided the best way to advertise was to show up in person and offer my services."
His eyes danced with amusement. "Well, I am most willing to enjoy your expertise. I would bet a kingdom that you're… great."
Trying to backtrack, to protect herself, she added hastily, "I believe the client's got a right to know what he's getting."
Petroff did a slow scan of her body, sending heat flooding through her, and nodded. "Right now I can only imagine," he replied.
Flustered, Sam blushed. "Well, I am an expert after all. The consummate professional—always ready and willing." Seeing the hunger leap in his eyes, she wanted to curse herself for her awkwardness and stupidity. "I mean, ready and willing to trap ghosts and move them or lay them to rest."
She reached for her glass of water and quickly swallowed a sip. Jeez, it was hot in here. How much could a girl stand of one vampire hunk and his blatant sexual magnetism? She was only human, and he wasn't. That was the problem!
"Laid to rest. I'd love to see that…" He trailed off suggestively. "Perhaps we can compare notes," he suggested, enjoying her embarrassment. "I would love to chat all about laying—or perhaps we could stage a demonstration," he added wickedly, watching her blush deepen from pink to red. How he enjoyed sparring with her! Just as he would enjoy making love with her. He reached for a glass of water and took a long, cool drink, wondering when the room had gotten so impossibly hot.
"Um, I don't think so. Laying a ghost"—she stressed the word—"is a personal job, between the apparition and the… layer."
"Such a shame. And I'd so wanted to learn."
Suddenly, Sam laughed. She was horny, the Prince was horny—but they were both going to bed alone. "Sorry, Pete, but I'm not buying what you're trying to sell. But if you ever get kicked out of the royalty business you should try selling ocean-front property in Oklahoma. You'd make a fortune."
"I'll keep that in mind," he replied, almost choking. Sam was a character. He forced himself to act normal. "And you? What would happen if you had to change jobs?"
She shook her head. "Not happening," she stated firmly.
"I've heard that Monsters-R-Us is fast becoming the number-one supernatural hunting and relocation company in America, and they're Russian-born. I must say, I feel bad not using them."
"Ha! That's a lie. Er, not that you feel bad, and not that they're Russian, but that they're number one. Puh-lease! They haven't been in the country long enough," she argued, her eyes narrowed in irritation. "Besides, I heard they lost a bunch of trolls on their last expedition. And trolls are fairly easy to capture if you handle them right and dodge all foreign flying objects." Nobody was going to compliment those shady sinister Stakhovs in her presence and live. Though, the Prince was already dead… "Besides, I could tell you a thing or two about them. But I won't, being the fair-minded person that I am."
"Go ahead," the Prince urged coldly.
"Let me just say that the Strakhov brothers' business ethics make me look like Snow White."
From his comment, Sam knew the Prince still wanted to show loyalty to the Russian rat brothers.
For a vampire as meticulous and renowned for good taste, he obviously needed to learn a thing or two about who should deghost his domiciles.
"Why, what have they done?" he pressed.
"Skip it. It's water under the bridge—and not trolls. Besides, I promised to do this ghost removal for free, so why should you care who rids your castle of ghosts? As long as it's not costing you the big bucks—"