Blind Date Rivals. Nina Harrington

brought me this time!’

      Sara moved her foot and glanced down at the floor.

      And stopped breathing.

      It was a button. A large black button with a silver scroll on it. The sort of button that might be used on a coat. Or a black evening cloak. The kind of cloak a vampire count might wrap around a girl’s shoulders late in the evening. For example.

      Eloise Sara Jane Marchant Fenchurch de Lambert had many doubts in life, but one thing was certain.

      That button had not come from any garment she owned.

      Suddenly she felt dizzy and collapsed back on her bed, trying to ignore Pasha, who was headbutting her legs.

      Breathe deeply. That was the secret. Inhale, and then exhale slowly. Slowly.

      She clasped both hands to the top of her head.

      Think. Think. Last night. What was the last thing she could remember from last night? Her eyes clenched shut.

      The party. Dracula. Sharing her buffet dinner … with Dracula. Escaping onto the terrace and walking around the garden and talking and dancing … with Dracula. Then Dracula turned into Caspar’s friend Leo instead of a bat and offered to walk her home. Then? Nothing specific. Her cottage. He opened the front door for her. Lights.

      Her eyes opened just in time to see Pasha playing with the button between his paws.

      Of course! She had been wearing his heavy cloak on their short walk from the hotel, but she had slipped it off as soon as she was inside and handed it back. The button must have come loose and Pasha had brought it in.

      A great whoosh of relief came out of Sara’s mouth and her shoulders dropped six inches.

      Sara reached forward and snatched the button away from her cat before it was completely clawed to pieces.

      ‘Sorry, Pasha. I need to give this back to Caspar so he can return it to his vampire friend.’

      Shaking her head, Sara pushed herself off the bed and across the corridor to her plain white-tiled bathroom. This was going to be a two coffee morning if she had any chance at all of impressing the Events Manager at the hotel. It had not been easy to arrange a meeting on a weekend, but this was her one chance to convince him that Kingsmede Manor should choose Cottage Orchids for all their flower displays.

      Of course she had made light of her business plans in front of Helen—her friend was getting married in a few weeks and she didn’t want to worry her with finances, but a regular contract with the hotel would make a difference to her investment plans. She had so many exciting ideas for the next twelve months! It would be wonderful if she could transform at least some of them into reality.

       No pressure then. Oh, no.

      The Venetian glass mirror with its silver surround had been her grandmother’s—and one of the few precious things her mother had allowed her to bring from the old house, only because the hotel did not want it. There was a chip in the frame where the mirror had once fallen off the wall when the plaster had got too wet to take the weight, but Sara didn’t mind.

      She brushed her hair out and peered at the glass. Not too bad considering she had slept in her make-up. The red lipstick was gone, probably onto the pillowcase. Time to hit the shower; she needed to be sharp this morning and it was already … Oh, what time was it?