It felt as if someone had uncorked sunlight straight from the pretty blonde bottle in front of him.

Her cheerful apron, edged with a sassy red bow, framed her nicely rounded backside as she bent over the oven before him, eyeing the timer, and checking out her sizzling goods. That made two of them.

Her golden flesh, baked from the sun's rays, seemed like a very personal gift, wrapped just for him in the cloying scent of untouched freedom. The flirty skirt that teased up her smooth thighs begged his fingers to run a possessive hand over all of her warm, toasted skin, from the toe of her spiked heel to the delicate strap at the shoulder of her frothy little dress.

Yes, Eric definitely wanted to pull the strings of desire that would open his unexpected present.

Slowly.

Instinctively, he growled his needy response to her feminine wiles; the pungent surge of fear that suddenly laced the air between them smelled like the sweetest of honey and, unexpectedly, pleased him.

Mightily.

Startled by the hungry noise, the blonde instantly twirled her generous curves around in his direction to face his intrusion head on. His body thrummed with aching want as the sun-kissed beauty only got better. Her pert breasts impudently huffed along with the rest of her indignant form as Miss Stackhouse haughtily demanded, "May I help you?"

Definitely.

A soft chuckle rose from deep within, spurred by all the wickedly prurient ways that he could answer the innocent little temptress's question. Naughtily, he let innuendo linger unspoken between them for an indecent second as his carnivorous gaze raked across every primped and polished morsel of her delectable figure. The seemingly innocuous summer frock had her looking more like a luscious vanilla cupcake, sprinkled with a bloody topping, and smelling like she'd been dipped in a vat of glistening daylight.

Meant for pure vampire pleasure; she was simply exquisite.

Suddenly, he wanted to bury himself fang deep into every tasty morsel of her succulent flesh without much care as to why he'd come to her business in the first place. The Sheriff could always inform the enchantress of her new arrangement later, after he'd fucked her into glorious submission.

Icy fire blazed unchecked in his blue depths as they met her frightened gaze, the strong brown color seemed like an impenetrable wall to his want. The intensity of his hungry stare increased, powerful desire emanated from him as the allure of glamour stretched from his mind to hers with his body's silent demands.

Anticipation rippled across his sinuous form, it awakened the feral appetite of the snarling beast within. Soon Little Miss Sunshine would be under his spell, under him, begging him for mercy, and screaming out in soul destroying ecstasy for her new owner.

###

Lordy, that man was sin on a decadent stick.

He might be a stranger, a dangerously fanged one at that, but her body had a sudden hankering to know that blonde tower of sexual promise on a much more personal level and that was more unsettling than his unexpected presence.

Sookie hadn't heard the vampire enter her store or felt the calming void of his mind as she'd been working in comfortable silence. His predatory gaze, eyes that appraised and consumed her every move, had her at a distinct disadvantage. For a moment, the unknown customer had looked down upon her with a commanding expectation that had her itching to go to him, to run her fingers along his muscled planes, to slip her tongue past those plush lips, to dip even lower and taste all of him but, just as suddenly as the compelling urge brushed against her mind, she ruthlessly clamped down on her own foolishness.

Denying the sudden attraction that hummed under her skin, ignoring the hard blonde length of perfectly sculpted muscle that stood in her service area, she shook herself to focus on the task at hand. Nervously, Sookie fell back on the pretense of good manners as she reiterated, "Is there something I can help you with tonight?"

A forced, almost congenial smile became a protective mask as she pointed toward the display counter; her samples of blood infused cordials were perfectly arranged, and questioned, "Is there something that you wanted to try?"

Fractionally, his blue eyes narrowed, assessed, scorched like a laser seeking its target. She felt singed to the marrow of her bones before he seemed to mentally shrug off his voiceless inquiry. For a moment, she felt contented relief at the absence of such intense scrutiny but, then, her prowler began to move.

Mercy.

The man sure knew how to put his body in motion. How to make his manly swagger look like the most erotically graceful ballet erected and, somehow, to equally make his performance seem like a solo act only meant for her benefit. The notion was crazy but her thumping heart was already demanding an encore.

Reluctant humor burned through his sardonic tone, melting the words into her skin as if he was branding her with his lips as he mouthed, "Aren't you sweet?"

Instinctively, she rejected his claim, whether real or imagined, "Not really."

Her feisty dissent seemed to spark even more curiosity from the mysterious vampire as a half smirk lit up his coldly elegant features. Suddenly, his response seemed to calm the jagged undercurrent of fear that had crashed into her system once she'd noticed his presence earlier. No doubt, this man was certainly hard, potentially lethal, and probably a killer but there was also something undeniably reassuring about his eternal existence as well. Sookie had no doubt, if this guy had intended her real harm, her veins would already have been splayed wide open, fangs tearing flesh, blood pouring from her body like a crimson waterfall.

Surprisingly, the older vampire seemed content to simply observe her for now.

Or, was that toy with her?

Either way, she needed to bring things back to a more professional level where she was more at ease. The sharp jangle of the front door's overhead bells signaled the arrival of another patron who'd certainly let her do just that regardless of the unnamed vampire's desires.

###

Her space dripped Southern home and hearth.

It was fresh, clean, and oh so tempting with the scent of lemons polishing every surface. The artfully arranged goodies looked like they belonged on display at the local church social with their brightly colored ribbons tucked along the edge of the pristine cake stands. Crimson bands threaded in and out of the various sized dessert trays had hand printed tags attached that gave a tantalizing description of each item drizzled with just the cheekiest undertones.

Red Velvet Insanity.

Peachy-Scream Fondue.

Death By Tartlets.

Surprisingly, the down home country miss had found a profitable niche that pandered to the need for humans to feel comfortable, normal even, when hosting vampires in social situations. And, equally hard to accomplish, she'd managed to stimulate the tired palate of bloodsuckers who'd been in a rut for decades if not centuries.

Even more appealing, the classic red appliances and white subway tile back splash would lend a coziness and sense of the familiar to both human and vampire patrons. One group would be put at ease by the décor and the other attracted by the color scheme. Plus, the whole placed felt like you'd just been invited into her personal kitchen for a little chat the minute you walked in the door.

She was selling the illusion of normality and intimacy all in one.

Intrigued, he listened to Miss Stackhouse, Sookie, as she'd pish-poshed the Mayor's wife into using her given name like they were childhood friends gossiping about her business. By the carefree banter going back and forth between the two women, you'd have thought they'd grown up braiding each other's hair on lazy summer afternoons with all of the confidences that the blonde chalice of perfection offered the other female.

"No, mam," Sookie swore again in all earnestness. "My first few attempts at 'bloody good bites' were nothing more than the result of over-achieving Southern manners, learned from my Gran, and, really, things just grew from there."

"Well," the chicly dressed politician's wife conspiratorially offered, "I'm so glad that you finally opened a shop here in Shreveport so that I can pop in when I need something on the spur of the moment instead of always having to think ahead and place an order."

As the older woman grabbed her purse and her smart little bag of blood based vampire delicacies, the Mayor's wife confirmed, "You did get our final count for the party at the end of the month didn't you dear."

"Oh, yes, mam," Sookie sweetly assured her prestigious human customer with a natural ease that just added to the woman's genuine allure and intrinsic value. She was certainly bartering her innate charm right along with her rare culinary delights.

Unfortunately for the bloody little baker, he wasn't buying or trading tonight. However, as Sheriff, he would certainly be leaving with what now belonged to him. That was a given.

###

The bells over the front door hadn't even stopped clamoring when she furiously demanded, "What do you think you are doing?"

"I'm inspecting your wares," the stranger's cocky tone pounded along her skin with an unmistakable double entendre. There was no doubt that his heated gaze sizzled along each of her curves like he was cataloguing their contours for a topographical map.

Sookie had had more than enough of his smarmy attitude when Mr. Tall, Blonde, and Obnoxious had chuckled at her obvious discomfort. Her eyes glowed with ire at his unprecedented gall. This was just ridiculous.

She was about to light into him with all the adept skill of a highly affronted Southern lady when her newly acquired nemesis knowingly looked at the container held by his large fingers and smirked, "Bloody Good Syrup for a sticky, sweet, full-bodied experience."

Instantly, she blushed in retreat, unable to go on the offensive. Thoroughly embarrassed, she pulled the crimson filled bottle from his cool hands and restocked it on the shelf. She couldn't meet his certain leer as she reluctantly explained, "It was intended as a topping for the sorbet assortments I offer but it," she paused. "It seems to have found other uses."

Not wanting to be near this maddening stranger anymore, she stomped around the display counter toward her ovens. Soon, her liver slices, baked to be a crunchy foundation of perfection for one of her most popular appetizers would be done. Hopefully, she could just ignore the man who didn't seem to be in a rush to purchase anything but still seemed intent on browsing anyway.

Of course, his high and mighty attitude just wouldn't let her forget about his domineering presence when he followed closely behind her. Too close, actually.

"Your patrons find it a sensual treat in its own right," he huskily rejoined. The chill of his front hovering at her back made her feel like she was about to wear a cold, heavy sheet of icy muscle if she happened to stop short. His understanding of the product's rather creative uses readily apparent as the deadly lothario growled, "Do you?"

Angry, she flipped around to confront him, forgetting how close they were, and bristled, "You're not going to distract me by talking nasty."

Big.

Huge.

Mistake.

Quickly, he swept forward pinning her to the range. The corded muscles of his thighs pressed intimately between the folds of her skirt, spreading her, pushing her further against the heated stove, crowding out any thought of escape as he leaned down to whisper, "I already have."

Gulp.

How the hell was she going to portray that he wasn't thoroughly correct now?

Luckily, she didn't have to feign ignorance; she was saved by the literal bell. The timer indicating that her latest batch of liver toasts was cooked to perfection buzzed incessantly, breaking up the sexual tension that had wrapped around them, gripped them, and had her wondering which was more dangerous to her sense of self-preservation- the sharp bite of his fangs or the hard edge of his sexual banter.

Good, gracious, now she had no doubt that that man was packing something plentiful in his jeans.