“Here.” The man eagerly thrust out his hand. I hit his palm with my fist. “Put your thing back on and get out of here.” I ignored his pathetic squeal of happiness. When I heard his zipper go down, I turned away. Rapid footsteps announced his departure. I felt Richard at my back again. “Eight hundred dollars. Shall we call it even?”
I turned and looked at him. “My debt to you?” Gee, he was awfully eager to be rid of our connection. Oh, hell. The gleam in his eyes meant he was doing the mind reading bit even though I’d told him more than once that I hated it. “If that will satisfy you, I’m all for it.” I was pretty sure the Harley bill had been more than that.
“Satisfy me? Not a chance.” Richard counted out four bills and stuck them in my jeans’ pocket, his fingers sliding down to rest warm against my tummy. “I want more . . . lessons.”
Damned tight jeans. If his fingers got stuck in there . . . I sucked in my gut and pulled out his hand. “Fine. I can use the cash and I certainly know how it feels to be technologically challenged.”
“You pity me.” He held onto my fingers, then lifted them to his lips. “Charming.”
I sometimes forgot that Richard and I have the same British roots. His accent was slight, but definitely told of his being more upper crust than I’d ever hoped to be. He’d got the American accent down pretty well, but he ’d never completely blend in wherever he went. Not with his almost platinum hair and startling blue eyes. He ’d been turned vampire when he’d been deeply tanned, maybe after one of his crusades. Vamp magic kept him that way and the combination was impossibly yummy. At least I’d remembered to block his mind reading this time. I smiled up at him, not exactly hating the feel of his warm lips on my hand.
“I see you’ve moved on, Richard.”
Oh, crap. Flo stood in the doorway to the shop. She looked brittle, the twist to her lips as close to ugly as my gorgeous roomie would ever get. I jerked my fingers out of his hand.
“Flo, Richard was helping me with a creep sent by Westwood. ”
Flo laughed and looked around. “The creep has crept away, I guess. Glory, your cell phone has been ringing. You might want to check your voice mail.” She nodded, like— See? I didn’t just come out here to spy on my ex-lover and my roomie.
“Flo, I—”
“Carry on, cara. I couldn’t care less what you do with Richard. But why you would be interested in this one when you have Blade . . .” A Gaelic shrug. “Whatever.” She turned on her four-inch heels and went back inside. The door slammed behind her.
“That was harsh.” I turned to Richard, but he was smiling, apparently not disturbed at all.
“Whatever.” He winked and strolled away, the picture of unconcerned male.
Great. I got to go in to a simmering roomie and a voice mail that might be from Westwood again. I ’d had two since our phone chat. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear Westwood was hot for me. Now there was something useful. I could play along, seduce him back into coming home for a little sack action, then bam!—bye, bye billionaire. I’d love to see Westwood on his knees begging for his dick or his life or whatever.
I opened the back door and met Valdez’s glare. I’d been outside alone for exactly fifteen seconds. The lecture lasted ten times longer than that.
Ten
"I’m going alone and that’s all there is to it.”
“Blade will kill us if we let you do it.”
“Blade will just have to get over it.” I stopped brushing my hair and looked at Valdez. “Or he doesn’t even have to know about it.”
“He’ll know.” Will had been watching me get ready with interest.
When I’d emerged from my bedroom dressed to kill in a leather mini and red bustier, both dogs had perked up. Because they thought we were all going out. Not.
“I can keep my lips zipped, but the doodle dog won’t. He’s too whipped.” Will gave Valdez a look. Valdez growled, his ears flat. “I’ll show you whipped.”
“Cool it, Valdez. I have a date. A date. Can you grasp the concept? It does not include taking along my pets, no matter how cute. Or protective. Or insane.”
Valdez snorted. “What do we really know about this fireman? He could be on Westwood’s payroll. When he gets you alone—”
“Steve is an arson investigator and a mortal. I can read his mind. He doesn’t wear those special glasses and he’s not working for Westwood.” He’d come by the shop one night while I’d been putting the finishing touches on pricing my new inventory. The dogs had behaved, barely. Flo had scoped him out, then dismissed him. It didn’t take mind reading to know she thought mortals were too ordinary for her attention.
But I’d read Steve’s mind and liked what I saw. He thought I was hot and he admired the way I was putting my business back together. Worked for me. I kind of looked forward to an uncomplicated date. One where I didn’t have to block my thoughts. Or take along a pooper scooper.
“We’ll be fine. We’re going to a club on Sixth Street, just a few blocks from here. There will be other people around.” And we were going dancing. My toes tingled just thinking about it. Yeah, I did miss Blade, but he ’d never been much for dancing and I absolutely love it. Steve said he was into the country western thing, part of the Texas experience I ’d been determined to enjoy when I’d moved to Austin.
The buzzer sounded. He was here. I tied a red scarf around my neck, then hit the button.
“Steve?”
“Right. Should I come up?”
“No.” I glanced at the dogs. “I’m ready. I’ll be right down.”
“I’m going on record. This is a bad idea.” Valdez nosed my black leather purse. “Take your cell, call Mainwaring if you get in a bind. You got him on speed dial?”
“Call Richard? Why not Blade? He could fly in from Africa to hold my hand. ” I did have Richard on speed dial. Because we’d been having those computer lessons and needed to set them up. “I can handle myself, Valdez. I know you and Blade don’t think so, but get over it.” I patted Will on the head. “Thanks for not nagging me.”
“No problem. A night off. Why would I object?” He looked at Valdez. “Let the doodle here obsess. I’m taking a nap.”
“I’m keeping track of this shit, Kilpatrick. Don’t be surprised if Blade docks your pay.”
I wasn’t about to stay and listen to the dogs yammer at each other. I grabbed my purse and shawl and headed down the stairs. Steve waited at the outside door. He was dressed in jeans and a Western shirt that showed off his lean build. The black cowboy hat looked well worn, like he might actually be a cowboy. Very cute.
“Ready?” Steve grinned when he saw me. “You look great.” He eyed my high-heeled boots. “You sure you can dance in those?”
I took his arm. “Hey, I danced in Vegas in heels higher than this. Now let’s go.”
We walked down the street toward the busier, rowdier section of Sixth Street where the clubs were doing a booming business. Saturday night. I was reopening my shop on Tuesday and things had come together pretty well. I’d decided I deserved a night off and had jumped at the chance when Steve suggested it. Steve asked me about my gig in Vegas and I trotted out some of my better stories. By the time we got to the club, we were both laughing.
“What can I get you to drink?”
There it was, the awkward moment when I had to either claim to be AA or offer to be the designated driver or something. Instead, I smiled and let him order a rum and coke for me. Why not? I didn’t have to drink it and I was tired of being different. You know?
Before the drinks even arrived, we were on the dance floor. Steve was a great dancer, slow or fast. We did the Cotton -Eyed Joe, the swing, then two-stepped the perimeter of the dance floor, my fingers in Steve’s belt loops, his hands warm on my shoulder and waist. The night flew by. I didn’t feel a single negative vibe and I wasn’t so oblivious that I didn’t scan the place a time or two or three looking for thuggish men in tinted glasses. Maybe Westwood hadn’t had time to replace Mitch. I didn’t care. I was having fun.
I laughed off Steve’s concern that the ice had melted in my drink and let him order me a second one. That one I eventually managed to exchange for an empty on another table when Steve hit the men’s room. By the time the band played its last set, I felt really comfortable with Steve. Comfortable. Unfortunately, even during slow dances, with his strong arms wrapped around me, there was simply no chemistry. Not on my part, anyway.
Steve rubbed my back and nuzzled my neck when the lights were dim, but I felt nada. Well, not exactly nada. Fresh blood pulsed through Steve’s veins. Hot AB negative! Smelling so utterly delicious that I had to fight to keep my fangs in.
“Time to go home.” I smiled and picked up my purse. I’d turned off my cell phone as soon as I’d left the apartment. No way was my complicated life going to intrude on this evening.
“How about breakfast? We can hit an IHOP or Denny’s. My car’s parked not far from here.”
I stepped into the cool night air and wrapped the black shawl I’d brought around my shoulders.
“I’d love to, but I’m pretty tired. Maybe another night.”
Steve grinned and grabbed my hand. “That’s what I like to hear. Another night.” He leaned down and kissed me. Just a sweet, getting to know you kiss. It wasn’t bad. Or great. I pulled him toward my end of the street. We had about six long blocks to walk. Nothing for a vamp, but a vamp in high heeled boots . . . ? I was leaning on Steve by block three. Unfortunately he took it as encouragement.
“Come here.” He pulled me into a dark parking lot between two cars and pushed me against a black Lexus. Yeah, I wasn ’t really into the moment if I was noticing the make of car behind me, was I? He kissed me, a deeper kiss that involved tongues and hands roaming a little too freely. I couldn’t blame the guy. I’d been sending signals all night that I enjoyed his company. Too bad it was his dancing that turned me on. And his sure to be tasty blood.