Dead End Dating (14 page)

My stomach hollowed out, and I smiled. “You look great.”

A sheepish expression crept over his face as he glanced down. “You really think so?”

“Yes, but it’s not about what I think. It’s about what you think. No suit in the world can make you look good if you don’t believe it in your gut. You believe it, don’t you?”

He glanced down again and flexed his arms to test the fit. “I guess I do look sort of nice.”

“Puppies are
nice,
Frank.” I stepped back and swept my gaze from his head to the tips of his toes—okay, so we definitely needed to add a pedicure to our To Buy list, along with some expensive Italian leather loafers and trendy socks. “You, on the other hand, are
hot.
Definitely Matt Damon with a hint of Brad Pitt.”

“What about Bob Barker?”

“Excuse me?”

“The guy on
The Price Is Right.
He’s my favorite television personality.”

“He’s old.”

“He hasn’t always been old. He was something back in his day. I’ve watched him for years. Really snazzy dresser. He’s my idol.”

That explained a lot. “Listen, whatever floats your boat. If you want to look like Bob, that’s your choice. But women tend to find younger, more trendy men attractive, so I wouldn’t mention anything about him being your idol when you’re talking with prospective mates.”

“What about the show itself? I never miss it. Not once in the past twenty-five years. Can’t I at least talk about that?”

“No.”

“Then what am I supposed to talk about?”

“We’ll build you up as the strong, silent type so you don’t have to do much talking at all. You’ll seduce them with your eyes and wow them with your moves.”

“Moves? I don’t have any moves.”

I smiled. “Lil to the rescue.”

T
y wasn’t just a mega-hot made vampire, he was also early.

Two things clued me in on this all-important fact when I walked into Dead End Dating at six-thirty on Tuesday evening (by the way, a huge high five to the genius who came up with Daylight Savings Time).

One—Evie was sitting at her desk, a dreamy smile on her face and a tiny rivulet of drool coming from the corner of her mouth. Okay, okay, she wasn’t actually drooling, but she was close. Two—and this was the biggie—I could
feel
him.

My skin prickled as I set Evie’s extra-large mocha latte on the corner of her desk. My thighs trembled. My knees felt suddenly weak. My nipples went on high alert. And my…Ugh, we are
so
not going there.

Made. Born. Big no-no.

I knew that, but knowing and remembering were two very different things when I walked into my office. He was sprawled in the chrome chair in front of my desk, his back to me.

“You’re really early.”

“I’m staying nearby.”

“So I guess the myth isn’t true.”

“What myth is that?” He pushed to his feet and turned. His blue eyes caught and held mine, and I actually forgot to breathe. Not that I need to breathe, mind you. But after five hundred years, it’s become sort of a habit. So forgetting it
just like that
is a big friggin’ deal.

Made. Born.
Humongous
no-no.

“What’s the myth?”

“What?”

“You said something about a myth.”

“I did? Oh, yeah. I did.”

“Which was?”

“That made vampires can’t get it into gear as fast as born vamps.”

“It’s true for some. But it really depends on the made vampire. I don’t have trouble turning anything on.”

It figured.

“You said you needed to talk. So talk.” He eyed me as I walked around the desk and sank to the edge of my chair. Only when my ass had actually touched the seat did he sink back down into his own. “What’s up?”

“Well.” I set my purse in the bottom drawer, folded my hands in front of me, and eyed him. “So how’s the city treating you? Are you getting around okay?”

“I’ve been to New York before. Several times, as a matter of fact.”

“You’re not having any trouble finding anything? Landmarks, police stations, shopping. You’ve got it all covered.”

He gave me an odd look. “Yes.”

“Then you don’t really need any assistance.”

“Are you volunteering your services?”

I smiled. “Actually, I am.”

“So the myth isn’t true.”

“What myth?”

“That born vamps are incredible snobs who only hang out with their own kind.” He grinned. “You want to hang out with me. Show me around. Assist me.”

“With a date,” I blurted. Not that I didn’t want to
assist
him with a heck of a lot more, but I didn’t want him to know that.

“When’s the last time you actually went on a date?” I rushed on, eager to keep my lips busy forming words. Otherwise, they might be tempted to act on their own.

“Excuse me?”

“A date. You know—two people sharing the same space while participating in some sort of activity together. A date.”

“I know what it is. What I don’t know is what it has to do with my case.”

“Nothing.”

“Then why did you drag me here?”

“You should really consider softening up a bit. Maybe being more open to new experiences. See, I have this client—a made vampire—who would be perfect for you—”

“You asked me here to fix me up?”

“I figured you weren’t getting much action on your own—not with that attitude—and since things on the New York kidnapping scene have been pretty quiet, I thought you might have some time to kill.”

“Now I know why we keep our distance.”

“Excuse me?”

“From you born vampires. You’re not just a group of elitist snobs, you’re also a crazy-ass bunch.”

I thought of my own family. I wasn’t about to argue the crazy-ass part. “For your information,
we
keep our distance from
you.
”

“Sweetheart, if you were so distant, there wouldn’t be an
us.
How do you think made vampires came into being in the first place?”

“A few rotten apples in the bunch.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“No, I meant we had a few rotten apples in our bunch and that’s how you came into being.” He kept staring at me and my lips kept twitching, and so I rushed on to keep them busy. “I wasn’t implying that I’m a rotten apple. I mean, based on your comment, it sounded like you thought I was saying I was a rotten apple and you—”

“I already knew that.” He grinned, the expression slow and easy and dangerous to my peace of mind. “Rotten apples don’t smell like cotton candy.”

The words washed over me, dusting over my skin and stirring it as if he were actually touching me.

But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

Made. Born.
Gargantuan
no-no—

To hell with it.

“How do you know what I smell like?” I asked him.

“Because I can smell you. Crazy, huh?”

Damn straight. Made vampires couldn’t smell born vampires. The “scent” was strictly a mating thing, and he was a different breed entirely.

His gaze drilled into me and his nostrils flared, and I could practically feel him breathe me in. “Warm. Fluffy. Sweet.” He seemed both surprised and pleased at the observation, and I had the sudden urge to lunge across the desk and feel his lips move against my own.

But then he shook his head and the look dissolved into his usual come-on-and-make-my-day expression. He pushed to his feet.

“If you come across any
real
information, call me.”

“She’s really nice,” I blurted as he started for the door.
Nice?
What was I saying? “Her orgasm quotient is out of this world.” He gave me an odd look, and I realized that (a) made vampires couldn’t procreate which meant (b) orgasm quotients meant doo-doo. “She’s really cold-blooded and bloodthirsty.” Way to go, Lil. Much better.

What can I say? I was frantic. Scrambling for words. Nervous.
Me.

Because of Ty Bonner.

Not.

Because of Esther, I reminded myself. I really wanted to find her someone, and Ty was my only hope at the moment. It only made sense that I would start grasping at straws and act like a complete idiot when watching my only viable prospect walk out the door.

“Wait—” I moved so fast that I grasped his arm be fore he could reach for the doorknob. “It has to get really lonely living out of a suitcase.”

“I like living out of a suitcase. I like being alone.” His hand closed over mine. “I don’t like someone meddling in my life.”

“I wouldn’t call it meddling.”

“What would you call it then?”

“Business. My business. I’m a matchmaker.”

“You’re a vampire,” he pointed out.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Please, a voice whispered, my gaze fixed on the tiny scar.

“You’re nuts.” He grinned. “Cute, but still nuts.”

“I already knew that,” I called after him. “The cute part, I mean.”
Cute?

Kittens were cute. Baseball sleep jerseys with matching socks were cute. I, on the other hand, was a red hot, sexually potent, fashionably vibrant
vampere.

I smiled.

Okay, so it wasn’t the description I was used to, but it was…nice. Sort of.

“Your mother’s on line one,” Evie’s voice came over the intercom.

My smile faded.

I considered several options as I walked back to my desk. I could just not pick it up and leave her on hold until she gave up and hung up. Or I could pick it up and hang it back up again and swear the phone line went dead. Or I could just stab myself with the letter opener and put an end to the lame excuses. Or I could act like a grown-up and tell her exactly how I felt—namely that I liked my life and I didn’t need an eternity mate (at least not one she picked out) and she should just butt out.

I drew a deep breath, sank down into my seat, plastered on my brightest expression (just in case there was something to the whole Big Brother thing and my mom was the head honcho), and reached for the phone.

“We can’t make it for drinks,” I blurted the minute I picked up the phone. “Because there is no
we.
” I heard only a dramatic pause on the other end as she waited. I don’t like him. Just say it. “I don’t like him.” There. That wasn’t so bad. Except the pause continued, expectant and frightening, and before I could stop myself, I added, “I don’t like him because he’s a low-down, two-timing cheater. He’s seeing someone else.”

“Wilson?” The name was little more than a gasp. “Since when?”

Since tomorrow night. “It’s been going on awhile.”

“Dear, you know perfectly well there are some men who keep sheep.”

“She’s not a sheep, Mom. She’s his…She has an astronomical orgasm quotient. I can’t even begin to compete.”

“Well. I guess that saying is true. If you don’t use it, you lose it.”

“I use it, Mom.” What was I saying? This was my mother. Can you say
yuck
? “I’m fine in that department. This just wasn’t meant to be.”

“Ah, well.”

“Sorry about drinks. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Actually, I didn’t call to talk to you about Wilson.”

“You didn’t?”

“No. It’s about Louisa. She’s getting very anxious about the Midnight Soiree. I assured her that you wouldn’t let her down, but since she hasn’t seen a suitable vampire from you yet, she’s seriously considering asking for a refund.”

“But she can’t.” Namely, because I’d already spent the money on several must-haves. Office supplies. The telephone bill. A new Hermès scarf. “I’ll find her someone.”

“She doesn’t like to wait.”

“I’ll find her someone by this weekend. I’ll bring him with me to Sunday’s hunt. She can meet him there.”

“Excellent, dear. I’ll see you then.”

“I’m heading out now.” Evie ducked her head into my office. She took one look at my suddenly pale complexion and frowned. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“Are you postal upset, or a box of Godiva upset?”

“I’m appletini upset.”

She grinned and crooked a finger at me. “Then come with me.”

“You should be happy,” Evie told me an hour later as we sat at a nearby bar. Several empty martini glasses sat at the center of the table. “Things are starting to take off. Slowly, but surely.”

“I know that.” I lifted my latest glass to my lips and sipped the tart drink. “But slowly and surely aren’t in Mrs. Wilhelm’s vocabulary.”

“I’ve got a single great-uncle.” Evie popped a cherry into her mouth and chewed. “Bernie Kopecki,” she said after she swallowed. “He’s a retired loan officer. Widower. He doesn’t get out much on account of he has a bad memory and keeps forgetting how to get home.”

Despite the appletini haze surrounding me, I perked up. “Exactly how old is he?”

“About ninety, but he’s in excellent health. For a ninety-year-old, that is. You said Mrs. Wilhelm was old. They ought to hit it off.”

There were two things wrong with the scenario taking shape in my head. First, the great-uncle was human, and Mrs. Wilhelm wasn’t. Second, while they
were
close to the same age (she was a younger vampire who’d just turned one hundred and nineteen), he looked ninety and she looked about twenty-nine.