Dead End Dating (17 page)

“That’s why he did it. To throw them off and keep them from calling in the big boys.”

“The big boys?”

“You know, the feds.”

He grinned. “I know. I’m a bounty hunter, remember? But you’re not and so it sounds a little funny coming from you.”

“Hey, I catch
CSI
every now and then.” Usually more then than now. It had been months since I’d tuned into anything other than reruns of
America’s Top Model
on UPN and
Dr. Phil.
But Ty Bonner didn’t know that, and I wasn’t about to clue him in, particularly with him smiling at me as if he were slightly impressed. “I also watch the news.”

His gaze narrowed as if he didn’t buy
that.
Smart guy. “You should be very careful. It’s even more important now that you take a close look at everybody who comes into your place.”

“I always do that.”

“I’m talking about looking into their head, not at what they’re wearing.”

“For your information, I do that, too.” Not on purpose, mind you. I couldn’t help myself. It came with the vamp territory. “So far, the only thing I’ve got are women obsessed with the size of their thighs and men infatuated with chili dogs. No crazed kidnappers.”

“Good.”

“I am.” I didn’t mean to flirt, but in the face of so much testosterone, I couldn’t help myself. Obviously my poor hormones couldn’t differentiate the good testosterone from the bad.

“I bet.” His hand came up then, and his fingertips trailed over my cheekbone.

Then again, maybe they could.

The rough feel of his skin was so different from that of any other vamp in my past, and I tingled from my head to my French-tipped toes. Born vamps didn’t get calluses. Rather, their skin felt cool and smooth and
perfect.
But not Ty. He was far from perfect. My gaze riveted on his scar, and I couldn’t help myself. I reached up and felt the puckered skin against my fingertips.

“What happened here?”

He shook his head. “It was a long time ago.”

“Duh.” I let my hand fall away, and if I hadn’t known better, I would have sworn he actually looked disappointed. But that would mean that he liked my touch. And judging by the way he frowned, he didn’t like too much about me at the moment.

The frown deepened. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re damned nosy?”

Yes. “Geez, it’s just a question. What’s the big deal?”

“I don’t like to talk about my past.”

“I don’t like to talk about mine, either.” At his questioning glance, I added, “Flapper dresses. Not my proudest moment.”

He stared at me a few more seconds before a grin touched the corner of his mouth. He shrugged. “A bottle of whiskey. I got into a bar fight in this little Mexican border town around the turn of the century.”

“What was the fight about?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Another shrug. “It was over a girl. One of the girls who worked there at the saloon.”

“You had a thing for her?”

“She had a thing for me.”

“But did you have a thing for her?”

“What does it matter?”

“It doesn’t. I’m just curious.”

“Why?”

It was my turn to shrug. “Because I am, that’s all. You were human then, right?” He nodded. “I just think it’s interesting, that’s all.”

“So sayeth the bear when he shoved his nose into a beehive and found himself a world of hurt.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just something my ma used to say when I was a kid.” A faraway light flashed in his gaze. “A long,
long
time ago.” He seemed to shake off the melancholy, and his look grew intense as it drilled into mine. “I’m serious about being on the lookout. You have an advantage because you’re a vampire. Use it. If you notice anything suspicious—
anything
—call me. No matter how small.” He turned.

“Wait.” I reached out, eager for more sizzling contact. My hand closed over his upper arm. The smooth leather of his jacket felt cool against my skin. “So what about the girl?”

He stared at the point of contact. I barely ignored the urge to smooth my palm up over his shoulder and, instead, let my hand fall away.

“I liked her, all right,” he finally said. “But not enough to marry her.”

“She was in love with you?”

“She was in love with my horse.” When I gave him a puzzled look, he added, “She wanted out of that town, and I was the first thing to come riding up. When I refused to marry her and take her with me, she sicced her brother on me. We fought.”

“And you won?” He nodded and I smiled. “Good-looking and tough. You would definitely make a good match for someone.” He stared at me as if I’d grown two heads. “You really should let me set you up.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“What about friends?” Surely you have some date less buddies who were turned around the same time as you? A few country boys who’ve yet to be influenced by modern society’s twisted view of beauty?”

That earned me a small smile. “No buddies.”

“Acquaintances?”

“None.”

“Relatives?”

“All dead.”

“But I need a made vampire.”

He stared at me for a long moment, and I had the sudden feeling that he was going to touch me again.

If only.

I saw the lust and longing and regret so bright and vivid in his deep blue gaze before he slammed the window shut and shielded himself from me. Suddenly, a great big chili dog flashed in my mind, the weiner swimming in enough cheese to make a cow wince.

“Funny. Really funny.”

He grinned and my tummy tingled. “You’ve got the equipment, sugar. If you need a made vamp so bad, make your own.” He winked and blended into the darkness.

“Brilliant idea,” I called after him. “But that won’t work because I need someone made around the turn of the century.” Someone Esther could relate to.

Not to mention pulling some poor schmuck in off the street, draining him to the point of death, and sharing my blood with him wasn’t part of the Dead End Dating mission statement.

First off, I didn’t do schmucks. Second, I had never actually drained anyone to the point of death—my mother would have had the granddaddy of all fits. And third? While I don’t get all creeped out at the sight of blood (I
am
a vampire), there’s just something extremely icky about slicing my own wrist and passing it to the next guy as if it were a shrimp appetizer.

Which meant I was back to cruising made vamp hangouts if I wanted to find Esther a date.

And if I wanted to find my own date?

I didn’t. I was a busy woman with a blossoming career and a really great wardrobe. I was completely and totally fulfilled at the moment, even if I did feel this strange emptiness in the pit of my stomach.

Suspicious, I reminded myself. I had to be suspicious to pick up the phone and give Ty a buzz. Not thirsty. Or desperate. Or horny. Or empty.

I turned and walked up to my apartment. I tried to ignore the way my nipples rubbed against the lace of my bra and the way my knees trembled with each step and the way my skin felt itchy and tight and alive.

I paused outside of my apartment and tuned in to the early morning news drifting from my neighbor’s television. But they were doing the weather, not local disappearances, and so I didn’t hear anything about the missing woman.

Inside, I bypassed the blinking answering machine, peeled off my clothes, and retrieved a bottle of blood from my fridge. I didn’t bother with a glass, much less taking the time to nuke it. Rather, I popped the cork and raised the bottle to my lips. It wasn’t very couth and my mom would chew me a new one if she saw me drinking straight from the container, but I couldn’t help myself.

I was suddenly more thirsty than I’d been in a very long time.

And desperate. And horny. And empty.

Squelch.

I drank half the bottle before shoving the cork back in. I turned on the television and tuned in to CNN. Killing the lights, I checked the blinds and crawled into my ultra-soft bed with the remote.

I didn’t close my eyes and give in to sleep, despite the fact that I was exhausted. Instead, I watched until a picture of the missing girl finally flashed. She wasn’t a raving beauty, but she knew how to play up her best features. I had to give her props—no lip liner or harsh color. She wore a pale beige lip gloss and minimal eye makeup. She was a strawberry blonde, with rich red highlights and nice teeth and a glint of hopelessness in her brown eyes that said she knew what it felt like to sit home alone on a Saturday night.

I thought of my own growing client list. There were men and women from a variety of backgrounds. They differed in shape and size; some blond, some brunette, some redheaded. But they all had one thing in common: lonely with a capital L.

I swallowed against the sudden lump in my throat and forced my eyes closed. Sunset would come soon, and I needed to rest and regroup. Even more, I needed to escape the image of Ty Bonner that lingered in my head and made my chest ache.

Okay, so it wasn’t just my chest that ached. The feeling gravitated a good twelve to twenty-four inches south.

Regardless, Ty was off limits.

No thinking about him.

No fantasizing about him.

No wanting him.

Nada.

I know, I know. I’m delusional. But at least I’m trying to keep my priorities straight. Definitely an A for effort.

“Y
ou’re early,” Evie declared when I walked into the office just after sunset that evening and handed her the usual steaming latte.

“I had a rough day.” Rough? More like unbearable. Horrific. Disastrous.

I hadn’t slept a wink.

I still couldn’t believe it. In five hundred years, I’d yet to have a restless day. You would never find a born vampire popping Ambien. It just wasn’t necessary. When it was time to sleep, we conked out and slept like the dead (ahem). Neither sickness nor stress nor worry could interfere with a vamp’s sleep. I’d slept through several plagues, a couple of world wars, and hoop skirts.

Until today.

I’d tried to close my eyes, but every time I’d seen the missing girl’s face.

All right, all right, so not
every
time. A few of those times (quite a few), I’d pictured Ty. And felt his fingertips on my cheek. And imagined that touch traveling down my body, over my breasts, between my legs and my—

“Are you all right?” Evie’s voice disrupted my train of thought.

Way to go, Evie.

“I-I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

“You need this more than me.” She handed me back the hot drink and bounced up from her desk. “Jeanine Booker is in room A—she’s one of the people who got your card at the library the other night—and Connie Laramie is due any minute to fill out a profile—she’s another library connection. The two of them will make a total of twelve new clients today—all courtesy of the library except for a couple à la Moe’s. And not a one of them came in just for the freebie profile. They’re actually paying for our services.” She handed me a small stack of checks. “Retainer fees for various packages.”

“No way!”

She smiled. “Total way. Of course, a few have stopped by for the free coffee and dessert.”

“What free coffee and dessert?”

“The free coffee and dessert I mentioned in the ad that you took out in all those local singles magazines.” Worry lit her face. “I hope you don’t mind. When they sent over the copy, it just looked so blah. It needed some spice. Some sort of incentive to get people to come in and see what we have to offer. I thought about offering free Trojans—a friend of mine works over at The Pleasure Chest on Seventh and will give them to us at cost—but I figured that might send a mixed message. We’re all about finding Mr. or Miss Right. Not Mr. or Miss Right Now.”

“Good thinking.”

Evie smiled and reached for another stack. “You’ve got twelve messages.”

My face brightened. “More clients?”

“Eight are from your mother. Esther Crutch called. And there was one lady who wanted to sell you life insurance. And Melissa called twice with an update on her sister’s wedding.” She smiled. “We’re on a roll, so you should definitely cheer up.”

“What about Francis? Any calls?” I’d tried him several times yesterday, on the way to the hunt, during the hunt, after the hunt, but had only gotten his machine.

“No.”

Okay, I was starting to get worried. Two calls from Melissa, zero from Francis. She was no doubt ready to chew me a new one, and he was definitely hiding out.

“You want me to try him for you?”

“I’ll try myself. I’ll be in my office.” But first I ducked my head into room A and introduced myself to Jeanine, who sat eating scones and free coffee. Code for “I used my vampire skills to scope her out and make sure she wasn’t the kidnapper/possible murderer in drag.”

Sinking down into my chair, I inhaled the scent of latte and let the aroma clear away a few of the cobwebs. Then I turned my attention to the retainer checks. I endorsed each one and filled out a deposit slip in less than sixty seconds. I buzzed Evie and she came into my office.

“Can you drop these in the bank’s night deposit box on your way home?”