Dead End Dating (24 page)

I
spent the next two hours reading through various profiles. While I came up empty-handed for
moi,
I did get
très
lucky and come up with a viable date for Mrs. Wilhelm—he was human and only thirty-three, but he appreciated older women and enjoyed ballroom dancing. Not eternity mate material, but good enough for a second “practice” date—which would buy me more time before I had to produce a real prospect.

I also matched up three other clients, including a bank teller from SoHo and a graphic designer who enjoyed jogging in Central Park and eating tofu. I
know.
Talk about hitting the jackpot. Who would think there would be two tofuans in the world? Much less that they’d wander into the same matchmaking service. The third? Jerry Dormfeld aka the guy with the chili dog on the brain who, as it turned out, seemed perfect for Melissa. Even more so than the other two men I’d sent her way to distract her from Francis.
Bingo.

You would think that several hours of work would have put a serious damper on my libido. But we born vamps aren’t sensuous, amorous sexual beings for nothing. By the time I’d left instructions for Evie to finalize the details for tonight’s trio of matches—time, place, and what not to wear—I was still thinking about Ty Bonner and his kiss and how I really needed another.

Not with him, mind you. That would be like licking a drop of blood all the while knowing that you couldn’t down the entire glass sitting right in front of you. In human terms—settling for one itty-bitty piece from a giant-size box of Godiva chocolates.

Painful.

I just needed someone to help me take the edge off. Someone to distract my thoughts from Ty. Someone who had really great lips and knew how to use them.

“Don’t we all?” Evie asked when I called her just before midnight and explained my dilemna. She was in the middle of a
CSI
rerun and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia. “Nothing comes to me at the moment, but I’ll look through the database first thing tomorrow and see if I can find someone for your friend.”

Okay, so I didn’t exactly explain
my
dilemma. It was one thing to admit to myself that I was beyond desperate, and quite another to blab it to someone else. Besides, I had an image to maintain and I didn’t want Evie to think I wasn’t all that.

I listened for a few minutes while she went on and on about the current episode she was watching and then filled her in on the matches I’d made.

“That’s a shame Mrs. Wilhelm wasn’t interested in my uncle. He had a really excellent time.”

“He slept through most of the date.”

“At ninety-three that’s an excellent time.”

“Good point.”

We talked a millisecond more before she had to hang up—the commercial was over (her TiVo still wasn’t cooperating, and so she was watching regular TV) and she needed more ice cream.

Work, I reminded myself. Forget Ty. Forget the kiss.
Forget.

Not a problem.

I checked my e-mail, salivated over this cute little A-line skirt from Ann Taylor I’d been eyeing online, and brainstormed a few more possible match markets to add to my ever-growing list—all-night deli, ATM, movie theater.

Okay, so maybe I still had a tiny problem. I came to that conclusion when I closed my laptop and grabbed my beaded MUDD jean jacket (not major bucks, but sooo cute). My lips
still
tingled.

Oh, and I had some major tingling going on in other places that shall remain nameless.

“Where to?” the cabbie asked me when I folded my tingling body into the backseat and tried to ignore the delicious way his pulse thumped against his neck.

Hello? The neck is thick. And it’s attached to an even thicker, fiftyish head with a bushy gray mustache and stained teeth. Are you crazy, girl? Don’t even think about it.

But I
was
thinking it.

“Hoboken,” I choked out.
“Now.”

I don’t usually do Jersey any more than I do Brooklyn, but I
really
needed to talk. If I’d needed to shop, I would have headed over to the Waldorf and stolen Nina One away from her job. But linguistics and a decent amount of sympathy required Nina Two. I tamped down my panic and tried to keep myself busy during the cab ride to the sanitary products plant where she headed the accounting department.

“It can’t be healthy to work at a place like this,” I told Nina when I walked into her office an hour later.

For the record, I’d managed to keep my fangs to myself and
not
molest the cabbie.

Barely.

Nina Two glanced up from where she’d been hunched over her computer screen. Her brown hair was pulled in a simple ponytail. She wore minimal makeup and her usual serious expression. “We don’t release any toxins into the air. We only stock, package, and ship here.” She sounded as if she’d read one too many PR pamphlets. “All of the manufacturing is done at our facility in Philadelphia, and then everything is shipped here for the final round before being introduced to the public.”

“I’m not talking about the air. I’m talking about the decor.” I glanced around and made a face. “It’s beige.”

“Oh.” She followed my gaze. “I like beige.”

“And plaid. Nobody does plaid anymore.”

“It’s yellow and orange plaid. Our signature colors.” She pushed up from her desk. “What are you doing all the way out here?” Panic lit her eyes. “It’s not Nina, is it? Tell me she didn’t buy another Tiffany bracelet.”

“She bought a Tiffany bracelet?” I forgot all about my hormones, and my heart did a double thump. “When?”

“Two days ago. Hasn’t she told you about it?”

“I’ve been sort of busy and haven’t had a chance to really talk.” I smiled. “So what does it look like? What’s she going to wear it with? How much did it cost?” I spent the next few minutes getting the complete lowdown on Nina One’s new acquisition. “It sounds totally cool,” I declared once I had a clear mental picture of Nina’s new baby. “And expensive.”

“Too expensive,” Nina Two said. “She could have invested in three different mutual funds and bought a five-year CD. Who wouldn’t want a five-year CD that pays
eight
percent?”

“Beats me.”

Nina sank back in her chair and eyed me. “Give. What’s really up with you?”

I kissed a made vamp.

It was there on the tip of my tongue, but for some reason I couldn’t seem to push it any further.

Hello? This is Nina. You give her the dish on all of your kisses, made or otherwise.

The thing was, I’d never kissed a made vampire before, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, much less how one of my best friends in the world would feel. What if she thought I was the scum of the earth and no longer fit to be in her company?

Okay, so I knew she wouldn’t think that. Even so, I didn’t have near the urge to dish about this bit of personal info the way I usually did. I was still too busy replaying it in my mind and trying to file it away into the drawer marked
MOMENTS OF COMPLETE AND TOTAL INSANITY
.

Instead I said, “I’ve been thinking that maybe work isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. That maybe I need some downtime.”

“I’ve got work up to my armpits. I don’t have time for a trip to Madison Avenue.”

“I prefer Fifth Avenue myself, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” I cleared my throat. “See, the thing is, I’ve been feeling very isolated and…” Let’s see. How could I put this without sounding totally needy and insane? “That is, I’ve been uptight, and I think if I could just blow off a little steam, I might be able to get my head back on straight.”

“O-kay.” She stared expectantly at me.

“See, I have a lot of frustration, and I need an outlet for it.”

A knowing light filled her eyes, and she smiled. “Why didn’t you say so?” She reached into her drawer. “You need a stress ball.” She tossed me a yellow, squishy round ball with
WELLBURTON FOR WOMEN
in bright orange script. “You can’t go wrong with one of these. We had them printed up for clients, but the employees love them, too. I’ve personally gone through several this year alone.”

“I don’t really think I need a stress ball.” I set the thing aside.

“What about a pressure clamp?” She pulled out what looked like a pair of pliers and squeezed. “I know this company that makes heavy-duty ones especially for vamps, so you can squeeze until your eyes cross.”

“I don’t need a pressure vise.”

“What about tick-tock balls?” She reached toward the contraption sitting on the corner of her desk. Silver balls hung suspended in a row from a wooden bar. Pulling one ball to the side, she sent it rocking against the others. “These can be very soothing. I know it doesn’t seem that way at first. The noise is sort of annoying, but if you watch the motion and concentrate, it can be soothing.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick
—”

“I NEED TO HAVE SEX,” I blurted, grabbing the balls with both hands. The noise stopped and my nerves eased enough to pull me back from homicidal to the land of misdemeanor. “I need it in the worst way.”

“Oh.” She swallowed, and a strange look came over her face. “Listen, Lil, I would love to help you out. Really I would. You’re such a good friend, and I really value our relationship. And it’s because I value it that I have to say no.” She shook her head. “I just can’t do it. I mean, I’ve thought about it. What woman hasn’t? But not seriously. I like men.”

“Not with
you.
I’m speaking figuratively. I miss sex. I miss falling asleep with someone. And waking up with them. And…” I shook my head. “I just miss it.”

“What are you going to do?”

We both knew what I could do. I could pick up someone, have a little fling, and be done with it. But I’d been there and done that, and as tempted as I was, I knew it would only be a temporary fix. I’d be in the same boat six months from now. Or sixty years. Or six hundred…

“Maybe I’ve been too hard on my mom.” I told you I was desperate. “She
has
introduced me to some decent prospects. This last guy—Wilson Harvey—wasn’t too bad. Okay dresser. Decent-looking. Low fertility rating, but my orgasm quotient could more than compensate. We could make a decent match. You went out with him.” I eyed her. “What do you think? Speaking of which, thanks again for doing that. You saved my ass.”

“No problem.”

“So what do you think? Me and Wilson? Wilson and me?”

“Maybe.”

She didn’t sound very convinced, and my desperation kicked up a notch. “I know, I know. He’s boring as hell, but there has to be more to him. He can’t be a complete dud, can he? Maybe he’s just got boring exterior. Maybe underneath lurks the heart of a real hottie, and I’m going to miss out because I refuse to take the time to look beyond the surface.”

“Maybe.”

“Help me out here. I know what he’s like on paper, but you spent time with him. Tell me, is he that bad?”

“Actually, he’s very smart.”

“See there.”

“And attractive. He’s very attractive in a fierce, Pierce Brosnan way.”

“They can’t all be Brad Pitt.”

“And he really knows his opera.”

“Everybody has some flaw.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I remembered a key point. “You like opera.”

“I adore opera.” A strange gleam lit her eyes. “It’s so passionate. Wilson thinks so, too. And he’s not just one of those I-like-opera-because-I-should-like-it types. No, he truly appreciates it as a quality form of dramatic expression.”

“You like him,” I said.

She stiffened. “Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do
not.
I just think he’s a great guy, that’s all. If I were in the market for a great guy, then I would definitely consider him.”

“Since when
aren’t
you in the market for a great guy?”

She shrugged. “Since the great guy in question isn’t in the market for someone like me.”

I remembered Wilson’s number-one must-have—a high orgasm quotient—and suddenly the situation made sense. “You like him, but he doesn’t like you.”

“There’s no
like
involved. He wants an eternity mate, and I’m not what he has in mind.”

“Did he say that?”

“He didn’t have to. I know. Besides, I feel the same way. He isn’t exactly my top pick either. With such a low fertility rating, he’s a far cry from Old Faithful.” She shook her head. “We don’t make a good match, and we both know it.”

“So the coast is clear for me then?”

“Wide open,” she declared before glancing at her watch. “But not tonight. I’m diversifying my portfolio, and he’s offered to give me some investing tips. We’re meeting in a half hour for a nightcap.”

“I see,” I said, all the while my brain chanted,
Wilson and Nina sitting in a tree…

“It’s not like that.” Obviously it wasn’t just my brain doing the chanting. “I don’t have designs on this guy, and he certainly doesn’t have any designs on me. Our relationship is strictly business.”

“Then you really won’t mind if I call him up?”

“Of course not.”

“Good.”

“Good.” She tried to look disinterested as she logged off her computer and reached for her purse. She pulled out a tube of lipstick and swiped her bottom lip before she seemed to notice my smile. She shoved the lipstick back inside and stood. “So where are you off to?”

“I thought I’d pay a visit to a couple of health clubs before heading home. You know, Crunch Fitness. The Sports Zone.” I’d racked my brain for possible made vamp hangouts that didn’t include alcohol and a dance floor. A crowded place where a nice, decent, respectable made vamp (if any existed) could go to scope out decent dinner prospects. Since low fat, low carb was all the craze among humans, why not made vamps? If I’d had to go out and find dinner on my own, I’d certainly want someone healthy as opposed to, say, a drunk passed out in an alley.

I forced the image away. I wouldn’t have bitten him.

Or kissed him.

Or taken advantage of him in any way, shape, or form.

I was horny. Not crazy.

At least that’s what I told myself.