The Blood Bride (Blood Secrets) (33 page)

Blame the Wine

Imogene Nix

Excerpt

Chapter One

The dusty, dingy little diner was full, even with the current state of cleanliness—or lack thereof. People from the surrounding offices didn’t care about anything except the incredible, well-prepared food at a reasonable cost. They flooded in, like waves to the shore. As one tide left, another swept in.

“Honestly, Simone. I’m going to try getting his attention one more time. If that doesn’t work, I’m out of there. I mean, how long can I keep trying?” Cara picked at the caramel tart she hadn’t been able to resist with the cheap metal fork, and flicked the blob of fresh cream that sat on top to the side.

“But you have said that tons of times. Besides, what are you going to do to get his attention? Hmm? Walk naked through the typing pool?” Simone bobbed the straw in her smoothie as she eyed her friend with a frown. “It’s been what? Eighteen months since you saw him, and you’ve mooned over him from a distance ever since you met him eighteen months ago. You need to move on, Cara. That is, unless you know something you haven’t shared?”

The query was arch. Cara shivered even as she shook her head. “No.”

Simone quirked an eyebrow, obviously unconvinced with her answer. Cara let out a deep sigh of frustration. “There’s a position…it’s only temporary, for a PA reporting directly to him.” She speared a forkful of tart, chewed quickly and swallowed, before continuing. “In his office, full-time for the period of the engagement. I saw the memo yesterday. I mean, I have the skills, right? I can type, answer phones, make coffee, file, greet people. What’s more, I can probably do it better than all those size eights in the typing pool that Ms Jackman seems to prefer.” She nodded thoughtfully. “All I have to do is get past the ogre in Human Resources.”

Simone stared at her, disbelief clear on her face. “Girl, I so remember that woman. If you think you can get past her, you’re doing better than I ever did. That’s why I left Veha Industries, remember? Maybe it’s time to haul out your resumé and consider some other options.” Simone shook her head and billows of crimson hair swirled through the still air.

Cara understood she only had her best interests at heart. But this time she knew the outcome would be different. Could feel it in the air.

“Cara, she’ll hang you out for breakfast before she offers you anything like a position in that office. Remember her mantra? Good looks and good work make for a positive workplace?”

Cara wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the truth in the statement, but as always she conceded that Simone didn’t sugar-coat anything. It was another great reason for their long-term friendship.

Cara nodded quickly. “Yeah, I know, but if I don’t try, then I won’t know how close I can get to him, right? And the only way to catch his attention is to get past the ogre and see him in person.” Cara quaked a little at the information she needed to share. The favour she needed to ask. “Anyway, I tidied up my resumé and dropped the application into a memo envelope yesterday, so it’s too late to back out now. I mean, fortune favours the brave. Doesn’t it? If I don’t snag an interview, I’m going to visit the career advisor across the street and register with them. I’ll look for temp work until something more long-term shows up. I can see what they have on offer and well…who knows? Maybe a job with the right boss is just waiting. But I’d rather this worked out, to be honest.” Her voice trailed off into a whisper. “I really wish he would notice me.”
           

Simone took a long slurp of her banana drink, and Cara noticed her questioning gaze even as she squirmed. Finally Simone must have realised the truth in her words and nodded. “It’s your funeral. So anyway, you had better show me this memo if you want me to be a referee for you. I’m guessing that’s what you need, right? I’ll have to know what I have to say about you before they ring.”

Cara smiled. “Thanks, Simone. I knew I could count on you.” She slipped a piece of paper out of her handbag and handed it over. “Sorry it’s a bit creased. It was in the bottom of my bag, I stashed it so none of the others from the pool would see it. You know how that is.”

Simone snorted, accepting the crumpled pages, and nodded. “Yeah, I do. Eat or be eaten.”

Simone scanned the sheet while Cara fidgeted, picking at the tart she now regretted as she thought about him. Dillon Veha. The one man who filled her dreams each night. She’d tried everything else she knew to capture his attention, each action more unsuccessful than the last, including undoing buttons, personally delivering memos and the most desperate? Offering to deliver the memo to the gym locker room, knowing he was in there. Now, after eighteen months of listening to her aunt ask her when she was going to bring home a nice boy, and watching her sisters pop out perfect little babies, she conceded the time had come to move on. With or without Dillon Veha. If only she could move on with him. Therein lay the problem with her plan. She needed one last chance to make it work.

Cara twisted her fingers and waited quietly. She turned back to her friend, even as Simone started to mutter.

“Yeah, okay. You can do all these things easily. But you’re going to need a suit if they ring you for an interview. Something special and professional. Something to knock him dead.” Simone snapped her fingers, emphasising the point. “I have this cool little black number I bought ages ago, just before I lost all those pounds, so it doesn’t fit me anymore, but it’s just the right size for you. I reckon you’d look hot in it…in a professional kind of way, of course. Oh and I even have the right shoes and bag.” A grin spread over Simone’s face. Cara felt that slow increase in heart rate, thinking about the opportunity which might just present itself.

A phone trilled. “I guess you have to go.” Cara said the words sadly, watching Simone fish around in her large black leather bag.

“Yeah, Nathan said they expected the jury to bring down a finding in that murder case he’s working on. Look, I have to run. Give me a call when you finish tonight and we’ll set up in the lounge with clothes and stuff.” Simone jumped off the stool. “You’ll be fine!” She tossed the words over her shoulder as she galloped out the door of the tiny diner.

Cara watched her retreating back. She looked around, then picked up the tart and took a bite. She tasted the fresh caramel goodness on her tongue and moaned slightly. Good food was something she loved, almost as much as the man she had hardly spoken to. Plus she hated to see it go to waste. On that thought she smeared some fresh whipped cream on before taking another bite.

* * * *

Diocail sat and looked through the window as the dark sedan pulled up in the street before the towering office block and a dark-haired man clambered out. People stopped to watch his movements, and those who knew him smiled before they continued wandering by. More than a few women sighed, probably wishing he would notice them, noting his angel-perfect face.

The man across the road was awkward and uncoordinated, nearly dropping his briefcase as he fumbled slightly with the handle of the car. He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose before glancing around. His well-muscled body was hidden beneath one of the many ill-fitting suits he habitually wore as camouflage.

Diocail’s quarry, Dillon, awkwardly disentangled himself from briefcase and vehicle. He heard the girl, Cara, stifle a gasp unsuccessfully. She was transfixed by the action, looking through the plate glass, as she focused on the man who stumbled and fumbled.

Intrigued, he scrutinised the girl’s reactions, the tightening of her fingers on the countertop and the way her eyes followed the man. So. Here might be another opportunity to make good on his debt. He grinned at the thought of the larger woman and the toned man in the ill-fitting suit. Why not? Here he could increase his count of good deeds much faster than he could have hoped for. True, it wasn’t quite the pairing he had been working towards, but there was plenty of time for that later. He sat quietly, considering this new and interesting game. He lifted the coffee mug to his mouth, ready to take another sip, but found it empty.

He looked for the server, then stopped still in surprise, blinking, watching as his aunt appeared in the seat opposite him. Her long wavy chestnut hair glinted in the dim light. She might be Cailleach, the Mother of All, but more importantly, she was still his aunt. Traditional Scottish mythology always showed her as an old hag, and this was a never-ceasing source of amusement to her. But then, so was his description as a brownie. When he assumed his true body, he was tall, redheaded and bearded. Trim and taut, nothing like the visage he presently portrayed.

“Ahhh…no. What now?” The words escaped from his mouth before he could control them. He looked around. No one saw anything unusual in the appearance of the perfectly groomed woman now sitting opposite him, her white suit moulded around her firm toned body, so unchanging over the years. She looked around twenty-five, but he knew she was older. So much older than her looks would lead anyone to imagine.

“Is that any way to greet your aunt? Honestly, Diocail, anyone would think you would rather see that floozy Niamh instead of me.”

He winced at the use of his full name, hoping no one else had heard her, but he contained his instinctive action to scan around the small but loud diner.

“Your father is still angry you know. He has…intimated…that you need to pick up your pace a little.” She looked down at the greasy food on the plate with a grimace of distaste on her face. “You eat this stuff?”

Diocail opened his mouth to remind her that around here he was known only as Jake, as close to his real name as you could get. The server, an older woman of indeterminate age and parentage with dark skin and even darker eyes, walked up to the table. She smiled broadly, and carried a dented metal coffee pot in one hand and he noted whimsically that it matched her dented and battered face.

“Excuse me? Would you like a refill? Ma’am, can I get a cup for you too?” Her voice was slightly hoarse, which was probably the result of the years of hard smoking and living as well, a tangible reminder of the equally hard men he was sure she had fallen in with over time. It was a shame, he thought, she had nearly been his assignment before he got a little sidetracked. Diocail reminded himself there was always time to make her his next project and smiled at the thought.

Then Diocail started in amazement, realising that she could see his aunt Cailleach sitting opposite him. He looked at the woman who was sister to his own father and she winked conspiratorially. He goggled at the action, never having seen this more playful side of her. Well, at least, never up close and it felt more than a little odd.

“No thanks. Just a bottle of water, please.” Cailleach smiled. The flash of perfect white teeth and twinkling eyes must have done something magical to the woman who had addressed her. Diocail was still stunned with her appearance in this greasy little diner as the goliath of a waitress smiled back, her ebony skin creasing around mouth and eyes.

“Won’t be a minute, hon.”

She scurried quickly behind the counter pulled open the fridge with a rattle and clank, grabbed a bottle and efficiently twisted the top with a quick movement of her hands then returned. Other customers tried to catch her eye as she hustled around the counter but she seemed determined to serve this woman first. Jake wondered, not for the first time, if this wasn’t some god power thing he had never got the hang of, before shrugging the thought away. He wasn’t a full god anyway, just the mixed-up child of a god and faerie mating.

“Thanks so much. Jake”—she winked at him—“will fix the bill at the end.”

The server nodded and smiled before wandering off to another table. Jake waited as she padded off, her pen hovering over the pad in her hand for just a moment, before he turned his attention back to the woman who had joined him.

He cleared his throat. “I am in the planning stages, Aunt, so if you could please leave me to do my job, I can come home sooner. That is, unless you can change Father’s mind about letting me return home?”

His aunt shook her head. He wasn’t surprised. Father had made his point, casting him out of Scotland until he had made some restitution for the mess he’d made in the past. He thought fondly of the woman who he had left waiting, naked, ready and willing in his bed. No doubt she would be long gone, he thought with a heavy exhalation.

He groaned heavily. “Has he given you an idea…?” Before he could finish the question, his aunt disappeared and he felt yet another layer of frustration at his fate. “I hate it when she does that.” He muttered the words under his breath before picking up his fork and toying with the cooled food on the plate, but his appetite was gone. Back to work. He turned to look at his new target woman, only to find her gone too.