by Mary Balogh
“I changed my shirt.” I flipped open my laptop and turned on the wireless connection. “Can we stop this table wobbling?”
“You took your shirt off in front of Knightley?”
“No. Back in the apartment.” I ducked under the table with a folded-up piece of paper and wedged it under the leg.
“You really like this Churchill guy,” said Harriet in one of her rare moments of intuitive wisdom, followed by one of her normally clueless statements. “But not as much as you like Knightley.”
I was saved from having to respond by the arrival of a shy, vaguely hairy person with a badly knotted tie and a copy of the Washington Paranormal Paper in his hand. “Uh, hi. Uh, I have the coupon.”
“Great. Welcome to Hartfield Dating Agency, Mr.—” I glanced at his credit card. “Mr. Martin. If you decide to sign with us after tonight, your $20 admission will be discounted from a six-month or more membership. Now, I’ll need your address and phone number, please…” My heart sank as I typed in his information. Even for a werewolf, a species not known for its social skills, he was homely and painfully shy.
Harriet beamed at him with great interest, which made him fidget and blush under his facial hair. “Here’s your name badge and a drink ticket. The bar’s over there, I’ll show you, and snacks—”
“To your left,” I interrupted her. “Have a great evening, Robert.”
“Bob,” he mumbled and peered at Harriet’s name badge. “I…”
“Go have fun,” I said, and steered him past us and into the room. I introduced him to a small group of regulars who stood in a circle discussing sports. I took a quick look around. It looked good—candles glimmered softly on tables and clients chatted happily together. The doors stood open to the courtyard where Frank and I had sat a few nights before; it was going to be warm enough again to sit outside.
Harriet scowled at me when I came back to the table. “Why did you do that? I liked him. He smelled good.”
I was tempted to remind her of her last dating adventure, but didn’t want to upset her. “Frankly, Harriet, I think you can do better than that, whatever his scent is like.”
We both watched as a woman approached, leaving damp footprints in her wake. She wrung out her clinging wet garments, which sprang into the shape of a cute spring dress and her bare feet assumed strappy sandals. A toss of her limp greenish hair achieved a miraculous sheen and bounce. As a final touch, her minimal breasts swelled into a high, round swimsuit-issue pair. She handed us a coupon.
As I took her details, I motioned her to come closer. “You might want to lose the boobs. False advertising.”
The naiad grinned and deflated her breasts. “Okay.”
Some regulars came in—one pair holding hands, and I felt a swelling pride that they might be leaving us soon, for entirely all the right reasons.
“She’s so hot,” the male of the pair, a vampire whispered to me. “And her blood— Oh, my God, Emma, you wouldn’t believe how—”
“I’m so happy for you,” I said, pleased that the relationship had become serious. “Now go have fun.”
That, I reminded myself, was the downside of dating a vampire. Eventually, the issue of blood, or rather my blood, would come up with me and Frank, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for that sort of commitment. So far things had been casual—lots of texting and flirtatious e-mails. He’d sent flowers, which had made the gargoyles hoot with laughter. We’d talked on the phone. A lot. And tonight…well, after our mixer, Frank and I had plans.
“Hi, Emma.” I was jolted out of my pleasant reverie by a familiar voice.
I met the gaze of a pair of hard, obsidian eyes framed by blond hair and pointed ears. “Oh, Elton. It’s good to see you again.”
To my relief none of his clothes were frog-green. He had an equally beautiful woman on his arm, another elf. He tossed a coupon and a $20 bill onto the table and gave a small, unpleasant smile. “For Augusta. I believe I’m still a member.”
“Hi, welcome. I’m afraid we don’t take cash. It says here on the coupon…”
“How quaint,” Augusta said. “Elton, you didn’t tell me what a cute little place this is.” She looked at me. “I love that dress. I thought it was so darling when it came out last year.”
“It’s my sister’s,” I said and could have kicked myself.
Harriet growled at their backs.
“Don’t let them bug you,” I said, hoping they wouldn’t bug me, either.
But despite the unwelcome presence of Elton and Augusta, the conversation level in the room behind us was warm and friendly, lots of laughter and the sound of chinking glasses. I did a quick magic scan and couldn’t detect anything unusual, other than a bit of magic showing-off by males trying to impress females—tricks with ice cubes and cutlery and so on. The evening was going well. More regulars arrived, and a few more who had been lured in by the advertisement.
As usual I heard Missy Bates before I saw her.
“…oh, I am so clumsy—Jane if you could just—Knightley you are so very—oh and look there’s our Emma, how are—you see how my shawl caught on the purse and I—but of course Knightley—and then Frank…” A tightly knotted group approached, Missy and Jane, and to my surprise, Frank and Knightley.
“Twenty-buck special.” Knightley offered his credit card. “Hi, Harriet. You’re looking good.”
Frank, engaged in disentangling Missy’s shawl from the clasp of Jane’s purse, looked up and gave me a smile that tingled all the way to the soles of my feet. “Emma,” he purred.
“Hi, Frank.” I dropped Knightley’s credit card and scrabbled beneath the table to retrieve it in an undignified way. Knightley was busy introducing Jane to Harriet; I didn’t think he’d noticed.
“I thought I’d like to see you in action,” Frank said. He offered his credit card. I waved it away.
“I’ll be rather busy. I don’t know if I’ll have time to talk to you much.”
“I’m sure it will be worth the wait,” he said with a smoldering look that almost made me giggle.
“You shouldn’t turn down business,” Knightley addressed me for the first time.
“And how are you, George?” I responded. “I didn’t know you were available.”
He put his arms around Jane and Missy’s shoulders. “I’ve come to keep these two lovely ladies company.”
Missy squealed a little in excitement and the unfortunate shawl began a downward slide, as did her bra strap. Jane, elegant and beautiful in a plain black dress that made me feel over-dressed in comparison, seemed indifferent.
“I think I’ll go inside and make sure things are going okay,” I said to Harriet and followed the group inside. I ran through my usual checklist—made sure waiters were distributing trays of canapés, that people had drinks and that no one stood terrified in a corner. Those, I dragged out from their isolation and made introductions. After all, they were there to meet new people, and I’d spent a long time memorizing details about my clients so I could introduce them and get them talking to each other. I left Elton and Augusta alone. I also left Jane and Missy alone—Missy was running off at the mouth as usual, and I figured that if Jane did want to be an observer only, then she was about as safe as she could be from unwelcome advances. Very few dared breach the Bates conversational defenses.
And, to my annoyance, I had Missy Bates on the books for at least three more months since she’d brought Jane in as a client. Not for the first time, I wondered why Isabella had tolerated Missy for so long. Generally, Isabella would have had a quiet lunch with a client like Missy and explained that it wasn’t fair to keep taking her membership fee. Missy never had more than one date with a prospective mate—males ran from that continuous prattle—and it didn’t seem fair to keep her hopes up. It wasn’t fair to the agency, either, I reasoned, having someone as dowdy and vocal as Missy around. On the other hand, she seemed quite happy hanging out with Knightley and now with Jane.
I saw Harriet enter and sniff the air. I’m
not sure how she could detect Bob Martin among the many scents at her disposal, but she did—I saw her start across the room.
I got there first. “Bob! Are you having fun? I’d love you to meet Celia.” I led him to the naiad whose breasts had achieved their former centerfold glory.
He stared at her and spilled some beer.
“You’re both new, so why don’t you tell each other a bit about yourselves? Great!”
Harriet stopped in midstride and glared at me. At the same time, Augusta seemed to notice her for the first time, and said, quite loudly, “That one? Oh, my God, Elton. That funny little furry thing?”
They sniggered with each other, their heads bent together. I started toward Harriet but Knightley got there first. He took her hand and led her onto the open space near the speakers where a few couples were already dancing.
Knightley, dancing? He never used to dance. He was quite good at it, too, twirling Harriet around and then bending her into a sort of modified tango swoop that made her giggle.
The two of them made me feel like a chaperone at a high-school dance.
I needed a drink. I made my way to the bar, where Frank sat, and ordered a martini. Hoisting myself onto the barstool I slid off my shoes and wiggled my toes. All in all, I was quite pleased with the way the evening was going. People seemed to be enjoying themselves; a few couples I had introduced had retreated to corners for quiet conversation. Celia, the naiad, had abandoned Bob and was winding herself around someone who could only be a vamp on the dance floor. Bob had found some other werewolves to hang out with. I deserved a quick break, after which I planned to make a few more introductions.
Then it struck me that Frank hadn’t said a word. I turned to him and saw he was staring at Missy and Jane.
He noticed me looking at him and smiled. “Sorry. I was miles away. Is her hair real, do you think?”
I looked at Jane’s luxuriant dark waves of hair. “I guess so. I hadn’t really thought about it.”
My first reaction was to wonder if I’d overdone the protective spell I usually assumed for gatherings that would involve vamps and elves. Although the spell would wear off as the evening progressed, I really hadn’t expected to find Frank so, well, dull tonight. His dangerous vampire charm had evaporated and he seemed to be finding the ice cubes in his glass more interesting than me. At any moment I expected him to go home, claiming his fangs ached.
I placed my empty glass on the bar, consulted my folder, pushed my feet back into my shoes and, with Harriet’s help, searched out the clients who’d requested one-on-one meetings. We settled them at tables in the courtyard, where there were fewer distractions and a more romantic atmosphere, and supplied them with scorecards. They had five minutes to impress each other.
I watched nervously. Some people could do this well; others went into babbling rants of the best and biggest spell they’d cast or a quick delivery of their resume, as though they were applying for a job. Their scorecards had suggested talking points, to which some clients stuck with dogged determination.
“I have a cat,” a witch sitting at a table nearby blurted out to the vampire who sat opposite her. “Do you like cats?”
“I’ve never…” he replied. “I’ve heard their blood is… I mean…” They both glanced at their scorecards. “Do you attend sports events often?”
I restrained myself from slapping my forehead. I wasn’t trying to listen in, but I did like to keep an eye on things. Celia had signed up for a membership, to my delight. I paired her first with a cute elf who proceeded to lecture her about his job writing government proposals, which she met with an equally tedious account of day-to-day life at the Federal Reserve. All going well, in fact.
My stopwatch beeped and I signaled my clients to move to different tables.
Harriet appeared with a plate of canapés that we shared, and I had another martini. As our clients met their last prospective partner, I could overhear Jane and Missy preparing to leave.
“I’m fine. We can walk.”
“But your shoes—they’re so cute but I—or a bus, it’s only a few—but then we’d have to—or maybe Knightley can give us a ride—although—”
“I expect he’ll want to stay. It’s still quite early.”
“Oh! You mean—well, I have to get up early tomorrow but maybe—or do you think Emma may—”
“I don’t think she drove. No, it’s okay, really. We can walk. When I’ve bought a car—”
“Oh, but parking is so—and the one-way streets are—you know what Knightley said—it was when we—oh, no, it was after that, I think, because I remember he offered to—I couldn’t walk in those heels, Jane, but then you’re—”
At this point Knightley joined them and gallantly offered them a ride home. My stopwatch beeped again, I collected my clients’ scorecards and Missy, Jane and Knightley moved into the courtyard. Missy started on a long-winded discussion on how she and Jane really didn’t need a ride home.
Knightley insisted and Missy shut up for a few minutes. The three of them paused as Missy began to rummage through her capacious tapestry purse.
Frank wandered out into the courtyard and came to my side. He gave me a light kiss on the cheek. “Shall we leave soon?”
Jane slipped in her high heels on the cobbles of the courtyard and Knightley moved to her side, taking her arm.
“Well,” said Missy, “I wonder if—but that’s what you do—Emma, I do hope you will find Jane—she’s shy but some people think she’s—she doesn’t talk much, although as I said to Knightley—you had to laugh, Emma, I—”
“Lovely to see you,” I said firmly. “I might have someone for you to have lunch with soon. I’ll call you. Thanks again for bringing Jane.” My duty was done.
“Give me five minutes,” I said to Frank.
Oh yes, my spell was definitely wearing off. I was aware of Frank’s warmth and his hand briefly on my hip; the flash of fang in his smile. I touched base with Harriet, who was deep in conversation with a pack of werewolves, with Bob Martin gazing adoringly at her, and retrieved my purse and laptop from behind the bar. After I’d settled up with the restaurant, I did one last round of the room, promised to call people who had met someone they really liked but whose name they couldn’t remember and finally escaped.
Frank stood in the courtyard, light from a lantern glinting off his hair and accentuating the handsome bones of his face. I stopped for just a moment to admire him. Oh, God, he was gorgeous. Tall and lean, elegant in a dark blue shirt and dark pants, with his suit jacket slung over one shoulder. I’d never gone much for men in suits before—possibly because I didn’t know how good a man in a well-cut suit could look (besides, men in suits reminded me of Knightley when he wasn’t in janitorial mode). He didn’t wear a tie; his shirt was unbuttoned at the neck because vampires liked to show off their own throats. I’d never really seen the appeal before myself.
I was quite sure he knew I was looking at him: that stillness, the pose, was for my benefit. He turned a little so that the light caught his throat and smiled at me. Oh, yes, very definitely a vamp on the prowl.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
He raised his eyebrows. If he’d been human, my question would have been the equivalent of asking him if he had an erection (and to be honest, I was quite interested in that, too).
“Uh, I mean, it’s late for dinner, but if you like we could…I have some stuff at my apartment, or…” I was embarrassed now by my tactless question. “I’ve pigged out on canapés, so I’m okay.” Real attractive, Emma.
He crossed the courtyard to my side in that unnerving flash of movement I could never get used to in vampires. “You’re more than okay.” He took my chin in his hand and turned my face to his. I fervently hoped that my canapé pigout had not included anything with garlic.
And then he kissed me to stop me from blurting out anything else that was stupid or not in the Big Book of Vampire Etiquette and the entire world shrank to that moment, the man whose mouth car
essed mine, and his feel and taste. I was dazzled.
“I think,” he murmured, “we should go to your apartment as soon as possible. And, yes, I’m quite hungry.”
Oh, my God. He was everything my mother and sister had warned me against, the big, bad sexy vampire, and my protective spell had almost entirely faded away.
His arm around me, we went onto the street where he did the vampire-cab thing again.
We kissed all the way to my apartment and I noticed that Frank made no effort to hide his fangs from me—although how could he have done so when they grazed my lips and tongue. The cab driver flashed his own fangs at us when we arrived and growled something that made Frank laugh.
“What did he say?”
He grinned. “It doesn’t translate very well, and it’s rather crude. He was, er, congratulating me on my fangs and wishing me well for the night.”
“You’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you?” I fumbled for my keys, wishing I hadn’t asked.
“I’m a vampire. I can’t help my biological destiny.”
“You mean I’m your biological destiny tonight?”
He grinned again, all charm and fangs. “Exactly. Don’t look so annoyed.”
I didn’t stay annoyed for long, not when Frank kissed me in the elevator and we emerged, me dazzled and weak-kneed, on the fifth floor. My hands were shaking so much I could hardly unlock the apartment door. I led him into the large living-and-dining space and placed my laptop and purse on the table.
A chorus of whistles and hoots met us from the gargoyles.
Frank strode to the window. “Shut up! One more word from you lot and you’re gravel!”
There were some awed whispers and then dead silence.
A little light from outside filtered into the room, and I’d left a lamp on in the bedroom. Frank tossed his jacket onto a chair and turned to me, eyes glittering in the dim light.
“You asked me before if I was hungry.”
“Yes.” I backed against the refrigerator door, the metal cool against my shoulders. I should really move away if I wanted to open it, but my brain didn’t seem to be working very well. “Can I get you anything?”
