"You're not exactly stealthy."
"I would've been if this idiot dog wasn't in the way." I pushed Sally away from the couch. She skulked away with her tail down.
I climbed up on the couch with Mark, and Max started to growl.
"You get down, bad boy!"
Max gave me another growl. This was a stand off.
Mark ended it by shoving Max off the couch with his foot. Max was dumped unceremoniously onto the floor. He gave us both an evil glare and jumped up to his window perch.
Mark patted the couch next to him.
A big yawn escaped my mouth as I leaned down to kiss him.
"How romantic," he chuckled.
I covered my mouth. "Nothing personal. Just a long day."
"Does this mean I'm not gonna see you naked tonight?"
I stood up, loosening my robe.
"Let me ease your mind on that front," I said, letting the robe fall to my feet.
He raised a brow and sat up on the couch. I had his attention.
His warm hands slid over my body, pulling me onto his lap. His lips touched mine and traced a lazy path to my breasts. A fire spread through me as he led me over to a wooden kitchen chair. I wasn't sure how the chair was better than the couch, but never let it be said that I'm not adventurous.
He sat down in the chair and smiled up at me.
"Wasn't the couch more comfy?" I asked, as he pulled me against him and buried his head between my breasts.
He looked up at me with a mischievous smile. "I've been admiring the kitchen chairs since you went to take your bath."
Huh? I'd never heard of a kitchen chair fetish, but I'd play along. "Maybe you were thinking of something along these lines?" I said kneeling down in front of him, adding, "You must really like kitchen chairs."
His quick intake of breath answered my question.
"I like the way you think," he murmured a few moments later. "But I had something more like this in mind."
He pulled me onto his lap. Face to face with everything perfectly matched. My bare feet found traction on the rail at the bottom of the chair. Nice.
"I really like the way you think," I whispered against his lips.
* * *
Mark grimaced as he took a sip of coffee.
"It can't be that bad," I said and threw a dish towel at him. What was wrong with my coffee? I must not make it up to man standards.
"It can be, and it is." He set his cup down on the counter.
I stuck out my tongue.
"Keep that behavior up, and I'll put you in the time-out chair." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
I blushed. I'd never look at my kitchen chairs in quite the same way again.
He came around the counter to give me a kiss. "I'm going to miss you," he said between kisses.
"Me, too," I sighed.
Mark was going to get some his belongings from the boat, and then he was off to the airport to spend the next five days 'settling things'. I just hoped those things didn't include Marsha.
"No ex-boyfriends, or new boyfriends, for that matter, while I'm gone," he joked. "And they'll be a full-body hickey inspection when I get back."
I glared at him.
He kissed my forehead. "I just get a little nervous thinking about you here with two exes within shouting distances, and me in Atlanta."
"Yeah, well, I'm not so happy with you going to Atlanta and seeing Marsha." I was getting riled. My hands went to my hips.
"Stand down," he ordered. "I'm not having this discussion again. Let's kiss goodbye like we actually like each other."
Like each other. Really. "Well, I'm not actually in the habit of making out with people I just like," I replied tartly.
He stared at me for a moment, looking like he wanted to say something. But then it seemed to pass. "Good one," he said lightly. He wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed my neck.
I raised my lips to his, wondering if something else might go wrong to keep us apart. What if this was our last kiss? What if he never said he loved me? Wait a minute, my brain interjected, I'm not sure about love at this point. Why did I expect him to be sure?
The kiss ended, and Mark grabbed his bags. He opened the door, saying, "I'll call you tonight."
And then he was gone. And all my insecurities came rushing back.
Sally whined.
Oh, well, there'd be plenty of time for teeth gnashing later. Right now I had dogs to walk. And, of course, a job with a vampire.
I pushed all the negative thoughts out of my mind and rushed through my morning tasks. I picked up coffee and monkey bread from Shack's Bakery at precisely nine o'clock, right on schedule. I hadn't forgotten my promise to check in with Carol on my way to work. I hoped she'd made up her mind about buying the business.
Mondays were crazy at the staffing agency. Second only to paycheck Friday's. Carol had three people standing around her desk and was talking on the phone to a fourth.
"I understand, Mr. Baker," she said patiently. "A lot of things were mixed up while I was out. I'll call you back this afternoon with the corrected invoice. Okay, thanks so much."
She hung up the phone and made a note on her Day Planner.
"You two gentlemen have a seat," she said firmly to two men in baggy jeans and sideways caps. "Now Bobby, what can I do for you?" she asked with a sigh.
This ought to be good. I occasionally helped out in the office, and knew that Bobby was a regular. He usually temped at a toothbrush manufacturer.
"Well, Miss Carol," he began hesitantly, "I missed work Friday. An' I was afraid to go back."
Carol narrowed her eyes. "Did you no-call-no-show, Bobby?"
This was a cardinal sin in the temp world.
Bobby looked startled. "No, ma'am. I'd never do that." He paused. "But I think I divulged too much information when I called my supervisor. If you know what I mean." He leaned in conspiratorially.
I actually did know what he meant. The first time I talked to Bobby on the phone he had said he wasn't able to get to work because his father had a flight to catch—on the space shuttle—and he had to take him to the airport so he could get to Houston in time for the launch.
Carol shook her head. "I really don't, Bobby. Why don't you tell me what you said, and I'll see if I can sort it out with your supervisor."
He leaned in a little closer and whispered, "I told him about my undercover work. You remember what I told you when I got my check last week?"
The two guys sitting down were listening intently.
"That you are working undercover for the police as part of a big sting operation, and that they recruited you because of your super-human hearing. Did I get that right?" she asked matter-of-factly.
The two guys looked at each other, probably thinking their hearing wasn't so great.
Bobby smiled. "Yep! Well, Friday they called me in to work in the Inner Harbor for the President's visit to Baltimore." He nodded his head proudly. "I was stationed in the doorway of the Aquarium. The man passed so close to me I could've touched his sleeve." His face had a dreamy look.
Carol stared blankly, her eyes magnified by her thick glasses. The two guys sitting down burst into laughter.
"That one crazy MoFo!" hooted one.
The other guy slapped his buddy's hand. "Look, dude should have his own show. He that funny!"
Carol fixed them with a stern look. "Go to work, Bobby. I'll call your supervisor. And don't miss any more time. Do you understand? You need to decide which job is more important." Another key to successful dealings with temp workers—never shatter their delusions. Just play along and hope for the best.
He nodded and headed for the door. "Yes, ma'am. Thanks a lot. I've been thinkin' I should resign from the undercover work. It's not all that much fun really. Just a lot of standing around."
The two guys couldn't stop cracking up. One of them fell on the floor and rolled around. Carol looked down at him from the counter.
"Can I help you gentlemen?" she asked co
olly.
"Get up, Jerome," said the guy still in his seat. "Ah, yeah, we lookin' for work. I'm Sean, and this my cousin Jerome. He's smoked a little too much this mornin' an that crazy undercover dude jest set him in a fit."
"How about you?" Carol asked. "Were you smoking this morning?"
"Uh, no ma'am, not since last night. I know better than to smoke an' then look for a job. It don't work out. I got more professionalism than Jerome." He looked over at me and smiled. His front teeth sparkled; S-H-I-T was etched clearly in his gold grillwork.
Carol nodded as if people walked in everyday wearing a grill that said "shit" and confessed to smoking pot before breakfast. It actually only happened about once a week or so. "I can see that, Sean. But I think we're going to have a problem finding you work as well."
"Why's that?" he asked. He must have sensed his employment chances slipping away, because he was frantically waving his hand at Jerome to get off the floor.
"Well, many of our customers require a clear drug test before I can send you out to work." She paused, waiting for Sean's response.
"That does sound like a problem," he agreed. "Look here, maybe we can just come back in a few days an' then try the test."
"Better give it a few weeks," Carol replied.
Sean nodded and grabbed Jerome's arm.
"Peace out," Sean called.
Carol shook her head trying to clear it.
I smiled and held out my arms. She gave me a quick hug.
"I missed you! How was your trip?" she said.
"Crazy, exciting, unbelievable!"
"Pretty much like every day around here," Carol replied with a laugh.
I nodded and brought her up to speed on events from the trip. "With the tour coming up, I'm not sure how much I'll be able to temp over the summer," I finished.
Carol sighed. "Mr. Greene called and asked to meet with me this afternoon at five. He needs an answer, or he's going to put the place up for sale. Can you stop by? I'd really like your opinion."
"Of course, but you know this business," I insisted. "You're the one who should own it."
"I know, I know." She waved a hand at me. "But it just seems like so much. I met with the accountant and took a close look at the numbers. Once we get all the invoicing problems fixed that David and Charles messed up, it looks quite profitable for the rest of the year. I just don't know if I'm ready to go it alone," she confessed. She took a sip of coffee and munched on a piece of monkey bread.
"Hey, this is my main gig. I depend on this income, and I can't think of a better person to own the agency."
"Nah," she said with a wave of her hand, "you'll be a full-time rock star soon. Your temp days are numbered."
"Not quite there yet," I said brushing crumbs off my hands. "Today I have a vampire to appease."
Carol rolled her eyes. "He's not been a happy camper. By the way, he asked Tabitha to come back today to 'help with the transition.' Whatever that means."
"Can't wait to find out. Did you help him with his special project?" I asked. The Count had been very upset that his online dating was interrupted by my vacation. So much so, he asked me to give Carol the log-in information for his accounts.
"I checked for him a couple of times—nothing but prostitutes—and then he asked me to give Tabitha the passwords. He said she had some ideas for spicing up his profiles."
I winced. No telling what that meant.
"Okay," I said gathering my things. "Time to face my agitated vampire."
Just another day in the life of a temp.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I arrived at The Count's upscale hotel at five minutes to ten. Unfortunately, I wasn't the only one at the door.
Two ladies with pink hair a la Nicki Minaj, sporting evening dresses and spiked heels, were lounging against the doorway.
They looked me up and down. "What you supposed to be?" the bigger girl asked.
Not sure how to answer that, I said, "I'm supposed to be Mr. Pyres' assistant."
The woman snorted. "Well, that ain't original at all. He already got some bougie white girl actin' like his assistant."
"I got a question for you," said the other woman. "Does it hurt when he bites you?"
"Excuse me?" I stared at her dumbly.
"Ya know when he bites your neck. Does it hurt? 'Cause I tole Miss Thing in there if he thinks suckin' my blood is included in the reg'lar price, he's got another think comin'."
"Preach it sista'!" said the larger woman. "I ain't sure it's worth gettin' all bit up by a vampire. What my regular customers gonna say?"
"Let me guess," I said. "You met Mr. Pyres online, right?"
They nodded in unison.
I banged on the door. "Tabitha! Open up!"
"Hey," cried the bigger girl, "you can't just cut in front of us. We were here first."
I didn't want a brawl in the hallway, so I said, "Oh, if you want to let him feed on you first, then be my guest. Only he's a little cranky in the mornings…"
"Let's get outta here Charmane," the bigger girl said, grabbing her friend's arm. "This place is freakier than workin' The Block!" They fled down the hallway, high heels clacking loudly on the tile floor.
"Yes, it is," I muttered and banged on the door again.
A face appeared in the doorway. "Can I help you?" asked the pretty blonde with cornflower blue eyes and perfectly flat-ironed hair.
"It's me, Diana."
She continued to stare blankly at me. "Diana who?"
Maybe she'd been smoking this morning too. "Diana, Mr. Pyres' assistant."
"I'm Mr. Pyres' assistant. But my name isn't Diana. It's Tabitha."
Was this a joke? I looked behind me. No cameras in sight. "Tabitha, I'm Diana. Remember we talked on the phone last week? I helped you with the typing?"
I was a second away from snapping my fingers in font of her eyes to wake her up, when her face suddenly lit up. "Sure, sure. Yeah, it's been, like, days ago. I completely forgot." She laughed and opened the door for me.
"Why are there prostitutes standing outside the door?"
Tabitha looked out in the hallway. "I don't see anyone."
"I mean a few minutes ago," I ground out.
"Oh, those were Mr. Pyres' dates. See I had this great idea that he could like interview all the ladies that replied to him online. Then he could pick his favorite." She smiled.
"They were prostitutes," I repeated.
"Um, don't you think you're stereotyping just a bit?" she said leaning in. "They were just urban. Mr. Pyres likes all types of women. He doesn't discriminate like some people." She looked disapprovingly at me.
"I'm not discriminating!" I snapped. "They were prostitutes! Okay, they were urban prostitutes."
She looked unsure.
"Maybe you should tell me exactly what's going on. When did you set up these interviews?"
"On Friday, when Mr. Pyres was so upset that he didn't have a date for the weekend. So I went through his accounts and showed him all the responses. He was, like, so relieved." She smiled her sunny smile. "There were so many that he couldn't choose. It was taking a really long time, and I was supposed to meet my friends at Red Eye's for happy hour. They have the best mojitos. You know the place I'm—"
I interrupted her, "Yes, I know the place. So that's when you got the bright idea of interviewing the candidates?"
She nodded. "Some of the ladies were a little huffy about it. But I was like, 'Hey, he's a famous vampire what do you expect?' I think the whole vampire thing makes it hard for him to find the right woman. I told him I think it's terrible how badly his kind is discriminated against."
I rolled my eyes. "You do know he's not actually a vampire, right?"
She put her finger against her lips and made the "turning the lock and throwing away the key" motion. "His secret's safe with me. Can't let the world find out about something like this. It's hard being different from everyone else. I know because my grandmother on my mom's side was a witch."
"Re
ally?" I raised my brow.
"Yep. My dad used to call her that all the time."
I stared at her. No one could be this dumb. "Where's Mr. Pyres?"
"On the balcony, finishing up his first interview."
I raced to the balcony and slid open the door. Mr. Pyres froze with his coffee cup in one hand and a danish in the other. The woman he was with appeared to be in her fifties, was well-dressed, and also sipping on a cup of coffee.
"Ms. Hudson! What is the meaning of this? You're gone for a week and then interrupt my lovely tête-à-tête with Ms. Peyton? Did you leave your brain in Puerto Rico?" His cape fluttered out behind him as he rose to his feet.
"I'm so sorry, my dear," he said to Ms. Peyton. "This is my assistant, Diana, and she's a bit flighty. You know you could learn a thing or two from Tabitha," he chastised.
That stopped me in my tracks. "You're kidding, right?"
"I most certainly am not. The first couple of days were rocky, but by the end of the week she had all the typing caught up. And she had this brilliant idea of interviewing all the lovely ladies who had contacted me. She's proven invaluable during your absence," he sniffed.
"I'm sorry to interrupt. I'll let you finish your chat," I said and backed off the balcony.
Tabitha was sitting on the couch with her feet propped up on the table. She clicked through channels on the television, finally settling on a rerun of a Real Housewives episode.
"I so could be on this show." She pointed to the television.
"Don't you have typing to do?" I asked.
"Like, duh," she said rolling her eyes. "Hassim won't have it ready until noon. He's not like a machine or something."
I put my hand on my head. "Who's Hassim?"
"Oh, he's the guy I hired from Fiver to do all the transcription. He's from India. I take pictures of the pages with my iPhone and text them to him in the morning. He emails them back, and I print them off."
Fiver? What the heck! "How can you afford to hire someone else to do your work?"
She sighed and looked up from the TV. "Well, it only costs me a dollar a page, because Hassim is from India, and they don't need as much money as we do here. So they work for less." She shrugged. "There's no way I could get all that typing done in a day. Besides, it's sooo boring. I might get him to write papers for me when I go back to school. He's really good."
2 Queenie Baby - Out of Office Page 15
