Gerry Bartlett - Real Vampires Hate Their Thighs

by Gerry Bartlett

  Oops, more tears. I turned away so the stranger couldn’t see. Stupid. Tears did nothing but make my eyes red and swollen. A tissue suddenly appeared in front of me.

  “Thanks.” I grabbed it and dabbed at my wet cheeks.

  “You’d better buckle your seat belt. We’re getting ready to take off.”

  I knew that deep voice. I whipped around to make sure.

  “Rafe! What are you doing here? I left you a note.”

  “Yeah. Saw it.” He frowned and waved to the flight attendant. “I’ll take Jack Daniel’s neat as soon as you get a chance. Thanks.” He smiled at the woman, who looked only too happy to serve him anything he wanted, then he turned back to me. “You really going to do this thing all by yourself?”

  “Yes.” I didn’t share the thought that I was scared spit-less. Any vampire would worry about vulnerability during daylight and the death sleep. But my building was owned by Damian, a vampire who’d planned for those kinds of security issues. I just had to be careful. That’s all.

  “Fine.” He leaned back and closed his eyes as the jet engines revved for takeoff.

  “Fine? Then what are you doing here? You know I can’t afford you. And I don’t want a bodyguard now anyway. That’s for rock stars and gangsters.” I sat up and buckled my seat belt.

  He just kept his eyes closed. “I get that.”

  “Answer me.” I shook his arm. “What are you doing on this plane?”

  “Going to Austin. Same as you.” He opened one eye. “Relax. The plane’s taking off. I’ll talk to you after I get my drink. I haven’t been getting a hell of a lot of sleep lately. Sit back and be quiet.”

  “Well!” I huffed, crossed my arms and plucked a magazine out of the seat back in front of me. Oh, great. One of the few I’d read this month. I stared at it anyway while the jet climbed and Rafe sat there with his eyes closed.

  He looked different. Relaxed. Wow. Long lashes against his tanned skin. His black hair was growing out and curled against the collar of his white cotton shirt. His jeans were the kind of butt huggers that made me lick my lips. I quickly went back to my magazine and an article on designer shoes. I looked down. He wore black leather boots, the kind that went with Harleys. Did he own a motorcycle in his human form?

  I had lots of questions for him. We really didn’t know each other. Take that back. He knew everything about me. I knew next to nothing about him. Like what Jerry had on him that had put Rafe into a five-year contract to do the dog thing. And it hadn’t been just about the money. They’d let that much drop.

  “Here you go, Mr. Valdez.” The flight attendant served Rafe a glass and fussed with his tray table. “May I get you something now, Ms. St. Clair?” She’d already tried to serve me before and I’d turned her down.

  I shook my head. No synthetics on this flight and I didn’t feel like dragging her into the bathroom and taking her down a pint. Oh, come on. Just a little sick vamp humor. I was enjoying a nice wallow in self-pity. Rafe took a swallow and smiled.

  “Nice. Great to be off duty. Can’t tell you how long it’s been since I could just kick back and enjoy a drink.” He took another sip. The flight attendant stopped on her way down the aisle and looked a question at him. “Keep ’em coming, sweetheart.”

  “You’re not going to get drunk, are you, Rafe?” I could just see me trying to get him off the plane. I had vamp strength, but it would be awkward to say the least. Maybe I should call Flo and Richard to pick us up at the airport.

  “No, I’ll stop at three. I’ll just be pleasantly relaxed, then I’ll sleep the rest of the way.” He glanced around the first-class cabin. “Not that I’m supposed to care, but I think you’ll be okay if I actually sleep, right?”

  “Sure. You read my note, didn’t you?” I stuck the magazine back in with the others. “I’m not going to need your services. I e-mailed Jerry and told him the same thing. We’re done. I’m on my own.”

  “Right. Got it.” Rafe handed his empty glass to the attendant and took a fresh one, this obviously a double. He grinned at her. “You read my mind. Thanks.” He took a sip. “Now, where were we? Oh, yeah. You were firing me.”

  “Not exactly. I can give you references if you need them. Jerry can too, I’m sure.” I nibbled a fingernail, then jerked my hand back into my lap.

  “No thanks. I’ve got my future all worked out. I’ve been saving and plan to open a bar. I’m used to being up all night. Seems like the perfect fit.” He smiled and tilted the glass to look at the liquid inside. “And you owe me a place to stay. Remember?”

  “What?” I was still processing the bar thing.

  “You told me I could have Flo’s old room if I ever needed it. Since I’ll be using all my money for this new business, I’m taking you up on that. The restaurant on the other side of the tattoo parlor next to your shop is folding, and it’ll work for the bar. So your digs are a convenient location.” He took another swallow. “We’ll be roommates, Glory. But, sorry, no more dog body for me. You’ll have to get used to my human form. I’ll shift for emergencies, but that’s it.”

  “Uh, wow.” I leaned back in my seat. Rafael Valdez as roommate. Sharing the one bathroom. I sat up. “We need ground rules, Rafe.”

  “Sure. I get that.” He grinned. “I’m really pretty easy to get along with. Same guy, just different”—he leaned closer when the flight attendant passed by—“exterior. This way you won’t have to put me on a leash.” He winked. “Unless that floats your boat.”

  My cheeks grew hot and I cleared my throat. “You know better than that. No running around in your underwear, Rafe.”

  “Fine. Don’t own much anyway. But, Glory”—he drained his second glass and reached for his third—“feel free to run around in yours. I’ve always loved a woman with curves.”

  Read on for a special preview of

  Gerry Bartlett’s next novel

  Real Vampires Have More to Love

  Available December 2010 from Berkley Books!

  “Would you quit walking around here naked?” I’d tolerated the smell of coffee and—much, much worse—baking cinnamon rolls, but I’d be damned if I’d watch my new roommate eat and drink wearing nothing more than a damp towel.

  “Why, Glory? Is the sight of my bare chest getting to you?” Rafael Valdez licked white icing off one fingertip, and my fangs stabbed through my gums.

  “Listen. I’ve put up with your marathon showers until there’s no hot water left for mine. And your cooking smells.” Oh, great. Tears. But was it fair? Rafe’s a shape-shifter and seemed to have an insatiable appetite. He’d spent nearly five years stuck in dog form, acting as my bodyguard. Now he was staying all too human and was no longer at my mercy for his menu. Who knew he was a gourmet cook? Of course, popping open a can of sweet rolls may not be gourmet in some books, but I knew nirvana when I smelled it.

  He polished off roll number six—yes, I’d been counting—then stood. I would not notice the towel flapping open. He strolled over—flap, flap—to lay a gentle hand on my shoulder. Someone in this apartment was making a trip to the nearest discount store to get jumbo beach towels tonight. Since Rafe obviously didn’t care who ogled his family jewels, that “someone” would have to be me. Serve him right if I bought hot pink Hello Kitty. Let him strut his stuff in that.

  “I’m sorry, Glory.” He smiled, his dimples showing.

  It was still a shock to see Valdez the human hunk. He’d been a cute dog, usually a Labradoodle with wavy black hair. He still had the thick, curly locks, with dark eyes to match, but now there was a whole Latin-lover thing going on, complete with those teasing dimples that were an absolute killer where the ladies were concerned.

  Not me, of course. We were friends. Nothing more. V knew way too much about me. He’d been an up-close-and-personal witness to my love life, a tangled mess at the moment. And he’d listened to me wail ad nauseam about my issues. Which were numerous. I was even afraid he knew my deepest, darkest secret—the number when I stepped on a bathroom scale.
I’d just been through a weight-loss experiment and had a feeling he’d peeked. I mean, wouldn’t you if your best friend had been weighing in mere feet away?

  “Forget it, V. I’m a mess. Doesn’t take much to set me off these days.” My voice cracked. Oops. Was another meltdown coming? Personally, I was sick of myself. Made some tough decisions lately and regretted at least one of them almost instantly.

  “No, Glory, I’ve been an ass. I get it. Vampires can’t eat. I know what it’s like to crave what you can’t have.” He pulled me into his arms, and I felt weepy enough to actually lean into him. Damn those cinnamon rolls. Out of a can, but still.

  “It’s . . . it’s just that they smell so good.” And he looked so fine. And felt so warm and strong and . . . I sucked it up and pushed away. “We need to get some things straight here.” I didn’t have to glance down to know that, hello, part of him was already headed that direction under the stupid skimpy towel. Nice to know that Mr. Tall, Dark and Shifty wasn’t immune to my dubious charms.

  Oh, who was I kidding? I still had on my shapeless Snoopy nightshirt and hadn’t combed my hair since yesterday. It was probably his breakfast Rafe was excited about.

  “Yeah, well. It’s your place. But I’ve got to eat.” His dimples were showing again as he headed back to sit at the kitchen table. “I’ll scarf these down, then spray some air freshener. Will that make you feel better?”

  I sighed and collapsed on the couch. “What would make me feel better would be if you put on some clothes. Bought some underwear, for crying out loud.”

  “Whoa. Guess I am getting to you.” He laughed. “Cut me a break. I spent years naked inside a dog body. No wardrobe necessary.” He dragged a finger through a puddle of icing and licked it clean. “And I’ve never been too crazy about underwear. But for you, I’ll deal. I just haven’t had a chance to shop. I’ve been trying to get this nightclub off the ground.”

  “Yeah, how’s that going?” I picked up my bottle of synthetic blood. Yawn. Not even my favorite type. Because my fave is expensive. And Glory St. Clair is always on a budget.

  “Not great. Everything costs more than I’d thought it would. So today I finally caved and called an old friend. She has plenty of money and likes the club scene. Unfortunately, knowing Nadia, she won’t be a silent partner.” Rafe picked up his empty plate, rinsed it off and set it in the sink.

  “Nadia? Is she a shifter too?” Even the name sounded exotic.

  “Vampire. I worked for her back in the seventies. She’s got bars and nightclubs all over the world. Austin will be a new scene for her, so she’s coming tomorrow to scope it out. She wasn’t about to invest just on my say-so. If she likes what she sees, we’ll strike a deal.” Rafe plopped into a chair across from me.

  Oh, he did not just flash me. I stood and stalked into the kitchen to rinse out my glass bottle. We recycle.

  “Good luck with that. Now I’m going down to the shop. Up here we need some rules. You’ve got to shower during the day. While I’m conked out in my death sleep. The hot-water heater here has only one good shower a night in it, and I have a feeling you just took it.” I strode over to the door leading to the bathroom, dreading what I’d get when I tried the water for my shower.

  “Sorry. My body clock’s still on vamp time. Work all night, sleep all day, but with one eye open. You know?” Rafe got up and sauntered over to face me.

  “Right. You went way above and beyond what any paycheck required to protect me.” I kept my eyes on his. Otherwise, I’d be checking out that truly great chest just inches from my nose. Didn’t help that his scent was as familiar as my own. Hey, Valdez the dog had slept on the foot of my bed for years. One inhale and I felt safe and cared for.

  “We’re even. You saved my furry butt a time or two.” He grinned. “Like from a crowd of energy-sucking psychos.”

  “We’ll never be even.” I couldn’t smile at that memory. He’d almost been killed by a group of vampires who’d been trying to get to me. “I’ll always be grateful to you. But you’re off the payroll. And I’ve got to learn to deal without a bodyguard now. We’re friends. Roommates. So sleep with both eyes closed, buddy. You deserve that.”

  I admit that, while I was determined to be independent for the first time in my life, the concept freaked me out more than a little. But I’d told my overprotective maker and long-time lover, Jeremy Blade, to give me my space. That included no more freebies like the twenty-four/seven security he’d provided for the past, oh, four hundred years. Stupid me had even turned down the chance to stay in Hollywood and play house with amazing rock star Israel Caine.

  Sure I’m insane. But that’s me. Now I was out to prove that I could stand on my own two vampire feet. In cute shoes, of course. Me crying myself to sleep ever since I’d come back from Hollywood was just me being stupid.

  “You deserve to be safe. How I sleep is my business, Glory. Don’t stress about it.” Rafe put his hands on my shoulders. “And get this, lady.” He stared down at me, suddenly serious. No sign of a dimple. “Yeah, I’m your friend, and I’ll protect you if I see the need, with or without a paycheck.”

  “You shouldn’t—” I blinked when he backed me up to the wall.

  “I don’t take orders from you anymore. Right?”

  “Right. Rafe, what’s the deal?” His body felt almost hot compared to my vamp subhuman temperature, and it was so close. I inhaled again, but this time, instead of “safe,” I got a sizzle of something I hadn’t expected.

  “The deal is I’ve watched you with Blade and Caine, and I figure there’s a reason you won’t commit to either one of them.” He moved his hands from my shoulders to my neck, his thumbs doing funny things to the skin behind my ears.

  “Uh.” I shivered, absolutely speechless for once.

  His grin was slow and knowing. “Don’t worry, Glory. I’m not going to rush you. But one of these nights I’m going to end up in your bed again, and it’s not going to be lying at your feet.”

  He stepped back and headed down the hall, his towel hitting the floor as he walked into his bedroom and shut the door.

  I was left with the image of his perfect, taut butt burned into my brain. Dimples there too. Damn.

  “Glory, I’m glad you’re here. Things have been crazy.” Lacy Devereau, my day manager and right-hand girl in the shop, looked me over. “You okay?”

  “Fine. V’s been torturing me with his cooking again. That’s all.” I smiled at a customer who was heading toward a dressing room with a vintage dress over her arm. “Business good, then?”

  “Okay, but that’s not the crazy part. It’s Flo. She’s made this place into wedding central. You know I’m one of her bridesmaids.” Lacy glanced behind her and lowered her voice. “You’ve got to stop her, Glory. She’s talking about changing the dresses again. I don’t care if she is paying. With the wedding only a few weeks away, they’ll never get here on time.”

  “You’re right. I’m on it.” I picked up a pile of receipts. The daily take hadn’t been too shabby. My vintage-clothing and antique store was on trendy Sixth Street, between Mugs and Muffins, a coffee shop owned by a fellow vamp, and a tattoo parlor. The location for Rafe’s nightclub was a few blocks down. We weren’t far from the University of Texas, and my shop had become a hangout for some of the students. Since I called my place Vintage Vamp’s Emporium and my bud Florence da Vinci, the not-so-blushing bride, had painted a vampire mural on the wall, we were really popular with Goths and vampire wannabes. I’d tried to discourage that at first, then played along, even passing out fake fangs at Halloween.

  “Where’s Flo now? I’m not trying on any more bridesmaid dresses.” I’m maid of honor and had finally persuaded my former roomie to go with something black and slimming, with a bodice that would cover a double-D cup. Being a tiny size six herself, Flo really didn’t get a full-figured gal’s issues with some of the cute little numbers she liked.

  “I’m right here, cara. Come see what I have in the back.” Flo had thrown op
en the door to my storeroom and rushed forward to grab my hand. “You’ll love this dress. Purple. Your color. It will look fabulous on you. Jeremiah will take one look at you and—boom!—he’s yours again.”

  Jeremiah. Jeremy Blade. Whatever the hell he chose to call himself this week. We’d parted ways in Los Angeles. He was there; I was here. One of the reasons for my recent crying jags.

  “Jerry won’t be seeing me. He’s not here, remember?” I didn’t resist when Flo dragged me into the back room. She slammed the door. I hoped customers weren’t scared off, but couldn’t get worked up about it. Jerry. I missed him. But I’d told him we needed a break. So we were broken. Sniff.

  “He’ll be here. For the wedding. He’s going to be Ricardo’s best man.” Flo hugged me. “You’ll see. I fix everything for my BFF.”

  Ricardo, or Richard Mainwaring, was Flo’s husband. They’d been married at one ceremony, but it hadn’t been up to Flo’s standards. She’d decided she wanted a big wedding and had turned into bridezilla with fangs. Her rich brother Damian was footing the bill, so this was guaranteed to be the wedding of several centuries.

  “Jerry said yes? He’ll stand up for Richard?” I sounded a little skeptical because even though the guys got along fine, Jerry is a hardheaded Scot and Richard is English through and through. I guess I thought Richard would bring over one of his old Vatican cronies for the occasion. Richard is a former priest. Long story.

  “He was honored, of course.” Flo flipped open a magazine and stabbed at a picture. “This dress. Cute? No?”