I caught another whiff of apples and sugar, reaffirming that he was, indeed, a born vampire. At the same time, there was something else in the air. Something sharp and potent that made my nose burn. My eyes watered and I blinked before giving him the once-over. He had blond hair and mesmerizing green eyes. He looked in his thirties, indicating that he’d lost his virginity later than most.
Translation? Socially challenged.
Nix the I-want-to-have-wild-meaningless-monkey-sex agenda that usually motivated most males of my species.
This vampire was here for an entirely different reason.
My survival instincts kicked into high gear and a growl worked its way up my throat.
“Easy.” He held up his hands. “I only want to talk.”
Talk?
A male vampire?
Now I was really freaked.
I growled again and flashed some serious fang.
He shot to his feet, but his gaze remained calm and steady. “Look, I’m not here to hurt you.”
“As if.”
“I heard there was a matchmaker in town,” he added, his voice smooth and enchanting, “and I wanted to see for myself.”
Not that I was enchanted, of course. That parlor trick only worked on humans. Socially challenged, all right. Any male BV worth his weight knew the way to a female’s heart was to plop down some green.
He didn’t pull out his wallet. Instead, he stared at me, his eyes brightening and glowing for a long moment before cooling back to their normal shade. “You’re a vampire,” he finally declared. “I never expected that.”
“Yeah, well, the world is full of surprises. I never expected to find Wyatt Earp breaking and entering my room.” I planted my hands on my hips and eye-balled him. “What’s the deal?”
“My name is DeWalt Carrigan. I own the Circle C, about five miles outside of town,” he said as if the words were supposed to mean something. When I didn’t seem clued in, he added, “It’s the biggest spread in Texas.”
“And this impresses me how?” Every born vamp in existence had a successful something or other. My parents ran a printing and copy dynasty. Remy provided security to celebrities and politicians. Nina One’s family did hotels. Nina Two? Feminine hygiene products.
You name it, there was a vamp out there raking in the moolah.
Except for the dating game and yours truly.
Not that I was failing miserably. Hardly. I just wasn’t cultivating enough to warrant a full-sized rake. No, I was still using one of those handheld gardening babies.
“I’ve got over twenty thousand acres,” DeWalt told me. “I run fifty thousand head of cattle and I’m the largest beef supplier in the country.”
My gaze snagged on his boots and I noticed the worn toes and the mud clinging to the hem of his jeans. My nose wrinkled again and I knew it wasn’t just mud. Shock bolted through me.
“You run cattle? You personally?”
“I’ve got several hired hands, but I do a fair share of the work myself. Branding. Roundup. Birthing calves.”
“Get out of here.” Not that I couldn’t see a vampire owning a cattle ranch. But actually participating? Sure, my dad ran the occasional copy for someone, but when it came to restocking the shelves or changing toner cartridges, he definitely outsourced. “Born vampires don’t do manual labor.”
“We’re not all self-centered, holier-than-thou snobs,” he told me. I arched an eyebrow and he shrugged. “So we are, but I like working for a living. I know it seems crazy.”
“Suicidal.”
He nodded. “But it makes me feel good. I feel like I’m actually doing something with my afterlife. Besides, we’re not all descended from royalty. There are a few of us so far removed from the family tree that we didn’t grow up wealthy and privileged.” Another eyebrow arch and he shrugged again. “All right, so we all grew up wealthy and privileged. My family ran sheep in the Naples countryside and I used to sneak off and help the shepherds every night. Now I’ve got my own cattle to take care of. Purebred Texas Longhorns. They’re a hell of a lot bigger, but the principle is the same. It’s very lucrative,” he added defensively.
“Hey, more power to you. I’m not exactly main-streaming myself when it comes to vamp careers.”
“You’re really a matchmaker?”
“Vampires need love, too.” It was his turn to arch an eyebrow. “Okay, so they need money, a good blood slave and a banging orgasm quotient/fertility rating more than they need love. But I help them find that, too. I’m also an equal opportunity matchmaker. Humans, born vampires, made vampires, weres, demons—you name it. I haven’t actually matched up a fairy yet, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed.”
“Do you have references?”
“No. My father would bust a nut if I handed out anything that could double as a kill sheet for one of the SOBs. But I do have a badass Flash website complete with testimonials.”
He seemed to think. “Success rate?”
“Ninety-eight percent.” Give or take ten or twenty.
“Do you think you could match me up?”
No. That’s what I should have said because I was already on an all-important mission to find Esther. The clock was ticking.
Then again, I’d done all I could do at this point and I was stuck waiting around for Tara Hanover to call me back.
I certainly had the time to help DeWalt.
“Do you want a date for a specific occasion, a companion or a bona fide commitment mate?” I asked him.
“A commitment mate. Five, to be exact.”
“The last I heard, polygamy was a human thing.”
“I’m not a polygamist.” He averted his gaze and I had the strange feeling that he was suddenly embarrassed.
I know, I know. BVs didn’t do embarrassment. But BVs didn’t do roping and branding either, yet DeWalt Carrigan had just blown that theory wide open.
He mumbled something that even my preternatural hearing had difficulty picking up.
I blinked and tried to process the info. “Did you just say you have mad ducks with green tails?”
He cleared his throat and stiffened. After a few uncomfortable moments, his gaze finally met mine. “I said I have bad luck with females.”
My geek-o-meter kicked into high gear. I’d helped a geeky vampire once before. His name was Francis and he was the oldest BV in existence.
While this guy didn’t look as hopeless as Francis (he did have the whole rugged cowboy thing going on), I’d learned that it wasn’t just looks that made a man lame. Francis had been a die-hard scrapbooker.
Nuff said.
“Crochet? Crossword puzzles? Ceramics? Whatever you’re into, it can’t be that bad.”
He bristled. “I don’t do any of that candy-ass stuff.”
“Of course not. There’s nothing candy-ass about putting together an afghan or making a cookie jar. It’s therapeutic.”
“I’m not a dork.”
“Of course you’re not.”
“No, really. I’m not. I face down bulls and steers every day.” He shook his head. “I’m not talking bad luck as in they don’t like me. I’m talking bad luck as in they bite the dust. I’ve buried eight commitment mates already. The first staked herself with a riding staff in a carriage accident about three hundred years ago. Number two had a knock-down drag-out with a shepherd’s staff back in the old country. Numbers three through seven all had similar freak accidents. This last one stabbed herself with a pitchfork while cleaning out the barn.”
“That’s terrible.”
“You’re telling me.” He shrugged. “Nobody could handle a pitchfork like Luella. That’s what I liked about her. She could give me a run for my money when it came to working the ranch.”
“Children?”
He shook his head and seemed to gather his courage.
I know, right? BVs usually had the biggest balls on the planet. I fought to keep the surprise from showing on my face and kept my sympathetic come-on-and-spill expressio
n firmly in place.
It worked, because he finally muttered, “My fertility rating isn’t what it should be. Not that I can’t shoot a bull’s-eye. No sirree. I’ve got great aim. It’s just that my boys are a little slow to get there and I haven’t been with any female long enough for them to make the trip. I figure if I have several mates lined up waiting to jump right in when one kicks the bucket, I won’t waste any time climbing back into the saddle. I think five should be enough.”
Can you say Uh-uh, not gonna happen? Not in this eternity or any other?
Really. I’d be lucky to find one born female vampire in a town the size of a postage stamp. Five was definitely out of the question.
“We might have to reach outside your comfort zone,” I heard myself say.
“Austin? Dallas?”
“I was thinking New York. Maybe Chicago. Philadelphia. Miami. If we really want to find several females, we’ll have better luck if we hit the major metropolitan cities.” And ones where I was semi-connected. My cousin Renee lived in Chicago. Francois in Philadelphia. Mimi in Miami.
And I thought my name sucked rocks?
“You have connections in those places?”
I gave him a get-real smile. “Do I have connections?”
“Do you?” He gave me a pointed stare.
“My database is loaded with hot prospects,” I assured him, despite the fact that I wasn’t one hundred percent sure I was going to take him on in the first place.
Backup soul mates? It was just so … cold and callous and unromantic. It went against the happily-ever-after, one-male-and-one-female, till-never-do-us-part foundation that supported my steadfast belief in true love.
Then again, five meant five times the usual retainer fee, which meant a year’s supply of MAC’s new Forever Sunrise bronzer and the ability to make good on my money-back guarantee with the handful of clients I’d failed.
“I’m willing to pay extra for your trouble.” He pulled out a black leather-bound checkbook and a pen.
I’ll do it.
That’s what I wanted to say. But I kept thinking about poor Luella and the pitchfork and how if I’d been her, I’d have wanted DeWalt to mourn more than just the fact that I knew my way around a barn. Where was the devotion? The loyalty? The love?
The push/pull went on for a few minutes as my closet romantic tried to kick practicality’s ass. The battle ended when DeWalt’s gaze met mine.
“I need children,” he finally said. “I’m my father’s only son. You see, I’m not the only one of the Carrigans with slow swimmers. I’ve got one sister, but she’s much younger. She isn’t going to commit to anyone for a very long time, and even when she does, there’s no guarantee that she’ll reproduce. Her orgasm quotient is about as impressive as my fertility rating.
Ouch.
“I’m really the only hope of continuing our line,” he added. “I have to reproduce.”
“I feel your pain, buddy.” Boy, did I ever.
I thought of my own mother and the constant fix-ups. The guilt. The nagging. The disappointment.
My heart clenched and I knew right then that I was going to help him. However unromantic and difficult.
“It’s going to be expensive. We’re talking five times the usual retainer, plus ten percent for expenses and travel.” I gave him the amount and waited for the freak-out. Male BV=tightwad from hell.
DeWalt didn’t so much as flinch as he wrote the check and handed it to me.
I stuffed the check into my purse, walked over to my briefcase and pulled out a pen and paper. “I’ll need as many details about you as possible. Your likes and dislikes. Your background. Your hopes and dreams. The more I know about you, the better. You can start with your name. Address. Bank balance.”
After I finished up DeWalt’s profile, I gave him a smile and a reassuring “Five commitment mates coming right up,” and sent him on his way. Then I pulled out my laptop and did a database search for every available female I had listed. A whopping three scrolled across my screen.
Numero uno?
Jonelle Dubois.
A zing of excitement went through me as I picked up the phone. After sitting through two dates with Evie’s uncle Harrington for lack of a better match, Jonelle would jump at the chance to meet a born vamp male. This was going to be too easy.
“Hi, Jonelle. It’s Lil. Lil Marchette. The dress rehearsal’s over. Time for the main event.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve got the perfect vampire for you. Wealthy. Handsome. His fertility rating isn’t off the charts, but you weren’t interested in having more children. Although, you haven’t ruled it out either,” I added. “In fact, a vampire of your breeding owes it to herself to have as many children as she possibly can. It’s your duty. Your right.”
“But I sort of like Harrington.”
Come again?
“I know it was just supposed to be a dress rehearsal, but he’s really kind of sweet. He reminds me of my very first blood slave, John Charles. He’s nice and he listens when I talk. That’s what I’ve really been missing for the last six hundred years since Pierre got staked by that Italian SOB when we were on holiday in Florence. The company. See, I’ve realized that I don’t really need a mate. It’s the companionship I need, and Harrington is more than sufficient for that.”
“But he’s old. He won’t last that long.”
“Then I’ll find another one. Blood slaves are much easier to come by than eternity mates.”
“He’s broke,” I pointed out, playing every BV card I could think of. “With the exception of a teeny tiny pension, he has nothing.”
“I have plenty of my own money.”
“He’s impotent.”
“What did you say the vampire’s name was?”
I gave her DeWalt’s stats and set up a meeting for the following evening. She would fly down on her private jet, they would have midnight martinis and she’d be back in Connecticut before sunrise.
That was easy enough.
I was just giving myself a mental high five when my cell rang. Nina’s number blazed across the display.
“Hey,” I said.
“We need to talk.”
“I’ve got plenty of time right now.”
“Not on the phone. I …” Her voice faded as she seemed to catch herself. “I really think I need to say this in person.”
“That important?”
“The most important thing ever.”
I knew it.
“You and Rob are back together and you’re eternally grateful and you want to tell me how fabulous I am. That’s it, isn’t it?”
“I’d rather not say anything right now. Where are you? Evie said something about Arizona, but she didn’t know the name of the hotel.”
“I’m staying at The Grande.”
“In Phoenix?”
“Give or take a thousand miles.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Keep your mouth shut. That’s what I told myself. But then she added, “Lil? Come on. I need you. This is huge.”
“I’m in Texas,” I heard myself say. “But you can’t tell anyone. Not my mother. Or Ty. Or Ash. Or some old guy dressed like Santa Claus. Especially not an old guy dressed like Santa Claus.”
“What the hell is going on? Never mind,” she said when I started to give her the condensed version. “You can tell me later. My afterlife is complicated enough right now. Give me the address and I’ll be there tomorrow night.”
“I mean it,” I reminded her after I’d given her the info. “You have to keep this to yourself.”
“No problem. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I hit OFF and did a mental end zone dance because my luck was finally changing. I’d already found the first prospect for DeWalt, which meant I was one step closer to earning the whopping retainer he’d given me. Nina and Rob were getting back together; i.e., he was so outta my apartment.
And Esther?
All
right, so I wasn’t going to run off on a Vegas vacation just yet. Still, things were starting to work out.
I held tight to hope and shifted my attention to born vamp prospect number two—a female who’d listed a high fertility rating and a massive bank account as her only must-haves.
Dialing her number, I crossed my fingers and sent up a silent Pu-leazzzz that she’d settle for one out of two.
One minute I was propped up in bed, sipping a cup of blood and surfing my database—just in case I’d missed a viable born female for DeWalt—and the next, I was standing on a picturesque powdery white beach.
It was the ultimate getaway video in the making. The sun shimmered in the pale blue sky. A soft breeze blew in off the water. Palm trees swayed. Somewhere in the far distance, Barry Manilow sang “Copacabana.”
Dreams. Go figure.
A yummy tingle swept through me and my knees trembled. I knew even before I heard Ty’s deep, mesmerizing voice that he stood directly behind me.
“I’ve missed you.”
And?
That’s what I wanted to say, but since we were smack dab in the middle of a fantasy I decided not to pick a fight. This was about distracting myself and destressing and getting completely and totally naked.
Barry sang louder and Ty stared down at me and, well, I couldn’t help but move my hips just a little this way and then a little that way. My hands went to the back of my neck and worked the tie on my hot pink snakeskin bikini. The straps loosened, the conch-shell clasp followed, and pretty soon I twirled and tossed it with the finesse of a highly paid hoochie.
His neon blue eyes gleamed. “You’re so beautiful.”
And?
I shook away the question and concentrated on the heat skimming my skin. My nipples throbbed and the inside of my thighs trembled.
Ty’s gaze darkened and smoldered as his eyes caressed my body and noted every sensual reaction. He wanted to touch me, but he didn’t.
Not yet.
I reached for the side ties of my bikini bottom.
“Come on, baby,” he murmured, his voice raw and raspy. “Give it to me.”
Help!
Sucker for Love: The Dead-End Dating Novel Page 13
