One Lucky Vampire a-19

by Lynsay Sands

  “I did. But Mom called and did the Jewish mother guilt thing so I came back,” he said with exasperation.

  “Mom isn’t Jewish,” Nicole pointed out with amusement as she pulled out of the man’s arms.

  “Tell her that,” Joey said dryly and then glanced to Jake with raised eyebrows. “Replaced Rodolfo already, have we, Nicki? Nice.”

  “No!” Nicole flushed with embarrassment and gave Jake an apologetic look as she made the introductions. “Joey, this is my new cook/housekeeper, Jake.”

  “Cook/housekeeper,” Joey repeated, eyebrows askance as he looked Jake over again. Despite that he moved forward, offering his hand. “Is that a euphemism or are you really a cook/housekeeper?”

  “I really work for your sister,” Jake assured him solemnly, looking the other man over as well. Joey was a good-looking guy: golden hair and eyes, a nicely chiseled face, tight black jeans, a black leather jacket, expensive watch, and a confident swagger Jake suspected women swooned over. He looked a lot like his sister in the face and hair, but otherwise not so much. Nicole was short and curvaceous to his tall and lanky, and a jeans and T-shirt type gal compared to his more stylish dress. She also did not have a confident swagger. She was more like a hummingbird, rushing here and there with an anxious air.

  “Well, cool then,” Joey said, shaking his hand firmly and then added, “No offense, but Nicki’s had a rough time of it and the last thing she needs is to be hooking up with someone right now.”

  “So I understand,” Jake said with a nod, and then glanced to the SUV as Nicole opened the back.

  “Good God, girl!” Joey exclaimed, moving to help take bags. “What did you do? Buy out all of downtown Ottawa?”

  “I’m only responsible for the Canadian Tire bags,” Nicole assured him. “The rest is Jake’s fault. I think he thinks he’s feeding a small army . . . or a big one,” she added with a frown as she looked over the bags. “Geez, Jake, you did get an awful lot.”

  “Don’t worry about the groceries, I’ll get those,” Jake said quickly, moving up to shoo them away from the vehicle. “Why don’t you two go in and visit. I’ll bring these up and make coffee for you, then start on dinner. I’m guessing you’ll be staying for dinner, Joey?”

  “Thank you, I think I will,” Joey said, walking Nicole to the door. As they went inside, Jake heard him say, “This cook/housekeeper thing was a good idea. Whose was it? I know you didn’t come up with it by yourself.”

  “Marguerite,” Nicole answered. “She suggested a cook/housekeeper would ease my burden quite a bit so I could concentrate on work. She even found me Jake. He’s a family member of hers so I know he’s trustworthy.”

  “Ah, yes. Clever Marguerite,” Joey responded as the door closed behind them.

  “Clever Marguerite,” Jake agreed dryly as he began to gather grocery bags, and wondering what the hell he was going to do about supper. He’d made several attempts at dinner, the last and only successful one being the peppercorn steak sauce that was to be poured over the steaks after they were grilled, but the recipe had been for two steaks. Of course, he could feed that to them and make himself something else to eat. It wasn’t like they’d welcome the housekeeper at the dinner table anyway.

  Shaking his head, he turned his attention to the groceries.

  “This one’s almost done.”

  Nicole glanced up from the bags she and Joey had just carried into her studio to see that Joey had lifted the cover to peer at the portrait of the actress. Turning her attention back to searching the bags, she said distractedly, “Yeah. I’ll probably finish it tonight.”

  “And this one?” Joey asked, peering under the cover over the stern older man.

  “By the end of the week,” she said, barely sparing the painting a glance before returning to her search. She was looking for the mouse sonar. She wanted to plug them all in while she was thinking of it.

  “Who’s this?”

  Nicole glanced up again. Joey had uncovered the sketch of the couple. “Marguerite’s stepson, Christian, and his fiancée, Carolyn.”

  “Geez, she must have married an old guy if he has a kid this old,” Joey commented. “I bet this Christian hates having a stepmom so young.”

  “No.” Nicole smiled. “He seems to really like Marguerite. He calls her Mom and she calls him her son rather than her stepson. If they weren’t so close in age, I wouldn’t know they were steps. It’s really very sweet.”

  “Hmm,” Joey said. “I’m not buying that they get along that well. He’s probably got the hots for her and hoping to slip in there when the old man dies . . . and I wouldn’t blame him. Marguerite’s a hottie. How old is she anyway?”

  “I don’t know. Jake says she isn’t forty yet and that she married Jean Claude when she was thirteen.” Pausing, she glanced at the picture with a frown. “But Christian doesn’t look any older than Lucern, Etienne or Bastien.” She tilted her head. “I wonder if they were Jean Claude’s kids and not hers.”

  “They have to be,” Joey decided. “She just isn’t old enough to have kids that age.”

  “No, she isn’t,” Nicole agreed and then shrugged. “Still, even if she was thirteen when she married Jean Claude, she’s got to be thirty-five or something.”

  “She doesn’t look a day over twenty-five,” Joey said firmly.

  “I know. Nice huh?” Nicole said enviously. She’d probably look forty when she was thirty-five.

  “Yeah, that’s what money does for you,” Joey said wistfully. “Enough money and you can look young forever.”

  “Or you can look like a fan tester,” Nicole said dryly.

  “A fan tester?” Joey asked with confusion.

  Nicole nodded. “You know, the whole too many face-lifts thing where they look like they’re staring into a high-powered fan.” She pulled the sides of her face back with her hands so that her mouth and eyes were pulled into wide slits.

  Joey chuckled, but then asked, “Do you think she’s had face-lifts?”

  “Marguerite?” Nicole asked, letting go of her face. She shook her head and turned back to her search. “Nah. I think she just has some amazing fricking genes.”

  “Hmm.” Joey covered the paintings again and wandered back to her. “What are you looking for?”

  “I bought these sonar mouse-repellent things,” she muttered, giving up on the bag in front of her and grabbing another.

  “You have mice?” Joey asked with a grimace.

  “No. At least I don’t think so,” she added. “But I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “Oh.” He grabbed the bag nearest him and began to help look through it. “Are these them?”

  Nicole had just found two of them in the bottom of the bag she was searching, but glanced up and nodded when she saw that Joey was holding up half a dozen more. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  As she got to her feet, he moved over to the rolling table she kept her paint brushes and other paraphernalia on and grabbed a pair of scissors to begin cutting open the packages. “So where are we plugging these in?”

  Nicole smiled faintly at the “we” and leaned up to kiss his cheek as she reached his side. “You’re a star, Joey. Thank you for helping me.”

  “Geez, sis. I’m just opening the containers and plugging them in. It’s not that big a deal,” he assured her.

  “But I appreciate it,” she said simply.

  Joey snorted and shook his head. “God, how did you end up so pathetic?”

  “Nice,” Nicole said, smacking him in the back of the head when he set down the scissors to pull out two of the little white repellent gizmos.

  Joey grinned and said, “You spent too much time around Pierina growing up. She encouraged that nice gene from Mom to bloom and grow. You should have spent more time around me. I got Dad’s selfish asshole gene, I could have encouraged that in you.”

  The words surprised a laugh from Nicole and she ruffled his hair affectionately. “The very fact that you think you’re a selfish asshole means you aren�
�t.”

  “Ha! Got you fooled,” he said with amusement, and then concern entered his gaze and he caught her arm.

  “What?” she asked, and glanced down. She’d pushed up her sweater sleeves while searching, revealing the bottom of a large, dark bruise on her arm.

  “What happened here?” he asked, pushing the sleeve further up.

  Nicole blew her breath out and grimaced. “I took a bit of a spill coming out of Canadian Tire earlier tonight.”

  “That’s more than a spill,” he said quietly.

  “It’s just a bruise, Joey. I’m pretty sure I have several more of those. My hip and knee are both sore as heck and feel stiff, and I think I must have wrenched my neck as well. But at least I didn’t break anything.” Nicole shrugged and tugged her arm free. “I’ll take a dip in the hot tub before bed tonight and tomorrow it will all just be a good story to tell.”

  “Hmm.” He didn’t look impressed. “Well if you don’t feel better tomorrow, you should go see the doctor. Maybe he can give you something . . . for clumsiness.”

  “Ha, ha,” Nicole said dryly. “Come on, smart boy. Let’s go plug these in.”

  “Where are we putting them?” Joey asked, gathering the little items in his hand.

  “One in every room,” she answered, stopping to plug one into the socket by the door. “We’ll do the kitchen last. You can distract Jake while I plug one in there. I don’t want him to think I have mice. He might quit.”

  “We wouldn’t want that,” Joey said with amusement.

  “No, we wouldn’t,” she assured him. “He makes the yummiest omelets ever . . . and his coffee’s good too.”

  “Can’t wait to try it,” Joey said as he followed her out of the studio.

  Seven

  “So, Joey, what do you do?” Jake asked quietly as he cut into his steak. He’d bought more steak today at the grocery store and when Nicole had insisted he join her and her brother for dinner, had quickly cooked one up for himself. He used to like his medium rare, now he ate it rare, so it hadn’t taken long to cook. There had already been enough salad and he’d bought those frozen hot and spicy potato wedges to have with the steak. As for the sauce, while the recipe had only been for two, there had been more than enough for three.

  “I’m retired. Used to be in land development though,” Joey answered lightly as he dug into his peppercorn steak.

  Nicole and Joey had both assured him the peppercorn sauce on the steak was very good, which was a relief. He’d worried about it while out shopping. It had seemed to be his first possible successful attempt at cooking before they’d left the house, but he’d feared it might dry out or curdle while they were out. It hadn’t, and when he’d warmed it up it had actually tasted better than when they’d left.

  Thank God, Jake thought with an inner sigh. He’d developed a headache shortly after returning to the house . . . which was something new. He hadn’t had a headache, or a sniffle, or any other ailment since being turned, and was glad he hadn’t. His head was throbbing and aching so bad he could hardly think. Even his teeth were beginning to ache with it.

  “Joey’s being modest. He started with nothing, and built an empire,” Nicole said proudly. “He had a hand in building some of the biggest malls and complexes in the Toronto area. In fact,” she added with a proud grin at her brother. “He’s done so well he retired last year and now travels and lives a life of leisure.”

  “Impressive,” Jake said quietly, rubbing at his forehead. He’d already known that, but it seemed better to pretend he didn’t. There was no reason Marguerite would have told him that in the normal course of events if he was just a cook/housekeeper. At least he didn’t think so. He could be wrong though. This damned headache was really messing with his thinking.

  “Jake’s pretty impressive himself,” Nicole told her brother. “He was vice president of a company called V.A. Incorporated up until a couple years ago.”

  Joey peered at Jake dubiously. “V.P. huh? You’re pretty young for a V.P. Was it a family position?”

  “I’m loosely related to the owner now via marriage. However, I wasn’t at the time I worked for him,” Jake said stiffly, wondering if it was his headache that made the question seem like an insult.

  “So, was it a small company then?” Joey asked.

  “No,” Jake said simply. His head hurt too much to bother describing all of V.A.’s holdings. If the guy wanted to know about the company he could Google it.

  “Are you all right, Jake?” Nicole asked suddenly, concern puckering her forehead. “You look pale.”

  “Actually, I don’t feel well,” Jake admitted, staring down at his meal with a frown. He loved steak, but his headache was bad enough that he was starting to feel nauseous. This was just bizarre. Immortals weren’t supposed to get sick.

  “Would you like an aspirin or ibuprofen?” Nicole asked, getting up and heading for the cupboard beside the door where she presumably kept such things.

  “No, no, I’m fine,” Jake said at once, frowning after her. There was no use taking the painkillers: drugs and alcohol weren’t supposed to affect immortals.

  “Here, in case you change your mind,” Nicole said returning to set a bottle of ibuprofen on the table beside his plate.

  “Thank you,” Jake murmured, tempted to take the pills anyway. They weren’t supposed to affect his kind, but then his kind weren’t supposed to get sick either, and he was feeling pretty sick. Sighing, he glanced up and found both Nicole and Joey peering at him; Nicole with concern, Joey with curiosity. As much to distract himself as them, he asked, “So what do you do now, Joey?”

  “Oh,” Joey blinked and sat back with a wry smile. “This and that and nothing at all. I travel, mostly. See the sights and play.”

  “Is Ottawa still your home base?” Jake asked, hoping to get the man talking again.

  “Toronto was his home base, not Ottawa,” Nicole explained, and then added, “He has a house in Florida now, but pops around for a visit on occasion.” Turning to her brother, she asked, “How long are you staying this time?”

  Jake glanced to the man with interest. Nicole’s question seemed to suggest Joey would be staying, which could be good. With the other man there, he’d have help keeping an eye on Nicole.

  “Actually, I’m not staying with you this time, Nicki,” Joey announced and popped a potato wedge in his mouth.

  “What?” Nicole seemed surprised. “But where will you stay then? Not a hotel?”

  “Yes. I booked a hotel . . . I thought Melly would be more comfortable there than being thrust on family for the first meeting.”

  “Melly?” Nicole asked, smiling faintly. “A new girlfriend? And one who’s lasted more than a week and that you’re actually willing to travel with?”

  “She’s lasted six months,” Joey informed her, and then grinned and added, “And I asked her to marry me.”

  “What?” Nicole’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously,” Joey said with a grin.

  “That’s marvelous!” Nicole cried, jumping up to hug her brother. “Congratulations, bro.”

  “Thank you,” he murmured, hugging her back.

  Moving back to her chair once they’d finished hugging, Nicole asked, “So who is she? How did you meet? When do I get to meet her?”

  Joey chuckled and reached for his wine. He took a sip and then set down the glass and said, “I met her in Florida. Her name is Melanie, and she’s a model from Toronto.”

  “A model?” Nicole asked, appearing impressed. “And from Toronto?”

  Joey nodded. “She has an apartment in New York too, but lives here in Ontario when she’s not working. But she was on vacation in Florida when I met her.”

  Nicole sat back with a laugh. “That is so you.”

  “What?” her brother asked, smiling uncertainly.

  “You move all the way to Florida to meet a gal from your hometown,” she pointed out.

  He smiled wryly and nodded.
“Yeah. What are the odds, huh?”

  “With you? Pretty good. Things like that always happen to you,” Nicole said with a smile, and then repeated, “So when do I get to meet her?”

  “How about tomorrow? A late lunch?” he suggested. “Or breakfast for you, I suppose. But late lunch for Melly and I.”

  Nicole hesitated the briefest moment and Jake suspected she was thinking of all the work she had to do, but then she nodded and breathed out with resignation. “Of course.”

  “Well then, I should let you get back to work now,” Joey said, apparently having understood the hesitation as well.

  When the other man pushed back his chair and stood up, Jake glanced to his plate, surprised to see that Joey had finished his meal. So had Nicole, he noted, glancing to her plate next. Apparently, he was the only one with most of his food still on his plate.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Nicole agreed apologetically, getting up as well. “I’ll see you out.” Turning to Jake then, she said, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Jake nodded and remained seated as they left the room, but then stood up and began gathering plates. He put the empty plates in the dishwasher, but covered his and put it in the refrigerator. If his headache cleared up, he would finish it later, he thought as he quickly finished clearing the table.

  When Nicole hadn’t returned by the time he finished, Jake moved into the living room and up to the railing overlooking the lower living room to listen, relaxing when he heard the murmur of voices from below. When silence fell and he heard the door close and the click as it was locked, he continued on to his room. His head was killing him and since immortals weren’t supposed to get sick, it had to be a tension headache. Perhaps lying down would help. He hoped it would. Jake didn’t know if seven years of pain-free living had made him less tolerant to pain or what, but this headache was killing him.

  Jake didn’t bother turning the lights on in his room; he didn’t really need them anyway. The moonlight coming through the window was enough for him to be able to navigate his way to the bed. He lay down on top of the blankets and tried to relax, but the pounding in his head made that impossible. He closed his eyes, opened his eyes, turned on one side and then the other before returning to his back, and finally gave up. Lying there he had nothing to think about but how much his head hurt. It just seemed to make it worse.