Happily Never After

by Jeaniene Frost

  Isa gave him a level look. "I'm going to hold you to that."

  Chapter 4

  Isa sat across from her grandmother and watched as she made tea. It was their Saturday afternoon ritual that Isa would have gladly done herself, but her grandmother was still fiercely independent and wouldn't hear of it. Her only capitulation to Isa's concerns about her health was to wear the LifeCall alert Isa had gotten her. Isa noted her thinness and the translucence of her flesh that was common with advanced age, and had to blink back tears.

  She'll be gone soon, Isa thought with a stab of grief. It was doubly hard, since her grandmother had been both mother and father to her since Isa was thirteen, and Frazier even younger at nine. Then a mere five years after her parents had died, Isa's grandfather passed as well.

  Some people would be broken from grief, but Greta Spaga dried her tears after her husband's funeral and said that death was simply part of life. That prolonged mourning only stole the good memories of the person who was gone. Isa doubted she'd have the same strength.

  Now, over ten years later, Frazier was missing and Isa would have agreed to almost anything to keep her grandmother from facing another crushing family loss. The old woman might be strong as steel emotionally, but there was still only so much one person could take.

  There was only so much Isa could take as well. Robert never said the words directly, but Isa knew that her brother wasn't the only collateral he was holding against her. She'd seen Paul and Ritchie drive by her grandmother's a few times when they knew Isa was there to spot them. Their actions screamed that more than Frazier would pay if Isa refused to do what Robert wanted.

  "Here you are," her grandmother said, setting down Isa's cup of tea.

  "So tell me about Chance," she said, trying to distract herself and genuinely wanting to know more about the sexy oddball.

  Her grandmother smiled as she set her own cup down with more of a clatter.

  "Downright tasty looking, isn't he?" Greta asked slyly.

  Isa almost choked on a swallow. There was no mistaking the wicked note to her grandmother's voice.

  "I meant, where'd you meet him? What does he do for a living? And how long have you known about Frazier, while we're at it?"

  "Hmm, where'd I meet Chance? A long time ago in Louisiana . What does he do for a living?" Greta paused to cackle. "He doesn't do anything for a living, dear. How long have I known about Frazier? Since he didn't call me on Tuesday three weeks ago to check in. Frazier always calls me on Tuesdays. He hasn't missed one in the past five years."

  Isa's mouth dropped. Her brother Frazier, who couldn't remember anyone's birthday and who hadn't held a steady job since Melrose Place was a hit, called their grandmother faithfully every Tuesday?

  Greta tsked. "Don't look so shocked. Frazier's a bit high-strung, but so was I at his age. He's settled down a lot, Isa. You shouldn't judge him so harshly."

  Now Isa did choke on her tea, lightly spraying herself with it. Once she'd regained her breath, she was glad it happened. Or she might have shouted, "High-strung? Associating with crime lords is a bit more than high-strung!"

  But her grandmother didn't need the added worry of learning about how Frazier had cozened up to Robert these past few months. Hell, Isa had Frazier to thank for the fact that Robert had even stepped foot in her restaurant in the first place. Sure, Frazier tried to dissuade Robert once he saw the interest Robert immediately took in her, but by then, it had been too late.

  "Tell me more about Chance," Isa managed. Anything except how Frazier was a misunderstood softie.

  Her grandmother stared at her without speaking for so long, Isa repeated the question, thinking maybe her hearing was finally slipping.

  "Oh, I heard you the first time," Greta said, still studying her. "You've always been such a serious child. Why, you stopped believing in Santa Claus way before your other friends did, and once your parents died, you stopped believing in a lot more things, didn't you?"

  "What does this have to do with Chance?" Isa asked, squirming under that too-knowing pale brown gaze.

  "A lot," her grandmother replied sharply. "Once your parents were dead, you stopped believing in people themselves. That's why you withdrew from all your friends. That's why you've never let any of your boyfriends get close to you, and that's also why I haven't told you certain things that otherwise, you would know by now."

  Isa stood, looking at her watch with a fake expression of regret. Yes, she'd wanted to find out more about Chance, but not at the price of ripping open wounds she'd tried so hard to forget were there.

  "Sorry I can't stay, but I'm supposed to open the restaurant today. That's right, Frank…Frank said he had an appointment. I have to go."

  Her grandmother snorted, as eloquent as a twenty-minute dissertation on how Isa was full of shit.

  "Fine, go. But before you do, I'll say one thing about Chance: Don't think the world contains only what you've been taught at school. Oh no, my dear. That's just the first layer of it."

  Isa gave her a kiss and then got out of there as fast as possible. It would have been easier if her grandmother was wrong, instead of all too accurately nailing her with observations Isa would just as soon not acknowledge.

  * * *

  Chance was outside waiting for Isa when she locked up later that night. He saw her start in surprise when she spotted him leaning against the far side of her restaurant's building, and then the tension left her shoulders.

  "You scared me," she said accusingly.

  He cast a meaningful look around at the almost empty parking lot and the deep shadows where the streetlights failed to penetrate.

  "As well you should be wary. You're a beautiful young woman walking without an escort at one in the morning. Why doesn't one of your staff at least see you to you car?"

  "Because they're not sexist pigs who think women are incapable of taking care of themselves."

  Chance rolled his eyes. "This has nothing to do with feminism. I'm all for gender equality, but the fact remains that women are targeted for more specific crimes than men, and the perpetrators of those crimes often look for circumstances such as these to attack."

  "See this?" Isa pulled something dark and oblong out of her purse. Chance's mouth twitched.

  "Turbo Vagisil?"

  "No, it's a taser!" Isa said indignantly. "I can take care of myself, Chance. I've been doing that just fine for the past twenty-nine and a half years before you showed up, remember?"

  He'd forgotten how hard it was to start a relationship. Casual dating, casual sex, or casual bloodletting was easy, but this? Chance figured it was a good thing he wasn't growing any older.

  "Of course," he said, reminding himself that what was once considered polite concern for a lady's well-being was now obviously cause for insult. "But if it's all right with you, I'd like to walk you to your car. I mean no disrespect and I am fully aware that you can take care of yourself. May I?"

  Isa hesitated, then nodded. "Okay."

  Chance took her arm when she drew even with him. She looked like she might pull away, but then she relaxed and kept it curled around his. Now he could feel her pulse speed up as well as hear it, and he found himself staring at her profile. Her black hair had been up in a neat twist at the beginning of the evening, but now it was coming loose with long pieces falling over her shoulders. She was chewing on her lower lip again, worrying it faintly between her teeth as they walked. Chance's tongue traced his lower lip as he watched, imagining it was hers instead and wondering how she tasted.

  Isa stopped next to her vehicle. Instead of letting her arm go, Chance held on and faced her.

  She met his eyes—and quickly looked away. "No luck on, ahem, speaking with Robert?"

  "No. He's meeting with several guests who flew in this morning. They're staying at his house and they have their own entourage of guards as well, so it's not an opportune time."

  "Probably the Salucci brothers," Isa murmured. "They're another lovely criminal family vying for tha
t oh-so-coveted 'made man' status. They're rivals of Robert's, too, if what I've overheard about them is true. I don't know why they'd stay with him. They don't like each other."

  "Probably because to refuse is to admit fear, and then that gives Robert the upper hand. Don't worry. I listened in on them and they'll be gone tomorrow. That means tomorrow night, I'll have my talk with Robert."

  Isa shivered. "So many things could go wrong…"

  "They won't," Chance said.

  She gave him a jaded look. "Sure, you managed to get me to perch on your lap like a kid visiting Santa, but doing that and getting a mobster to spill his secrets is worlds apart. Not to mention that you're the one with the greatest threat of repercussions if you failed. Robert might make things unpleasant for me or Frazier if you can't pull off your hocus-pocus routine, but he'll kill you. You know that, right? Really, I don't understand why you're doing this to begin with."

  "I told you it was a matter of honor," Chance replied.

  A sharp bark of laughter escaped Isa. "Honor. Who knew anyone still cared about that nowadays?"

  Chance didn't reply. Yes, it was true honor was an undervalued commodity according to modern human standards, but in the vampire community, it still had strong merit. Bones had asked him for a favor and Chance had promised to grant it. That meant whatever the risks, he'd take them.

  Of course, since he'd spent time with Isa, he knew he'd take those same risks regardless of his sire. He felt drawn to her in ways he hadn't felt for anyone in a long time. In order to see where it led, there were a lot worse dangers Chance would take on than a spoiled-brat mobster.

  "I wanted to thank you," Isa said at last, meeting his eyes squarely. "Guess I never have gotten around to doing that. You're taking a huge risk, and whatever your reasons, I really appreciate it."

  He smiled. "You're more than welcome, Isabella."

  Chance heard her heart begin to thump with an irregular, advanced rhythm. Her gaze flicked to his lips—and stayed there.

  His hand was still on her arm. There was less than a foot between them. Isa shivered, but it wasn't cold out. No, the luxuriant new scent drifting from her said she was feeling anything but cold at the moment.

  Chance's hand tightened on her arm as he moved closer. Now there wasn't a foot between them, but mere inches. Her pulse sped up even more as he leaned down.

  Right before his mouth brushed hers, however, Isa turned her head. Chance didn't follow the movement, but let his lips caress her cheek instead. So soft and warm. It was all he could do to keep his tongue from flicking out and tasting her.

  Isa gave a shaky laugh. "I must be really tired. Here I am, engaged to Robert Mini-Mob Bertini, and yet about to make out with a virtual stranger in a public place. For my next idiotic trick, maybe I'll call Robert and dare him to kill Frazier."

  Chance's fingers played with the skin on her arm. "Is being in a public place your only objection? Because that can be remedied."

  Another sweet wave of scent came off her even as she backed away.

  "I-I have to go," Isa stammered, not answering his question. "You'll call me after you speak with Robert, right?"

  Chance made no move to stop her. He just stared at her as she got into her car and shut the door a little too hard.

  "I'll speak to you as soon as I'm done with him, yes."

  "All right." Isa paused, looked like she was about to say something else, then put the car in gear. Chance heard her mutter under her breath, "I must be crazy," right as she pulled away.

  He smiled to himself. No, darling, you're not crazy. You're just fighting your emotions—something I learned long ago will always win in the end.

  Chapter 5

  Isa dreamed her restaurant had turned into a breakfast diner. Frank was whipping up bacon, eggs, hashbrowns, and assorted omelets while coffee brewed from multiple pots. The smell of freshly baked bread permeated the air as Isa hurried from table to table, making sure every customer had what they needed, rotating the order of the tables for the wait staff, and checking food supplies. Meanwhile, she was so hungry. All the sights and smells from the kitchen teased her, making her stomach knot with need. Still, she didn't stop. The responsibilities of the restaurant came first. Once the breakfast rush was over, she'd have Frank fix her a large plate, but until then, there was work to do.

  "Isabella."

  She turned to see who'd called her name, but all the faces in the diner seemed to blur out of focus.

  "Isabella, wake up."

  Her eyes snapped open. She was in her house. In her bed, and there was no breakfast diner, no rush of hungry customers to attend to, and no staff to oversee.

  So why was it that she could still smell bacon, bread, and coffee?

  "Am I going to have to come in there and wake you?" a voice she now recognized asked.

  Isa stiffened, pinching herself to make sure she wasn't still dreaming. No, she definitely felt that, and yes, once again, Chance was in her home.

  Her gaze went to the window. Had he gotten in through there again? Or did he go through the front door this time, because maybe he was an expert lock-picker as well? More importantly, why wasn't she angry? Why was she getting out of bed, smoothing her hand over her sleep-tousled hair, and wondering if she should put on something more appealing than her long cotton pajamas with their constellation pattern?

  She heard a clatter of pans. "I know you're awake. Come on out, your breakfast is getting cold."

  "Nothing comes before the bladder," Isa muttered under her breath, surprised when she heard him laugh a moment later. He couldn't have heard her…could he?

  She walked into the kitchen five minutes later, too proud to change out of her pajamas, but conceding to brush her teeth and run a wet towel over her face. As far as her hair—well. It was hopeless, as it always was in the morning.

  Chance was in the middle of her kitchen, looking far better than what was in the array of pans on her stove. He had on a light blue shirt that complimented his pale skin and deep brown hair, plus a pair of darker blue, loose-fitting jeans. His feet were bare, and Isa found herself momentarily fascinated by them. They seemed at once so completely masculine and yet so…cute.

  She stopped staring at his feet to sit on one of the stools across from her counter.

  "You're a regular repeat offender with the breaking and entering, aren't you?" she asked flippantly.

  Chance grinned. "You skipped dinner last night. One would think since you owned a restaurant, you'd get around to eating, but apparently not."

  She had skipped dinner last night, but how did he know that?

  "Aren't you supposed to be spying on Robert, not me? Or better yet, breaking into his home, not mine?"

  He heaped generous portions of bacon, eggs, and hashbrowns onto a plate before sliding it across to her.

  "Robert's later tonight. You're hungry now. I'm just going down the line of priorities, darling."

  "I told you not to call me that," Isa replied automatically, though she didn't mean it now. Truth be told, she rather liked the caressing way he said "darling."

  And the look in his eyes when he said it was even better.

  Oh, shit. She was so in trouble. Last night after almost kissing him, Isa had berated herself for hours about the stupidity of getting involved with some pseudo-magician whacko—albeit a smolderingly sexy one—when she still had to find her brother and get out of marrying a career criminal. Yet here she was now, getting all starry-eyed over something as benign as Chance's feet, for crying out loud.

  That was it. She was getting a vibrator. Clearly she was in need of sexual healing, and right now a battery-operated device had the least amount of complications.

  The timer on her oven went off. Chance turned around with a graceful spin and then lifted out a pan of wonderful-smelling bread. Isa's mouth watered even though she'd just taken a bite of food.

  "You'd make a great chef," she said once she'd swallowed. "Ever think of leaving the honor-bound, criminal-interrogating
hypnotist society to try your hand at that?"

  Chance sliced her a steaming piece of bread, an odd smile on his face. "I can never leave the society I'm part of, Isabella. Once you become a member, you stay that way forever."

  "Then I hope they have a hell of a retirement plan," she quipped.

  That made Chance grin, highlighting the dimple on his chin. "The best there is, I assure you."

  He took the stool next to Isa, but didn't bother getting himself a plate. Isa gestured with her fork at all the food spread out in front of her.

  "Are you going to eat anything?"

  His lips were parted, so Isa could see his tongue flick out to caress the tops of his teeth.

  "Later."