Cody by Kimberly Raye

R & R with your friend, there?”
    “I’m catching a red-eye flight for Vegas to do some preliminary PR stuff before the PBR finals.” Cody pushed the microphone aside and climbed into the car. Keying the engine, he gunned it and left Benny staring after him.
    Shit.
    Shit. Shit. Shit.
    The last thing he needed was James dogging him, asking questions, watching.
    He’d seen the man jot down the BMW plates. He had no doubt he would be looking up the woman in the passenger’s seat to get the scoop on her night with the infamous Cody Boyd.
    Not that she was going to have anything to tell him.
    Time to bail.
    “What was that stuff about Vegas—” his companion started, her words dying a quick death when he caught her gaze and held it. Her stare went blank and he shifted his attention back to the road. He hit the interstate and drove for the next fifteen minutes before he found a Motel 6 and pulled into the parking lot.
    Soccer mom stared through the glass and blinked several times as reality seemed to settle in. She turned toward him. “I thought you were taking me home with you? Not that I mind a motel. It’ll do just as well—”
    “Not tonight.”
    “But—”
    “It’s okay,” he cut in, staring deep into her eyes. Her gaze sparked and then it was as if a candle flame had been blown out.
    “You’re okay,” he told her. “You stopped for a drinkwhile waiting for your car. Had a few too many and the bartender dropped you off here. Now you’re going to go inside, register for a room and sleep off the alcohol. You’ll forget everything and everyone you’ve seen in the past half hour. In the morning, you get back on the road for Houston. Understood?”
    She nodded, her eyes vacant and empty.
    “And one more thing. Lose the husband if you have to, but not the kids. They need you. Even if they don’t know it.”
    Once she climbed from the cab and disappeared into the motel lobby, Cody shoved the truck into reverse and pulled out of the parking lot. Hanging a left back on the interstate, he headed for Skull Creek and his own motel room.
    As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t afford to feed right now. Not with James this close.
    No way had Cody ditched the soccer mom because he didn’t want to have sex with her. Hell, no. He was a vampire, for Christ’s sake. He wanted every woman. Even if she didn’t have long blonde hair and lush curves and the most incredible whiskey-colored eyes.
    Every woman.
    But not with James watching him.
    Tomorrow he would call his publicist and have her drop a hint that Cody had stopped off in Skull Creek to order a custom chopper before heading for Vegas. James would buy it and get off his back. Cody could then get back to the business at hand—forgetting Miranda and building up his strength for the coming showdown with Garret Sawyer.
    Cody intended to win.
    He would make Sawyer pay once and for all and maybe, just maybe, he would finally have some peace.
    I F SHE SAW ANOTHER VAMPIRE blog, she was going to slit her wrists.
    Who knew there were so many?
    Most were normal humans with a vampire fetish, but there were a few posts here and there that rang true.
    Because vampires really and truly existed and she just so happened to have the hots for one.
    She didn’t want to have the hots for Cody. She wanted to forget. To throw herself into planning the following week’s activities for the senior center. Monday morning would come early and she had to have everyone divided up into Bunko teams.
    Not that everyone would want to play.
    Mr. Sherman would claim he couldn’t sit still because of his recent hernia operation. Maureen West-erlee would gripe that she couldn’t do anything that would distract her from the Wife Swap re-runs on Lifetime. Sue Lynn Crapple would swear Bunko was too much like Bingo and she hated Bingo. But Miranda had to do the team assignments anyway on the off chance that everyone would want to join in.
    She didn’t need to waste her Sunday evening fantasizing