would eventually start to sag. She would get insecure and start forking over the bucks for plastic surgery. He would stay his usual hot self and she would end up looking like the cat woman and…Well, he just had to. Another black mark on his already tarnished record, as far as my parents were concerned. Marrying humans? No. Making vampires? Hell, no. Made vamps were the scourge of the earth. The lowest form of vampiric life. Mere peasants (my dad’s words not mine).
Hence my dilemma with Ty. No way would my folks ever go for him—if we managed to develop some sort of relationship, that is. If I managed to free him from whatever crazed psycho was using him for a voodoo doll—
The thought stopped me cold and my mind started to race. Nah . I hadn’t heard any chanting. Or beating of drums. Or squawking chickens.
“Are you okay?” Evie’s voice pushed into my thoughts.
“Um, yeah.” I forced a smile.
“Because you look like someone just kicked your cat.”
I thought of Killer. “I should be so lucky.” I turned and headed back into my office to get to work.
Fourteen
S eventy-two hours turned out to be a lot less time than it sounded like.
For one thing, I had to deduct the ten hours spent sleeping each day, as well as the two hours for hair, makeup, shower, and scooping up cat poop. That left thirty-six minus the time spent working on my other clients, calming a freaked-out Mandy when the hotel cancelled her wedding date due to an overbooking, and worrying over Ty. In the end, I had all of ten hours to search for Jack’s perfect match.
Which meant that by the time Sunday evening rolled around, I’d managed to come up with an impressive zero prospects.
I stood in my kitchen, nursing a glass of warm blood while I contemplated my choices.
One, I could show up without a prospect, piss off my mother, and suffer the consequences.
Two, I could not show up at all, piss off my mother, and suffer the consequences.
And three, I could just stake myself and get it over with.
I’d just reached for the letter opener sitting near my latest Visa bill when I heard Killer’s meow.
I glanced down and big green eyes blinked back up at me.
“Before you end it,” he seemed to say, “could you move your ass over to the cabinet and get me something to eat? I’m starving, here.”
My fingers closed inches shy of the opener. It’s not like I could let him starve. I was totally more responsible than that. I walked over to the pantry. A few minutes later, I spooned a can of Gourmet Kitty into a silver Pucci pet dish (I’d gone shopping) and set it on the floor next to a matching water bowl. Killer strutted over, sniffed, and started lapping up the treat.
I grabbed the letter opener. “I’m going for it,” I said to the cat. He kept scarfing without sparing me so much as a glance. “No, no. Don’t cry and beg. It’s better this way. Really. I won’t have to listen to my mom. Or worry about Ty.” Or help him.
The last thought stopped me cold.
Well, that and the sinfully delicious thought that followed—me and Ty and hot, life-affirming sex to erase his totally horrific experience.
My conscience (yes, I have one) and my hormones raged and I abandoned the letter opener. I was much too young (and too freakin’ scared) to end it all. Besides, what would happen to Killer? And Evie? And desperate males and females the world over who would give anything— anything —to fall in love?
Geez, what was I thinking? I had people (and a snotty cat) who needed me. I couldn’t take the easy way out simply because I was scared of my mother.
Not yet, anyway. Not without exhausting every resource.
Grabbing my cell, I punched in Nina One’s phone number.
“Tell me again why I should do this,” Nina said after I’d explained my desperate situation.
“Because I’m your best friend and I would do it for you.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“Okay, so I wouldn’t. But I wouldn’t have to because you’re not a
Hence my dilemma with Ty. No way would my folks ever go for him—if we managed to develop some sort of relationship, that is. If I managed to free him from whatever crazed psycho was using him for a voodoo doll—
The thought stopped me cold and my mind started to race. Nah . I hadn’t heard any chanting. Or beating of drums. Or squawking chickens.
“Are you okay?” Evie’s voice pushed into my thoughts.
“Um, yeah.” I forced a smile.
“Because you look like someone just kicked your cat.”
I thought of Killer. “I should be so lucky.” I turned and headed back into my office to get to work.
Fourteen
S eventy-two hours turned out to be a lot less time than it sounded like.
For one thing, I had to deduct the ten hours spent sleeping each day, as well as the two hours for hair, makeup, shower, and scooping up cat poop. That left thirty-six minus the time spent working on my other clients, calming a freaked-out Mandy when the hotel cancelled her wedding date due to an overbooking, and worrying over Ty. In the end, I had all of ten hours to search for Jack’s perfect match.
Which meant that by the time Sunday evening rolled around, I’d managed to come up with an impressive zero prospects.
I stood in my kitchen, nursing a glass of warm blood while I contemplated my choices.
One, I could show up without a prospect, piss off my mother, and suffer the consequences.
Two, I could not show up at all, piss off my mother, and suffer the consequences.
And three, I could just stake myself and get it over with.
I’d just reached for the letter opener sitting near my latest Visa bill when I heard Killer’s meow.
I glanced down and big green eyes blinked back up at me.
“Before you end it,” he seemed to say, “could you move your ass over to the cabinet and get me something to eat? I’m starving, here.”
My fingers closed inches shy of the opener. It’s not like I could let him starve. I was totally more responsible than that. I walked over to the pantry. A few minutes later, I spooned a can of Gourmet Kitty into a silver Pucci pet dish (I’d gone shopping) and set it on the floor next to a matching water bowl. Killer strutted over, sniffed, and started lapping up the treat.
I grabbed the letter opener. “I’m going for it,” I said to the cat. He kept scarfing without sparing me so much as a glance. “No, no. Don’t cry and beg. It’s better this way. Really. I won’t have to listen to my mom. Or worry about Ty.” Or help him.
The last thought stopped me cold.
Well, that and the sinfully delicious thought that followed—me and Ty and hot, life-affirming sex to erase his totally horrific experience.
My conscience (yes, I have one) and my hormones raged and I abandoned the letter opener. I was much too young (and too freakin’ scared) to end it all. Besides, what would happen to Killer? And Evie? And desperate males and females the world over who would give anything— anything —to fall in love?
Geez, what was I thinking? I had people (and a snotty cat) who needed me. I couldn’t take the easy way out simply because I was scared of my mother.
Not yet, anyway. Not without exhausting every resource.
Grabbing my cell, I punched in Nina One’s phone number.
“Tell me again why I should do this,” Nina said after I’d explained my desperate situation.
“Because I’m your best friend and I would do it for you.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“Okay, so I wouldn’t. But I wouldn’t have to because you’re not a
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