Beauty Bites (5 page)

A switch clicked in my brain. Emotion cut off. I was a doctor. I could handle anything. Or, as my sister Alexis put it, there was Miller Time and there was Crisis Time.

Problem: Camille wanted Ric to kill the spirit of Meiers Corners. Solution: Block Ric from taking her offer. Problem: Patients with bad habits actively resisted good advice. Blocking Ric might only force him to her side. Solution: Motivate Ric to my side instead. Problem: How? Solution: My nipples tingled as my breasts raised a suggestion or two.

Fuck. Somehow Ric Holiday derailed even doctor mode.

“Come with me to Meiers Corners, darling.” Camille’s lush red lips were only inches from Ric’s. “We’ll remake it together.”

He stiffened. “No way in hell.”

“Pooh. Don’t say no yet.” She wrapped an arm around his shoulders—and a leg around his hips, clinging like CD plastic. “Let me show you the benefits.” Then she stepped back, reached behind her neck and tugged. Her gown slithered to the floor—hell.

She wasn’t wearing a stitch underneath.

I slapped a hand over my eyes, but it was burned into my brain. Full, high breasts tipped with rouged nipples. Flat belly, vertical navel pierced with a glittering gold ring. Adorning her mound was a single black curl tied with a tiny pink ribbon. Red lips glistened, not the ones under her nose.

She was most men’s wet dream. When Holiday made a choked noise, I leaped to my feet. I did not want to be here when all his sizzling sexuality burst into flames for
her
.

He took two steps to my chair and grabbed me instead.

“Wha—?”

His mouth, landing on mine, cut me off. His hand tangled in my hair and his lips started moving, and I was suddenly immersed in male heat and gliding pressure.

It occurred to me in the first millisecond that he was doing it for show, still for her. But then he sighed and his tongue coaxed my lips open, and my heart started thudding in excitement and I forgot everything but the scent of him, the heat of him.

And the taste of him. As he deepened the kiss, it hit me in layers, like expensive wine. Fresh. Spicy. Male. And, at the edge, a darker, more complex note of danger.

His hands opened on my back in a firm caress. I melted into his embrace. In the depths of his arms it was even hotter.

“Synnove,
mmm
. You taste wonderful. Sweet. Hot. Bright.”

“Hey. I’m right here.” Camille’s tone was pouty.

“Pure sunshine.” His voice slid like silk over my lips.

“Right here.” There was the sound of strings being tied, testily. “Fine. You’ve made your point. For now.”

A skirt swished sharply to the door. The door opened then slammed shut.

With a sigh, Ric lifted his head. I lay in his arms, my lips throbbing pleasantly, wondering what had just happened.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

I wasn’t.

“I wouldn’t have kissed you like that, but she’d never have believed it with anyone less beautiful than you.”

I snapped straight. Now I was sorry too, very sorry. Dammit, my first impression was right. He’d kissed me for show.

It didn’t help that
I’d
kissed him because I was stupidly turned on.

“No problem.” I pulled out of his arms. My tone of voice left no doubt that, hey,
huge
problem. But he himself had handed me the stick to motivate him to our side. “You needed my help, I helped.”

His eyes narrowed. He nodded cautiously. “Thanks. I appreciate—”

“And Now You Owe Me.” I made sure he heard the capital letters.

His eyes glinted like blue fire opals. “Do I.” It wasn’t a question.

“Quid pro quo, Holiday. I did you a favor, you do me one.”

“I am not, under any circumstances, going to Meiers Corners.” His teeth glinted as he spoke, canines extra-long.

The problem with a barely civilized male is that, when you corner him, the talons come out. His tone was so deadly, my insides spasmed. I held the advantage, but it was time to beat a strategic retreat. “We’ll see about that.” Mouth still throbbing from that kiss, I stalked out.

Yes, maybe I should have pressed. Ric Holiday owed me and there was only one thing I wanted in return.

My swollen lips reminded me there were actually two things. But I didn’t
want
to want the second. So I left, at least until I could press my advantage in the proper way.

Annoyed that I wanted the second thing more.

As I stalked through the glittering partyrazzi, my irritation translated into motion. Ric’s—
Holiday’s
suit coat snapped behind me like a cape, exposing my fluffed bosom, but I didn’t care. I stuck both chest and jaw out, making more like Wonder-Woman than Wonder-bra, elbowing through the crowd until the front door was in sight.

A claw-banged blond blocked my way. Charles Little grabbed for me.

As Synnove slammed out of his sanctum, Ric’s eyes snapped involuntarily to the sway of her hips, so fast that he got ocular whiplash. His heart stopped beating for a moment at the sheer beauty of her backside, its lushness evident even under his tightly pulled coat.

Literally. His heart stopped pumping. Fortunately any such physical ailments were quickly remedied. He flexed the muscle with a thought and it kicked back into rhythm.

Turning away, Ric palmed his nape, wondering what the hell had happened. He kept a tight leash on his life, since he hadn’t had any control of his death. A simple kiss shouldn’t have hit him this hard. He’d indulged in decades of no-limits sex, the endless variety almost hiding the glaring fact that it was meaningless. Almost, but not quite.

Maybe that was it. He was tired of the trivial, shallow connections. Tired of sex without substance.

Synnove was a breath of fresh air. No, brighter, more life-giving. She was sunshine.

Oh God, he missed sunshine.

He shook himself. He didn’t need sunshine. He had his work, his home and his freedom. He calmed himself by touching the things that made his existence worthwhile. The warm, hand-buffed golden oak, the cool glass of graceful vases. His touch and gaze lingered longest over the faces in framed pictures, decades’ worth of friends.

Reminders of all he stood to lose.

A click spun him around. Had Synnove returned…?

But a tall shadow filtered through the doorway, unseen except Ric knew what to look for.

The assassin had come to visit him.

Shadowy hands raised in pax. Wouldn’t stop the assassin if he wanted to kill. Ric knew that because the assassin had already beat the crap out of him a few dozen times.

Ah, the good old days.

Ric smiled. “Hello, Aiden.”

“Nice party.” The shadow moved into the light, but it never seemed to make a difference with Aiden. Black hair, black eyes, black stubble on his square jaw, he was shadows from head to toe. Even his clothes, sleeveless T-shirt revealing dark bronze muscles, loose pants and soft-soled shoes, were all black to ensure that no matter what the lighting, he was as deep as the darkness from which he emerged. Hell, even a sense of dark menace clung to him like a shadow.

All black. Including his near-permanent scowl.

It was Ric’s mission in life to make Aiden smile. So far Ric had managed that feat twenty-two times over the decades. Only full smiles counted. “Thanks for patrolling the party in person. Sorry to make more work for you.”

“You should be sorry, leaving your guests like that. Where have you—” Aiden’s nostrils flared. “No, you smell like you took a bath in estrogen. The question isn’t where, it’s what? What have you been up to?”

“Kissing one woman to annoy another.”

“You’re lying.”

Ric wondered what gave him away. He’d lose less money to Aiden at poker. Of course the reason Ric had given Synnove, that he’d kissed her to make a statement to Camille, was a lie. He’d said that automatically to protect the real reason, the unacceptable reason—he
wanted
to kiss her. “How do you know?”

“Your words say one thing, but your eyes another.”

“And
your
words say you’re a pain in the ass, but your eyes say…wait, they say the same thing.”

Those deadly lips quirked, but it wasn’t a full smile, so it didn’t count. “You’re very good at manipulation, my friend. But sometimes you wield lies like a sword. Beware lest the wrong people get cut.”

“Good advice.” Ric scrubbed a hand over his face. He’d hurt Synnove, and was sorry for that. “Although in this case, maybe it’s for the best.” Dropping his hand, he began to pace. “The last thing a beautiful human female with her whole life ahead of her needs is to be in thrall to a vampire.”

“Beautiful?” Black brows rose. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you apply that term to a female. In fact, I think it’s the first time I’ve heard you apply
any
term to a female other than ‘convenient’.”

Ric stopped pacing to scowl. “You think you’re so funny.”

“Just honest.” The eyebrows lowered. “You enthralled her?”

Ric started moving again, slower, wandering around his sanctum, touching things. The velvety petals of fresh-cut flowers, as soft as Synnove’s skin. The freshly laundered bar towels, smelling of sunshine, like Synnove… “No, actually. She managed to turn my mental suggestion aside. Coupled with her—” luscious body, fiery-sweet taste, “—personality, it makes her quite compelling.”

“Compelling. I see.” Though Aiden’s face was absolutely straight, Ric could hear the sarcasm.

And the unspoken question.
Compelling enough for Ric to care again?

It was the last question Ric wanted to answer. He didn’t have a great track record when it came to young, beautiful females needing him. Especially the ones he wanted to protect most.

So instead, he stopped behind his wet bar. “Want a drink?”

“If you’re buying, sure.”

Buying. Ric considered his well-stocked bar as he set out two heavy whiskey glasses. These were riches he’d never known as a child, growing up an orphan near Fort Dearborn. Even a single scrawny chicken would have been riches then.

“Do you ever stop remembering it?” Aiden’s cool tones broke into Ric’s thoughts.

Ric cocked his head. “Do you ever get tired of being omniscient?”

“I’m not omniscient. I just read people very, very well.”

“I’m not people.”

“You know what I mean. You’re not that boy anymore, Ric. Not sleeping in whatever stable you can hide in, doing whatever menial chore you can to get food, not fighting dogs for table scraps.”

Ric rubbed a thoughtful thumb over the deceptively plain bottle of fifty-year-old whiskey from the Isle of Islay. “I’ll always be that boy. Can we talk about something else?”

“All right.” Aiden glided soundlessly to his side and accepted the glass he poured. “The testing of our boundaries has begun again. I was hoping Nosferatu’s last wave was the final one.”

“Would’ve been nice. It’s Camille.”

“Fuck me.” Aiden downed his drink in two large gulps.

“Show a little more respect for the whiskey. But well said.” Ric grimaced. Two years ago they’d decided to stop hiding from Nosferatu, the unofficial vampire king of Chicago. They’d had a plan, but it didn’t include confronting Nosferatu’s best. Should have picked a different path.

“Damned right we should have done it differently.” Aiden held his glass out for a refill.

“Asshat mind-reader.” Ric poured a generous three fingers. “We had no choice. Nosferatu was onto us. You discovered that.” The assassin had expanded his repertoire over the years, taking to spying like a hawk took to hunting.

“We could have run.” Aiden sipped this time.

“Impossible. He’d have taken his revenge on my household. My humans are my friends. My family. I could never stand by while they were abused.”

Aiden grunted. “The old fart
does
have an awful sort of creativity when it comes to torture. But I’m not sure we picked the right way to fight.” He shook his head. “Marketing and mirrors.”

“Again, what choice did we have? The head of a veritable vampire mob versus two vampires? Besides, nobody’s better than me when it comes to image.”

“Marketing and mirrors,” Aiden said again.

“It lured them onto our turf, didn’t it? Gave us the advantage?” Ric had created an image to entice the vampire out of his power base in Chicago. Then Ric and Aiden set booby traps and mindfucks on all possible routes to Minnesota, triggered by vampires only. Unfortunately Nosferatu hadn’t bothered to show up himself—the old vampire did like to sit in the middle of his web—but his exploratory waves had all run home crying. Until Camille. “And now we know the new electrified windows work. Camille’s crew got zapped.”

One corner of Aiden’s mouth crooked up. “They did indeed. Screamed like a bunch of prissy little girls.” The half-smile died. “Why’d you let
her
through?”

“She declared pax. Said she wanted to talk about advertising. Since that involves the agency, I thought I’d better hear what she had to say.”

Holiday Buzz was a public business so he and Aiden hadn’t electrified it. But they’d installed silver fixtures, lots of running water and garlic booby traps to make any invading vamps nice and sick.