Dead End Dating (21 page)

“Can I help you?”

“It’s me, Miss Hamilton. Lil. Lil Marchette from next door.”

Her bright red lips drew into a tight line. “If you’re here with another one of your father’s petitions, you can take it and stick it straight—”

“I don’t have a petition,” I cut in. “Just a meat loaf.” I held up the foil-covered dish. “The best in Manhattan.”

“A meat loaf.” Her nostrils flared, and a look of euphoria glazed her eyes for a brief moment. “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she finally said.

“I know you and my father don’t actually get along, but—”

“He called the pound last week and reported a wild pack of strays terrorizing his property,” she cut in. “First off, they weren’t strays. I was having a dinner party that included two senators and a chief of police. Second, we didn’t go within five feet of his precious property.”

“Maybe he was just playing a joke. He’s always been a prankster.”

“He’s crazy.”

I started to protest (he
was
my father), but then I remembered the color scheme he’d picked out for the Moe’s uniform. I shrugged and nodded. “That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, does it? I would never call the pound on anyone. Live and let live. That’s my motto.” Liar. But I didn’t think Viola would be nearly as impressed by “shop ’til you drop.” “We’re all stuck here together, so we might as well get along and help each other out.”

Her gaze narrowed. “What exactly do you want?”

“This is Francis.” I tugged him up beside me. “He’s an ancient vamp who’s never met his eternity mate. In fact, he’s barely had sex. Overall, he’s just not all that comfortable with women. He’s always been more of a hermit, living alone, avoiding social situations. He really needs to get out more.”

“And you’re telling me this because?”

“He wants to join the NUNS.”

She eyed him for a long moment. “He’s a vampire.”

“A small technicality.”

“A male vampire.”

“Barely, on both counts.”

She smiled, and the tension that had coiled in the air seemed to ease. “My dear, we call ourselves a sisterhood because we’re all women.”

“Vibrant, exciting, sexy women,” I added.
And naked.
“Which is why I’m bringing him to you.”

“What do you have to do with this anyway?”

I pulled a card from my sequined clutch. I was banking on the whole honesty’s-the-best-policy theory. “I’ve just opened a matchmaking service and Francis is one of my clients. He’s eager to find an eternity mate, but that’s not going to happen until he stops purring like a kitten and starts roaring like a lion. But he can’t roar since he’s too busy blushing. It’s a terrible habit he has because of his lack of interaction with the opposite sex. I would drop him off at my mother’s huntress club, but those are the very women I’ll be trying to hook him up with later. Human women aren’t much help because they’re too easily wowed by all vamps.”

She nodded. “Such weak creatures.”

“Since female vampires and werewolves are alike in that we gravitate toward the king of the jungle when it comes to mating,” I went on, “I thought being around a group of women like yourself might help Frank get over his awkwardness.”

“And why would I want to help?”

Honesty,
I reminded myself.
Just be open and up front and honest.
“Because it’s the neighborly thing to do?” She frowned. “Because you appreciate a good meat loaf?” She seemed to think about that one before her frown deepened. “Because I’ll guarantee that my father will stop cutting down the eastern bushes?”

“Those are
my
bushes. They’re on my side of the property line, and your father has no right to hack them to nothing.”

“He thinks he does.”

“He needs to learn how to read a property survey.” She eyed me. “How are you going to guarantee such a thing?”

“I have my ways.”

“Coercion?”

I was thinking more along the lines of begging and pleading, but instead I said, “Exactly.”

She stared at me a moment before she finally nodded. What can I say? While honesty’s nice, bribery (with a side of meat loaf) gets results.

Her gaze shifted to Francis, and she eyed him. “Nice shirt,” she said, and watched as his face turned as bright as her lipstick. “It usually takes a good feeding to get the cheeks that color.”

“Tell me about it,” I said.

“It’s a full moon this weekend. Which means we won’t be our usual selves.” Her eyes glittered, and Francis swallowed. “We’ll be better. Do you think you can handle it?”

“No.”

“Which is the very reason you have to try,” I told him.

“I don’t know about this,” he murmured, as Viola stepped back and motioned him inside. “I really think I should go home. I may have left the stove on.”

“You don’t cook.” I glared at him. “More importantly, you don’t eat.”

“But where will I sleep? It’s not like they have coffins.”

“You don’t sleep in a coffin.”

“That’s not the point. The point is, they’re”—he lowered his voice to a whisper—“different.”

“I heard that,” Viola said.

“They’re not
that
different. They’re just a little…ferocious.”

“Exactly.”

“Vamp women are ferocious, too.” He’d never seen me at a Macy’s two-for-one. “Stop being such a wuss. I’m sure Viola has a nice wine cellar where you can crash.”

“That, or he can take his pick of the walk-in closets.”

“See? You’ll be fine.” I gave him a forceful shove. “I’ll pick you up Sunday night.”

Viola winked at me before turning a hungry smile on Francis. “Provided there’s anything left to pick up.”

A
thrill raced up my spine as I stepped out of a cab on East Twelfth Street in the West Village. I’d made it back from Connecticut just in time for the meeting between Action-Adventure Girl and Hunka-hunka-handcuffs. The site of tonight’s rendezvous? The Gotham Bar and Grill.

It was Friday evening, and activity buzzed all around me. People climbed in and out of the subway entrance near the corner. Cabs zipped up and down the street. The blare of horns filled the air. The fresh aroma of bread drifted from a bakery just across the street and mingled with the sharp scent of cigars that came from a nearby tobacco shop.

I’d had the driver drop me a block up—the key tonight was to watch and wait, which meant keeping a low profile—and my heart beat faster as I strolled toward the restaurant. Casual. Unhurried. Just a well-dressed, attractive woman out for an evening of fun.

Who was I kidding?

This was New York.

I picked up my steps, dodged a fire hydrant, and ignored the whistles of a group of teenage boys and a “Come to Daddy” from a white-haired old man who looked more like my great, great-granddaddy.

It was a half hour after the scheduled meeting time. Which meant the couple had already met and were probably in the middle of the first course. I was just a few feet shy of my destination when a cab pulled up just ahead and a familiar woman climbed out. I recognized Action-Adventure Girl from her photograph and dove behind a businessman who was walking just to my right to avoid being seen.

“Hey, watch it,” he said when my hand closed over his shoulder and my preternatural strength (just call me Popeye with fangs) brought him to a jarring stop. “You shouldn’t—” His words stalled as he turned and his annoyed gaze captured mine.

I gave him my brightest smile. “Jake? Jake Abernathy?”

“The name’s Phil.”

“Really?” I shook my head. “Why, you look just like Jake. You could practically be his twin.” I glanced past him to see Miss A-A pay the cabdriver and start up the walk toward the restaurant’s entrance.

I made a mental note to check
punctuality
off her list of character assets and pencil in
desperately late.

“It’s been ages since I’ve seen Jake. I certainly couldn’t let him get away without saying hi. But since you’re not him…Sorry.”

He smiled. “Any time.” He started to turn, but Miss A-A stopped just outside the restaurant door way. She stood out front and glanced up the street before her gaze swept my direction.

“Since you offered.” I pulled Tall, Dark, and Anytime directly in front of me, his thick build no match for my superduper vamp strength. Surprise registered in his gaze before the expression seemed to fade into one of pure bliss. “Could you just stand here for a second?” I asked just to be polite, but I didn’t have to bother. He wouldn’t have moved to save his life. He couldn’t have.

What can I say? I’m total man candy when I want to be.

“There’s someone I know whom I’m trying to avoid,” I added. Just because I was man candy didn’t mean I had to be rude man candy.

“Jake?” His look grew ferocious as if he meant to rip the guy apart.

“Just a friend. Now calm down. Just stand here for a second.”
And don’t move,
I added silently.
Don’t try to hug or kiss or touch me, either. Just stare adoringly at me and keep your mouth shut.

He did. He stood stock-still, his body shielding mine as I stared up at him with an adoring expression. To the world, we looked like a couple happily into each other.

I ticked off the seconds as I waited for the woman to go into the restaurant.

Endless moments passed before another cab pulled up and Mr. Hunka-hunka-handcuffs crawled out. Obviously, he wasn’t any more punctual than she was.

I was definitely on top of my game when it came to this matchmaking thing.

They introduced themselves, shook hands, and did the usual small talk before finally walking into the restaurant.

“You sure are beautiful.”

I breathed a sigh of relief and turned my attention to my human shield.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re gorgeous.”

Duh.

“You’re sweet, but this just isn’t going to work. I need good looks and fangs, and a decent fertility rating. I’m afraid you’re only one out of three.” He gave me a dumbfounded look, and I smiled. “Not that it’s your fault, but it’s just not meant to be.” Before he could respond, I stared deeply into his eyes and willed him to forget all about me.

He didn’t; not that I could blame him. The man candy thing again. But he did space out long enough for me to dart past him and head into the restaurant.

I slipped inside, found a nice spot at the end of the bar where I could sit discreetly and sip ice water while listening to the conversation, or lack of, at the small, quaint table on the far side of the room.

“So do you like music?” Hunka-hunka-handcuffs asked.

“Not really,” replied Action-Adventure.

“What about dancing?”

“Sort of. I mean, I do aerobics. And Pilates. There’s always music playing in the background, so that sort of counts. What about you?”

“I don’t do Pilates.”

“I meant dancing. Do you?”

“I like dancing, but it doesn’t like me.”

“Sorry.”

“Me, too.”

Forget a matchmaker; these two needed divine intervention.

I ordered a club soda and tried not to grimace at the raw oyster appetizer being sucked up by the woman next to me. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out the appeal of the slimy, mucuslike seafood. And people actually got queasy at the sight of blood? Give me a break.

I turned my attention back to the couple.

“So I heard that you like Vin Diesel?”

“Well, I don’t actually like him. Just the sunglasses. And the leather pants. I really like leather pants.”

“Really? I have a pair of leather pants.”

“No way!”

“And a matching vest.”

“Wow.”

“I thought I lost you.” The deep voice sounded right in my ear, and I jumped.

“What? Where?” I whirled. My elbow bumped the platter of oysters and sent them flying over the edge of the bar.

“I’m so sorry,” I told the woman. Not. I signaled the bartender to bring her a new platter, on me, before I turned toward the man towering over me, a smile on his face and lust in his eyes.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” Phil told me. “You still look every bit as sexy as I remember.”

“It’s only been fifteen minutes since I last saw you.”

“The longest fifteen minutes of my life. Let me buy you a drink.”

“I’ve already got a drink.”

“Then let me buy you another.”

“Mine is still full.”

“Then I’ll just sit here with you until you finish and then I’ll buy you another.” He whipped out his wallet, tossed several twenties at the oyster sucker until she gave up her seat, and then settled down in her spot. He tugged at his tie to loosen it and stared longingly at me. “You’re really pretty.”

“Thanks.” I stared deep into his eyes and willed him to leave me alone. He stiffened, and I knew the message had registered in his brain. And then he blinked, and out it went.

“Would you like something to eat to go with the ice water? I’d be happy to buy you some oysters. Or steak. Or lobster. Or lobster and steak…”

His voice faded as I shifted my attention back to the couple across the room.