Real Vamps Don’t Drink O-neg. Tawny Taylor
I really need this book.”
“What about bribery? I’m not rich but I’d be willing to clean out my bank account to get my hands on it.”
To his credit, he looked genuinely remorseful as he shook his head. “Sorry again. But I promise I’ll return it as soon as I’m through.”
“Three weeks could be too late. I need to find the Roman-ick Yee-how-shoo-ah and Mawmee Dahveed before my best friend becomes dinner for his wife.”
“You mean Romakh Yehowshu’a and Mawgane Dahveed?”
“Yes. That’s what I said, er, wasn’t it?”
He nodded. “Close enough.”
“Anyway, I don’t expect you to believe me, but I need to find out about those relics because I think I might need them to help a friend of mine.”
“Your friend’s married to a lamia?”
Sophie threw her hands in the air. “Why is it that everyone seems to know about those lamiae people but me? Well, at least I know now that Tim isn’t completely crackers or making it up.”
“Tim?”
“My boss. He’s a paranormal researcher and half the time you can’t believe a word he says. Good guy but if you ask me, he’s a few cards shy of a full deck, if you know what I mean. The things he believes in.”
“Like?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Ghosts, vampires, and the like. I don’t believe a bit of it but my pal’s pretty sick and although I figure a trip to a medical doctor—and maybe a vacation—would probably take care of whatever his problem is, I owe it to him to check out all the possibilities. I try to have an open mind, you see. I’ve even been to a massage therapist once. Now, that was an experience, let me tell you. But I draw the line at believing in creatures of the night.”
He looked far too amused for her comfort. “Ah, yes. Those are pretty silly superstitions, aren’t they?”
“Yes! Thank you. A voice of reason. Silly superstitions, unless you’re one of those weirdos who go to the dentist and pay for bonding so you can look like a vampire. To each their own, I guess.”
“Yes. That’s a wise stand to take.” He nodded. His eyes sparkled as his grin turned wry.
“Are you humoring me?”
In a flash the expression changed again, this time turning all innocent. She didn’t buy it. Not at all. But that didn’t stop it from making various and sundry parts of her warm and toasty. “Who, me? Oh, no. I never humor a woman. It’s not a smart thing to do.”
“You got that right, buster.” She gave him a playful jab in the stomach. Her knuckles struck cotton-sheathed concrete and popped. “Youch!” She shook her hand. “Spend some serious time in the gym, do ya?”
“I used to. Yes. Been taking it easy these days.” He tucked the book under his arm, caught her wrist in a grip that felt like steel bands, and stared into her eyes. Once again, she felt her breath catch in her throat. His gaze was intense. It seemed to delve deep into her brain. She giggled at the funny feeling inside her head, a soft tickling she’d never felt before, like there was a soft bunny rustling around in there. A flash of heat shot through her body, blazing a zigzaggy path down her torso, through her groin, and down to the ground. Then a wave of ice cold followed, making her shiver and coating her entire body in goose bumps.
Who was this man? More, why did he make her feel like she was going to alternately melt and freeze after the most innocent touch? Normally, she didn’t get this turned on during the main event.
He lifted her hand to his lips and brushed them over her knuckles. The inner girly part dragged out the sex toys and screamed, Let the games begin! as she fought to resist throwing him to the ground and jumping his bones.
Ric Vogel gazed at the adorable chatterbox of a woman in stunned silence. He’d never given much credit to that whole love-at-first-sight thing, had always dismissed it as a foolish notion, something that only existed in movies and songs. But there he was, staring smack dab at it, sucker punched and reeling.
There wasn’t a thing about the woman standing before him, gaping like a landed fish, that he didn’t adore. Her face was that of an angel. Heart shaped with high cheekbones; a little upturned nose; and big, round eyes that were a soft golden brown. A crown of matching hair fell in glorious waves around her shoulders, beckoning his touch. Her petite body was soft and shapely under her well-fitting clothes. And her scent, sweet and clean, like a meadow in springtime, drew him to her.
He inhaled, wishing he could capture the essence and keep it forever as he brushed his mouth over her knuckles a second time.
“I…I…I…ohhh, Sophie,” she murmured in a squeaky little voice.
The voice in his head—a much deeper and louder voice—shouted a flurry of objections to him as he briefly considered taking the cutie pie up on her offer of bribery. He could think of at least a handful of things that could convince him to part with the book still snug under his right arm.
His imagination took that thought as its cue and ran wild, sending image after image through his mind of the woman with the sweet scent and soft body lying naked before him, her legs parted, her eyes closed, her lips pursed, her chest rising and falling swiftly, sighing his name as he brought her to bliss and beyond. Naturally, those images stirred something else—an uncomfortable erection.
He needed to make a few adjustments.
He must have grimaced because the woman’s expression changed from utter awe to puzzlement.
Still looking him in the eye, she gently pulled her hand free of his and tipped her head. “All better. Thanks,” she whispered. Her lips pursed just a tiny bit, their ripe fullness making his erection all the more urgent.
“That’s a matter of opinion,” he grumbled.
“Hmm?” Her eyebrows rose in question.
“I…said that’s good. Glad to hear it.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought you said.”
Damn, he liked the way her eyes glittered when she was teasing him. He could just imagine how they would shine when she was in the throes of passion.
“So, I can’t convince you to reconsider?” she asked.
Reconsider? What? Taking you home with me? It wouldn’t take much to convince me to do that.
“I mean, I really, really need that book. It’s a time-sensitive issue we’re talking about. A man’s life is at stake. Honestly, would you say you need it for anything that dire?”
Almost. My life’s at stake, and the lives of my people.
“Unless you’re married to a lamia,” she said. “I didn’t see a ring but figured a girl should never make assumptions.”
“No, thankfully, I’m not. Married to a lamia, that is. They wouldn’t be interested in me anyway.”
“I can’t see any female not being interested in you.”
“That’s a generous compliment, but I’m not a writer. They tend to stick with author types. Poets too.”
“Oh. Silly me. Tim did say that…I think. I guess I’d better do some reading on the subject.”
“You’re more likely to find information on the lamiae on the Internet. It’s not a widely researched topic,” he said as he tried to convince himself it was time to leave. Although his next class didn’t start for hours, he had some tests to grade. Since he wasn’t fond of fill-in-the-dot Scantron forms, he had about fifty essays left to read. It would take him hours.
Still, he couldn’t seem to accept the thought of turning from the woman and walking away. It made him ache inside like nothing ever had before. While he was holding her