Beauty Bites (14 page)

“Elena’s swimming. Something about the water’s buoyancy helping her relax. Bo’s…resting.” Her odd pause made more sense now that I knew Bo was probably a sun-shy vampire.

And there it was. The perfect opportunity to confirm what Ric had told me. Or not
told
me exactly, but implied really hard. “So about fangy vampi—”

“Your merlot.”

I spun. Nikos was almost on top of me. I fell back a step, heart leaping into jackhammer mode. Nikos was as silent as Ric, and damn, the Greek was big, a dark mountain handing me a dinky little wine glass. Smiling, I took the glass, though both smile and hand were a mite shaky.

Twyla said, “Don’t let him bother you. Where he comes from, that scary dominance and discipline is bred in. He doesn’t really mean it.”

“Maybe not with you.” I eyed the Spartan. “But that’s what I’m talking about. Vam—”

“Why was Holiday,” she cut me off hurriedly, “asking me all those questions on the phone? Is he going to take us on? Drink your wine.” She tipped my hand and I got a snout full of merlot. She was busy glaring at Nikos then glancing pointedly from me to the couch. She released me to go sit, then had the nerve to pat the cushion next to her genteelly.

I stayed put. “But what about vampir—”

Nikos snared me by the elbow, jarring me so I not only cut off the word, I nearly chomped off my tongue. He hustled me to the couch where he practically planted me beside my cousin. Then he topped off my glass.

What could I do? It was two against one, and their side held the wine hostage. I gave in and explained about the Advertising Bowl faceoff against Camille. “Since Holiday Buzz only takes on clients who have a positive impact on ‘humans and humankind’, Ric’s helping me.” I waggled my brows on the “humans and humankind”, inviting her to broach the v-topic herself.

“He’s helping you? You got friendly!” She beamed at me like a star pupil. “Told you the bra would work.”

“We didn’t get friendly
that
way!” I blushed. “Not exactly. Not intentionally. I mean, not today. Today was just business. Mostly.”

“And yesterday?” Nikos rumbled.

He
would
have to hit on that.

I glared at him. “I liked you better when you never said anything.” But two could play the evasion game. “Actually, Nikos, I’m glad you’re here. Ric said something and I need to ask you both. About vam—”

“Drink your wine,” Twyla said at the same time Nikos thrust a bag under my nose and said, “Chocolate?”

Enough was enough. I swiped the bag from him and yelled, “Vampires! Details. Juicy.
Now
.”

There was a shocked silence. Then Twyla said, “Ooh. You shouldn’t have done that. Not with Bo in the next—”

The bedroom door slammed open. Limned by the sun striping through the bedroom’s vertical window blinds was six-four, two hundred pounds of Viking.

He stalked into the living room. Thick wavy blond hair, frosty blue eyes, shoulders like a freeway, chest like a brick building and arms like tree trunks, he was tightly muscled and radiating intensity. He wasn’t quite as big as Mt. Nikos but the sheer command in his stride said if there was a master vampire for the city of Meiers Corners, Bo Strongwell was it.

“Vampires don’t exist.” His dark rumble echoed weirdly in my head. “You will forget this conversation ever took place.”

“Okay.” I nodded pleasantly. “Whatever you say.”

He stopped. Frowned at me. “What did I say to you?”

“You told me to forget this conversation ever took place. So I’m forgetting it, see?” I put down my glass—but held onto the chocolates—and spread my hands. “It’s forgotten.”

“Damn me,” he said. “Not another one.”

Nikos chuckled. When Bo skewered him with a nasty look, the chuckle subsided to a grin.

Twyla, to my surprise, was preening. “That’s my cousin.”

“What’s the problem? I said I’d forgotten it.”

Bo got all grumpy-faced. “If you’d really forgotten it, you wouldn’t have remembered forgetting it.”

“Sure.” How had the people I loved and trusted gotten harder to understand than a sales guru? “Well, if I’m not forgetting it, can you tell me what you meant when you said ‘Not another one’? That’s what Camille said yesterday, and ‘another one’ meant me.”

“Oh boy,” Twyla said to no one in particular. “Here it comes.” She poked me. “I’m gonna need chocolate for this.”

I pulled one out of the bag I’d swiped from Nikos and unwrapped it before handing it to her. “Camille also asked where you Alliance boys find ‘them’, again meaning me. What’s an Alliance boy?”

“Fuck.” Bo ran a hand through his hair, rumpling it, paced away two steps, whirled back and glared at me like this was my fault. “
Jævla rasshøl
.” I didn’t know what that meant but he said it like “fucking asshole”. Hopefully not me.

He threw himself onto the other sofa. On him it looked like a big chair. Even though he was fuming, the boyishly mussed hair made him look good enough to eat. I was beginning to see all vampires were unnaturally attractive, maybe part of their predator kit.

He shot an aggrieved glance at Twyla. “How long has she known?”

“
She
is right here,” I pointed out.

“This is the first I’ve heard about it.” Twyla shrugged and nibbled her chocolate. “But I’d guess she’s suspected for quite a while. It’s impossible not to see if you’re living right on top of it. I should know.”

“Right here.” I was starting to understand how Camille had felt last night, ignored by Ric. Without the, you know, kissing part.

The front door slammed open. “Wish you could stand sunlight, Bo. Did you know that if you float on your back the fishies will nibble your heels…whoa, a wine and chocolate party and you started without me?”

Striding into the living room was five-nine of lithe, deadly female, shaking out a wet mop of black hair so curly it could arrest criminals all on its own.

Detective Elena Strongwell.

Only to my shock she wasn’t exactly striding so much as waddling. I hadn’t seen Elena since high school. Wearing a bikini top, cutoff jeans and sandals, either she’d duct-taped a watermelon under her belly button or—

She was honking pregnant.

“Well.” I unwrapped a chocolate of my own. “Good thing I’ve been through my obstetrics rotation. You’re due when, two years ago?”

“Nah. Not ‘til July fuck-me twenty-fifth.” At a raised eyebrow from her husband she amended, “Pardon me, July fuzzy-bears-and-kittens twenty-fifth. Trying to dial back on the swearing in prep for the kid. A few weeks, but I’ve been ready for
months
.” She tossed her beach bag onto the couch, flopped down next to Bo and levered her feet into his lap. “Rub.”

“What’s the magic word?” Aimed at her, his dark growl had softened to almost a purr.

“Now.”

With a smile he slid off her sandals and began to knead the ball of one foot.

She moaned. “Ohhh, that is so fuh…fudgy delight good.”

“As good as the rubbing you got this morning, Detective?”

One eye cracked. “Unfair. That’s like comparing chocolate and wine. They’re both out of this world.”

“Eww,” I said. “I don’t want to think of you two ‘rubbing’.” I pulled a couple chocolates out of the bag and tossed them to her. “Take those instead. There’s a reason that kind of thing stays behind bedroom doors.”

Twyla smirked. “Only because you’re not getting any. Or at least not that way. Not intentionally. Only business.” She added teeth in a shark’s smile. “According to you.”

My cheeks heated. Relatives are annoying. Rels with great memories are why wedgies were invented. “He kissed me, okay? Happy?”

“Exceedingly.” She had the gall to smirk. If it hadn’t been for Nikos’s protective hovering, her thong would’ve been around her ears.

“You got kissed?” Elena opened both eyes—on me. Her stare was direct and piercing, her cop stare. “Who? Where? How was it? C’mon, I want details.”

“Cops always want details,” I grumbled.

“The ‘who’ is Ric Holiday.” Twyla was gloating so hard I wanted to either crawl under the sofa or do her next gynecology exam with a speculum from the fridge. “
Where
is at the party. I knew the sexy pushup bra would do the trick.”

“Still. Right. Here.”

“The old lingerie trick.” Elena pursed her lips. “Yeah, that’s always a good one. Bo gave me a lavender set that rocks. Although my near-B bra wouldn’t fit her.” She looked down at herself. “Wouldn’t fit me right now either, the tit fairy having finally visited, ten years late.”

“I love you both ways, Detective.” Bo started rubbing the other foot. She groaned and went flat on the couch.

“Look, enough.” My face was hot. I unwrapped chocolate to give myself time to recover. “I kissed Ric but that’s all I’ve done. And that’s all I’m going to do.” I popped the chocolate in my mouth and started chomping. “There’s no future in it. He’s an ad man, okay? All sizzle, no steak. He’s lies and misdirection, not meaty facts.”

“Meaty?” Twyla waggled her eyebrows.

My face flamed. I stopped chewing because the chocolate just melted. “I didn’t mean it that way. Exactly.” I swallowed. “Look, the point is, he told me something that might not be a lie. Might be true. Probably is true from the way you’re all acting. About his being a vampire—”

Bo hissed. “Keep your voice down. This cabin is sturdy but not soundproof.”

“I wasn’t shouting,” I said.

“We don’t use the v-word except in private,” Twyla said. “Very private, like our soundproofed households. Public cabins are…public.”

“Oh, come on. The nearest occupied cabin is three doors down.”

“We’ve learned the strangest things can hide electronic bugs.” Twyla pointed at the bag of chocolates and then at herself. I tossed her one and she unwrapped it thoughtfully. “Holiday used the v-word?”

“Well, no, not the
word
. He said he was a ‘night person’, wink-wink nudge-nudge. And that Camille was a ‘night person’ too. Guys, enough with the secrecy.” I crossed my arms. What had the world come to when the ad man was more truthful than my friends? “Since I’m battling Camille for the freedom of Meiers Corners, stop pussyfooting around and give me some useful
facts
. What did Bo mean, not another one? And what did Camille mean by Alliance boys?”

“Lotta questions in those questions.” Twyla tossed the chocolate in her mouth. “You have the time?”

“No.” Bo underscored the word with a jabbed finger. “The more people we tell, the more likely the secret will get out.”

Nikos raised a brow. “Have we a choice?”

“I vote we tell her,” Elena said.

“Me too,” Twyla chimed in.

“This is not a republic.” Bo’s dentures were getting kinda pointy and his eyes glinted a peeved violet. “I said no. We’re not telling her anything.”

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll just phone Dolly Barton.”

Silence. Four sets of eyes swung to me and glued, the mix of expressions from awed to annoyed to amused.

Dolly Barton wasn’t a vampire, at least I didn’t think so. But as the queen of gossip, she was a real threat. Nobody knew more about the lifeblood of Meiers Corners than Dolly.

Although to say Dolly was a gossip was like saying an MRI machine was a magnet with aspirations. Dolly knew everything that went on, sometimes even before it happened. Some people said Police Chief Dirkson got most of his arrest tips from Dolly during his weekly mustache wax.

Bo folded his arms, his gaze slashed to the side in disgust.

Elena gave the nod to Twyla. “Tell her.”

“I wanted to explain long ago,” Twyla said. “But if the secret gets out, the v-guys are as good as dead. In a manner of speaking.”

“I’m not going to blab. I just want to know what’s going on. What did Camille’s ‘not another one’ mean?”

“That’s the rare human who’s immune to v-guy compulsion, which is a hypnotic combination of eyes and voice, though some older ones can do it by voice alone.”

Elena said, “All of us spouses are mostly immune to it. Well, we’d have to be to have a chance of a true relationship with a particular v-guy.”

“Okay.” I didn’t get the strange music in her voice when she said “a particular v-guy” but I was going for the executive summary right now. I’d get to the refinements later. “And the Alliance?”

“Bo can explain that one best.” Elena struggled to sit up.

“I don’t agree with this.” He helped her up. “I’m not going to be an active part of it.”

“You refuse to make me into a v-gal. The least you can do is give Synnove a few facts.”

“That’s different.” He narrowed his eyes at her.

She snared a bottle of oil from her beach bag and held it out to him. “Isn’t.”

“Is.” He held his scalding stare a moment longer before sighing and taking the oil. “It’s too dangerous to turn you now. Hell, it’s too dangerous, period.”

“Language, Viking.” She grinned and pointed to her swollen belly. He started rubbing oil onto her skin. A pleasant coconut odor filled the air.

“Heck, then.” He turned to me but kept rubbing. “To make my wife happy, I’ll tell you. But if you ever spill it—”