Sucker for Love (2 page)

“I’m willing to beg.”

“I’m a born vampire. We’re not genetically wired for sympathy.”

“Are we genetically wired for greed? Because I’m willing to pay.”

She grinned and shooed away Rob’s hands. “What’d you have in mind?”

I did a mental of my most recent purchases, singling out the key items that I knew would melt her hard-ass resolve. “Ferragamo sunglasses?”

“I’ve got three pairs.”

“Michael Kors bangle bracelets?”

“Got ’em.”

“Hermès lipstick compact.”

She shook her head. “There’s no such thing.”

“If you think so.” I shrugged a shoulder. “But I just happen to have one from the insanely small, limited edition collection purchased by a select few clients who have the right connections.” In this case, a bisexual sales assistant at Barneys who I’d glammed ages ago. I’d been scamming primo purchases ever since. “But if you’re not interested—”

“Okay, okay. I’m going.” She gave Rob an apologetic smile. “Sorry, babe. What can I say? I’m shallow.”

He grinned and dropped a quick kiss on her lips. “Just one of the many things I love about you.”

Awwww…

My heart swelled for about an eighth of a second before I remembered who was actually in the closet with Nina.

My very own flesh-and-blood
brother.

Middle-born son of Countess Jacqueline and Count Pierre Gustavo Marchette of the French Dourdou Valley.

Descendant of one of the first (and snottiest) born vamp families in existence.

Propagator of the species and all-around playa playa.

And he’d just used the
L word.

Shut.
Up.

Before I could find my voice, Nina grabbed my hand and hauled me off toward the entrance to the ballroom. “What color?”

Rob. Nina. Love?
“What color what?”

“The lipstick case.” She nudged me, shattering my thoughts. “What color is it?”

I shook away my sudden excitement and focused on the here and now. “Hot pink with rhinestones and Swarovski crystals.”

“No way.”

“And there’s even a tiny diamond inlay on the inside mirror near the Hermès logo.”

She squealed and snatched the corsage from my hands. A few seconds later, she had a single red rose pinned on the bodice of her Carolina Herrera original and the clipboard in hand. “I’m armed and ready. What do you want me to do?”

“Just greet everyone and check invitations. No one gets inside without one.”

“What if he’s cute?”

“It doesn’t matter. No invitation, no party.”

“Well dressed?”

“Hand him a business card, talk us up and send him on his way.”

“Rich?”

“Stick a name tag on him and send him in.” What can I say? This vamp had her priorities.

After a few more instructions (pass out an extra pack of DED promotional mints to all weres, hand over cologne samples to every demon, ask blood type preference for vamps), I left Nina at the entrance and headed inside to see the end result of eight days of wicked stress and frantic planning.

The room was huge, with ornate frieze work and gleaming black marble. A large dance floor had been set up in the very center, the circular area surrounded by clusters of round tables covered in crisp white linens. A polished silver candelabra dominated the center of each table. A black napkin tied with gold filigree rope adorned every place setting. Candlelight flickered, making the china and crystal sparkle. Moonlight filtered through the wall of glass windows behind the small (I’m on a bud get, all right?) but tasteful band I’d booked for tonight.

The place oozed romantic ambience, and for the first time since I’d started planning the event, I actually believed that it might work. Up to that point I’d been running on sheer desperation and crazy hope.

My gaze shifted to the far corner of the room and the huge silver fountain flowing with champagne. Next to that sat a Bloody Mary bar. Mary herself wasn’t in attendance (not yet anyway—my mother
had
sent her an invitation on my behalf), but there was plenty of AB—, vodka and Tabasco sauce to keep the vamps happy. Next to that sat a meat lover’s buffet sporting everything from roast beef to lamb chops. The food was barely cooked (we’re talking
rare)
and plentiful for the weres. For the demons? Several gleaming silver tureens filled with split pea soup. Add a dessert bar with everything from fudge overboard to raspberry cheesecake for the few fairies who’d been invited, and there was a little something for everyone.

In fact, the entire room reminded me of the “It’s a Small World” ride at Disneyland. I had the sudden urge to sing “Kumbaya.”

Or, in this case, “Monster Mash.”

Everything looked absolutely perfect.

Which should have been my first clue of the coming disaster. I mean, really. A roomful of vamps, d-men, weres and fairies? Talk about a massacre just waiting to happen.

The first to draw blood? A hot-looking brother from down under. At least, I
thought
he was a demon since I couldn’t smell him (nix vamp), nor could I read his thoughts (forget human) and he didn’t look ready to howl at the moon (so
not
a were).

His name was Justin Something-or-other and he was über hot. I wasn’t sure where he’d come from (he wasn’t on my guest list), but I wasn’t about to argue with the whopping cash retainer he presented to Nina when he showed up at the door. Or the Visa Gold Card he flashed for incidentals. He was desperate to find a plus-sized made vampire and I just so happened to have the perfect woman for him.

Esther Crutch was a nice, sweet, stylishly chic made vampire I’d met while getting a spray tan at my favorite salon. Unfortunately, the stylishly chic packaged a size 14 body and so Esther didn’t get as much nooky as the rest of her kind.

Made male vamps were so shallow.

Ahem.

Okay, so were born male vamps, but enough with the details.

Esther and Justin. Talk about a perfect match. I introduced them and stepped back to let Cupid do his thing.

One minute they were doing a hot salsa number and eyeballing each other and the next, they’d traded the ballroom for the sitting area. Go Cupid!

I wasn’t sure what happened after that. I just knew, judging by the bloodstained sofa, that it wasn’t good.

My heart pushed up into my throat as I stared at the crimson mess.

“I knew someone was going to spill a drink,” Nina said as she came up behind me. “Daddy’s going to take it out of my allowance for sure.”

“I don’t think this is a spilled drink,” I finally managed, my voice small and tight. I picked at a torn piece of Esther’s dress that had caught on the edge of a mirrored coffee table. The fabric was soaked with red, the edges jagged where it had ripped on the table. Or where someone had ripped it.

An image flashed and I remembered Esther, a strange expression on her face as Justin had led her from the ballroom.

I’d been five steps behind them because I’d wanted a pic for the brochure. I’d paused to calm down an overly excited were who’d been upset because we’d run out of au jus for the roast beef.

By the time I’d reached the sitting area—my
camera poised and ready to capture an eternally-ever-after in the making—they were gone.

“Holy shit,” Nina gasped as the reality of the situation seemed to hit her. Her nostrils flared and her eyes brightened. “That really isn’t wine, is it?”

“No.” My throat tightened around the word. “It’s Esther.” I forced a swallow. “I think she’s been kidnapped.” The ripe smell of fresh blood flooded my senses. Goose bumps crawled up and down my arms and a strange sense of doom settled in the pit of my stomach. “Or worse.”

“T
his isn’t so bad.” That’s what Ash Prince told me when he and a handful of men I didn’t recognize showed up a half hour later to examine the crime scene.

I’d called Ty first, but he was off chasing one of New York’s Most Wanted vampires who’d skipped out on bail (not that Ty discussed his cases with me, but we were mentally linked thanks to some mutual bloodsucking and so I picked up on a few details every now and then when he let his guard down).

With Ty going straight to voice mail, I’d had no choice but to call the only other name in my iPhone who hunted bad guys for a living.

Make that bad
demons.

Ash and his brothers worked for the Big D himself
(that’s Devil not Daddy). They hunted condemned souls on the lamb from hell. Rapists, murderers, IRS auditors. They had expertise when it came to dissecting a crime scene.

Or so I hoped.

“No headless corpse.” Ash typed in notes on his BlackBerry and walked the small sitting area outside the ballroom. Inside, his men had spread out to question the few remaining guests. “No smoldering ashes. No brain matter splattering the walls.” He hunkered down and looked under the sofa. “No scattered body parts.”

Ugh.
Can we tone down the details?

“She’s definitely not dead,” he added, pushing to his full six foot plus height. His rich chocolate gaze locked with mine. “Not yet anyway.”

“You’re not making me feel any better.” Talk about the wrong thing to say to a sexual demon. His gaze brightened, gleaming a brilliant gold. Heat rolled off his sexy body, curling around me and luring me closer.

He had short, dark hair that looked as if he’d just rolled out of bed and shoved a hand through it. He wore a brown Henley that hugged his broad shoulders and accented a narrow waist. Faded jeans clung to his long, muscular legs. He had bedroom eyes and perfect white teeth and more sex appeal than Eric Bana, Brad Pitt and my favorite clerk at the Starbucks all rolled into one.

Talk about some serious temptation.

“I’m in a relationship,” I blurted. “A happy, committed, monogamous relationship. With Ty,” I added on the off chance that guys didn’t talk about these things. Ash and Ty crossed paths on occasion, but I couldn’t really see them having a heart-to-heart. Especially since demon Ash didn’t actually have a heart and Ty’s ticker had been dead for quite some time now.

“So you two are together now, huh?”

“That’s right.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Are we talking
together
as in getting wild and naked on the weekends, or
together
as in picking out his and hers coffins?”

“Definitely coffins.” He arched an eyebrow and I shrugged. “All right, so we haven’t actually gotten that far, but we’re on the way.” Sort of.

I know, I know. Where was the
most definitely?
The thing was, while I was head over heels for Ty, he’d never come out and actually said the L word.

He couldn’t.

Long story short, Ty’s maker—a ruthless born vamp by the name of Logan Drake—was on a personal mission to see that Ty suffered for the rest of his afterlife. Logan wanted Ty miserable, and so he wasn’t too fond of yours truly because, let’s face it, I was the sunshine in Ty’s otherwise doom and gloom existence.

Ty was hesitant to get close, fearful that Logan might target me. But I’d faced off with Vindictive Vamp once before when he’d kidnapped Ty for a
little reality check in the form of torture and mutilation. I’d also saved the day—i.e., Ty’s ass.

Logan Drake didn’t scare me.

Okay, so maybe he scared me a little (torture, mutilation, nuff said). But I was willing to take the risk because I loved Ty. And he loved me.

Really. I so didn’t need to hear it. His actions spoke volumes.

He’d helped me prove my innocence when I was wanted for murder. He’d bit me and sucked out a nasty demon when Evie’s exorcism had gone south. He’d given up women and started bottling it when it came to his dinner. He’d left a toothbrush in my bathroom and he’d sent me flowers. He’d bailed on me several days ago and all my calls were now going to his voice mail—

Wait a second. Wrong exit. I hopped back on the road toward commitment bliss.

“It’s just a matter of time before we do the happily-ever-after thing,” I added, more to convince myself than Ash.

“So you already took him home to meet your mother?”

“We haven’t actually gotten around to that part, but we will.” Just as soon as I worked up my nerve. Ash shook his head and I added, “What? I’m waiting for the right moment.”

“There is no right moment. Ty is a made vampire, which leaves him out of the running for son-in-law of the year.”

“And you’re an expert because …?”

“I’m not. But it doesn’t take a genius to figure things out. You’re a born vampire which means your mother is a born vampire, which means Ty is going to be about as welcome in her house as the local SOB.”

“For your information, she and my father have a very amicable relationship with Vinnie Balducci.” Aka the local representative for the Snipers of Otherworldly Beings—SOBs for short—an organized group responsible for hunting and annihilating any and all Others. “They give him free toner cartridges.” Because, of course, even dangerous, bloodthirsty snipers had to do paperwork. “And he doesn’t drive a stake through their hearts. It’s a win/win.”

“I bet your ma doesn’t have him over for dinner.”

“She might.” If he were the right blood type. “Listen, I know it’s not likely that my mother will fall all over Ty at the first meeting, but she’ll come around.”