Real Vampires Hate Their Thighs (47 page)

“You deserve to be safe. How I sleep is my business, Glory. Don’t stress about it.” Rafe put his hands on my shoulders. “And get this, lady.” He stared down at me, suddenly serious. No sign of a dimple. “Yeah, I’m your friend, and I’ll protect you if I see the need, with or without a paycheck.”

“You shouldn’t—” I blinked when he backed me up to the wall.

“I don’t take orders from you anymore. Right?”

“Right. Rafe, what’s the deal?” His body felt almost hot compared to my vamp subhuman temperature, and it was so close. I inhaled again, but this time, instead of “safe,” I got a sizzle of something I hadn’t expected.

“The deal is I’ve watched you with Blade and Caine, and I figure there’s a reason you won’t commit to either one of them.” He moved his hands from my shoulders to my neck, his thumbs doing funny things to the skin behind my ears.

“Uh.” I shivered, absolutely speechless for once.

His grin was slow and knowing. “Don’t worry, Glory. I’m not going to rush you. But one of these nights I’m going to end up in your bed again, and it’s not going to be lying at your feet.”

He stepped back and headed down the hall, his towel hitting the floor as he walked into his bedroom and shut the door.

I was left with the image of his perfect, taut butt burned into my brain. Dimples there too. Damn.

^“
Glory,
I’m glad you’re here. Things have been crazy.” Lacy Devereau, my day manager and right-hand girl in the shop, looked me over. “You okay?”

“Fine. V’s been torturing me with his cooking again. That’s all.” I smiled at a customer who was heading toward a dressing room with a vintage dress over her arm. “Business good, then?”

“Okay, but that’s not the crazy part. It’s Flo. She’s made this place into wedding central. You know I’m one of her bridesmaids.” Lacy glanced behind her and lowered her voice. “You’ve got to stop her, Glory. She’s talking about changing the dresses again. I don’t care if she is paying. With the wedding only a few weeks away, they’ll never get here on time.”

“You’re right. I’m on it.” I picked up a pile of receipts. The daily take hadn’t been too shabby. My vintage-clothing and antique store was on trendy Sixth Street, between Mugs and Muffins, a coffee shop owned by a fellow vamp, and a tattoo parlor. The location for Rafe’s nightclub was a few blocks down. We weren’t far from the University of Texas, and my shop had become a hangout for some of the students. Since I called my place Vintage Vamp’s Emporium and my bud Florence da Vinci, the not-so-blushing bride, had painted a vampire mural on the wall, we were really popular with Goths and vampire wannabes. I’d tried to discourage that at first, then played along, even passing out fake fangs at Halloween.

“Where’s Flo now? I’m not trying on any more bridesmaid dresses.” I’m maid of honor and had finally persuaded my former roomie to go with something black and slimming, with a bodice that would cover a double-D cup. Being a tiny size six herself, Flo really didn’t get a full-figured gal’s issues with some of the cute little numbers she liked.

“I’m right here,
cara
. Come see what I have in the back.” Flo had thrown open the door to my storeroom and rushed forward to grab my hand. “You’ll love this dress. Purple. Your color. It will look fabulous on you. Jeremiah will take one look at you and—boom!—he’s yours again.”

Jeremiah. Jeremy Blade. Whatever the hell he chose to call himself this week. We’d parted ways in Los Angeles. He was there; I was here. One of the reasons for my recent crying jags.

“Jerry won’t be seeing me. He’s not here, remember?” I didn’t resist when Flo dragged me into the back room. She slammed the door. I hoped customers weren’t scared off, but couldn’t get worked up about it. Jerry. I missed him. But I’d told him we needed a break. So we were broken. Sniff.

“He’ll be here. For the wedding. He’s going to be Ricardo’s best man.” Flo hugged me. “You’ll see. I fix everything for my BFF.”

Ricardo, or Richard Mainwaring, was Flo’s husband. They’d been married at one ceremony, but it hadn’t been up to Flo’s standards. She’d decided she wanted a big wedding and had turned into bridezilla with fangs. Her rich brother Damian was footing the bill, so this was guaranteed to be the wedding of several centuries.

“Jerry said yes? He’ll stand up for Richard?” I sounded a little skeptical because even though the guys got along fine, Jerry is a hardheaded Scot and Richard is English through and through. I guess I thought Richard would bring over one of his old Vatican cronies for the occasion. Richard is a former priest. Long story.

“He was honored, of course.” Flo flipped open a magazine and stabbed at a picture. “This dress. Cute? No?”

“What’s with the manicure?” I couldn’t help noticing that each nail wore a slightly different color. I lifted her finger to examine the dress under it. It
was
cute. Actually might work on my size-twelve figure if there was elastic involved. Forget puff sleeves. Make my arms look fat. But Jerry liked me in purple. And loved a plunging neckline. I had visions of him seeing me walk down the aisle and . . .

“Glory! I said I’m trying out colors for my wedding day.” Flo held out her hand. “Which one do you like?”

I focused. Okay. The differences would probably not be apparent to the casual observer, but Flo and I compared the colors to the fabric swatch from her wedding dress until we finally settled on “Blush.”

“
Perfetto! Grazie
, Glory.” She hugged me again. “I knew you would help me. Now I have another favor. Did you see this?” She pulled a local newspaper out from under her magazine.

“What is it?” I glanced down and recognized the picture. “Ray? He’s coming to town too?” Ray a.k.a. Israel Caine. The other man I’d left in L.A. Okay, I admit it. My heart, which barely beats anyway, gave a little jig of happiness. Both my guys, hot vampires who I loved and had decided I should give up, were coming to town. Would either of them want to see me after the way I’d given them the brush-off?

Well, Jerry wouldn’t have a choice, would he? And Ray? I grabbed the paper. He was singing at a venue at the South by Southwest Music Festival. The festival was held every spring in Austin to give music producers a chance to hear new talent. The article claimed that Ray was coming with the owner of his record label, another vampire, believe it or not. Maybe Ray would drop by the shop. I’d been his mentor, and it had only been a few weeks since Ray had claimed he loved me. But then I’d dumped him. Not an action guaranteed to keep his love light burning.

“Glory? Look at me.” Flo fiddled with a bottle of nail-polish remover. “That favor?”

“What is it, Flo?” I threw down the paper. How pathetic. I’d been on my own for less than a month, and I was already imagining scenarios where both men in my life were begging for me to come back to them. And then there’d been Rafe’s interesting behavior. I’d looked like hell. Surely he’d been playing me, hadn’t really meant that he—

“Glory, would you quit ignoring me? And blocking your thoughts?” Flo frowned at me and shook my arm. “This is serious,
mia amica
.”

I hid my smile. Didn’t everything to do with my friend’s wedding rank right up there with the desire for world peace and half-price sales? “Okay, Flo, I’m riveted. What’s up?”

“Ray. Israel Caine. He’ll be in Austin right before my wedding,
sì
?”

“Yes.” I didn’t like the calculating look on Flo’s face. She was blocking her thoughts too. But then, she always blocked her thoughts. Not that I usually tried to pry into them anyway. But this was an emergency. “What do you want, Flo?”

“I want Israel Caine to sing at my wedding, Glory. You must ask him for me. Please. He’ll do it for you. You saved his life.
Sì?
”

“He’s done a lot for me too, Flo. We’re even.” I frowned down at that purple dress. Six to eight weeks for delivery. But Flo would figure out a way around that minor technicality, probably by throwing money at it.

The major issue? Ray and Jerry at Flo’s wedding. Sounded like a recipe for disaster to me. The two men hated each other. Because I loved both of them. And Rafe would be there, of course. I’d ask him to be my date. He’d love to jump into a brawl with my name on it. I smiled. The future looked positively Glory-ous. (Sorry. Couldn’t resist.)