Just One Bite by Kimberly Raye Page B

meant it hadn’t been all about the moola when he’d rushed over. “I’m about to pour a glass of blood,” I heard myself say. “I’ve got plenty. Want to join me?”
    “You don’t really think that’s a good idea, do you?”
    Yes. “No.” I tamped down a rush of disappointment. “You probably should get back to work.”
    “Probably.”
    “There’s a demon out there with your name on it, after all.”
    “There is.” He looked none too happy about it, either.
    I forced a smile. “Make sure you wear gloves. I can still feel the slime.”
    He gave me a serious look. “You sure you’re okay? You don’t feel any different?”
    Actually, I felt a lot different. Warmer in certain places. Desperate in others. “I’m fine. Tired, but fine. Speaking of which, you have all of a half hour to get where you’re going because I doubt you brought sunscreen.”
    He winked. “I just happen to have some SPF 2000 right here in my pocket.”
    “And here I thought you were just glad to see me.” Okay, so I was flirting. But we’re talking harmless words. It wasn’t like I was going to hoist him over my shoulder, throw him on my king-sized bed, and rip off his clothes.
    Unless he asked me to.
    “I’d better go,” he blurted, his knowing gaze burning into mine. “You’d better get that door fixed.”
    “First thing tomorrow,” I promised.
    He nodded. A flash of black and then he was gone.
    My stomach hollowed out and I had the sudden urge to rush forward and catch one last glimpse of him before he disappeared down the stairwell. Or out the nearest window.
    “I know, I know,” I told Killer when he blinked up at me as if to say looo-zer. “I’m pathetic, right?”
    And slow as hell. I’ve been waiting on dinner for a full fifteen minutes now. He added an irritated meow to drive his point home.
    “Don’t get your doggie tee in a twist. I’m getting it.”
    Make it quick, otherwise those fangs aren’t the last little surprise you’ll be getting tonight.
    “I should have left you in that alley.”
    Yeah, yeah. And I should have shredded your favorite silk blouse. We all have regrets. Get over it.
    Ty’s image popped into my head and my ears prickled for the sound of footsteps or the flutter of wings.
    Not because I, like, liked him or anything. He’d been my first since jumping off the Meaningless-Sex bandwagon several years ago and climbing onto the I’m-Saving-Myself-for-My-Eternity-Mate express. He’d simply reminded me of all the fun I’d been missing.
    But the fun was over now, and I was NOT going back to my old ways. I intended to find my eternity mate, settle down, and pop out a baby Shiloh or Violet or Magenta. Someday.
    If my femur or humerus didn’t wind up in Vinnie Balducci’s sock drawer.
    On that sobering thought, I moved the door back into place, wedged the chair under the knob, scooped up Killer, and headed into the kitchen.
    The clock was ticking.

Eight

    L ater that afternoon, I walked into Dead End Dating a half hour ahead of schedule. I’d put the whole fang incident in its proper perspective. It had been a warning of things to come if I didn’t hook Vinnie up, which I totally intended to do. And so there was no reason to panic yet. It was only Friday, meaning I still had five days until Mama B’s birthday.
    If it had been Monday, well, that would have been a completely different story.
    At least that’s what I’d been telling myself since I’d crawled out of bed. Add a grande house brew with four shots of espresso on top of the mental pep talk, and I was jacked up on enough caffeine and optimism to match up even Vinnie.
    “You brought Starbucks.” Evie’s eyes lit up as if I were dangling a tube of MAC’s newest lip gloss—Cherry Buzz—right in front of her.
    Evie had been with me since I’d first opened my doors to Manhattan’s rich and clueless. Simultaneously, she could man the phones, run a computer, and wield a mascara wand without taking out an eye. Like moi,