mother’s bedside when she’d gotten sick. His devastation when she’d been so weak at the end, and his infinite, sad patience when she’d gone completely insane and failed to recognize him. He’d tenderly cared for her anyhow, and I’d seen how it had destroyed him, day by day.
“It took him years to recover from my mother’s death. The only thing that got him out of his funk was Posey.” And that was why I couldn’t hate her. “I can’t ruin his happiness just as he’s found it again.”
“Marie,” he said slowly. “You need to tell your father. What if—”
“There’s no what-ifs,” I told him sharply. “None.”
If that meant I was living in denial, so be it. It was the only way I could deal with this.
He frowned. “You don’t think he’ll guess something’s wrong?”
I knew what he meant. My face was wan, the circles under my eyes enormous. I’d dropped at least ten pounds, and people constantly asked me if I was all right.
But I could chalk it up to the flu as long as I had a good distraction. I slipped my arm through Josh’s. “We’re going to be so sickeningly cute that he’s not even going to think to ask.”
And as if to prove he could be cute, Josh leaned in and kissed the tip of my nose.
And I melted. Just a little.
• • •
Minnie had a message waiting when I got in to work.
It was signed with AJ—Andre’s initials. That was . . . sweet, I guessed. “My dearest” sounded a little stiff, but it also sounded affectionate. I’d take it. I sent him back an email that tomorrow night was fine.
Oddly, though, I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Andre again. The entire relationship felt so . . . controlled. On both his part and mine. It was strange to be seeing a guy without his picking up the phone or sending messages to see how I was doing. We only interacted on our dates. Were all vampires like that?
It should have bothered me more, but I was distracted by Josh. Josh, with his cocky, confident grin that made my knees weak. Josh, who’d kissed the hell out of me in the parking lot outside Midnight Liaisons. I’d barely managed to stumble through the door, earning a suspicious glance from Ryder.
“Everything okay?”
“Just . . . fine,” I said as I sat at my desk, dazed.
Sara had been waiting for a client to call back about an issue with his file, and she transferred the case to me, since she was leaving for the day. As she pointed at the screen, I noticed she kept glancing at my neck.
Did I have a hickey? I blushed at the thought and forced myself to concentrate on her instructions, taking notes. When she finally left, I fished a compact out of my purse.
There were no love bites. Nothing I could see. Huh. Maybe I’d imagined her interest.
The night crawled past. The phones were slower than usual, and I wasn’t in a chatty mood. Ryder wasn’t, either. I spent hours staring at my computer monitor, daydreaming.
I kept imagining Josh’s big body over mine. The way he’d kissed my mouth and licked me all over. The way he’d pushed into me so fiercely, so possessively.
And I remembered the tiny kiss he’d pressed to my nose at breakfast.
It had felt . . . like being a real couple. Not a hookup. This felt special. But maybe I was just being sentimental. Maybe this was how Josh made all his girlfriends feel. Maybe that was why so many of them complained to the agency when he wouldn’t call them back.
On a whim, I pulled up his profile. There he was, leaning against a wall, thumbs hooked into his belt loops, pointing you-know-where. The pose showed off just how muscular his arms were, how flat his stomach. How cocky his grin. He looked like a guy who knew he was hot.
Current status? Available.
That bugged me. It wasn’t like I could claim him, of course. But I wasn’t sure I wanted him claiming anyone else.
I looked at his profile history. He’d been a client for the past four years and had dated dozens of women. I scrolled down through the dates, uncomfortably aware of just how much of a player he was. His last date had been three weeks ago—a were-fox named Hayami. She had sent messages to him through the site, but they’d gone unanswered. In fact, his entire inbox was full of personal messages from other females. Some he had a history with, and some were brand-new.
I scrolled through the messages, feeling like a snoop. But it wasn’t really snooping, since I worked for the company. We told people we monitored their dates and their messages, so they knew it wasn’t private.
Still, when I ran across the nude photos that one girl had sent Josh, I deleted them with a scowl.
• • •
I was still feeling a little out of sorts when he dropped by to pick me up the next morning. I stifled a yawn behind my hand as I slid into the car next to him. We’d only taken one car to dinner last night because that had seemed smartest. Now? I wish we’d taken two.
Josh looked tired. Slightly on edge and annoyed. But he leaned in to kiss me, and I studied him as he pulled onto the highway. “Everything okay?”
He glanced over at me. “Long night, that’s all.”
“More vampire problems?”
“Just one vampire being high maintenance and demanding.” His mouth firmed. “Look, Marie, I hate to ask this . . . ”
Oh, no. Here it was.
“But I don’t think you should see Andre anymore. Even other vampires steer clear of him. There’s something going on underneath that nice-guy exterior, but I don’t know what it is. He’s secretive.”
Phew. I’d thought he was going to suggest that he and I not see each other anymore. “I thought you said all vampires were secretive.”
He frowned. “They are.”
“So what makes this one worse? Have you heard something?”
His jaw clenched a little. “No. But my instincts tell me he’s hiding something. I just need to find out what.”
I didn’t know a thing about cat instincts. But I did know that Andre was my chance to live. I was willing to put up with a little weirdness for that.
“You can’t ask me to stop seeing him,” I told him softly.
His hands clenched on the steering wheel, and he sighed. “I know. I just want you to be careful.” Josh glanced over at me, his eyes serious. “For me.”
I put my hand on his thigh, feeling strangely possessive of him at the moment. “I’ll be careful.”
• • •
As soon as I got home, I took one look at my spotless apartment and realized I had a problem. My father knew me better than anyone, and he knew that I liked to clean when I was stressed. This would make him ask questions.
I immediately took off for the bedroom.
“Where are you going?” Josh asked.
“I need to dirty this place up,” I told him breathlessly. “My father will know something’s up when he sees I’ve been cleaning.”
He scratched the back of his head as I raced around, trying to find something that would suitably “dirty” up the place. “I have a couple of dirty shirts in my car. You want me to grab them?”
I stopped to stare at him. “Why do you have dirty shirts?”
He shrugged, looking a bit uncomfortable. “Didn’t get home a day or two.”
“Do I even want to ask? But that’s fine—grab a couple of your shirts. We can toss them on the floor.” As soon as I said that, I cringed, mentally wanting to clean the place at the thought. I went to the kitchen as he headed out to his car and threw some leftovers onto a couple of plates, then dumped the leftovers into the garbage. I tossed the dirtied dishes in the sink and set a half-full glass of soda on the counter, hoping that it’d get flat fast. I opened a bag of chips and ate one, then scattered the crumbs on the counter, twisting the bag closed messily.
