La Vida Vampire

“We?” he said with a raised brow.

“We,” I said firmly. “I landed in the middle of this, and Millie’s our best lead right now. If you’re going, I’m going. I want to hear what she has to say firsthand.”

“What happened to talking to her tonight on the tour?”

“Are you saying you want to wait?”

“Only until I catch some sleep,” he said, parking the SUV.

“You’re not going to sneak out on me?”

“No, because you’re right about her knowing and trusting you. March gave me the go-ahead to talk to Mrs. Hayward, and I’ll take you as long as you let me do the talking.”

I didn’t argue, but I didn’t agree, either. Saber was so beat, he didn’t notice. In the condo, he fell fully clothed onto Maggie’s bed.

I had to crash soon, too. I left my purse and keys on the dining table and went to lay out my clothes for later in the afternoon. One less chance for Saber to get the jump on me.

I came fully awake at three in the afternoon and leapt out of bed. Had Saber gone to Millie’s without me?

I rushed to the kitchen in a thigh-length flamingo T-shirt to find him standing at the sink munching on a bagel—a bagel we didn’t have in the house last night. Which meant he must ’ve gone out to a nearby coffee shop, but he’d come back. Yep, there were my purse and keys on the table, and he’d probably memorized the elevator code when I punched it in Friday evening. Well, what do you know? He had waited for me to wake up.

He gave me a long, slow once-over from my bedhead to my bare feet. A look that scorched a trail of awareness on my skin.

That darned light musky scent flared, but I brazened out getting what I needed in the kitchen: Starbloods. I strolled to the mini-fridge as if I were fully dressed, took out a bottle (my behind facing away from him, of course) and turned back to my suite. I felt his eyes on me all the way, and I felt…power. Feminine power. Whoa, this was just like it looked in the movies—a real rush.

Except I let the rush go to my head and didn’t watch where I was going. I nearly smacked into the doorframe.

“Uh, I’ll be ready in ten minutes,” I said, not daring to make eye contact.

“Great. Fine. I’ll wait.”

What, no snickering? No make-it-five-minutes comeback? Was his voice a little hoarse? Like Neil’s got with Maggie?

I didn’t need to go there. If his voice was hoarse, it was probably from lack of sleep. Maybe allergies. I threw on the dark blue jeans and gold knit top I’d laid out, then put my hair in a ponytail with a heavy -duty scrunchie, and slid on a pair of gold sandals. I didn’t realize until I skidded back to the kitchen that Saber was in blue jeans, a yellow polo shirt, and the black jacket to cover his holster. Except for his jacket, we looked like we’d coordinated our clothes, for heaven’s sake. He gave me another long, appraising look that made goose bumps prickle on my arms. Then one corner of that sensuous mouth lifted in a half grin. That’s all it took to forget my fledgling feminine power and bolt for the door.



Millie Hayward lived on the island in an older but gorgeous condo building on the beach. Built in a U shape so every condo appeared to have an ocean view, her unit was front and center of the U on the first floor. It wasn’t gated, so she had no warning we were coming. She opened the door wearing pink slacks, a sweater set, and an expression of surprise.

“Francesca?”

“Hi, Millie,” I said, good manners coming to the fore to cover my nervousness. “Do you remember meeting Deke Saber on my tour Thursday night?”

She nodded. “I remember.”

“Mrs. Hayward,” Saber said, “we need to speak with you.”

“About that awful man who threatened Cesca?”

“Do you mind if we come in?” Saber countered.

She eyed me for a long minute, reluctantly, I thought. It took a quick mental scrolling of vampire lore to figure out why she might be hesitating. So much for trusting me.

“It’s safe to let me in, Millie. This isn’t an open invitation for me to invade your home.”

Relief—subtle but there—swept her features, and she stepped back to allow us by.

“Thank you,” I said as she closed the door.

She motioned us to a cozy living room seating area of four overstuffed armchairs in sea foam green and a wood and glass coffee table. Original seascapes in oils and acrylics dotted the walls, and potted palms stood at the sides of the room-wide oceanview windows.

“Sit, please,” Millie said. “Would you like anything to—” She broke off, looking unsure what Miss Manners would offer a vampire guest.

She hugged me on the street but froze up with me in her home? I sighed. “We’re fine, Millie, thank you.”

With another flash of relief, she lowered herself into one chair, and we took the two opposite her.

“I don’t know what I can tell you about that awful man that I haven’t already said.”