by Jill Myles
We’d learned long ago not to mess with the starred accounts. Not if we valued employment.
“Oh boy,” I breathed, tucking a limp strand of blonde hair behind my ear. “Have you called Giselle yet?”
Giselle was the hundred-year-old siren who had started Midnight Liaisons. Our boss, and a bit of a hardass. She wouldn’t be pleased about Rosie, and she’d be even less pleased when she found out Rosie had screwed up a starred account.
“Hell no, I haven’t told her,” Sara said, looking at me as if I’d grown another head. “I can handle this. Just give me a minute.”
“Sara,” I warned, my hand going to my hip in exasperation. “This isn’t like one of your games.”
“Sure it is,” she said, not looking at me as she typed furiously, her gaze fixed on the screen. “I can fake a database failure and wipe out all the records for the past twenty-four hours—”
“Sara! No, jeezus no.” I tried to grab her wrists, but my little sister was smaller and quicker than me. “Don’t you touch the database. Giselle will freak out if the records dump again.”
Considering that my sister had pulled this same stunt twice in the past year, I suspected that Giselle was starting to grow wise to Sara’s hacking skills.
“If we lose the account, we’re in deep shit, Bath. Much deeper shit than a data-loss.”
No kidding. Not only did Giselle have a sensitive relationship with the Russell clan (read: tenuous), but she had little tolerance for humans in general. The only reason she staffed her business with quiet normal girls like Sara and myself, I suspected, was because we could work all hours of the day. Giselle’s circle of friends were limited by things like daylight and a full moon.
Sara turned frustrated eyes to me. “We can’t tell her, Bath. That’s just out of the question.”
How could we not? But when Sara sniffed, holding back tears, I caved. My feisty sister, crying? That wasn’t like her at all.
“We’ll fix this, don’t worry.” Leaning over her desk, I gestured at Sara’s computer monitor, determined to take control of the situation. “Pull up Rosie’s profile. See if she logged where she was heading with her hot date tonight.” Midnight Liaisons strictly monitored the activities of clients. The date, time, and location of a date was recorded and detailed—for their protection as well as ours. You never knew when an interspecies war was going to break out because someone had dated someone else’s bitch. Literally.
Sara’s fingers tapped on the keyboard and then she whistled. “She logged it, all right. Dinner at Del Frisco’s and a couple of nights at the Worthington afterwards.”
I made a strangled sound in my throat. “Dinner and a private party, eh?” Rosie moved in faster circles than most girls, human or otherwise. Still, Del Frisco’s was pricey. At least she was getting this guy to treat her right.
The phone on my desk rang again and I started in surprise. It was unusual to have two calls so close together again due to our small client pool, and it almost never happened before dark.
Which meant my freak was probably calling back again.
Time to fix this. I narrowed my eyes and marched back to my desk. “Give me a moment, Sara, and we’ll figure this out.” The phone rang a third time before I picked it up and answered in my breathiest voice. “Midnight Liaisons,” I said, and before he could answer, I continued. “If you keep calling us, you fucking pervert, I’m going to call the cops and tell them you’re soliciting our business for sex.”
The voice on the other end chuckled. A deep, low laugh rumbled through the receiver—most definitely not my last caller. Warmth flooded through my body at the liquid sound and I could feel my face flushing at the sensation.
“Do you call all your customers perverts,” the man asked, “or am I just lucky?”
I bit my lip. “I’m sorry. I thought you were— Oh, never mind. How can I help you, sir?”
He paused for a moment, as if still amused at my response. “I have a bit of a problem,” he said in a delicious voice, pleasant and smooth. “I had a very important date tonight and she just cancelled on me.”
My heart sank. The bad feeling in my stomach lodged firmly in my throat. “What is your profile number, sir?”
He gave it to me and I typed it in the system, though I already knew what it would show. Rosie’s date.
The caller’s profile pulled up, the information on it minimal. Leader of the Russell clan—oh hell—and very much a VIP with our service. No picture in our database, his log history was brief, his profile number new. He hadn’t used our service before setting up the date with Rosie.
My super-seductive caller was named Beau Russell. I’d have bet money he was absolutely gorgeous. Tall, blond, and handsome to match his cougar genes. A sensual face to match the sinful voice. And lots of muscles.
“You got quiet over there, sweetheart.” He paused and then said in a low voice, “You see my problem?”
That drew me back to earth. I quit picturing the client’s abs and tapped on my mouse, my cheeks hot. “I see Rosario Smith cancelled on your date, correct,” I said. “And I’m not your sweetheart.”
“Rosario agreed to spend the week with me,” he said, his voice tensing. “This is an extremely important time frame for me, and it’s vital I have a companion.”
In the span of a moment, his sexy voice had changed from delicious to condescending. “Well then, sir, I would suggest next time you examine Rosie’s profile a little closer. If you looked at her date history, you would see she has a few bad habits.” Like accepting dates from cat shifters and then dumping them at the last minute. “A bit of simple research could have avoided this heartache.”
He chuckled low in his throat at my tart lecture. “You’ll have to forgive me for not being too familiar with your system, sweetheart.” His voice thrummed low in my ear. “I’m not used to searching for women online.”
No, I’d bet not. If he was half as sexy as his voice, they’d be falling all over him on a regular basis.
“Regardless,” he said. “It’s the eleventh hour and I need a new date. So either you fix this or we have a big problem. Is Giselle in?”
I ignored the last part of his statement. Obviously he was on good terms with my boss. Obviously this was bad news for me. “I can’t force Rosie to go out with you, sir.”
“Call me Beau,” he said, the inflection in his voice changing to coaxing. It made my thighs quiver. “And if Rosario won’t go out with me, I need you to find me another date.”
I brightened. “I can do that.” We were a dating service, after all. I put his number into the profile generator and today’s date. “Give me just a moment and I’ll go through the database. I’m sure we can find you someone on short notice.”
“No vampires,” he said, “or any sort of undead.” Then he paused. “What’s your name?”
I typed his search criteria into the system, trying not to frown. The whole “no undead” thing kind of limited my query by a lot. Female shifters were rare, and if I counted out both men and undead, we might have a problem getting someone for tonight—and the next week. “My name is Bathsheba Ward,” I said absently, crossing my fingers as I waited for the profile results to pull up.
Just as I gave him my name, the door to the office rang and a gorgeous man walked in the door, a pair of sunglasses obscuring his eyes.
My jaw dropped. The man was flipping beautiful—tall, dark, tanned. His suit was expensive, and he grinned, flashing a pearly-white set of teeth at me. Even at my desk, I could smell the thick musk of his cologne. A bit heavy, but typical of the confident sort.
He must have come down to the office for a new profile set-up. Giselle always preferred that I handle those in person. I raised a finger to my customer, indicating that I needed a moment, and blushed when he nodded and sat down directly across from my desk, eyeing me with interest.
“Bathsheba?” The man on the phone sounded amused and I had to drag my attention back to the phone call. “That’s a bit of a mou
thful for a modern girl. Are you a vamp?”
Intensely uncomfortable, I squirmed in my seat and tried to look busy, avoiding the scrutiny of the man across from me. “If I was a vampire,” I said lightly, “I’d be a piece of burned toast right now, seeing as how it’s midday.” Sunlight poured in from the window behind my desk and the entire front of the strip-mall office was nothing but windows. “I’m human. Sorry to disappoint.”
“Oh, I’m not disappointed,” he said in a low husk that made my toes curl.
Between the phone call and the man across from me that looked altogether a little too interested in my conversation, I was going to die of embarrassment. Sara was shooting me puzzled looks from across the office and that only added to my discomfort.
My search results returned and the computer pinged at me. One lousy, lone profile popped up on my screen and I pulled it up with desperation. “It looks like we’ve found you a good match, Beau,” I said, turning on the sales pitch. “Lorraina Murphy happens to be free tonight, and she’s very interested in dating all kinds of shifters, according to her profile.”
He made a rumbling sound of assent in his throat. “And what is she?”
“Shifter,” I said evasively.
“What kind?” he pressed.
“Avian.”
An uncomfortable pause. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”
I held back a sigh, knowing where this was headed. “Harpy.”
The man across from me smiled.
There was a pause on the phone as there always was when the harpy’s profile came up. Then, very softly, he said, “I’m not going to go out with a harpy, Bathsheba.”
Well, I couldn’t blame the man. Harpies had a bit of a reputation. Plus, they gave psycho-girlfriend a whole new meaning. They tended to get unhinged over small stuff and then things got really ugly. Shit hit the wall, literally. “We have a doppelganger on file,” I said, desperate. “Jean can pose as a man or a woman, depending on your needs.”
The phone grew very quiet.
Then, “Bathsheba, are you married?” God, his voice sounded sexier than ever.
Say Yes. Say Yes. Lie and say you are married. “No,” I breathed. “I’m not.” I didn’t dare look up at the man across from me, and busied myself with flipping through a stack of files on my desk. Look busy, look busy. Too bad I couldn’t hide under my desk.
“Seeing someone?”
“. . . No.” It was hard to date guys when you couldn’t tell them where you worked. Besides, Giselle had us keep weird hours.
“Then it sounds like you’re my date, doesn’t it?”
“The Alliance of Supernaturals doesn’t permit human/supe dating unless allowed by a special visa.”
“I’m a lawyer. You leave the details to me.”
“Mr. Russell,” I said, desperate, “I don’t date clients.”
The man across from me sat up and leaned forward, as if his interest had sparked. He murmured, “That’s a real shame.”
I didn’t think my face could possibly get any redder. Not. Humanly. Possible.
“Make an exception . . . or let me talk to Giselle.” The man on the phone wasn’t going to take no for an answer, and I turned all my concentration back to him. I was starting to get a little irritated at his high-handed demands.
“I think you are making a mistake, Mr. Russell.”
“Beau.”
“Whatever. Still a mistake.”
“Why is that? You have a lovely name, a sexy voice, and you’re free tonight,” he said, his tone cajoling. “You’re at least an auxiliary member of the Alliance if you’re working for Giselle, so there won’t be anything awkward to explain, like why I grow a tail sometimes. And you already think I’m a pervert, remember? So there won’t be any surprises.”
Was that a joke? I made a protesting noise in my throat, but it came out as a dry squeak.
“I have to say, I’m looking forward to it,” Beau continued. “I’ll get the chance to put a face to that sweet tongue of yours,” he said in a low, seductive voice.
I blushed again. Dammit.
It took me a moment to recover, and I thought hard. I gave Sara a frantic look. She sat at her desk, hands covering her face, shoulders slumped. Sara needed her job badly—and it was her job to monitor pending dates and warn clients of any disastrous mismatches. If anyone got in trouble, it would be Sara for not catching a situation sure to end in disaster.
I turned away from my desk, phone clutched to my cheek, trying to get a semblance of privacy. “Just dinner,” I breathed into the receiver, warring with my own instincts. I couldn’t look at the man across the desk from me—I didn’t want to look at him as I caved like a deck of cards and gave in to Beau’s demand. Everything in me shouted that the date was a big mistake, but I couldn’t abandon my sister. Lord only knew what she’d do to the database. “I won’t go back to the hotel with you.”
“Unless you want to,” he added.
I rolled my eyes at his cockiness. “I won’t want to. Trust me.”
“We’ll see,” he said, supremely confident. “I’ll meet you at the restaurant at seven thirty. See you then, sweet Bathsheba.” He hung up before giving me a chance to respond.
Dazed, I set the phone down, trying to regroup.
The man across from me smiled. “Hi,” he said, extending his hand over my desk.
“Was that him?” Sara interrupted, drawing my attention away from the new customer. Her voice was muffled from her hands over her face. “Am I totally fired now? How much do you think I could get for unemployment?”
“Not fired yet,” I said, my heart hammering in my chest with nervous excitement. I gave the man across from me an apologetic look. “Could you excuse us for a quick moment?”
“Of course,” he said, giving me a quick nod.
I raced over to Sara’s desk for a more private conversation, trying not to seem too flustered. I had a date with a mysterious stranger tonight. One that was going to try to seduce me, regardless of what I looked like. A man with no standards, except when it came to the undead and harpies. A man with an amazingly sexy, powerful voice. I was thrilled and terrified all at once.
She gave me a guilty look as soon as I came over to her desk and tried to hide her screen.
“Don’t kill the database yet,” I said, sitting on the edge of her desk. The goofy, nervous feeling wouldn’t leave me, no matter how hard I tried to calm down. “I’ve fixed things.”
“Fixed things?” Sara glanced back up to look at me, a confused expression on her face. “What do you mean, you ‘fixed’ things?”
I smiled weakly. “I’m going out with Beau Russell tonight. Taking Rosie’s place.”
Sara’s jaw dropped. “What? We’re not allowed to date clients. We’re normal, not paranormal. Neither one of us has the appropriate paperwork.” Her voice lowered and she shook her head. “I think that’s really sweet of you, sis, but Giselle will have a cow if she finds out.”
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” I said.
Sara shook her head, almost violently. Her fine hair flew about her shoulders and she turned back to her computer. “Don’t be crazy, Bath. I can fix this—”
I grabbed her hand, leaning over her desk. “If you erase one file out of that database, I swear I’m going to pour water onto your motherboard at home. Understand me?” At her glare, I continued. “I’m the office manager. Let me manage this.”
She stuck her tongue out at me in response, and I knew I’d won.
Was it wrong I was a little excited? I returned to my desk to help the man set up a profile, unable to get rid of the strange, goofy smile on my face.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
&nbs
p; CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO