Sucker for Love: The Dead-End Dating Novel

by Kimberly Raye

  I gathered the robe to me, slid out from under Hans’s hands and headed for the phone.

  “I think I’ll introduce her to your father’s lawyer at tomorrow night’s hunt.”

  I.e. the vamp’s version of the Outdoor Channel’s Hunting for Dollars. We all gathered at my folks’ and hunted the it person to keep our skills sharp. The prize? Bonus vacation days from Moe’s.

  “He’s nice. Single. His fertility rating isn’t all that impressive, but Jonelle has all of the children she wants,” my mom went on. “She’s looking forward to grandchildren at this point, so I doubt she’ll be turned off by—”

  “I was about to put Hans in a cab.” The words rushed out as I picked up the phone. “I barely got home from work and found him. Just this very second,” I added. “I haven’t even had a chance to slide off my shoes, much less slip into a robe and stretch out on the bed for what I’m sure would be the massage of my afterlife. Really.”

  “Lilliana, I don’t appreciate you undermining my efforts with Jack’s human.”

  “Her name is Mandy and I wasn’t undermining anything. She doesn’t like massages,” I blurted. “Not if they’re given by, um, Swedish people. She’s, um, allergic.” You try coming up with something better when you’re naked and oily and totally stressed.

  “Really?”

  “Cross my heart.”

  “Wonderful.” My mother cheered immediately. “I’ll have Hans serve the drinks at tomorrow night’s hunt. That ought to inspire a nasty reaction. Make sure you’re on time, dear. I have another plan and I need your help.”

  No. Not happening. Not this vampire. No way. No how. Nuh-uh.

  “Lilliana?”

  “Okay,” I heard myself squeak.

  She’s my mother, for Damien’s sake. She endured labor and hardship and ungodly cravings (she’d snacked on Attila and a few of his Huns during the third trimester). The least I could do, the very least, was pretend to indulge her wild and crazy plan to prevent my brother and his wife from procreating.

  “I’ll be there,” I vowed.

  “Early,” she pressed. “Your dad’s demonstrating his new right-hand driver. I’ve seen it in action about a thousand times this past week, so he needs a new audience. Speaking of which, I’ve invited Remy.”

  “Great.” Remy I could handle. He knew about Ty and so I didn’t have to pretend to like him. He would respect my space. We could hide out in the pool house, laugh about old times and have a completely innocent time. No pressure.

  “Unfortunately, he can’t make it,” my mother added. “So I’ve invited Ivan the OB/GYN.”

  “Ma—”

  “Wear something sexy,” she cut in. “No need to put all of our nails in one coffin. A vampire of your caliber should have options, so make sure you go for tight and low cut.”

  “How about a noose?”

  “Lilliana?”

  “Tight. Low cut,” I grumbled. “Got it.” Not. I hung up and turned to Hans.

  “No massage?” He looked heartbroken.

  “Sorry, big boy. You’re past your curfew.” I headed for the bathroom to trade my robe for some sweats. I wiped off the warm oil and slid into a pink set of Juicy Couture.

  Back in the bedroom, I helped him into his clothes—a white T-shirt and matching white slacks—and then ushered him out the door and down the stairs.

  “What about my cheese vheel?” he asked as I pushed him down the front walk toward a waiting cab.

  “I’ll bring it tomorrow night.” I fed him and his bag of massage oils into the idling cab, gave the driver the address and watched them pull away from the curb. I was just about to turn and head back inside when I felt the first drop of rain.

  It wasn’t the cosmic crap I’d expected, but it was close enough, particularly since there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

  I glanced up in time to see my upstairs neighbor framed in the window. His eyes were glazed over and I could smell the beer on his breath. He shook his package, stuffed it back into his pants, and disappeared into his apartment and the waiting poker game.

  Ugh.

  A wave of ickiness swept through me and I hit the stairs at the speed of light. Two seconds later, I was frantically soaping myself under a hot shower. I scrubbed fiercely for the next fifteen minutes and then I did what any super-hot born vampere would do after getting pissed on.

  No, I didn’t go on a killing rampage.

  Make that any super-hot born vampere with an aversion to violence.

  I climbed into bed, and cried like a bebe.

  “It lives,” Max declared when he opened the door of my parents’ house early Sunday evening.

  Max was my oldest brother and the one who should have been fulfilling my mother’s dreams of grandchildren. Unfortunately, he couldn’t seem to find a suitable eternity mate. As for unsuitable? He’d become quite the expert. He’d been having a hush-hush affair with a hot-blooded female werewolf who happened to be my father’s next door neighbor and arch enemy.

  “How’s it going with Viola?”

  He glared and gave me a shush with his hand. “Could you keep your voice down?”

  “You still haven’t come clean?”

  “There’s nothing to come clean about. We broke up.”

  “What happened?”

  “She was getting too clingy.” He shrugged. “I had to drop the old ax.”

  I eyed him. “She broke up with you, didn’t she?”

  He looked ready to argue, but then he shrugged. “She said I was too overbearing. Can you believe that?” I arched an eyebrow. “Okay, so I’m overbearing. I can’t help it. It’s in my DNA. Not that it matters now. It’s better that we split. We’re not exactly the ideal couple. Dad said she poured sulfuric acid on his azalea bushes last week and now he’s going to make her pay. He’s talking nuclear weapons this time. He found this guy in Trenton who offered to build him a bomb. Speaking of bombs”—he wiggled his eyebrows—“Mom found you a new guy.”

  I started to turn, but he grabbed my arm. “Cheer up. It’s only a few hours.”

  “Says you. You don’t have to try to make small talk with someone you have absolutely nothing in common with.”

  “So make out instead. That’s what I always do.” A loud snort carried down the hall, followed by my mother’s “Ivan, you have such an interesting laugh.”

  “Then again,” my brother added, “I could stall while you make a run for it.”

  I was about to give the idea some serious consideration when I heard footsteps. In the blink of an eye, my mother stood next to Max.

  “It’s about time.” She gripped my arm and pulled me inside. The door shut and just like that, I was trapped.

  She ushered me down the hall and into the main living room. “Lilliana, I’d like you to meet Ivan. Ivan, this is my daughter.”

  I smiled. “Hi.”

  “Hey.” The acknowledgment ended with a loud snort.

  It was definitely going to be a long and painful night.

  “Why don’t you two head out to the veranda. It’s time to start.”

  “Where’s Rob?” My gaze did a 360 around the room and hope blossomed. “We can’t start until everyone’s here.”

  “He canceled,” Max said, coming up behind me.

  “He what?” Before I could point out that no Marchette had ever canceled when it came to the hunt, my mother herded everyone to the door. A few steps shy, she pulled me to the side.

  “I need you to distract the human after the hunt so that I can slip the pill into her drink.”

  “I’m on it.”

  I spent the next half hour hiding out in the pool house, listening to Ivan talk about his Ferrari. And his Bentley. And his Hummer.

  I have to admit that I’d been initially turned off by the snorting. But it came in very handy. Otherwise, I would have nodded off five seconds into the conversation.

  “… gets terrible gas mileage, but I don’t mind. It’s not like I can’t afford it.” Snort.

 
My head bobbed up at the sound and my watery gaze focused on the source.

  He was an all right-looking vampire. Boring as hell, but I’m a firm believer that one female vampire’s worst nightmare is another’s fantasy come true. “So you like cars?”

  “Expensive cars.”

  “And you’re ready to settle down?”

  “I’ve been ready. I just haven’t found the right woman. I spend most of my time at classic car auctions when I’m not working. It’s a predominantly male hobby, so I don’t meet too many women. Just car girls, but most of them are human and so they can’t give me what I need.”

  “What if I told you that I could give you what you need?”

  He grinned. “That’s why I’m here.” He closed his eyes, leaned in for a kiss and … snort.

  I poked him and his eyes snapped open. “Not that.”

  “But you said—”

  “That I could give you what you want, as in help you find it. I’m a matchmaker.”

  “Your mother said you were a manager at one of the NYC Moe’s.”

  “In my past life.” The one where I’d died of extreme boredom and embarrassment. “I own a hookup service in Manhattan. I can help you find that perfect eternity mate.”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  “You and your Visa card. I also take American Express, MasterCard, Diners Club, or you could pay in cash. Cash is always good.”

  I spent the next ten minutes doing a verbal Q&A with Ivan and keying in the results on my iPhone before the whistle sounded and the hunt officially ended.

  I met up with everyone on the veranda just as my father emerged from the surrounding woods, pulling my brother Jack via the whistle around his neck.

  “I win again,” my father declared.

  “Again?” Max trudged up the steps behind them. “That makes twice in the past month.”

  My father puffed out his chest. “I’m the superior vampire here.”

  “But you hadn’t won in the fifty years prior to that. Twice after a fifty-year dry spell. Something funny’s going on—ouch!”

  My mother had smacked Max on the back of the head as she came up next to him. “Oh, sorry, dear. My reflexes are still on high alert. Stop being a spoiled sport. Your father won fair and square. And it was well deserved after a seventy-five-year losing streak.” My father glared, and my mom added, “But not for lack of skill. You are a superb hunter and a magnificent father. Which is why you hold back on purpose, so that your children are forced to hone their skills and rise to the challenge.”

  “Exactly,” my father declared. “You’re getting lax,” my father told Jack. “You didn’t even hear me coming.”

  “I was tired. I haven’t been getting much sleep since Mandy and I are trying for a baby.”

  “I have been keeping him up,” she offered, sliding an arm through his. “Come on, honey, let’s get you a drink.”

  Inside, my mother approached an antique cherry-wood sideboard and started dishing out drinks. I’d set up an official in-office appointment with Ivan and was just about to guzzle a glass of AB—when my mother snatched me to the side.

  “You were supposed to distract her while I slipped the stuff into her glass.”

  “I was so busy talking to Ivan that I forgot.”

  “Really?” Her eyes gleamed. “Oh, well. It makes no nevermind. Mission accomplished.” She smiled and crossed the room toward my father, who was retelling the story (for the fifth time) of how he’d outsmarted and overpowered Jack.

  My gaze swiveled toward Mandy, who stood near the sideboard, a glass of what appeared to be iced tea in her hand.

  She lifted the glass and touched her lips and a bolt of panic raced through me.

  I reached her in a nanosecond, snatched her glass and downed the contents in one gulp.

  “Sorry,” I gasped. “It just looked so good and I was really thirsty. I’ll get you another one.”

  One that wasn’t spiked with birth control.

  The thought struck and I realized what I’d just done. My stomach went queasy and my own ovaries gave a shout of disapproval.

  Then again, it’s not like I was using them.

  As much as I hated to admit it, Ty and I weren’t exactly a match made in biological heaven. There would be no babies in our future. No picking out baby furniture or buying teeny, tiny outfits, or framing pics of the ultrasound.

  For the record, I’ve never been one of those sappy vampires who dreams of having a great big baby shower with little pink and blue petit fours and a safety pin corsage. No diaper cake centerpiece. Or pastel-wrapped gifts. I am so not a pastel person. I never have been.

  Except maybe lavender. I do sort of like lavender.

  But I digress. The point is, I’ve never really fantasized about the baby part. The commitment ceremony, yes. Beyond that? Well, I usually didn’t make it past the honeymoon in Aruba.

  Still, while I didn’t sit around fantasizing about it, it’s always been something that I knew I would experience. Sooner or later.

  Or so I’d thought.

  My chest hitched and my eyes watered. I blinked frantically. Who needed babies? A great relationship. A fabulous career. I was set.

  Really.

  “You should have a soda,” I told Mandy as I retrieved a can of Sprite from a small refrigerator built into the wall. “Tea has too much caffeine.” I popped the lid and poured her a glass.

  “What about you?” she asked.

  “I think I need something stronger.”

  As optimistic as I was, I knew my no-bebes realization wasn’t going down without a chaser.

  I grabbed a bottle of vodka and opened up the hatch.

  “She left me,” Rob announced when he showed up on my doorstep later that night.

  At least I thought it was him.

  I blinked away the vodka haze until my gaze focused. His features sharpened and, sure enough, he was standing there, live and in color, and looking as miserable as I felt.

  He ran a hand through his short brown hair and grimaced. “Everything was fine early this morning. She came home from work. We had sex. We fed. I did her. We took a shower. She did me. We watched The View. I gave it to her. She gave it—”

  “I get it.” I sipped a cup of Starbucks House Blend and willed the floor to stop trembling. “You. Nina. Sexual Nirvana.”

  “But when we woke up this afternoon, she was like this pod chick. Cold. Indifferent. She got mad at me for no reason, so I got mad at her because she got mad at me. Then we got into a big knock-down, drag-out.”

  “No wonder you weren’t at Mom and Dad’s.”

  “She said Mom was a control freak and she wasn’t spending another second with her at some stupid hunt.”

  Forget BFFs. We were definitely twins.

  “She said it was over,” he went on, “and then she kicked me out.”

  The news sobered me the way no amount of specialty coffee could. “Oh, Rob. I’m so sorry.”

  He shook his head. “I just don’t know what happened. One minute we were great, the next …”

  He looked so sad and pathetic and my chest tightened. Guilt rolled through me, followed by a rush of protective instinct. He was my brother, after all.

  “I’m sure you didn’t do anything.”

  The statement seemed to snap him out of it. He looked at me as if I’d announced I was going on a no-plasma diet. “Damn straight I didn’t do anything.”

  Rob meet Denial. Denial meet Rob.

  “It’s all her.” He turned and retrieved an Under Armour duffel bag from the hallway. Dropping it inside my door, he pushed past me into my apartment. “She’s crazy. She’s probably sucked one too many schizophrenics and now it’s messing with her brain. That happened to Great-uncle Robert, remember? He was never the same again after he went on a feeding frenzy at that insane asylum.”

  “But you’ve fed on her, right?” I toed his bag out of the way, closed the door and followed him into the living room. “And if she’s cr
azy, then that would make you—”

  “Lucky,” he cut in, dropping onto the sofa, “that I realized what was happening and took a hike before she contaminated me. I was so outta there.”

  “But I thought she kicked you out?”

  “You’re missing the point.”

  “That she broke up with you and you don’t have a clue as to why?”

  “That she broke up with me because she knew I was just a heartbeat away from breaking up with her and she wanted to do it first.” He wagged a finger at me. “Don’t think I don’t know how you females operate. It’s all a big game. You get wind that we’re getting disinterested and, bam, you cut your losses and bail. Then we’re left wondering what the hell happened and you get to take credit for dropping the ax.” He shrugged. “Not that I give a shit. Let her take the credit. I’m just glad she saved me the trouble and the guilt.”

  Yeah, I’ll bet.

  “Hell, I’m happy about it,” he went on. “Pumped.” He flexed his arms. “Why, this is the best fucking night of my afterlife.”

  I folded my arms and eyed him. “So what are you doing here?”

  “I told you, she kicked me out.”

  “But it’s your apartment. Shouldn’t she be the one packing her bags?”

  “She’s just staying until she finds something she likes. Then she’s out and I’m back in. I give it a week, tops.”

  “Are you kidding me? This is New York. It takes longer than a week to find a parking space.”

  “I know. That’s why it’s a good thing I’ve got a place to stay.”

  “Where?”

  “Here.”

  My gaze swiveled to the duffel bag and reality hit. Here.

  Time out.

  It’s not that I don’t love my brother. I do. At the same time, he (like all mes frères) can be a royal pain in the ass. He’s macho and chauvinistic and conceited and narcissistic and (this is the kicker) even more spoiled than I am. It was hard enough dealing with my own inner brat. I wasn’t putting up with anyone else’s.

  On top of that, I was in the honeymoon phase of a new relationship. Ty and I needed our alone time.

  Or we would just as soon as his work calmed down enough so that he could actually spend more than a few hours with me.