A Bite to Remember

by Lynsay Sands

  Vincent raised his eyebrows, looking every bit as arrogant and condescending as his kind could get. “Not at all. I am simply surprised that someone who knows so well what we are, and has worked with us for so long, would be so shocked and outraged when she sees us doing what it is in our nature to do.”

  “Doing what it is in your nature to do,” Jackie echoed grimly. For some reason the words reminded her of the old fable about the scorpion and the frog. The scorpion convinced a frog to give it a ride across a river, but stung it halfway across. As the frog began to sink under the river’s surface, taking the scorpion with it, he asked why, and the scorpion said it was “in his nature.”

  It was a good reminder to her, Jackie supposed. She mustn’t ever forget that Vincent was an immortal, a vampire with a vampire’s nature and attitudes. She and Tiny—and every other mortal he encountered—were probably nothing more than walking dinner to him.

  Still, his irritation with her upset urged her to remind him, “The others of your kind drink blood from a cup, or even straight from the bag, but you’re the only one who actually bites people.”

  “Hardly the only one,” Vincent said with a shrug that drew her attention back to his bare chest. “Simply the only one you’ve met.”

  Jackie knew that was true, but she was finding it terribly difficult to think with the man standing so close.

  “Besides,” he pointed out. “You wouldn’t have seen it at all if you’d simply minded your own business, rather than followed me in here.”

  That, unfortunately, was also true. She’d followed him in here expecting to catch him in the act, had even wanted to, but this was his home and it really was none of her business. Unfortunately, Jackie was very curious about his feeding. Tilting her head to the side, she gave in to that curiosity.

  “Do you prefer men or women?” she asked and then—when he stiffened—added hastily, “To bite.”

  Vincent relaxed and shrugged. “Do you prefer meat from a male or female cow?”

  “There isn’t a difference,” she said with confusion. “Steak is steak.”

  “And so it is with me. When I’m hungry, I don’t care. Whichever is handiest or easiest to get to; it’s all blood whether from a male or female.”

  “Oh.” While she could understand that blood was blood, Jackie still found it surprising that—to him—feeding was just feeding. None of the files had got this in depth into their feeding habits. Most had been filled with data about the history of their people, each person’s individual history, and so on.

  The only thing any of the files had said about their feeding habits was that they could survive on blood without food, but not food without blood. That they were now restricted by their council to feeding off bagged blood rather than off living hosts except in cases of emergency, or necessity such as in Vincent and his father, Victor’s, case. And the only exception was love bites as they were called, bites between an immortal and a consenting mortal or immortal lover. Jackie had some experience with the last rule. She’d consented to let Cassius bite her while they were dating and it had always been an incredibly erotic experience. In fact, it made it hard for her to imagine that feeding might not be that mind-blowing, sexy, whole-body rush of pleasure that she’d known.

  She wasn’t willing to discuss Cassius with Vincent, however, so simply said, “I guess I’ve been influenced by books and movies over the years. They always portray it as much more—well, it appears somewhat…intimate and sensual, yet you make it sound like sitting down to a sandwich.”

  “It can be both,” Vincent acknowledged. “Though more often than not it is like sitting down to a sandwich. I am hungry, so I feed.”

  “Do you always bite from behind?” she asked.

  “I prefer to approach men from behind; it makes it easier to alter their memory. They can look at television or at the scenery and I can put the memory in their mind that while they continued to watch T.V. or to look out at the yard, I was chattering on with some horribly boring diatribe.”

  When Jackie looked confused, he explained, “Men are more visual by nature and rarely listen to conversation they find boring. Their minds drift and they focus on something else, usually what they’re seeing. They learn to simply respond in a way that seems appropriate to tonal changes.”

  Jackie’s lips twitched, knowing that—unless you were discussing work, or sports, or something they found interesting—men did “zone out” and just respond with nods or affirmative murmurs when your voice became questioning.

  “And women?” Jackie asked, curious about his take on the female sex.

  “Women pay more attention to conversation. Communication is more important to them, so—while men will be satisfied with a vague memory of my blathering on with some boring subject—women would fret over not recalling what it was about. It’s easier to approach them face to face and embrace them as you bite, then give them the vague memory of a passionate moment.”

  While Jackie could agree that men were less verbal than women, the idea that women were less likely to remember the actual physical activity seemed odd to her. “I can believe that women find conversation more important, but surely when it comes to passion, if it’s just a vague memory, they will fret over that too?”

  “Oddly enough, no. Most women seem less concerned with the intimate details of where they were touched and so on and tend simply to recall how they felt and the passion they enjoyed.”

  Jackie wanted to argue the point, but as she tried to think back to her last boyfriend and recall his kisses and caresses, it was all rather blurry. She had a vague recollection of standing in her kitchen and his urging her back against the counter as he kissed her, but other than that it became a blurry memory of sensations and her body’s responses. Now it made her wonder if men remembered it more clearly, like a play-by-play in a football game. While she was curious about that, Jackie didn’t have the nerve to ask Vincent and soothed herself with the promise to maybe ask Tiny sometime…maybe.

  Blinking her thoughts away, she found herself staring at Vincent’s chest. Her gaze slid over him, taking in the pearly white flesh that had rarely, if ever, seen sunlight. In this day and age of sun worship and tanning salons, it should have appeared unhealthy and even unattractive to her. It wasn’t. Instead, he was beautiful, almost like a marble statue come to life. Her eyes traced the breadth of him and then traveled down over pecs and an admirably flat abdomen toward the waist of his cotton pajama bottoms. They were loose and comfortable, but there was no missing that he definitely had a healthy package. This was when another question occurred to her.

  “You said you give them a memory of…er…passionate moments. Does that mean you don’t actually make love to them every—?” Jackie paused abruptly as the slight bulge in his pajama bottoms became more noticeable and she realized that not only was she staring rudely, but what she was asking was incredibly rude and nosy as well.

  Dragging her eyes from his lower body, Jackie glanced toward his face to see that Vincent had arched an eyebrow at her impertinence. She immediately began to backpedal as she felt her face suffuse with a blush. “I just mean, surely—while you obviously wouldn’t every time—sometimes you might be moved to…?”

  He continued to stare at her in silence and Jackie shifted her feet, angry at herself for being so stupid. After a moment, however, she came to the conclusion that it was his fault. He was the one standing about half-naked, giving her these ideas. Shifting impatiently, she turned abruptly away and headed for the door.

  “Where are you going now?” Vincent asked, following her out into the hall.

  “Lunch,” Jackie answered sharply. “Tiny put on chili this morning and promised it would be ready for lunch.”

  “Chili?” he asked with interest, keeping pace with her when all she wanted was to get away from him and the overwhelming effect he was having on her normally sensible thoughts.

  Jackie glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, then shook her head. “I don’t mea
n to be rude, Argeneau, but if you’re joining us for lunch, you can just go put on some clothes. I can’t think of anything less appetizing than your sad, white chest staring at me across the table.”

  Vincent scowled and stopped walking. Leaving him glaring after her, she stepped into the kitchen and let the door swing shut between them.

  Vincent remained standing there for several minutes, scowling after her, then he recalled the way her eyes had slid over his chest when he’d first entered the office. His tension immediately began to ease.

  Jackie may claim his “sad, white chest” was unappetizing, but her eyes had been saying something entirely different earlier…which meant she didn’t want him half-naked at the table for another reason, like maybe she found it too attractive and distracting.

  Well, Vincent decided, she’d just have to suffer his sad, white chest staring at her across the table today. In fact, he might just walk around shirtless more often. All the time, even. Smiling to himself, he continued on to the kitchen. Vincent suddenly had an appetite for chili.

  Five

  Jackie stared down at her chili and ground her teeth together. She’d been so sure she’d convinced Vincent to go put on some clothes when he’d stopped dead in the hall at her insults. It would appear she’d been wrong. The man had followed her into the room a moment later, cheerful as could be…and still half-naked.

  Damned man, she thought irritably. Vincent was gorgeous and knew it. He’d been stretching and flexing his pecs through the entire lunch, making it difficult for her to concentrate on what she was eating. It could have been sawdust for all she knew.

  “Jackie, is that one of the cups we bought?”

  She glanced up to see Vincent pointing toward a lone cup on the counter. Jackie peered at it blankly and then back to him as she answered, “Yes, of course it is.”

  “Oh. I guess it just looks different in this light.” Vincent slowly drew his hand back and gave a shrug, drawing her gaze to his chest as it moved. Jackie stared at the shifting muscles and then realized what she was doing and jerked her eyes up to Vincent’s beaming face.

  The irritating vamp knew exactly what effect he had on her, she realized. Her eyes narrowed coldly, but before she could say something they might both regret, the kitchen door swung open and Marguerite sailed into the room.

  “Good afternoon!” she sang.

  She was smiling and cheerful, but Jackie still frowned and offered, “I’m sorry, Marguerite. Did the men wake you? I meant to warn them to work more quietly but—”

  “No, no,” she interrupted. “No one woke me, I set my alarm for noon. I wanted to be up early to help you.”

  “To help me?” Jackie asked, alarm bells ringing.

  “Yes. The early bird catches the saboteur, you know.”

  Jackie’s head jerked toward Vincent, accusation sharp on her face.

  “She read my mind last night while we were out,” he muttered apologetically.

  “Vincent never could lie to me,” Marguerite announced with a small smile.

  Jackie ground her teeth together and forced herself to count to ten. Her first instinct was to protest most vehemently. Unfortunately, Marguerite was Bastien Argeneau’s mother, and—for that reason alone—Jackie would never take the chance of offending the woman. She had to handle this delicately. Her mind raced briefly and then suddenly hit on a plan to keep both of the immortals out of the way while she and Tiny worked.

  “Well, this works out nicely,” she announced and couldn’t help noting that Marguerite’s eyes had suddenly narrowed and Vincent’s face had turned suspicious.

  Ignoring their reactions, she said, “I was thinking this morning that it might be good if Vincent went out and talked to the actress who walked out on the play yesterday, just on the off chance that the saboteur had neglected to clear her mind as efficiently as the others. However, I didn’t want him to go by himself in case the saboteur really has turned his attention his way. I thought I’d have to go with him and put off going through the letter writers to eliminate as many as I could. This way, though, you can go with him and Tiny and I can stay here and get through the letters.”

  “Lovely.” Marguerite beamed and Jackie was just beginning to relax, when she added, “However, as you say, the saboteur may turn his attention to him now that the plays are no longer a target and if that’s the case, perhaps he should stay here and go through the letters with you while Tiny accompanies me.”

  Jackie’s eyes widened in dismay. She’d hoped to get rid of both of them, not be stuck with Vincent. Alone. “Oh, I—”

  “Besides, the more sunlight he avoids the better. I can just slap a bag of blood on my teeth. Vincent can’t,” Marguerite pointed out and Jackie felt her shoulders droop in defeat. Apparently recognizing victory when she saw it, the woman moved to slip a hand through Tiny’s arm. “Come along, Tiny. I rented the cutest little sports car. You can drive it if you like.”

  Tiny glanced toward Jackie in question, but relaxed and allowed Marguerite to lead him out of the room when she nodded grimly.

  “Nice try, but Aunt Marguerite always gets what she wants. Or mostly always,” Vincent said dryly as they watched the door close behind the pair.

  Jackie scowled at the man. “If you hadn’t told her—”

  “I stuck to the cover story,” Vincent interrupted to assure her. “She read my mind last night while we were out.”

  “Well, couldn’t you keep her from doing that?” she asked with exasperation. “Surely immortals can keep other immortals out of their thoughts?”

  “Yes, if we concentrate on guarding our thoughts we can keep other immortals from reading them,” Vincent admitted, but before Jackie could use that against him, he added, “However, no one can be on guard all the time. She knew I was lying and the minute I let my guard slip, she was in there routing away at my thoughts.”

  Jackie shook her head with disgust. “It sounds an uncomfortable way to live if you constantly have to be on guard against others reading your thoughts.”

  “It is,” he acknowledged. “Which is why many of us are more solitary by nature until we find our life mates. Once we reach adulthood, most move to their own homes to have a place to relax after work and not constantly be on guard.”

  Jackie glanced at him curiously. “After work? Do you work mostly with immortals then?”

  “Most of the actors and actresses are mortals, but a lot of the production people and office workers at the production company are immortal,” he answered.

  Jackie frowned. This news meant there were a lot more suspects than she’d hoped. Sighing, she carried her bowl to the sink to rinse it. Vincent stood to follow suit and Jackie’s mouth tightened as he joined her at the sink and she caught a whiff of him. He smelled good and it wasn’t cologne. The man hadn’t showered or dressed yet. What she was smelling was him…And she liked it.

  Moving away from him as quickly as she could, Jackie headed for the door. “I’ll be in the office.”

  “I’ll shower and dress and be right with you,” Vincent said as he rinsed his own bowl.

  “You don’t really need to help me with the letters,” Jackie said quickly, pausing at the door. “I can handle it on my own.”

  “I’m sure you can, but it will go quicker with two of us,” Vincent argued easily as he turned off the water and set his bowl aside.

  Jackie’s gaze dipped down over his body as he neared and then she turned swiftly away and slid from the room. She was almost running as she moved up the hall and was slipping into the office before the kitchen door opened behind her.

  Jackie closed the door with relief and peered around the office. It was a good-sized room but the idea of being stuck in here alone for hours with Vincent made it shrink in her mind.

  Crossing the floor, she scowled at the stacks of letters on the desk, then snatched up the rest that didn’t have to do with the case and filed them in the box in the closet. She then settled at the desk and turned her attention to the lett
ers she’d decided were possible suspects. They had to look into each person and start eliminating suspects. Of course, the eight or so from the anonymous writer who just kept saying I know who you are. I know what you are, would be difficult to eliminate. They had neither a signature, nor a return address, but she could at least start eliminating the others. Her father had always said, round up all the suspects, eliminate all you can, and who you’re left with is probably the culprit. Of course, that was assuming you could eliminate everyone but the culprit, which wasn’t always the case.

  Sighing, she set to work and was well into it when Vincent entered. She had to pause then to tell him what to do and then returned to work, managing to almost ignore his presence…Almost. It was like trying to ignore an elephant on your chest, but she did her best.

  They worked on the letters through the afternoon and managed to get enough information on half of the letter writers to eliminate them as possible saboteurs. It was close to five when Vincent announced he was going to get a drink and slipped from the room. Jackie continued to work for another couple of minutes before a case of the yawns made her stop.

  This kind of work was the boring side of being a private investigator. Hoping a little fresh air would revive her, Jackie stood and opened one of the French doors. Her gaze moved over the driveway as a car came into view. Jackie stared at the vehicle, sure she hadn’t heard the buzzer announcing a car at the gate.

  She watched the car park behind Allen Richmond’s SUV. The doors immediately opened to allow two women to spill out and move toward the house. They were both tall and blond, but one had a full, curvaceous body, while the other had the thin, gawky body of a youth.

  “I don’t know why you wouldn’t just let me fax them over here, Sharon. She told me to fax them,” the slender girl said and Jackie realized she must be the production assistant, Lily. Dear God, the child didn’t look old enough to be out of high school.

  “Because if you’d faxed them, we wouldn’t have had an excuse to come over and check out this Jackie person,” said the woman Lily had addressed as Sharon.