Real Vampires Hate Their Thighs (Glory St. Clair #5)

Real Vampires Hate Their Thighs (Glory St. Clair #5) Page 3

Two

“Where is he?” I reached for my vintage black satin bag and pulled out my lipstick, quickly slicking on a fresh coat. Then I checked my hair by feel. Damn, Jerry had flattened one side when he nuzzled my neck during our slow dance. I finger combed it and glanced at Flo.

“You look great. He’s in one of the booths over by the exit. I’ll show you.” Flo frowned down at Richard’s hand on her arm. “You’re not thinking of stopping me, are you?”

“I didn’t like his looks. I don’t trust him.” Richard exchanged stares with Jerry.

“You spent two minutes with the man. He was surrounded by beautiful women.” Flo’s smile was tight. “Beautiful, skinny bitches who got more than a casual glance from you, caro. If you don’t want to sleep on the floor, I suggest you demonstrate your trust, eh?”

Richard backed up, his hands in the air. “Did I say I didn’t trust you, my heart? It’s the man I don’t trust. I’m just suggesting to Blade that he go with Gloriana, see the man for himself. Assess the situation.”

“Assess this, Richard.” I got up in his face. “I can decide for myself who I trust or not.” I whipped around when I heard a sound from Jerry. “You will not come with me. I know you don’t get that this is important to me. Tough. I want to meet the guy. I’m going to meet the guy.” Damn it, I was shaking and my stomach was in a knot. And it didn’t take mind reading to know that Jerry thought this was a silly overreaction. Well, what did I expect? I took a breath and changed strategies.

“Jerry, lover, I know you appreciate my curves.” I wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned against him. “That’s one of the reasons I love you. You’ve always accepted me just as I am.” I looked up and smiled, then kissed his strong chin. “But times have changed and thin is in. I want to see what this guy has to say. Humor me and stay here. Talk to Richard. Read the menu. Hey, check out the Train Wreck.” I glanced at the curtained booths. “As long as it doesn’t involve rescuing beautiful naked women from the caboose.”

“The only caboose I’m interested in is yours, which is perfect, by the way.” Jerry grinned and held me close, smart enough this time not to touch the caboose area. “Hurry, and you and I can play Train Wreck back at my hotel.”

I kissed his smiling lips and patted his cheek. “It’s a date. Flo, let’s go. What’s this guy’s name anyway?”

Flo glanced at Jerry. “I’ll tell you on the way. Come on. I think he was leaving and I don’t want you to miss him.” She grabbed my hand and dragged me across the room. “Richard, no beautiful naked women for you either, amante.”

“You’re more than enough woman for me, Florence.” Richard’s voice was amused as we left the men behind.

As soon as we were on the other side of the dance floor and the music was back to a loud rock song, I dragged Flo to a halt.

“Why didn’t you want to tell me this guy’s name in front of Jerry? What’s up, Flo?” I studied my friend. She looked perfect as usual—red wrap dress and high, high heels that brought her up to my chin. Her dark hair was in a new tousled do that looked like the work of a high-priced L.A. beautician. She glanced back at our table, but the crowds of paranormals at play blocked our view.

“He’s a Scot. I think Jeremiah might know him. And not in a good way.” Flo bit her bottom lip. New shade of lipstick. I was definitely going to have to find out the name. The red reminded me of—

“Wait a minute. You’re not that big on history. At least not Scotland’s, as far as I know. Unless he’s an artist.” I grabbed her arm. “Who is this guy? Did he say something to make you think he knows Jerry?”

“No, but I’ve heard this name before. You know I’m friends with Magdalena and Angus. They don’t like the men of this—how they call it?—clan.” Flo made a face. “Foolish feuds. But they’ve hated each other for centuries.”

Angus and Mag, Jerry’s parents. Angus likes me okay, but Mag hates me with a passion usually reserved for head lice and bad haircuts. I knew of only one clan that the Campbells had a real hate on for.

Damian walked up, Sheri by his side. “There you two are. Florence, I’ve been keeping Ian here like you asked, but he’s ready to leave. Gloriana, you won’t believe this guy. Actually claims he can make a vampire lose pounds and inches.” Damian laughed and slung his arm around my waist. “Stay away from him. You don’t need to do either.” He slid a hand dangerously close to no-man-but-Jerry’s-land, and I grabbed his fingers.

“Thanks, Damian, but I want to hear what he has to say anyway. Would you go get him and introduce us? Please?” I knew better than to take his flirting seriously, but I couldn’t deny it felt good to have a handsome man making that kind of move on me.

“At your service, cara. Always. Remember that the next time Blade leaves the country.” He winked, then disappeared into the crowd.

I sighed, then noticed Flo and Sheri checking each other out. “Sheri, this is Florence da Vinci Mainwaring, my best girlfriend in Austin. Flo, Sheri Landolt, my best girlfriend in Las Vegas.”

“You’re Damian’s sister, right?” Sheri smiled and nodded. “Bet you’ve got some great stories about your brother.”

“Pah, forget him. I want to hear about Las Vegas. Did you and Glory really dance topless?” Flo moved closer. “I would like to do that, but I’m so short, you see. Do you think they would have a place for me in the chorus?”

“Forget it, Flo. Your husband would have a fit if you danced like that for anyone but him. And, trust me, dancing in high heels while balancing a gigantic headdress night after night isn’t as much fun as it sounds. Am I right, Sheri?”

Sheri said something to Flo about the killer heels while I zeroed in on Damian coming toward us, and the tall man walking beside him. Obviously this was the diet guru, though he looked more like a Viking warrior with his long blond hair, hawklike features and blue eyes. Damian said something and those brilliant blue eyes suddenly zeroed in on me. They were so penetrating that I threw up a shield to keep him from reading my thoughts. And my thoughts? Those naughty girls were stripping the finely tailored suit off his buff body and imagining him in a loincloth and at my mercy.

The men shouldered their way through the crowd toward us, leaving women and several men panting in their wake.

“I’d still like to try it at least once. If only to see the look on Ricardo’s face.” Flo laughed and turned to check out what I was staring at. “Hmm. Molto bello. Eh, Glory?”

“Uh.” I couldn’t drag myself back from the fantasy of peeking under the loincloth. “Oh, yeah.”

Damian stopped in front of us and smiled. “Gloriana, allow me to introduce Ian MacDonald.”

“Oh, shit.” I clapped a hand over my mouth. But honestly, things had just gone to hell in a big way.

Ian laughed and held out his hand. “Well, that’s a first. Good evening, Gloriana. What did I do to deserve such an enthusiastic greeting?”

I took his hand, drawn to the twinkle in his eyes and the flash of his white, white teeth. His grip was firm and too brief. I bit back a sigh.

“Sorry about that, Ian. It’s just that you’re a MacDonald and I’m here with a Campbell. Maybe you’ve heard of him. Angus Jeremiah Campbell III.” I winced when Ian’s face lost its charm and he spat something in what I figured was the old language. His hand went to his back in a gesture I knew well. Jerry did the same thing in certain situations. Reaching for his broadsword. Didn’t have it on him, of course. Just a reflex. But I knew Jerry carried a knife hidden in his waistband under his shirt. Did Ian? I hoped I didn’t have to find out.

“Relax, my friend. This is the twenty-first century. Surely old feuds can be forgotten.” Damian clapped Ian on the shoulder and looked over the crowd, obviously checking to make sure Jerry wasn’t within dagger-throwing range. Because, hello, Ian had produced one from somewhere. A sharp silver knife gleamed in his left hand.

“Where is he?” Ian’s voice had gone from charming to stone cold.

I wanted to cry. My diet dreams were evaporating because of a damned centuries-old feud. No way. I stepped in front of Ian and put my hand on his forearm.

“He’s not close by. I am. Talk to me. About this diet thing you’ve got going.” I smiled and leaned in, flashing cleavage. “Look. I know your feud is important. It’s a matter of honor, I’m sure.” I felt the muscles clench under my fingertips and glanced at Flo and Sheri. “Campbells versus MacDonalds. It goes back a long way, a really long way. But a canny Scot knows when to put business first. Am I right?”

We all watched Ian visibly struggle to regain his sophisticated veneer. A really thin one, obviously. Because all it had taken was mention of his old enemy and he was right back in primitive killing-machine mode. Finally he slid the dagger out of sight and ran his long fingers through his hair.

“Sorry, ladies. I don’t usually lose control like that. Of course I’m interested in your business.” He was still scanning the room, my cleavage obviously not tempting enough to keep his mind off his target. And I bet he’d noticed that I wasn’t exactly sporting designer labels or wearing a load of diamonds like my buddy Flo. She waved her hand and her six-carat rock seemed to snap him back to attention. At least he looked at me when I squeezed his biceps.

“We understand, don’t we, ladies? Who here hasn’t had a hate on for someone?” I glanced at Sheri.

“No kidding. Glory, do you remember that freak who used to do our hair at the Grand? I swear, she just loved to bring tears to my eyes.” Sheri snarled and we all saw that my beautiful friend had an edgy side. “I finally had enough of her trying to snatch me bald.” She looked at Damian through her thick black lashes, obviously enhanced with some extensions. “Want to hear how I got even, big guy?”