They’d already gotten halfway through their first glass and a half of wine before they caught a glimpse of their host. He was the other side of the room in animated, angry discussion with the DJ.
“Oh, Dracula. How original,” Serena said with a laugh, taking in Chaz’s Bela Lugosi look. “I wonder how many lines about sucking he’s going to manage to work into every conversation.”
“Come on, he’s not that bad,” Grace protested, and downed the last half of her pinot noir. “Let’s go over there and say hello.” She threw back her shoulders and gave her corset a surreptitious tug upward.
“Stop fidgeting. You look great. Best rack in the room.”
“Thanks. I feel much less self-conscious now.” She gave Serena a shove, and they worked their way across the floor, exchanging greetings with acquaintances as they passed. After a recent high-profile match resulted in a wedding between a hometown football hero and one of the most lauded “witches” in Salem—who’d given her all sorts of tingles when she saw them together—their company had become much more high-profile. She and Serena were both very aware that the business was at a crucial point: it would either blow up and become superhot, or the recent buzz would die down before things had even really started.
“Not on my watch,” she mumbled. Game on. She didn’t have to fake her smile as she walked by a small group of women clients. “Great costumes!” A young, auburn-haired woman dressed as a fifties diner waitress on roller skates grinned.
“You, too.” She waggled her brows, and Grace chuckled and kept moving. She still wasn’t sold on the whole vampire hunter ensemble, but she’d gotten a few compliments already, so maybe her friend was on to something.
They’d almost reached their quarry when a male voice called out to her.
“Hey, Grace.”
She turned, warm smile at the ready. She only hoped it didn’t falter when she recognized its owner. John Milewski. Her least favorite client. John fancied himself a real ladies’ man and had a major attitude problem. He said and did the right things most of the time, but there was always this mocking way about him, an almost misogynistic sarcasm bubbling beneath the surface, ready to come spewing out at any moment. Somehow, everything felt a little oily.
Serena had wanted to boot him from the roster, but Grace had intervened, hitting her friend right in the business sense, reminding her that they couldn’t just dump a client because they didn’t find him personally appealing. If that was the case, they’d have a very limited pool to work from and an even more limited profit margin. But that had only been part of it. The other reason she’d wanted to keep him on was because she was convinced that his bluster was a front to hide his sadness and insecurity. That, deep down, he was probably a standup guy and they just had to dig a little. Six months later, she was seriously starting to question her decision.
That was one of Gram’s lessons that still hadn’t sunk in yet. “Sometimes, people are just assholes, girlie.”
“Hello, John. Glad to see you made it tonight.” She looked around for her friend and partner, but she’d already made her way over to Chaz. No help for her there.
“Same to you, and trick or treat.” He let his gaze linger on her br**sts for far longer than was comfortable. “Want to give me something good to eat?”
She almost threw up in her mouth but managed a tight smile. “Remember how we talked about that kind of stuff?”
“I know, but it was just a joke,” he protested, all hurt eyes and defensive body language. “Come on, that was funny.”
Not even a little bit. “Most women aren’t going to agree, so unless you want to be single forever, you’ve got to tone it down.”
He nodded, but she could tell it went in one ear, through the cobwebs, past the mental spank-bank, and right out the other. She sighed and gave him the once over.
“Okay, I give up.” He was wearing his regular clothes, with the exception of a utility belt that held a copy of The Notebook, a Hershey bar and a box of rubber gloves. She shook her head, nonplussed. “What are you supposed to be?” She was fairly certain she didn’t want to know.
The faux-indignation faded and he treated her to a shitty grin. “It’s a surprise. If you’re nice, I’ll tell you later.”
She bit her lip hard until the desire to tell him to piss off had passed and nodded. “Ah, a man with secrets. All right, then. Well, hope you enjoy yourself tonight.” She turned and, in her haste to catch up with Serena, ran straight into what felt like a brick wall. “Oomph!”
The wall had arms and used them to steady her. “Sorry to roll up behind you like that. I didn’t expect you to wheel around.”
Maybe it was the hastily drunken glass of wine. Maybe it was the smell of the crisp aftershave he wore. Maybe it was the husky, low voice, almost a whisper. Maybe it was the relief at having escaped John before she said something she’d regret, but the sudden desire to wrap her arms around the giant man in front of her hit her like a knockout punch. Tingles started low and radiated outward, spreading through her body like sunlight.
“N-no, I’m sorry,” she sputtered, pulling back. “I didn’t…”
The rest of that sentence died on her lips as she looked up into the most amazing eyes she’d ever seen, with the possible exception of Trick’s. They were electric green, like a cat, and it took a second for the rest to sink in. Wait, he was a cat.
Not really, she amended quickly. He was wearing a cat mask. Not like kitty cat. More like exotic, big jungle cat. The tawny leather jacket and tan pants he wore matched the shading and lent to the sleek, powerful look.
Me-ow.
Had her useful-to-everyone-but-her tingles decided tonight was the night to finally kick in? Well, Hallelujah.
“That mask is unreal. It’s so lifelike,” she murmured, lifting her hand to touch it before stopping herself. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know you and I’m pawing your face.”
“It’s cool,” he said. “Cats paw each other all the time.”
She laughed, her embarrassment fading in the face of his easy charm. He had a nice smile. Firm lips and, from what she could tell in the mood lighting, straight white teeth. She was such a sucker for nice teeth. She found herself wishing she could see the rest of his face under the mask.
“And I guess we should be scared of you, packing heat and all.”
She managed to tear her gaze away from the handsome stranger to glance down at the gun strapped to her hip. “Nope. I only hunt vampires.”
He grinned again. “I guess that’s good for me, then.”
She was about to respond, but something gave her pause. She would have bet money she didn’t know him, but…“Is that your real voice? It sounds so familiar. Are you a client of Love Will Find a Way, or have we met before?”
Chapter Three
Shit.
Less than five minutes in, and he had already almost blown it. He hadn’t thought out the voice thing at all and, under pressure, had somehow wound up imitating Christian Bale in Batman. Now he was going to be stuck talking like that all night. It sucked, but he guessed it was better than if he’d gone with his John Wayne impression.
To be fair, it wasn’t his fault. He’d practically swallowed his tongue when he’d seen her. He’d gotten the backside view first and, if he wasn’t so painfully familiar with that sweet, heart-shaped ass, he wouldn’t have even recognized her. It was all so out of character. The short skirt that skimmed the middle of her thighs nipped in at the waist in a way that sent his blood rushing south. The black, nearly opaque stockings did nothing to hide the shapeliness of her legs. In fact, they only made him want to see what was underneath even more.
And then, she’d turned to the side and he’d gotten the full, profile view. He’d had to swallow a groan. Cheerleader-ghost his ass. With a bustier of some sort wrapped around her soft parts like paper on a present he would kill to unwrap, she was hell on wheels. And the little cap perched on that grab-able mass of curls was so f**king adorable, he could hardly stand it.
That’s what made him nuts about her. She was hot sex, warm smiles, and icy determination all in the finest package he’d ever come across. After watching his brother settle for a marriage based on common interests and compatibility, and his own years of mindless sex with women who’d expected nothing more from him that that, he was painfully aware that he was the kind of guy who wanted it all. And damn if Grace Love didn’t have it all.
She stared at him expectantly, and he realized she was waiting for an answer. His voice. Right.
“Nope. Not my real voice. I was going for sexy and mysterious. Is it working?”
“Actually, it sort of is.” Her lips tilted upward in a bemused smile.
His stomach dipped a little, and he frowned. As much as he’d hoped she wouldn’t recognize him, a small, twisted part of him was jealous that she was flirting with this stranger in a way that she never had with him. How f**ked up was that?
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. All good. I was just realizing your hands are empty. Can I get you a drink?”
She hesitated, sending a look toward Serena, who was standing beside the DJ booth talking to Chaz, who’d clearly opted to dress up as a douchey vampire.
She nodded. “Sure. That would be all right. I was drinking dry red, but anything is fine.”
He led her to the bar and was about to order her preferred brand of Pinot Noir when he caught himself. “I’ll take a glass of Cabernet and whatever seasonal beer you have.”
They’d gotten their drinks and he’d stuffed a fiver into the bartenders’ tip jar when a lilting voice carried their way. He looked up to see Serena stalking toward them in a get-up he could only describe as B-movie bombshell. She eye-balled him hard up and down and then grinned.
“Well hello there, stray kitty cat. How did you get in? And more importantly, would you like a bowl of cre—”
Grace cut in with a gasp. “Serena!” she turned to him and laid a hand on his forearm. “I’m so sorry. She’s such a jokester, sometimes. I’m not sure if I introduced myself. I’m Grace Love and this is my partner Serena Finch.”
Serena frowned, shooting him a “What the fuck?” look, and then flicking a glance at Grace before settling her gaze back on him again. She recognized him.
Balls.
The mask obscured the most recognizable parts of his face, he’d worn contact lenses, a generic pair of pants and shirt, a coat he hadn’t worn in years, and even used a different brand of soap in the shower. He’d thought he was basically home free. He should have known better. For every trusting bone in Grace’s body, Serena had two of the opposite. While Grace would cheer the most novice of magicians, gasping in delight over card tricks, Serena would’ve heckled Houdini himself. Her nostrils quivered pretty much non-stop, like she was perpetually trying to sniff out bullshit.
And he’d just attempted to serve her up a giant pile of it.
He held her gaze and tried to manifest the force, hoping to will her into silence. Come on, Serena, do me a solid here…
She faltered for a long moment. “Uhm…”
He stayed quiet, hoping Grace didn’t notice the pulse pounding in his neck. Hoping even more that Serena would get the hint that he didn’t want to identify himself, and, if she did, that she would be willing to keep his little secret. At least until she had the chance to rake him over the coals about it in private.
“And what did you say your name was?” Serena asked softly. He didn’t miss the hint of menace in her tone, letting him know in no uncertain terms, if this game he was playing might hurt Grace in any way, she was going to out him right now.
“I didn’t, actually.” He said with what he hoped was an easy smile. “I’d like to keep my identity on the DL for now. Working for an air of mystery.”