Darcy picked up her pen to take notes, then froze. A tall woman with broad shoulders had entered the room. Her red evening gown sparkled with sequins. She flipped a red feather boa over one shoulder and struck a dramatic pose.
What? Darcy's mouth fell open. Didn't Ms. Stein know she was like the army - looking for a few good men? "I'm sorry, but we're looking for a male - "
"He is male," Vanda whispered.
Darcy blinked and looked more closely. Oh, dear.
Bobby sauntered toward them, his hips swaying in the tight red dress. "I'm all male, darling," he said in a deep, husky voice. "Would you like to hear me sing? My rendition of 'Memories' is guaranteed to make you cry." He set an eight-by-ten glossy autographed photo on the table and patted it gently. His red nail polish was an exact match to his dress.
Darcy stared at her, or him, for a moment. How could this happen? She'd made it clear that they were searching for the sexiest man on earth. "I - I'm afraid you won't be suitable for the role we have in mind."
Bobby's face crumbled. Sniffling, he drew a lace-trimmed hanky from the bosom of his evening gown. "It's always the same. People never understand me."
Darcy groaned inwardly. Shoot, now he was going to cry.
"I only want the chance to prove myself. Is that too much to ask?" Bobby dabbed at his eyes. "Why can't I be considered for a leading male role?"
"It might help if you dressed like a male," Vanda muttered.
"But I am male. I'm all male," Bobby insisted, then leaned toward Darcy. "Is my mascara running?"
"No, you look... great."
"Thank you." Bobby smiled sadly, his red lips trembling. "Don't worry about me." He held up a hand as if to ward off their sympathy. "Somehow, I will survive. I'll continue the struggle. After all, I'm an artiste. And I must never sacrifice my personal style."
"Of course not, Mr. Streisand. If I need someone with your... style, I'll be sure to give you a call."
Bobby raised the hanky high into the air, then yanked his arm down to clutch the hanky against his chest. "I thank you." He glided out the door.
Darcy shook her head. "It's gotta get better than this."
Michelle opened the door. "Chuckie - " She glanced at the clipboard and frowned. "Badabing."
"Must be a stage name," Maggie whispered.
A slim man sauntered into the room. His silk shirt was half unbuttoned to show off curly chest hair and three gold necklaces. He tossed his eight-by-ten glossy on the table. "Whoa!" He eyed them, his grin flashing a gold tooth. "I've never seen so many hot babes under one roof." He stepped back and struck a casual pose with one hip jutted to the side.
Darcy resisted a shudder. "Mr... Badabing. Do you have any experience?"
He chuckled and rubbed at his thin moustache. The diamonds on his pinky ring glittered. "Hell, yeah. I've got all kinds of experience. What do you three ladies have in mind?" He winked.
Vanda leaned toward Darcy and whispered, "Can I kill him?"
"So." Chuckie tucked his thumbs under his belt. "If I win I'll be called the Sexiest Man on Earth?"
"You would need to be selected for the show first." Darcy collected his photo and slid it under her legal pad.
"Hey, if you want sexy, you've come to the right place." Chuckie rotated his narrow hips. "They don't call me Badabing for nothin'."
"Please, let me kill him," Vanda hissed.
Darcy was tempted to give her blessing. "I'm sorry, Mr. Badabing, but we won't be needing your services."
Chuckie snorted. "You don't know what you're missing."
Vanda smiled. "Neither do you."
With a sneer, Chuckie strode out the door.
Darcy's eye twitched. She rubbed her temple, trying to relieve the growing sense of doom.
Michelle opened the door. "This is Walter."
Walter strode into the room. He was a middle-aged man with thinning hair and a round belly. "How do you do?" He smiled as he set his photo down on the table.
He would never be considered sexy, but at least, he had good manners. Darcy smiled back. "Do you have any acting experience?"
"Sure do. For the last three years, I've been doing commercials for Captain Jake's Buffalo Wings." Walter's smile faltered when they didn't react. "You know, Captain Jake's Chicken? They've got the best buffalo wings in the city."
"I'm afraid we don't eat chicken," Maggie said.
"Oh, vegetarians, huh? Well, I sing and do this dance. Here, I'll show you." Walter proceeded to strut back and forth across the room, flapping his arms. Then, he began to sing. "I'm baked with herbs and spices, and come with tasty rices. I'm never fried, so you won't die. And you'll love my new low prices!"
Darcy's mouth fell open. Her friends were equally quiet.
Walter's grin glowed with pride. "Pretty awesome, huh? Of course, it looks even better when I wear the chicken costume. I've got it stashed in my car if you'd like to see it."
They continued to gape at him.
"Speechless, huh? I get that all the time."
Darcy's eye twitched again. "I'm afraid this isn't a musical reality show. But if we ever produce one, I'll remember you."
"Oh, okay." Walter's shoulders slumped. "Thank you, anyway." He trudged out the door, looking thoroughly henpecked.
Darcy tilted forward and plunked her forehead against the tabletop. "This is hopeless."
"Don't worry." Maggie patted her on the back. "There's a bunch more for us to see."
One hour and twenty applicants later, Walter the Dancing Chicken was starting to look really good.
Then, Michelle opened the door and emitted a long, dreamy sigh. "Garth Manly." She pressed a hand against her chest as he strode into the room.
More sighs came from Vanda and Maggie. They sagged in their seats. Darcy gave them a worried look. Maybe they'd drunk some blood past its expiration date. But no, they didn't appear to be suffering from indigestion. They were gazing blissfully at the new applicant.
He was all right, she supposed. Definitely the most handsome man they'd seen so far, though that wasn't saying much. His wavy, dark hair was brushed back from a tanned face. "Mr. Manly, do you have any acting experience?"
"Yes." He set his signed photo on the table, then took a wide stance. When he crossed his arms over his broad chest, his biceps bulged.
Maggie and Vanda sighed once again. Michelle remained at the door, rubbing her cheek against the doorframe."What kind of experience?" Darcy asked.
"Theater, mostly." He raised a dark brow. "Would you like to see me in action?"
"Oh, yes," Maggie breathed.
He bowed his head, apparently getting into character.
Vanda whispered, "Pick him. He's gorgeous."
Darcy hushed her.
Garth Manly lifted his chin and gazed over their heads. He raised his right hand. "To be, or not to be - "
"Could you turn around, please?" Maggie asked.
He looked surprised, then turned his back to them and started again. His right hand went up. "To be or not to be..."
Vanda and Maggie leaned forward, their eyes riveted to his buns of steel. Darcy had difficulty hearing his performance over their heavy breathing.
"Whether 'tis nobler - "
"Could you take off your shirt?" Vanda asked.
He swiveled to face them. "Excuse me?"
Darcy stifled a groan. She should have insisted on doing the interviews alone. "There'll be a hot tub," she explained. "We need to know if you look all right in a swimsuit."
"Oh, of course." He took off his black leather jacket and draped it on the back of the chair. As he unbuttoned his shirt, he glanced at them from under thick eyelashes and slowly smiled. "Do I get any music while I strip?"
Maggie giggled.
Darcy almost gagged.
Vanda skimmed a long purple fingernail over her bottom lip. "Tell me, Garth, do you have any experience in stripping?"
He gave her a smoldering look. "I prefer not to do it as a solo act."
Vanda dropped her hand to the neckline zipper of her slinky, black catsuit. "Oh, I'm definitely in the mood for a... duet."
Darcy slanted a glance to the side. Good Lord, Vanda was unzipping her catsuit. "Okay, that's enough. Mr. Manly, could you wait in the lobby? We might need to see you again."
"Of course." With a knowing smile, he picked up his discarded clothes and left. Michelle stumbled after him.
Maggie turned to Darcy. "Why did you send him away? I thought he was perfect for the show."
"I believe he is," Darcy confessed, "but I had to get him out of here before Vanda stripped naked."
With a snort, Vanda zipped up her catsuit. "You're no fun."
"He'll be great, but he's only one," Darcy reminded them. "We need at least four more mortals, and we need to find them tonight."
"Okay." Vanda dragged a hand through her purple hair. "Let's get back to work."
After three more hours, Maggie was practicing writing Mrs. Don Orlando de Corazon on a sheet of paper, while Vanda was amusing herself by swiveling her chair in circles.
Darcy massaged her temples where tension was building. Good God, she'd forgotten how hard it was to find a decent man. No wonder she had remained single.
"Can we go home now?" Maggie asked. "I've never seen such a dreadful display of manhood."
"I know," Darcy agreed. "But we still need one more."
Michelle opened the door. With a smile, she announced, "This is our last applicant. Adam Cartwright."
He walked into the room. Darcy's mouth fell open. Tall, with long legs and broad shoulders, he moved with an understated grace as if he were conserving energy. His thick hair was shot through with golden streaks. His bronzed skin glowed with natural vitality.
He moved forward, scanning the room, then halted suddenly, his gaze fastened on Darcy.
His blue eyes widened. Darcy's breath caught, and she couldn't look away.
He stepped toward her. He cleared his throat, and she swore the sound rumbled in her own chest. "Miss Darcy?"
Was that deep, sexy voice coming from him? She willed herself to reply, but the words refused to come out. She licked her lips, thinking that might help, but then his blue gaze lowered to her mouth, and she forgot what to say.
"Darcy?" Maggie whispered.
His eyes focused on hers once again. Instantly, a flood of warmth surged through her. Warm like the sun beating down on her head. Warm like the sand between her toes. Good God, she hadn't felt this warm since that terrible night four years ago. She closed her eyes and relished the liquid heat as it poured through her veins. It was like being on the beach again with the surf pounding in her ears and the salty air tickling her nose. She could almost feel a volleyball in her hands, see the net in front of her, hear her sister laughing beside her.
"Darcy." Vanda nudged her with an elbow.
She opened her eyes with a jerk. He was still there, still staring at her. Slowly, he smiled. Oh my God, dimples. Her brain turned to mush.
"Are you all right, Darcy?" Maggie whispered.
She took a deep breath and managed a whisper. "Apollo."
Chapter 4
She was mortal.
Thank God! Austin slowly became aware that he was standing there with a dopey grin on his face. But why not? He'd found the mystery woman, and she was mortal. She had to be. He'd entered her mind so easily, and once there, her thoughts had burst forth like rays of sunshine. She was thinking about warm sand, beach volleyball, and her sister's laughter. No vampire would have thoughts like that.
And the other two women? The short one with dark hair was definitely a vampire. He recognized her from the parking lot at DVN. And he would bet the purple-haired one was undead, too. She had that flashy look and hungry gleam in her eye. His gaze barely flickered to the other two women, before returning to the lovely-woman in blue. He kept his power carefully focused on her alone, so the other women wouldn't detect him.
She finally spoke, her voice a hushed whisper. "Apollo."
Huh? He cocked his head, trying to decipher her meaning. The images in her mind were still focused on the beach. She dreamed of the sun's warmth caressing her skin. Her face was flushed, her breasts rising with each rushed breath. He realized with a jolt that she'd look the same way if he were making love to her. A surge of blood careened toward his groin, and for a second, he visualized himself pulling her on top of the table and kissing her 'til her lips were swollen and red. And then he'd - what? He couldn't do anything with one, maybe two vampires in the room.
Why was she here with these two undead women? Was she a prisoner? Were they blackmailing her or threatening a member of her family in order to force her cooperation? The two women kept whispering and nudging her. Was she under their control? But Ms. Stein had told him Miss Darcy was the one in charge.
He needed more information. He needed to gain her trust. And staring at her with a big bulge in his pants was not the way to do it. He placed his photo on the table in front of her. Her smoky blue eyes glanced down, then back at his face.
"May I?" He pulled a black, leather-upholstered chair away from the table and sat, facing her.
Her thoughts flitted into his head. He doesn't want to stand there and stare down at us like the other men. No, he's bringing himself down to my eye level. How kind and considerate.