Human Interaction (10 page)

I found the card nestled between a pastel pink and a bright white rose. "Flowers. Beautiful flowers," I mumbled in answer, my attention focused on opening the card. My breath caught as I read the inscription.

"Forgive me. M."

* * * *

I made my way through the front doors of the strip club for the third time in just a couple of weeks. The now familiar mountain of a bouncer only shook his head and stuck his hand out for the cover charge fee. Dutifully, I handed the money over and flipped my hand in order to be stamped. A small finger wave and a wan smile followed.

Formalities completed, I entered the main room, peering at the masses of women already there. Friday night and the place hopped. A pair of young ladies even occupied my small corner table.

After the huge bouquet of flowers had arrived this morning, I'd spent a couple of hours debating what to do. Seven days had passed since Meat's accusations. They still stung. But, the floral gift had led me to believe that maybe he'd realized his mistake, and now sincerely wanted to apologize. I'd decided to visit the club once more, accept his apology, and then continue on with my life. Each day I'd thrown myself into school, work, and my boys, trying to push Meat and his surly accusations behind me. The research project had been finished ahead of schedule, thanks to the free time away from observation hours at the club. While I might not have spent the required twenty hours at the booming and loud social place, I counted the kidnapping day as all part of the whole scientific process. Two evenings at the joint and twenty-four hours with kidnappers sufficed in my book. Might as well get something from such a traumatic event.

My eyes raked the room once more, frantically searching for an empty table, even a single unused seat. Anywhere to sit and wait.

Someone poked me from behind. Turning, I looked up. "Oh, hi."

Ducky tilted his head in my direction. "Came back for more, huh?"

I lowered my eyes. "I… I needed to thank…"

"Meat?" He interjected.

Nodding, I chewed my lip, my belly fluttered with nervousness. What did I have to be nervous about anyway? I was there to deliver my thanks and then leave. Simple as that. Right?

He scanned the room, grabbed my elbow, and tugged me along. "Come on."

"What? Where are we going?" I asked, trying to keep up with his long strides and not trip over furniture and others' feet in the process.

"To see your knight in shining armor," he answered flatly.

"Whoa!" I dug my heels in. "He's not that. In fact, he's still in the big jerk category as far as I'm concerned." I frowned up at the tall blond vampire.

A grin tugged at his lips. "The big jerk category, huh?"

"Yep." I wasn't sure the source of his amusement. I still ached from Meat's comments. "The flowers helped a bit, but by no means is he out of the doghouse with me." I didn't realize I mumbled that comment aloud until Ducky chuckled.

"In the doghouse, is he?" His smile widened.

Rolling my eyes, I shrugged. Honestly, I wasn't sure I wanted to get into this discussion with Meat, let alone with his sidekick. "Why haven't you eaten me?" I looked up and met his dark eyes.

Without answering, he glanced around once more and hauled me through a side door, up a flight of steps, and down a narrow hall. Finding the door he wanted, he opened it and pulled me inside.

The tiny dressing room contained a couple of chairs, a big mirror, and an open closet packed with costumes. He gestured to one seat and took the other, waiting for me to sit.

"So?" I plopped down. "Is it because you're afraid I'm contagious? You are what you eat theory? Friends of the family?"

Large fingers ruffled through his hair. He gave a little shrug. "You're a single mother with small kids. If we ate you, what would happen to those boys?" His eyes met mine.

I swallowed hard. He knew about my kids? I could only return his stare.

"Yes, I know about your family. All of them."

"Oh." My Enforcer family and vampires haven't always seen eye to eye. So, Ducky knowing such personal details sent a small shiver of concern down my spine.

"We aren't rabid animals," he growled in my direction, obviously insulted.

Quickly, I amended. "I never thought you were, Dica… mon… men… duc… nemis." He frowned. I tried once more. "Duc… a nem… dic… a neme." I can't say his name to save my life. But, out of respect for his recent saving of my life, I could at least try.

His eyes crossed briefly before he shook his head. Full lips tilted upward and twitched. "Not even close."

"But… but…" I sighed in defeat. This certainly wasn't turning out to be my day. At least he said they wouldn't eat me. For now. When the boys were grown, I guess I was back on the dessert bar.
Oh, boy.
"I'm sorry. I seem to be making a hash of things and I don't mean to." I looked downward, watching my tennis shoe rub back and forth against the cement floor.

"How about a compromise?"

My gaze jerked up. "Compromise?"

He nodded. "I don't care for the names you call me now. But, I see you're never going to learn to pronounce my real name, no matter how much practice you have."

My head bobbed in return. Like that was a huge revelation.

"Call me Ducian."

"Ducian," I mimicked.

He nodded. "Much better than Ducky." A slow smile followed.

How could I compete with that logic? "Ducian it is." I returned his grin.

"Good. Now sit here while I fetch your doghouse kitty."

"Wait! I don't know…" The door shut behind him, leaving me alone. "That I want to speak to him." I finished the sentence in a quiet mumble to myself.

My toes drummed out a beat on the wooden floor, my fingers thumped on my thigh as I waited. My gaze locked on the wardrobe just a couple feet away. With nothing better to do, I walked over and began thumbing through each article, hanger by hanger. Not everyone had the opportunity to check out the wardrobe of an exotic male dancer. Amazing what strip club dancers wear. Everything from caveman print to leather, chaps to… a pink tutu? I pulled the tutu out, holding it up against me.
Who would've thought?

The door opened quickly, with Meat stepping in, filling up the small space. His eyes traveled from my face to the outfit I held as the door closed behind him. "Nice choice. You wearing that for me?"

I gasped. Indignation surged to the forefront. "No. I found this in your collection. I assumed you would be wearing this tonight on stage. Unless maybe a lover accidentally left it here…?"

"Touché," he replied, tilting his head in my direction. Old worn jeans coated his lower body as a form fitting black T-shirt covered that wide expanse of chest. His dark hair fell just below his collar while piecing blue eyes remained connected to mine. The room seemed to shrink with his manly presence.

Sighing, I replaced the tutu back on the rack, turning to face him once more. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that." My chin dropped as I studied the floor.

A finger delicately placed under my jaw pulled my face up to meet his gaze once more. "No. I'm sorry." The whispered words easily carried in the small space.

His finger stroked the soft skin of my cheek then down my neck before it fell away. Tiny ripples radiated from the area to the pit of my belly.

"I…" I chewed my lip debating on what to say. "I wanted to thank you for the flowers." There, I completed what I'd come here to do.

He regarded me once more. "You're welcome. I didn't know…" He sat down on the nearby chair, rubbing his forehead. "I see all kinds of women…"

"You don't have to explain. I understand." I took the seat opposite him.

"Let me finish." His voice, though gentle, discouraged any argument. "I had no idea that you were a mother. I heard the word 'kids' and jumped to conclusions. Single mothers don't usually spend much time in this establishment. Some women don't even know how lucky they are to have children. The kids are only a commodity, an afterthought. Nothing more." Anger and frustration laced his voice. Lifting his head, he met my stare once more. "Ducian told me about your… situation." He reached out to lightly trace the back of my hand. "My gut twisted for what I said. And, it ate at me, leaving you with those accusations." He pulled his hand back, leaning back in his seat. "I waited for you to return to the club. When you didn't…" His words trailed off.

"You found my address?" I questioned softly.

He nodded. "Best idea I could come up with. Ducian bet me it wouldn't work." For the first time a genuine grin appeared.

Blinking, I sat up straighter in my seat. "Bet?" I clamped down on the emerging anger. After all that and I was a means for a bet?

"Yeah."

"Maybe you should explain." I gritted my teeth. So help me if he slunk farther than big jerk status, I was going to duct tape him to the door and leave him there.

He grinned, leaning closer. "I thought flowers would get you to come in. He disagreed. Thought that if I wanted to see you again, I would have to track you down personally."

"I see." This didn't seem to be getting any better. "What did you win?"

Meat grinned proudly, crossing his arms over his chest. "The winner paid for our dinner date."

I blinked. "Our?"

He nodded. "I won the bet; he pays for the dinner date between you and me. If I had lost, I would have had to pay for it myself."

Wait a minute. His declaration sideswiped me. "What dinner date?" He wanted to go out with me? Perplexed, I tilted my head in question. Date. Exotic dancer. MIA husband. My mind whirled with complicated thoughts.

He took my right hand in between both his, and then brought the back of it up to his lips for a butterfly soft kiss. "Will you do me the honor of eating dinner with me?"

You only live once.
"I can't eat dinner with you until I know your real name." I lowered my head, but peered up at him through my lashes. "I certainly can't be calling you Meat in the restaurant, can I?"

He grinned, still keeping hold of my hand. "Tygerius Augustus Tacticus at your service."

Blinking, I sputtered. "Tiggers Are Us, what?"

He snorted in response. "Tygerius. Ty-Jeer-E-Us."

"Ty-ger-i-us," I echoed. "Italian much? Let me guess, descendent of Spartacus?" I prodded, tongue in cheek.

His mouth turned up farther, revealing white fangs just barely visible behind those full lips.

"You must be old, too." I rolled my eyes.

Humans might rule the world in numbers, but on the scale of life longevity, we fall quite short. Vampires and shapeshifters tended to exist for centuries, barring a violent end. Another reason they'd kept their presence quiet, for fear the humans would slap them into some research lab to determine how to steal such blessings and discover the secret to disease resistance. Modern laws and the Peace Protection Division protected against that very thing.

One eyebrow arched up. "Why do you say that?"

I looked down, toeing the wood floor with the tip of one tennis shoe. "No one names their kids that anymore. Heck, probably not since the fall of Rome. They name them things like Dakota, Brady, and Hunter." I looked up to his face once more. "Not a usual name at all."

He shrugged, quickly followed by a wry grin. "Baby, there isn't one thing about me that is 'usual'." The twinkle returned to his eyes.

Oh, great.
He returned to the land of not-so-subtle innuendos. Best to move out of the tiny dressing room before he descended into the gutter. I would hate to have to kick him in the shin and be trapped in his odd wardrobe closet for the duration of the night. Much wiser to get out in the open. Then, if retaliation occurred, at least I could run for my life.

I pushed past him, opened the door, and stepped into the hallway. He didn't speak, only followed, pulling the door shut behind him.

A whirlwind of a person slammed past me and into my supposed dinner date. Turning, I caught the sight of a tall, curvy blonde wrapped in his arms. Her flame red dress cut high, really high. I imagined most men would be bending over to satisfy their curiosity on where that seam really did go.

She whispered in his ear, giggling and shifting her body against his. Her hands roamed with what appeared to be confident familiarity.

I stood there debating what to do. What does one say in this kind of situation?
Excuse me, but you could get your germ-ridden hands off my date. I would hate to touch him in those places later as I am unsure if you washed your hands after using the bathroom the last time. Or did you just come from another man's bed and didn't wash your hands after fondling his you know what? Hmmm. Maybe a bit jealous sounding. Toning it down would probably be best. Something along the lines of, Hey, sluttily dressed woman, can you remove your paws from my man? Hmmm. Nope. That isn't quite it either.

I settled for clearing my throat. When that didn't work, I tried again, much louder this time.

The blonde turned to face me. The sheer radiance of her face surprised me. If this were a beauty contest she would be the Marilyn Monroe contestant. I would be Lassie.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't see you," she murmured in a husky voice. The top portion of the dress clung dangerously to overly large, braless cleavage. Between nature and the chilly evening, nature spoke loudly enough about her lack of undergarments.

No wonder Meat… err… Tygerius had his arms wrapped around her. He was probably counting his lucky stars to have her in his vicinity and clicking off the minutes until he could toss her onto the bed. I glanced back to the door we just emerged through. The small dressing room would easily work in a pinch.

She quickly returned her attention back to Meat. Annoyed, I crossed my arms over my chest and clanged my heel against the floorboards.

"Excuse me. Tiggers Are Us?" Okay. It was a bit childish, but seeing my potential first date in four years being whisked away by a supermodel who I couldn't come close to matching in style, body, or sheer presence, sent my civility plummeting.

Meat flicked his attention back to me. A scowl crossed his face.