Real Vampires Have Curves (26 page)

“I'm sorry, Valdez.” I smiled slightly. “I love you too.”

“You'd better. He saved us both. Eh, doggy?” Flo rubbed Valdez with her bare toes and he was glad to turn to her, presenting me with his backside.

“What did Blade do after he scooped you?”

“He took us to a villa in Mexico. He was alternately sweet and bossy, forcing me to feed from him until I got my strength back.”

“Your hero! He must really love you to be so generous.”

“He was generous like a fox. You know feeding makes hot, hotter. And with the right person . . . One bite and I was jumping his bones. Again and again. God, I'm so freaking easy where Blade is concerned.”

“Of course you are.” Flo willed me to meet her gaze. “So are you going to just sit back and let Mara have him now?”

“Quit doing the whammy, Flo. I don't know.” I picked up my book from the coffee table. “I don't know what I want. That's part of my problem.”

Flo smiled. “I think you
do
know what you want. And that's your whole problem.”

Fifteen

Whether I wanted him or not, Blade showed up the night I was going for my bra fitting.

“Florence tells me you're making your own protective gear and are supposed to pick it up tonight.” Blade stood at the door jingling car keys. “Let me go with you. I want to see this Kevlar.”

Why not? Through Flo, I'd arranged to use the hearse. Hey, Damian
owed
me. But this was better. Flo didn't need to be running her mouth about me to Blade, though. Matchmaking, no doubt.

“Can Valdez stay here? The seamstress got a little”— I looked down at my dog, who was wagging his tail and grinning at Blade—“nervous around him. She's got young kids.”

“Sure. Stay here, Valdez.” Blade waited for me to grab my purse.

“It's not far.” We walked downstairs, stopping at the threshold to sniff the outside air. In a little over a week it had become a cautious habit. No olive wood, thank God. We stepped outside and of course Blade had driven that Mercedes convertible. I held out my hand. “I'll drive.”

Blade grinned. “I think you want this car. And Florence tells me the last estimate to fix your old car was over a thousand dollars.”

“Flo's been a busy girl, hasn't she?” Flo and I were going to have a little chat as soon as I saw her. She was out tonight with Kenneth Collins. Not a date. Way too soon for that. But Kenny was lonely and Flo
is
good company when she's not being a blabbermouth.

I got into the driver's side and adjusted the seat. I did love this car and the cool fall night was perfect for the top to be down. The drive lasted less than ten minutes, darn it. I'd found this seamstress through Miranda, my technical expert and picker. She'd come in to spend her coupon and hung around long enough to get a feel for what I wanted for the shop.

I pulled up in front of the small wood frame house. Now that we were here, I wondered if this was a good idea. Blade had been quiet during our drive, watching my hair blow in the breeze. I could still feel his gaze. Warm. Sexy thoughts. What would he think when he saw me in the bra?

“Let's go in.” He got out and walked around to open my door. “And I've seen you with and without a bra. I prefer without.”

I took his hand and let him pull me up. Definitely sexy thoughts. “I told Kim that I needed this bra because when I'm not running the shop I work with a knife thrower in the circus. That's you. And that he misses. Obviously not you.”

Blade leaned down and pulled a knife from his boot. “Good idea. Maybe we can test this Kevlar.”

“Not on me you don't.” I grabbed his arm and pulled him up the walk. “But maybe we can get a piece of extra material, put it on one of my mannequins and see how it works.”

“Good idea.” He put the knife back. He was still going with the jeans and western shirt look. Had Flo told him my cowboy fantasy? He looked up and winked. Of course she had.

I rang the doorbell and the door opened immediately.

Kim was a stay-at-home mom who did sewing to supplement her husband's income as a teaching assistant. He worked with Miranda at the university. A baby cried and Kim looked frazzled. A two year old clung to her leg.

“Hi, Glory. Come in. It's ready.” She smiled at Blade. “Are you her partner?”

He put his arm around me. “When she lets me be. I'm Jeremy Blade.”

“Oh, good name for a knife thrower.” She darted a glance toward the back of the house where cries had turned into screams. “It's right here on the couch, Glory. Try it on in the bathroom. I've got to deal with the baby.”

“Sure, go ahead.” Kim hurried off, the two year old stuck to her like a burr. I picked up the Kevlar bra. We'd decided a sports bra style would work best with Velcro down the front. Cute, it wasn't, but not horrible.

Kim had lined it with cotton since Kevlar doesn't breathe. If we really were the walking dead, that wouldn't be a problem. But vamps do breathe, slowly, but with real lung action. So Kevlar wasn't exactly comfy to wear.

“Try it on, Glory.” Blade sat on the couch and crossed his leg over his knee. “Let me see.”

No point arguing. It was what I was here for, after all. I stepped into the bathroom, pulled off my sweater and bra and set them on the closed toilet lid. I slipped my arms into the bra and adjusted it until it fit snugly before closing the Velcro. Forget the mirror on the back of the door, my bra and skirt showed, I didn't.

I looked down. The bra fit tight enough that a slice of cleavage showed. Not totally sexless. But was my heart protected? I stepped outside.

Blade stood and walked around me. “The back's good. High enough to keep you safe. But the front . . .” He traced the edge of my bra. “Wrong angle and you're staked.” He dipped his finger between my breasts and pulled. He was thinking like a warrior, obviously.

“Sturdy. I'd like to test this fabric with that piece of arrow Diana's got. Just to make sure it can't penetrate.” His finger still rested in that vee.

“Flo won't wear one. She's not into ugly.”

He finally let me go. “Not ugly. Though, like I said, I like you best without a bra. The color is odd and I don't know how it will look under your clothes.”

I looked down again. “Maybe if I added lace . . .” I headed to the bathroom. “I'll put my sweater on over it. See how it looks.”

In the bathroom, Kim's two-year-old looked up from washing my sweater and bra in the open toilet.

“Oh, no! Stop that!”

“Mommy!” He dropped them into the water and ran out of the bathroom.

I just stared at my soggy clothes. Blade came up behind me and put his hand on my shoulder.

“Oops.”

We stepped into the hall as Kim came running. “Noah! What have you done?” She grabbed a toilet brush and fished out the sweater, tossing it into the tub. The bra was trickier, but it finally landed with a plop.

“Glory, I'm so sorry. I'll buy you new ones.”

“Don't be silly. Just wash them and I'll get them when I come back with my friend Diana.” I touched my bra straps. “It's perfect, Kim. Diana's going to want one and probably a few more of my friends will too.”

Kim looked at Blade standing behind me. “You throw knives at
all
her friends?”

Okay, this was making us sound like a weird cult or something. The old knife throwing ritual. And of course Blade oozed the kind of charisma that could sweep a woman right into his own personal harem. Was it time for the vamp whammy? I looked down at Noah, still clinging to his mother's leg. I don't believe in doing that to kids. Better to leave town, pick up a new identity . . .

Blade grinned. “I think her friends watch too much TV. Cop shows. Glory's starting a fad. Bulletproof bras.”

Kim laughed. “Oh, I get it. Work out at the gym in one. A guy comes on to you and you shoot him down—‘Hey, buddy, you don't want to mess with me, I've got on my bulletproof bra.' ”

We all laughed.

Kim looked me over. “Fits good, but should probably be higher in front.” She put her finger in the middle just like Blade had. “You want to leave it here? I can add an inch or two on top.”

“No, I like it like this. But make me another one and it can be higher.” I put my hand across my chest to show her where. I glanced at Blade. “Jerry's not that bad a marksman. But we'd like to take a piece of cloth with us. Just to use as target practice.” I held onto Blade's arm. “He doesn't believe he can't throw hard enough to cut through it.”

Kim walked into her dining/sewing room combination and picked up a one foot square. “It's easy to cut with scissors, but that's not the same as a stabbing motion. If this stuff stops bullets, it's bound to stop a knife.” She gave me a sympathetic look. Like, gee, couldn't you do better than as a knife thrower's assistant? I wouldn't be surprised if she tried career counseling on my next visit if I came without Blade.

“Let me get you something to wear home.”

“Good. Thanks.”

Blade leaned down to whisper in my ear. “You don't need a blouse.”

“It's cool outside. But if you want to put the top up and turn on the heater . . .”

“Never mind.”

Kim came back with a large black T-shirt. The Austin Annual Bat Festival. Austinites love their bats because the bats eat literally tons of mosquitoes. And I'd already learned that, in Texas, almost anything was an excuse for a festival. I'd have to offer to buy the T-shirt from Kim. An early Christmas present for Mara.

“This is Dan's. I didn't think mine . . .” She flushed.

“Right. You're a size two and I'm . . . not.” I pulled the shirt over my head and got an envelope out of my purse. “Here's what we agreed on. In cash. That okay?”

Kim grinned. “Perfect. And keep the T-shirt if you like it. Dan's got six of them. One for every year we've been in Austin.”

“Thanks, it's cool.”

“I'm going to experiment with dye on the Kevlar. See if we can't sex it up a bit some way or other.”

“Great. You've read my mind.” And how nice to know that she really hadn't.

“Call me when you're ready to bring your friends by.”

“I will.” Blade and I said our good-byes and walked to the car. “How does the bra look under this shirt?”

Blade stopped me and turned me around. “It smashes you. Not flat, of course. But I don't see your usual curve.” He opened the car door and helped me in. “Are you in a hurry to get home?”

I took a deep breath of the cool night air. Fresh. Sweet. Nonthreatening. “I could take a ride.” I started the car. I
loved
it. And wasn't going to turn down a chance to drive it a while longer.

“Come home with me. So we can talk. Without others around.” He got into the car and slammed the door. His eyes gleamed in the darkness.

“Just talk? Do I look stupid?”

Blade brushed my hair back behind my ear and traced a path down my neck. “Not at all. We'll do what you wish. Talk or . . .” He kissed the spot behind my ear that he knew drove me wild. “More.”

I shivered then groped for sense. “Is Mara living with you?” That could certainly be a deal breaker.

“Yes, but she's not there. She's in Lake Charles. Closing up my house there.”

“How helpful.” I sounded jealous. No surprise there.

“It helps her to stay busy. She's still grieving, Gloriana.”

“How long will she be staying with you?” Not feeling pity for Mara. She didn't invite it with her “screw you” attitude and I wasn't in the giving mood.

“I don't know. She can't live alone. It's too dangerous. I like the security in your building, but Damian says there are no vacancies.”

“You checked?”

Blade put his hand behind my neck and turned me to face him. “Yes, I checked. Mara and I are not a couple.” He smiled and kissed me lightly on the lips. “You and I are. I'm just sorry you and Mara don't get along.”

Don't get along. That was like saying the American Revolution had been a minor skirmish.

“I get along. Mara's the bitch.” I put the car in drive.

“Mara's a bitch because she's in pain. MacTavish was the love of her life.”

Great. Now I felt small. Like
I
was the bitch. “Give me directions. I still don't know Austin.”

“Drive until I say turn. It'll be a right. But quite a way from here.” He kept his hand on my neck, a warm gesture of possession. I shouldn't allow it. Shouldn't go to his home for what was surely more than talking. I stopped at a red light and glanced at him.

“We're not a couple.”

“But we're friends.” He gestured. “Turn here, it's in the next block. Just come inside. Maybe we'll watch a DVD.”

A DVD. Somehow my relationship with Blade had never included something so mundane, so . . . ordinary. I liked the concept. Maybe this was just a date. Less than a date. Two friends hanging out.

I pulled up in front of the large stone house where we'd met to mourn Marguerite. He'd left lights on.

“Pull into the driveway. We can go in the back door.”

We both went on high alert as we climbed out of the car. Blade punched in a code on the pad by the back door, the alarm beeped and we were inside. We looked at each other and breathed a sigh of relief.

“I hate this.” I looked away from his intensity. He wouldn't pull a whammy, but he read me much too easily. “At least you have great security and a nice kitchen. A real waste.” It was one of those designer jobs, all granite countertops and stainless steel appliances.