"What show?" he pressed.
"I just knew you were going to ask that."
"Imagine," Val remarked wryly, his suspicions growing stronger.
Lucy glanced away from those beautiful blue eyes, thinking that Val should be declared a criminal, even if he was the city's ace detective. How beautiful he was. How tempting. She wanted him and didn't want to want him. She loved him and despised him. How typically Pisces.
Val thought Lucy looked tired and messy. But then, that was her—his ex-love who created mayhem and havoc wherever she went. Damn, how he wanted to lay her down on that ketchup-smeared gurney and sink into her hot, wet depths. It had been so long. But his body wouldn't have its way. He was stronger and harder than that.
"What show?" he repeated.
"A show about corpses," Lucy said.
"Corpses? What kind of corpses?" Right. What cock-and-bull stories she could come up with! He would give her an A for effort. He always had.
"Dead ones," Lucy explained, then turned to leave. "What else?"
Grabbing her arm, Val stopped her, his fingers and brain registering the warmth of her body and the smell that was all her—a bit wild, a bit earthy, and a bit like gardenias, although it was perverted by the pungent scent of ketchup. "What corpse show, Lucy?" And why on earth did he care? He should just let her go.
"None of your business," she snapped. That fired his ire.
"I'm making it my business."
"Oh, go find a stake and put it where the sun doesn't shine." Lucy yanked her arm out of his hand. Her skin burned where he had touched her. Her heart had sped up. She wanted to lean into him and kiss his soft, angry lips…
But she didn't.
"Tu es trop grand pour tes cullottes." He didn't have time to verbally fence with Lucy; he had an autopsy to attend. Yet here he was, savoring her temper and her words. He was a fool. A great big vampire fool.
She looked annoyed. "Quit spouting French at me and talk English."
"You're too big for your britches," he explained. Did she know or not know about the Ka? Val stared hard at her, shaking his head. At last he warned, "Stay out of the morgue. Stay out of police business, or I'll have you arrested. Keep that enormous and poky nose of yours occupied by staying home. I mean it, Lucy," he finished.
Jerking her arm free, she turned abruptly and walked off, seething. She was uncomfortable and sticky. Her foot still hurt where she had dropped the gurney on it, and she was beginning to get a backache. All she wanted was a hot bath, and then to be held and comforted. She certainly didn't want to be dictated to by some two-timing tick of an ex-boyfriend, especially one who had absolutely no right to dictate to her. "Oh, screw you and the horse you rode in on," she muttered, forgetting about vampires' supernatural hearing.
He called out after her, "Me? In your dreams. Luce. In your dreams! Though you can ask the horse yourself."
Damn, he was quick. Lucy felt herself blush, and not at his insult. No wonder he was the whiz kid of the New Orleans PTF. She was on TV, and a damned fine actress; she knew how to hide her feelings. So how did the clever bastard know that he still held a starring role in her X-rated dreams?
Chapter Eleven
Mama, Don't Let Your Babies Grow up to Love Vampires
The next night, the phone was ringing when Lucy unlocked the door to her apartment. Dropping her purse and kicking off her shoes, she answered.
"Hello?"
Her mom's West Texas accent filled the line. "Lucy, sugar, I just loved your show tonight. That wererat impersonator—he did such a good impression of Jimmy Cagney! And you were just wonderful."
"Thanks, Mom," Lucy said, sitting down wearily. She was tired, and still had to go out and make her rounds of the Overbite Bar. Not to mention that tonight was Friday the thirteenth. Friday the thirteenth might not be Mardi Gras, but ever since monsters had come out of the proverbial closet, this particular date was a big deal in New Orleans.
Yes, parties were thrown everywhere to celebrate the unlucky day. She knew the Big Monster Ball was being held at the House of Usher, just a couple of blocks west of the Overbite. Lucy had promised her boss that she would put in an appearance, as he still wanted her to mix and mingle with some of the more elite ranks of supernatural celebrities.
"I'm just so proud of you. Your show is better even than that Tonight Show," her mom remarked. "And Blade has those flashy big teeth, and all that black leather. He looks like some kind of vampire James Dean!"
In spite of her weariness, Lucy smiled. No way her show could compare to the vampire's. His cutting style, his awesome guests… Blade always had the most interesting preternatural predators. But then, this was what mothers were for, to value their kids above all others.
"That vampire is just too pretty for a man if you ask me. I wouldn't believe a word he says, since a girl can't trust a man who is prettier than she is. Pretty soon they start staying out late and showing up with lipstick on their collars, and it isn't even your shade."
"I know, I know," Lucy agreed. Val was prettier than she, and even though he hadn't had any lipstick on his collar that ill-fated night—he wasn't even wearing a collar—she had still caught him cheating, the promiscuous parasite. Hadn't she? His protestations flashed again through her mind.
"Do you have a date tonight?" her mom asked, drawing her thoughts away from the stark recollection of a nearly naked Val with that bloodsucking bathrobed bimbo.
Lucy pulled out a slinky green number that just screamed for sin and laid it on the bed. She planned to wear her matching bite-me heels, just in case she ran into Val. "Not tonight," she admitted.
"Are you dating anyone special, hon?" her mother pressed.
Hmm, Lucy thought, what an easy question to answer. How sad. "No, Mama, I'm not."
"What about that nice man on your show tonight? He was tall, dark, and handsome."
Lucy sighed in exasperation. "And hairy, Mom. He was a wererat. I date enough human rats as it is without dating the supernatural ones," she added truthfully, moving to run some bathwater. "He also had beady little black eyes."
"Oh, Lucy. What am I going to do with you? I want grandkids to spoil, and at this rate I'll be ninety before that happens."
Lucy shook her head. Her mom must have been talking to her sister, whose two married daughters had five kids between them. "Maybe someday, Mom. But right now I'm focusing on my career."
"That shouldn't stop you from dating!"
"All the good guys are gone—married or dead or something," Lucy snapped, tiring of being hounded. But her mother seemed unfazed.
"Don't give me that old song and dance. I know you. You've never gotten over that Cajun detective, have you? I know you don't talk about him anymore, but I remember how devastated you were when you caught him cheating on you. If the man hadn't been dead already, I'd have made sure he was! After what he did to you, my little girl—that supernatural skunk should have been hanged. I should have kicked his arrogant ass from here to Mexico."
"Mom, this isn't up for discussion. I'm over him," Lucy lied. Her mom sounded unconvinced.
"Lucy, hon, you need to get back in the saddle. Just because you've had a major spill doesn't mean you can't ever ride again."