Demons Prefer Blondes (Demons Unleashed #1)(23)

Two could play this game. She’d show this hunk of a man she wasn’t one of the weak-minded females he was used to. I’m a businesswoman, damn it!

“Your answer is unacceptable. Tell me what’s going on—now.”

“The shop is fine.” Rafe’s grip on her shoulders loosened. “Your co-workers—not so much. They want to string our cleaner from the rafters.”

A wide grin spread across her face. “Thank the… whatever for Frankie and Gerardo.”

At that precise moment, her own cell phone rang. The familiar sounds of Justin Timberlake filled the room. Rafe arched a brow. Serah giggled, and Lucy simply shrugged as she pulled the phone off the coffee table and flipped it open.

“Hello?”

Frankie’s frazzled voice greeted her. “Lucy, some lady is here claiming she’s been hired to clean the shop.” He rambled on about purple-and-red dreadlocks, tattoos, and body piercings. “What should I do?”

“Uhh, let her clean?”

“You sure?” he asked, clearly shocked. Silence followed. “But I am amazed. I’ve never seen the shop so clean.”

“Cool. Where’s Gerardo?” she asked nonchalantly.

Frankie giggled. “He’s busy interrogating the cleaning lady.”

Lucy chuckled. “We’ll get there before he resorts to any finger-breaking. I need to freshen up.” She took a glance into the mirror hanging on the far wall. Or maybe not.

Her face took on a glow she’d never noticed before. Her eyes were different too, like two giant topazes set in gold. The hair she expected to hang limp around her face now flipped up all on its own. And her lips! Plumper and rosier than ever! She could only gape in shock. If being a succubus meant she never had to do her own hair, sign her up! She loved doing other people’s hair, but her own was another matter.

“Lucy, hon? Are you there?” Frankie’s concerned voice brought her back to the world.

“Do you believe you’re a demon now?” Serah quipped. “If only I could look that good.” She bit her lip. “Not that you weren’t already pretty, but—”

Lucy threw Serah a warning gaze and went back to talking to Frankie.

“Tell Gerardo to stop with the CSI routine, and I’ll be right there.” Modeling, photography, all sixteen million CSI spin-offs—to name a few of Gerardo’s guilty pleasures.

“Sure thing, hot stuff. Smoochies.”

Hot stuff? What the hell? Frankie was calling her names he usually reserved for men he found attractive? Would he call Rafe hot stuff? He certainly was hot in her book.

“Smoochies?” Lucy arched a brow, even though her friend couldn’t see it. “Frankie, are you okay?”

“Just fine, baby. Can’t wait to see you.” He kissed her through the phone. Eww! Some people would think her rude, but the way Frankie talked was like she was his newest fling.

“Uh, okay. See you in a few.” Before Frankie could whisper any more sweet nothings in her ear, she folded the phone shut.

She smiled at Serah who stood ready, wearing her puffy Juicy Couture coat, looking like an Aspen snow bunny. “That’s weird.”

“It’s Frankie,” Serah replied. “Were you expecting normal?”

Lucy chuckled. “Okay, let me rephrase. That was weird—for Frankie.”

Rafe crossed his arms, his ripped arms bulging against the leather of his coat. God, he was sexy. Was her tongue wagging? It sure felt like it. She stole another glance at Serah. Hers certainly was. An intense shock of jealousy streaked through Lucy. Whoa! What was going on?

“Is everything handled?”

“Frankie’s handled, but your friend is about to experience CSI: Gerardo.”

Serah cringed. “Ouch.”

Rafe arched a brow. “CSI? Isn’t that a TV show?”

“Which one?” Serah chuckled.

“There’s more than one?” Rafe’s brow furrowed in consternation. Despite his severe fa?ade, it was cute.

“There’s like two or three set in different cities across the U.S.” She shook her head. She had more important things to do than stand here talking about television shows and their many spin-offs. “Okay, let’s go. I have a salon to inspect.”

Serah snapped to attention and saluted her. “Sir! Yes, Sir!”

She narrowed her eyes into an intense glare and contemplated giving Serah her own special salute—the one-fingered kind.

***

“How on Earth do you drive this sardine can?” Serah’s knee jabbed her through the back of her seat. “Oops. Sorry.” With an exhausted sigh, she wriggled her legs over to the side.

“Easy,” Lucy replied, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. “I drive alone.”

Serah squirmed as she turned to sit sideways in the seat. “Remind me to drive next time.”

Taking a left onto A-Line Road, Lucy shivered. “I prefer to arrive in one piece, thank you very much.”

Serah rolled her eyes. Didn’t she realize Lucy could see her in the mirror? Then again, it was Serah. She probably did. “I’m a good driver. You just bring me bad luck.”

“How do you explain that time in Chicago when I was three hours away scrubbing shampoo out of someone’s hair?”