Beauty Dates the Beast(2)

“Sara! Jeezus, no!” I tried to grab her wrists, but my little sister was quicker than me. “Don’t you touch the database. You’re going to hose every single record that’s been updated since the last backup. Don’t touch anything. I’m calling Giselle.”

I moved back to my desk and flipped through my interoffice directory. Giselle was on vacation, so I needed her cell number. I hated the thought of calling her and disturbing her while she was out, but I hated the thought of her firing me even more. And she was sure to fire someone if she figured out that we’d somehow messed up a flagged account. I dialed.

“This is Giselle,” said a throaty voice.

“Gis! Hi! I—”

“I’m in Vegas right now, and you’re not,” the recording continued. “And I can’t make it to the phone right now. I’m a bit … tied up.” A sultry laugh. “If this is work-related, it can wait until I get back. Otherwise, leave a message.”

The voice mail beeped. I hung up. I’d made the mistake of leaving a message once and she’d chewed me out and threatened my job. I knew better than to do it again. When one of Giselle’s rich boyfriends took her away for the weekend, she did not like to be disturbed.

Back to square one, then.

“If we lose the account, we’re in deep shit, Bath,” Sara said. “She’s going to fire me.”

I was afraid she was right. Not only did Giselle have a sensitive (read: tenuous) relationship with the Russell clan, but she also had little tolerance for humans. The only reason she staffed her business with quiet, “normal” girls like Sara and me was because we could work all hours of the day and were forbidden to date the clientele. Giselle’s circle of friends was limited by things like daylight and a full moon.

Sara turned her worried gaze to me. “What are we going to do?”

I moved to the back of the office and leaned over Sara’s desk, determined to take control of the situation. “Okay. Let’s figure this out. Pull up Rosie’s profile. See if she logged where she was heading with her Russell date tonight.”

Midnight Liaisons strictly monitored the activities of clients. The date, time, and location of a date were recorded and detailed, for their protection as well as ours. You never knew when an interspecies war was going to break out because someone had dated someone else’s bitch. Literally.

Sara’s fingers tapped on the keyboard, and then she whistled. “She logged it, all right. Dinner at Un Peu de Goût and a couple of nights at the Worthington afterwards.”

“Dinner and a private party, eh?” Rosie moved in faster circles than most girls, human or otherwise. Still, she had good taste, and the restaurant was pricey. At least she was getting this guy to treat her right.

The phone on my desk rang again. I automatically went over to pick it up. “Midnight Liaisons. How may I help you?”

“Yes,” the man on the line said in a fake gruff voice. “I’d like a date tonight. A redhead.”

Him again. Now was not the time. I rolled my eyes and hung up the phone, then went back to Sara’s desk. “Pull up the Russell’s account again.”

The phone rang.

Now I was starting to get irritated. We rarely had so many calls so close together, and it almost never happened before dark, which was our busy period due to the vampires waking up. Since it was midafternoon, it meant the freak was probably calling back again.

Time to fix this. I marched back to my desk. “Give me a moment, Sara, and we’ll figure this out.” The phone rang a second and third time before I picked it up and answered in my breathiest voice. “Midnight Liaisons. If you keep calling us, you f*cking pervert, I’m going to call the cops and tell them you’re soliciting our business for sex.”

A deep laugh rumbled through the receiver—most definitely not my last caller. Warmth flooded through my body at the liquid sound, and I felt my face flushing at the sensation.

“Do you call all your customers perverts,” the man asked, “or am I just lucky?”

I bit my lip. “I’m sorry. I thought you were—never mind. How can I help you, sir?”

“I have a bit of a problem,” he said in a delicious voice, pleasant and smooth. “I had a very important date tonight and she just cancelled on me.”

My heart sank. “What is your profile number, sir?”

He gave it to me and I typed it into the system, though I already knew what it would show. Rosie’s date.

The caller’s profile pulled up. Leader of the Russell clan—oh, hell— and very much a VIP with our service. No picture in the database, and his history was brief, his profile number brand-new. He hadn’t used our service before setting up the date with Rosie. My superseductive caller was apparently named Beau Russell. I’d bet he was absolutely gorgeous. Tall, blond, and handsome, to match his cougar genes. A sensual face to match the sinful voice. And lots of muscles.

“You got quiet over there, sweetheart.” He paused, then said in a low voice, “You see my problem?”

That pulled me back to earth. I quit picturing the client’s abs and tapped on my mouse, my cheeks hot. “I see Rosie Smith cancelled on your date, correct,” I said. “And I’m not your sweetheart.”

“Rosie agreed to spend the week with me,” he said, his words easy, as if he couldn’t imagine there being a problem. “It’s vital that I have a companion through Sunday.”

Irritation flashed through me. The gall of shifters, always talking down to humans. “Well then, sir, I would suggest next time that you examine your date’s profile a little closer. If you had looked at Rosie’s date history, you would have seen she has a few bad habits, like accepting dates from cat shifters and then dumping them at the last minute. A bit of simple research could have avoided this heartache.” Realizing my tone was a bit unsympathetic, I tacked on a “sir.”

He chuckled low in his throat at my tart lecture. “You’ll have to forgive me for not being too familiar with your website.” His voice thrummed low in my ear. “I’m not used to searching for women online.”

No, I’d bet not. If he was half as sexy as his voice, they’d be falling all over him on a regular basis.

“Regardless,” he continued, “we need to fix this. Is Giselle in? Should I talk to her?”

I ignored the last two questions. Obviously he was on good terms with my boss. Obviously this was bad news for me. “I can’t force Rosie to go out with you, sir.”

“Call me Beau,” he said, the inflection in his voice changing to coaxing. It made my thighs quiver traitorously. “And if Rosie won’t go out with me, I need you to find me another date.”

I brightened. “I can do that.” Piece of cake. Tucking the phone against my shoulder, I began to type, entering his number and today’s date into the profile generator. “Give me just a moment and I’ll go through the database. I’m sure we can find you someone on short notice.”

“No vampires,” he said, “or any sort of un-dead.” Then he paused. “What’s your name?”

I typed his search criteria into the system with a frown. The whole “no undead” thing limited my search by a lot. Female shifters were rare, and if I counted out both men and undead, we might have a problem getting someone for tonight—let alone the next week. “My name is Bathsheba Ward,” I said absently, crossing my fingers as I waited for the profile results to pull up.

Just as I gave him my name, the door to the office rang and a gorgeous man walked in, a pair of sunglasses obscuring his eyes.

My jaw dropped. He was beautiful—tall, dark, tanned. His suit was expensive, and he grinned and flashed pearly white teeth at me. Even at my desk, I could smell the thick musk of his cologne. A bit heavy, but typical of the confident sorts.

Sara immediately got up and went back to the filing room, as she always did when a shifter entered the building. I smelled the powdery stink of the perfume she was dousing her pulse points with, the smell overpowering and cloying when combined with the stranger’s cologne.

The man must have come in for a new profile setup. Giselle preferred that I handle those in person, and I raised a finger to my customer, indicating that I needed a moment.

He nodded and sat down directly across from my desk, eyeing me with interest.

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks and hit the Enter key a few more times, just to distract myself. Look busy, look busy.

“Bathsheba?” The man on the phone sounded amused, and I had to drag my attention back to the phone call. “That’s a mouthful for a modern girl. Are you a vamp?”

Intensely uncomfortable, I flipped through some files on my desk, avoiding the scrutiny of the man across from me. “If I were a vampire,” I said lightly, “I’d be burnt toast right now since it’s midday.” Sunlight poured in from the window behind my desk, and the entire front of the strip-mall office was windows. “I’m human. Sorry to disappoint.”