Sucker for Love by Kimberly Raye Read Free Book Online Page A

grinned. “He’s a good guy. We go way back.”
    “How far?”
    “First cousins.”
    My brain rifled through all the history lessons I’d endured at the hands of a strict tutor named Jacques. “But I thought Merlin was the son of the Devil?”
    “Nephew,” he replied as he reached for the door.
    Which meant that Ash was a chip off the old Big D block.
    “Later.” He gave me a quick wink and disappeared before I could voice the thought out loud.
    Merlin.
    Mordred.
    The Devil.
    Esther.
    Mayan sacrifice.
    The info whirled in my brain and I had the sudden urge to heave. I was a sucker for happily-ever-afters, not death and destruction. Even more, I was nursing some major guilt for introducing Esther to this guy in the first place.
    I drew a deep breath on the off chance that it might ease my panic and tried to calm the frantic beat of my heart.
    Think positive.
    Yes, the situation looked grim, but that didn’t mean things couldn’t turn out. There were a whole ten days before next Friday. Plenty of time for the good guys to find some valuable clues, pinpoint Esther’s whereabouts and save the day. She was aliveat this moment. Maybe, possibly, in severe pain, but still alive.
    I held tight to the hope, tamped down on the sudden anxiety that churned in my stomach and focused on the four messages sitting on my desk.
    Message number one? A born vampire by the name of Clarice Harlow Montgomery who was desperately searching for that perfect someone. Namely another born vampire with at least a ten fertility rating (she needed off the charts to balance out her less than impressive orgasm quotient which measured a measly three, which explained why she needed me in the first place). She’d attended last night’s ball with high hopes of finding Count Right. Instead, she’d gotten drunk and ended up in bed with The Wolf-man. She was now revolted and blaming yours truly because she’d gone from being a sophisticated, happening vampere to a lowly were ho (her words not mine).
    O-kay.
    Message number two came from Yolanda Jackson, a fashionable were panther and head of security for Barneys New York. “I slept with a demon and my mother’s going to kill me.”
    I definitely shared her pain.
    My gaze went to the third slip of paper and my stomach jumped. It was from another client, who’d left a cryptic I want my money back now!
    Number four? Ditto on the refund.
    I punched the intercom for Evie. “Did we have any positive phone calls about last night?”
    “The band called to thank you for the tip.”
    “Any calls from clients?”
    “No, but Word hit it off with a receptionist from Stern and Finley Investments. He told me all about it when I dropped off my camera so he could download the pics.” Word was the cousin/sexual deviant who’d given us a rock-bottom price on the new ad brochure.
    “We don’t have anyone from Stern and Finley in our database.”
    “He met her at a club last week, asked her out and, bam, instant chemistry. Can you believe it? We hooked him up with fourteen girls and not one of them would go out with him again. His first time flying solo and, bam, he hits a home run.”
    “You’re not making me feel better.”
    “Look on the bright side. At least you know that love is still alive and well in the Big Apple. That, and your outfit is totally fab.”
    Normally such a comment would have safely distracted me from my misery for at least a nanosecond (we’re talking black Zac Posen mini-skirt, ivory shell and Oscar de la Renta pink python heels). Instead, my gut clenched and the backs of my eyes burned.
    What can I say? I’m growing.
    “And I love that eye shadow. What is that? MAC’s glitter sunrise?”
    I smiled. “Sephora.” I haven’t grown that much.
    I disconnected from Evie and powered up my computer. I was just pulling up last night’s guest list to cruise for possible matches when the phone rang. A few seconds later, Evie buzzed me.
    “Don’t tell me. It’s Janice Tarrington