Part 17 (2/2)

m.u.f.fin climbed into Nina's lap, pressing her head to her longtime, under-the-table sc.r.a.p-feeding friend's chin before settling in and curling her body into a tiny ball of fur.

And they all sat that way-in silence, in fear, in thought-for a very long time.

CHAPTER 12.

Phoebe woke with the usual start. One she was still getting used to. The one where your eyes flew open and you were instantly awake and aware of every single, minute detail. It was better than any shot of double espresso she'd ever had.

She reached a hand out to lever herself off the bed and b.u.mped into something-something hard and cool.

Sam.

Last night slammed into her memory in the way of carnal images and vivid Technicolor flashbacks. Phoebe sat for a moment, savoring the memory. Savoring Sam's still sleeping body next to hers. She peeked at him from hooded eyes, taking in the thickly muscled lump next to her. The way his arm was flung up over his forehead. The strange, yet alluring lack of any rise and fall to his s.e.xy chest.

And then it sunk in.

Best day ever!

Best s.e.x ever.

It was like tripping over a pair of brand-new Louboutins on the sidewalk, mint, in package, totally in her size, while on her way out of Tiffany's after being declared the hundredth shopper and scoring a shopping spree.

Boom, baby.

Sam's hand snaked out to grab her wrist and pull her to him, making her gasp in surprise. She fell on his chest with a chuckle and smiled up at him. There was no awkward morning-after vibe between them-at least not on her part. It was like they'd always done this.

”I've decided you shouldn't be our decoy,” he whispered against the top of her head, tightening his grip on her waist and molding her body to his.

Phoebe stiffened. ”You've got a better candidate in mind?”

She felt the shake of his head and the clench of his jaw. ”No. I just gave it some thought, and I've decided we can find another way. Whatever, whomever is doing this is insane. A sick b.a.s.t.a.r.d psychopath. I don't want to risk you getting hurt or someone finding out you're not the old Phoebe with Alzheimer's.”

”Wow.”

”What?”

”I must be a h.e.l.luva lay.”

Sam's finger traced her jaw with a lazy swirl. ”Such a lady.”

Her chuckle was morning-husky. ”Always.”

”And you've drawn this conclusion from?”

”The fact that we only just had our first tryst last night and already you're pulling the caveman overprotective act.”

Sam scoffed in her ear. ”I'd hardly call me a caveman because I don't want you deader than you already are. I wouldn't want any of you to end up hurt because we did something foolish.”

She pulled away from him, rising on an elbow and smiling down at him with a raised eyebrow. ”So you're saying I'm not a good lay?”

His eyes narrowed. Clearly, he was losing his sense of humor. ”I did not say that at all. What I said was, sending you into the middle of this is too dangerous-or have we forgotten that woman at your apartment or the guy last night on Alice Goodwin's roof?”

”You mean your one-night stand? Oh, nay, Mr. McLean. I haven't forgotten,” she teased, tucking the sheet around her.

”And have you forgotten my one-night stands tend to end up in ashes?”

”Am I now cla.s.sified under one-night stands?”

Sam's eyes, deep as always, took on that warning hint to them. ”You know what I mean, Phoebe. Stop deflecting and listen to me.”

”Who's deflecting? You do whatever you have to do to come to grips with the fact that not only are you behaving like I'm now your property, but that I'm going to do this whether you want me to or not. As for me. I have a late-afternoon doctor's appointment to make-and I've got a date with some spray tan. You know, so I don't look like a vampire? So while you worry, I'll go make sure Marty picked up what we need.”

He gripped her arm, his urgency was less understated now, and the charm Sam usually spewed an order with was strained. ”I said no. It's too dangerous. If anything's going to happen to anyone, it should be me. I started this-so whatever they're testing, torturing people with, I should be the sacrifice. Period.”

”Sam?”

He smiled-wide and endearing. ”Yes, cupcake?”

”You're an entomologist. You're about as helpful here as this personal stylist is. You study bugs. You're not exactly qualified to do some undercover sting. Our skill sets are pretty much on par with each other's. You play with squicky bugs, and I play with clothes. Hardly a covert couple of operators. But if I don't go in, who will? I'm the only viable candidate we have, and BTW, I'm not all that much like Alice anymore. She went in a human. I'm going in a vampire. So let's leave this episode of Twenty-four and be realistic, Jack Bauer. If I can find out who's in charge of fixing my eternity, you can bet I'm down with some spying.”

Now he shook his head. Like he could tell her what to do. ”No, Phoebe. You're not going anywhere. I'm not kidding.”

Phoebe rolled under his arm in a swift move she'd learned in a self-defense cla.s.s and hopped off the bed, glaring down at him. ”Sam? Me, neither. So do you wanna do some naked vampire v vampire here-or are you going to stop being ridiculous and let me get ready?”

His mouth formed a thin line. ”We're going to have our first fight. Right here. Right now.” Sam tapped the empty s.p.a.ce she'd left when she jumped off the bed.

She wiggled her fingers at him over her shoulder while she sauntered her nakedness toward the door. ”Perfect. But prepare your battlefield, amateur. Because I was on the debate team my senior year. You do not want to mess with this mouth.”

Sam sat up on the bed, the muscles of his chest and arms flexing with tension. ”Bring it.”

Brus.h.i.+ng her mussed hair from her eyes, she asked, ”Are you daring me again? Haven't you learned anything after last night?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. ”Consider yourself dared.”

She planted her hands on her hips, her expression purposely c.o.c.ky. ”Ohhh. You know what this reminds me of, don't you?”

”Some guy named Alejandro who has a Catholic priest for a father and twin brothers born in sin who've been cryogenically frozen in the Arctic circle?” he mocked.

She wrinkled her nose. ”They weren't cryogenically frozen, silly. I can't believe you remember me telling you all of that at Nina's.”

Sam's already razor-sharp cheeks sucked inward. ”I remember everything you say, Phoebe.”

She flapped her hands at him, heedless that she was naked. ”No, funny man. That's not what this reminds me of. This”-she jabbed her finger in the air-”reminds me of the time Skye Summers from the Willful and the Beautiful had to sacrifice the love of her life, Dante St. Croix, and marry an obsessed Colombian drug lord to keep Dante from being shot. Dante was a total brooding, angsty stupidhead, who just couldn't admit he loved Skye because she was rich and he was a chicken farmer's son. So you know, the usual *I love you, I hate you' nonsense ensued. For months. Months, I tell you. So many months I wanted to choke Dante with his ridiculous pride while he tried to get his degree from an online Internet college so he could get a fabulous job and impress Skye who really didn't care about how poor he was anyway. If he'd just told her what he was doing every night instead of letting her think he was with that utter wh.o.r.e, Penelope Winslow, everything would have been just fine. But noooo-it went on for a millennia. Of course, there'd be nothing to watch if they'd resolved it too quickly. But that's neither here nor there.”

”What is here or there, Phoebe?” Sam asked, clenching his fists in his lap.

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