Hannah Jayne - Under Attack

“And a few steamy months of hot, sweaty monkey love.”

I raised my eyebrows.

Nina stuck out her tongue. “Oh, come on. All my relationships are doomed. Or damned. Besides, just working with the guy isn’t going to get you all hot and bothered. Is it?”

I avoided Nina’s gaze but couldn’t avoid the telltale blush that crept over my cheeks.

“Slut!” I eyed Nina’s gleeful face and she rolled her eyes. “Really, Sophie. What’s there to be worried about? He’s a lovely specimen of manhood; you’re a museum-quality specimen of undersexed womanhood. Don’t they say—what is it?—better to have gotten a little and lost, than never to have gotten a little at all.”

“Poetic.”

Nina poked her foot in between the couch cushion and wiggled her toes underneath my backside. “Whew. Just checking. Wanted to make sure you and the couch weren’t sharing a bloodline. Ooh, that reminds me, I’m hungry.”

I swatted Nina’s foot away and stood up. “You suck.”

“It’s what we do.” She grinned. “So we’re helping?”

I pursed my lips. “He’s coming over tomorrow night.”

I watched as Nina’s libido-meter went up to her ears. “We’ll have to go to Victoria’s Secret at lunch.”

“It’s purely a business meeting,” I said. And then, with a quick lick of my lips, “For now.”

Nina grinned and socked me in the shoulder. “That’s my slutty friend.”

I rolled my eyes and Nina prattled on. “We need to get all our excitement in while we can. This is just between you and me, but I heard that the new UDA management will be in place soon.”

“Hey! That was supposed to be between me and Lorraine !”

Nina tugged her ear “Vampire perk. It’s not like I can turn off the supersonic hearing.”

I glared and she relented. “Okay, fine. Just between you and me and Lorraine. And Vlad. And the operations staff. And I guess some of the VERMers. Anyway, I’m going to find out everything I can about this new management guy. I have worked too long and too hard to let some new demon come in and tell me how to do my job.”

I grinned, both at Nina’s stern determination and her belief that she worked either long or hard.

The next morning I was out the door before Nina came home from her night out. I hurried to my favorite Philz Coffee and let the scent of roasted beans and caffeine wash over me when I pulled open the door. By the time I got to the front of the line, the warm, comforting feeling of coffee and croissants was replaced by the eerie feeling that I was being watched.

While most women would get the “someone’s watching me” feeling and scan the room for the hot barista or the well-dressed businessman giving her the eye, this was my life, which meant my first reaction was to search for a fire-breathing dragon, homicidal vamp wannabe, or a three-foot-high troll hell-bent on making me his wife. Oddly enough, it was none of the above. The staff and clientele of Philz was above-ground normal—dog walkers with rolls of plastic poop bags sticking out of their pockets, pseudo-exercise gurus in track suits and pristine Coach sneakers, businessmen with slick striped ties and impeccable hair. No one seemed to be paying me any mind, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling. My whole body hummed with an uncomfortable awareness, and when the barista asked again to take my order I jumped, then bit my lip and offered him a shy smile.

“Sorry, I just ...”

The barista seemed far more interested in the blond woman behind me so I forwent the explanation and ordered my coffee, then offered him a crumpled bill. I shuffled to the end of the bar and waited for my drink, the awkward, uncomfortable feeling not waning.

“Customer service is really not his strong point,” the guy beside me said, nudging his head of ash-blond hair toward the barista.

I jumped, and the guy grinned, his smile wide and comforting. “Tell me you’re getting a decaf,” he said, his English accent clipping his words.

I felt a blush creep over my cheeks. “I’m sorry, I guess I’m a little jumpy. And it’s a vanilla latte, full caff, so ...”

“So I guess they’ll be scraping you off the ceiling by lunchtime.” The guy picked up his coffee, gave me a friendly head nod, and zigzagged through the crowded coffeehouse. When he turned, I noticed the back of his well-fitting navy-blue T-shirt had the red and white San Francisco Fire Department logo on it.

When the barista handed over my cup, I took my coffee and pushed out of the shop. I looked over my shoulder hoping for a second glance at the fire guy, but the blond woman who was behind me in line was blocking my line of sight. She was staring at me through the plate-glass window, her face half-obscured by the lid of her takeout cup as she sipped slowly. Finally, she pulled the cup away from her face and grinned at me, a dazzling, beatific smile that shook me right to the bone.

I pushed open the door to Nina’s office and slumped into her visitor’s chair, balancing my Philz cup in my hand.

“So, I just had a weird experience.”

Nina raised her eyebrows, dropping her sparkly Hannah Montana pen. “Demon weird or mortal weird?”

“Mortal, I guess, but you never really can be sure anymore.”

“So you say,” Nina quipped. “What happened?”

I filled Nina in on my non-run-in with the blonde, and how the heebie-jeebie feeling of discomfort was just now beginning to subside. Nina listened intently, drumming her fingers on her desk, then chewing the end of her pen. I winced when her left fang pierced Hannah Montana’s smiling face.

“I have no idea why it bothered me so much, Nina,” I explained. “She just smiled. A friendly, nice smile and it was like I had been hit in the head with a sledgehammer. It was weird.” I shuddered. “Beyond weird.”

Nina dropped her pen, then steepled her fingers psychologist style. “She was probably an old friend from college who recognized you or something. Or, you probably stand in front of her at Philz like, every day and just noticed her now. Or”—Nina waggled her eyebrows salaciously—“she totally has the hots for you and has been stalking you for ages, and is just waiting to bonk you over the head and drag you back to her chick cave.”

I frowned and Nina sighed. “Really, Sophie, you’re being too paranoid, even for you. You act like every time Alex comes into your life, the world becomes full of goblins or gooblygooks all out to get you.”

I rolled my eyes and downed the last of my coffee, tossing the empty into Nina’s trashcan. “Who—or what ever she was, she gave me the heebie-jeebies. And then when I turned around again, she was gone.”

“Ooh, spooky. A woman gets her coffee and then mysteriously leaves the coffee shop afterward. How chillingly bizarre.”

“Remind me again why we’re friends?” I asked.

“Because I pay half the rent and you can’t kill me.” Nina grinned, her fangs pressed against her lower lip. “So what happened after that? Oh, let me guess—you found Excalibur in your blueberry scone?”

“Fine. Then I won’t tell you that I ran into a hot fireman.”

Nina dropped her pen and her eyes went big and round. I thought I saw a bit of drool at the side of her mouth. “A fireman? Really?” Her eyes narrowed. “I love firemen. They taste so smoky and good.”

I sighed. “And that’s why I can’t have breather friends.”

Nina frowned. “You act like I eat everyone I meet.” She brightened. “Now, do you want to hear my news?”

I held up my hands, resigned. “Do I have a choice?”

“Of course not.” She stood up and closed the door softly. I grinned at the 1950s-style strapless satin cocktail dress that she wore over a Smelly Mel’s T-shirt and topped with a beaded black bolero. She walked noiselessly on Manolo Blahnick cutout stilettos that I know cost more than my car. “I heard about the new staff. They’re going to be here later this afternoon.”