“You’d be surprised. The world is full of prudish Neanderthals. I know. I was married to one.” Art reached into a drawer for an apple corer. “We know the blackmailer’s connected with the print and photo shop, but we’re not paying him one red cent. Andrea’s gone to her mom’s. Big Simon’s out of town on business. I’m going to tell my brother about me, nothing about Andrea, and he’ll shun me even more than he already does, but he’ll arrest the guy and it’ll be over with.” Her voice trembled. “If the pictures get out, I’ll give up teaching. Maybe I really am an exhibitionist. My ex certainly thought so. Oh, and I like hugging my students, too. That definitely makes me a pervert. I’ll go tend bar in a vampire club, and my students can sneak in and leer at me, and the hell with everyone.”

  Ophelia grimaced. “You want to work in a club?”

  Art banged a cutting board on the table. “You have a problem with that?”

  “Of course not. My sister owns one.” She frowned. “Do you like teaching? Do you really want to give it up?”

  Tears glistened at the corners of Art’s eyes. “What difference does that make?” She set the apple carefully in the middle of the board.

  “It makes all the difference,” said Ophelia. “You can’t let some asshole destroy your career. I only met Gideon today, but I’m sure he wouldn’t want that!”

  Art poised the corer over the apple. “You want to know what’ll happen when I tell him?” She lowered her voice and imbued it with obnoxious, patronizing patience. “ ‘Why did you have to pose nude, Art? That was asking for trouble. In fact, why did you divorce Steve? He’s a perfectly nice guy.’ Shit. Shit!” She jammed the corer down on the apple and caught her little finger underneath. Blood welled up, red and juicy and irresistible.

  Ophelia grabbed Art’s hand and clamped her mouth around the bloody finger, closing her eyes to savor every drop. The cut sealed shut. It was the crowning moment of a perfectly stupid day.

  Gideon stopped the Mercedes at a light. “What next? Her sister or mine?”

  Gretchen opened one eye and shut it again.

  “Fortunately, the pervert’s watching Ophelia, not those kids,” Gideon said. “Which I wouldn’t have thought a positive, but at least Ophelia can defend herself.” He ruminated a moment. “Joanna’s a hormonal catastrophe. Add peer pressure, a hefty dose of guilt, and a crush on a dude in his twenties.” Women. Life would be so simple without them.

  It struck him, quite suddenly, that his father must have come to the same conclusion. He continued in uneasy silence to the main intersection in downtown Bayou Gavotte. Ahead was the Impractical Cat, but he didn’t need to see Leopard yet. To the left were most of the clubs in his kinky little hometown, including Blood and Velvet, Violet’s club. Not much happened till after dark, however, so he made a right toward the residential area where Artemisia lived.

  As Zelda opened the door she saw Joanna Wyler flinch. Wimp, she thought, but she felt sorry for the girl and so bathed the poor preppy thing in a friendly smile. “Hey, come on in.” She wiped her flour-covered hands on the frilly pink apron she’d had since she was a kid.

  “I can’t.” Joanna gulped. “I just came to bring your necklace. I found it in Ophelia’s driveway.”

  “Thank you!” Zelda took the pentagram on its chain and gave Joanna a hug. “That’s so sweet of you.” She scanned the street. “How’d you get here?”

  “Mom dropped me at the coffee shop. I’m supposed to do homework while my sister’s at gymnastics.” Joanna glanced nervously toward the street.

  Zelda shrugged. Waited. Smiled.

  “Mom would absolutely kill me if she knew I was here,” Joanna added.

  Go, then, Zelda thought, but she said, “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Sure you don’t want to come inside? I’m making cookies.”

  The other girl shook her head so fast that Zelda had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Zelda waited again, wondering whether Joanna would speak or pass out from holding her breath. Finally, the words rushed out. “Can you give Ophelia a message?”

  “No problem.” Suddenly Zelda wished her mother were home, wished even more that Joanna didn’t look so needy. “What is it?”

  “It’s ’cause my mom won’t let me talk to her anymore.”

  “Big drag,” Zelda said. “What’s the message?”

  “I feel so bad,” Joanna mumbled. “I really like Ophelia.”

  “Everybody does,” Zelda agreed, and then it hit her that Joanna’s confessional mood might be something her mother had predicted. For some bizarre reason, screwed-up women had an urge to confide in vampires. Not that she knew whether she was going to be a vamp or not, but either way, she might be able to solve a mystery for Ophelia. “I could do with a coffee,” she said. “The cookies can wait.” She tossed her apron on the floor, wrote a note to her mom, grabbed her knapsack, and pulled the door shut behind her.

  “Whoops,” Ophelia said, feigning unconcern. “My bad. Look on the bright side. You won’t need a bandage now.” She sucked her fangs back into their slots while Art stared, eyes wide.

  “Oh, my God.” Gideon’s sister glanced dazedly from Ophelia to her finger and back. “You’re a vampire! That’s so cool.”

  “Not particularly.” Ophelia examined the apple and ate the slice stained with Art’s blood.

  “Does Andrea know?” Art still goggled.

  “No, and neither would you if I hadn’t screwed up just now. I don’t exactly advertise.” Through her vexation, Ophelia heard Vi’s voice: You’ll get needy and then careless. She’d been right. But Violet’s proffered donor or transition man was not the right way to go.

  Meanwhile, Art had turned into a goddamned tourist. “Show me your fangs again! How do you make them go in and out of your gums?”

  Cripes. Ophelia showed her how the fangs worked. “I can slide them up and down on purpose, but they tend to come out on their own if I smell or taste blood.” Or get angry. Or turned on.

  “Fabulous! I always hoped vampires were real. Oh, my God, you just drank my blood! And the cut’s totally healed. How did you do that?”

  Ophelia sighed. “My spit heals small wounds pretty much instantly.”

  “Wow. You’re not dead, are you? Will I turn into something weird?”

  Ophelia rolled her eyes. “Of course not. It’s just some genetic thing. Apart from the fangs, I’m completely normal.” Except for the night vision and the ultrasensitive hearing and the exaggerated sense of smell. And the special spit. And—

  “But you’re irresistible, right?” Art giggled. “I knew the stories were true! For once, I was right and Gideon was wrong! He said it was just some dumb perversion.”

  Ophelia disregarded the lead weight punching into her heart. “Good. The more people who believe that, the better. We vamps have enough problems as it is.” She paused. “I need you to keep your mouth shut.”

  “So…,” Art said, as if she hadn’t heard a word. “What did Gideon think of you?”

  “What difference does it make?” Ophelia asked irritably. “He had the same reaction as any other man. Since he’s obviously not shy where women are concerned, he hit on me the first chance he got. I told him where to go. Now, promise you won’t tell anyone I’m a vamp. It’s for your own safety as much as mine.”

  “Does Gideon know?”

  She glared at Artemisia’s growing grin. “No, and he doesn’t need to. I called the cops as a warning to the guy who vandalized me, period. I don’t need any more help. But Gideon’s not taking no for an answer. He’s acting like I need protection, investigating stuff I can take care of myself. If he finds out I’m a vamp, he’ll be even worse.”

  “Gideon? No way. It’ll scare the hell out of him. He may look sexy, but he’s very conventional.” Art laughed, suddenly full of mischief. “If you want to get rid of him, show him those fangs.”

  “Fine.” Just fine. But…“I don’t want to scare him off yet. If we set a trap for the blackmailer, we’ll need him to take care of the evidence against you and Andrea.”

  “Destroy it, you mean? That’s illegal!”

  “Maybe not, if the only charge is blackmailing me.”

  “You? No way.” Art stood and poured more coffee. “It’s not worth the risk.”

  “Why not? There may be a slew of other innocent victims. We’ll give Gideon something more important to think about than whoever vandalized me.”

  “It’s a lousy idea.” Art set her mug down and paced back and forth. “What will you do, get someone to take compromising pictures of you? You’re running a small business. You’ll be as vulnerable as I am.”

  Ophelia shook her head. “I’ll look as vulnerable as you. That’s the beauty of it. We’ll use film, so it’ll look normal bringing it into the print and photo shop. We can put pictures of my landscaping signs in people’s gardens on the same roll, without showing enough to identify their houses. He won’t know most of my customers are too bent to care about kinky pictures.” As Art shook her head, still pacing, Ophelia tossed in her ace: “My biggest client is Constantine Dufray. He’ll think it’s a hoot. If the bondage types find out, they’ll just razz me about improper technique. I don’t advertise my connection with the clubs, but I don’t go out of my way to hide it, either.”

  Art was stuck a few sentences back. “You know Constantine Dufray?”

  Dazzled again. “Yes, I know him, yes, I can get you tickets or backstage passes or a personal introduction, and will you please keep your mind on more important matters? Do you have an old-fashioned camera? Not digital, I mean.”

  “Sure. I teach photography.” Art gazed dreamily out the window. “Constantine. Cool.”

  “We’ll take some pics at Blood and Velvet tonight. I’ll be a dominatrix. Vi will find someone to pose with me. We’ll have to borrow supplies from another club, because my sister doesn’t allow anything to do with bondage in Blood and—”

  “Oh, shit,” Art said. “My brother’s at my place.”

  Ophelia’s heart lurched as she went to the window. Gideon’s Mercedes was behind a Toyota a few houses down.

  “I wonder how long he’s been there?” Art radiated uneasiness. “Since he caught me vacuuming naked, he doesn’t drop by for no reason.”

  Good Lord. “It’ll take him only a minute with the phone in your house to find out who you were talking to all afternoon. Damn it, he’ll ruin our plans.”

  “Here he comes. No, he stopped to be polite to my neighbor. Maybe she’ll drag him around her garden…No, he’s saying good-bye. I could try to fend him off.” Art grimaced. “He’ll drag it all out of me.”

  “Leave him to me,” Ophelia said. “I can distract him.”

  “I’ll bet you can.” Art grinned.

  “Come to my sister’s for dinner and bring your camera and some color film. I’ll let her know to expect you. Seven o’clock, the big purple Victorian behind Blood and Velvet. And for your own safety as much as mine, please don’t tell anyone I’m a vamp.”

  Art grinned again. “Cross my heart.”

  Ophelia stationed herself by the front windows and watched Gideon stroll up Andrea’s walk, calm and confident, a big blonde mutt with matted curls trotting at his side, rays of late-afternoon sun slanting behind them. She took a deep breath and told her thudding heart to chill. So what if he’s the first man you’ve responded to in years? He dates bimbos and would be terrified of fangs. Detective work first, and sex only if all else fails.

  Ophelia counted slowly to ten before opening the door. There Gideon stood, pheromones in jeans and a checkered shirt with rolled up sleeves. What was it about rolled up sleeves? Powerful forearms, strong capable hands…Pull yourself together, girl!

  “What a surprise.” She left the door ajar and leaned on the jamb, eyeing Gideon with what she hoped looked like lighthearted disdain and not naked, hopeless lust. For a second the detective appeared mesmerized. Then his gaze cleared and his lips twitched.

  “Ophelia. What are you doing here?”

  “Landscaping.” She turned up the allure, but the answering heat in his eyes almost knocked her to her knees. She tore her eyes from his. “Nice dog.” She extended a hand under the animal’s nose.

  “Meet Gretchen,” Gideon said. “Landscaping. Inside the house?”

  “I take care of all Mrs. Dukas’s plants when she’s away.” Ophelia slipped out onto the porch and shut the door behind her. “And the Dukases are out of town. Sorry.” She scratched behind Gretchen’s ears.

  “Really.” A touch of annoyance crept into Gideon’s voice.

  “Yep.” Ophelia busied herself with Gretchen’s soft blonde curls, which sorely needed scissors and a comb. “You have business with them?” She steeled herself to glance up again.

  “My sister will do just as well.”

  Ophelia tried a puzzled expression.

  Gideon chuckled. “I’ll talk to Art instead.” He reached for the door handle, but Ophelia blocked him—getting way too close in the process. “Or not.” He leaned closer without hesitation, nose to her nose, his hot breath bathing her lips. She closed her eyes and breathed him in, and her lips parted of their own volition. As his mouth brushed hers, a shudder ran over her. If she hadn’t had that taste of blood, her fangs would have come down by now.

  She shrank against the door. “No.”

  “No?” He was only a millimeter away. “Why not?”

  “It’s not a good idea.” She slid to one side. “Don’t go in the house. That’s not a good idea, either.”

  “Why the hell not?” Gideon drew back, finally looking confused. Worried, too. “What’s wrong with Art? Is she okay?”

  “She’s all right, but she doesn’t want to talk to you.” She could see that hurt him, so she added, “Let’s sit down and discuss things.”

  Ophelia crossed the porch and sat on the top step next to a pillar. She tickled Gretchen toward her side, hemming herself safely in and away from Gideon’s heat, and removed the secateurs from her belt. “This poor dog is covered with mats.” She held a clump of Gretchen’s fur between two fingers and clipped it off.

  Gideon frowned down at her. “What do you want to discuss—dog grooming, which is irrelevant, my lousy relationship with my sister, which is none of your business, or that you’re not attracted to me, which is a load of crap? I know you want me.” He lowered himself beside Gretchen’s other flank. “Go ahead, get it over with. Tell me I’m arrogant and obnoxious.”

  “Of course you’re confident.” Ophelia ran her eyes over him without a tremor, back in control. She clipped off more matted fur. “You’re nicely built, pretty good-looking, have plenty of attitude…Women go for those things.”

  “Including you.”

  “I’m not immune, but that doesn’t mean I’ll hop into bed with you.” Snip. “Therefore, I suggest you back off.”

  “Nope.” He grinned. “I can wait out your little game.”

  “It’s not a game,” Ophelia retorted. Gretchen panted companionably beside her. “I can’t believe I thought for a few short minutes this afternoon that you might be an okay guy. I suppose all your moves are about getting women into bed. After that, it doesn’t matter how they feel. I bet you’re a major disappointment.” Reaching for a clump that was too close to Gideon’s arm, she thought better of it.

  “Not so,” Gideon said. A laugh lurked in his voice. “I know what women want.”

  “You have no idea what I want.” She grabbed the damned mat and sawed away at it. “Which is fine, because you wouldn’t have the guts to deliver.”

  “Try me,” Gideon said. “It’s a win-win situation for you. Either complete and utter sexual satisfaction…or the satisfaction of being right.”

  “I don’t get off on being right,” Ophelia snapped.

  “You won’t be right,” Gideon said. “You will get off, though. How about it?”

  Snip. “You don’t know the first thing about the female mind,” Ophelia went on, determined not to think about getting off. “No wonder your sister feels abandoned, with a brother like you.” Her eyes flew to his. “I didn’t mean that! I’m sure you care about Art. I’m not usually so rude, although you probably find that hard to believe. Not that it matters what you think, since you’re such a sleaze.”

  “I’m not a sleaze.” Gideon shifted to give Ophelia access to Gretchen’s other flank. “How about we call a truce? Play it straight with each other?”

  She wished. What a deep, calm voice. What laughing eyes. Until he saw the goddamned fangs. Until he—She shut her mind to the memories. “It’s not that simple.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Gideon said. “Is Art the one being blackmailed?”

  Ophelia fought for an answer and came up with nothing. She gathered the discarded clumps of Gretchen’s hair into a pile.

  “Damn it,” Gideon growled. “What’s she done?”

  Ophelia shook her head. “Nothing illegal, but she thinks you’ll disapprove. If you go in ranting and raving, you’ll estrange her even more. You’d better leave it to me.”

  “I don’t rant and rave! I don’t even disapprove. She’s an adult. She can do what she pleases.”

  “Uh-huh.” Ophelia allowed herself a tight little smile. Gretchen yawned and laid her head on her paws. “Even vacuum the house naked?”

  Gideon’s face darkened. “What, she told you her whole life’s story in the last hour? She can do anything she likes naked, but not with the curtains open. That’s just plain dumb.”

  “She’s trying to say something, Gideon. She got out of a bad marriage, but she’s lost whatever sexual confidence she had, which I suspect wasn’t much to start with. She’s fighting back, but she shouldn’t have to fight you, too.”

  “She told you all this?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  Gideon stared down at the steps, clearly fighting chagrin. “It’s my fault if she’s turning to strangers instead of me.” A squirrel chattered along the branch of a live oak by the road. It started down the trunk, tail twitching, and Gretchen’s nose came up. Gideon, too, was watching the squirrel. “What can I do for her? I admit it—apart from sex, I don’t have a clue about women, and Art’s not about to discuss her sex life with me.”