Free Dead and Dateless by Kimberly Raye Page A

nothing else.
    Uh-oh.
    The luggage slipped from my hands and landed at my feet. My mouth went dry.
    He had broad shoulders, muscular arms, and a six-pack that would make Brad Pitt (à la Troy) envious. His dark, shoulder-length hair hung around his face in casual disarray, as if he’d been running his hands through it. A small scar bisected the edge of one eyebrow and my fingers still tingled from the feel of it. (Yesss, I’d felt it before, but, unfortunately, in a totally nonsexual situation.) Wait a second. Did I say un fortunately? Kill the prefix. He’d kept his distance and I’d kept mine. Fortunate, no un involved.
    His blue gaze was bright and electric as it met mine. My hands immediately trembled. My tummy flipped. Electricity fairly sizzled in the air between us and my nipples immediately perked up. Oh, and a few other areas snapped to attention, as well.
    I blinked against a sudden rush of tears and his image swam in front of me.
    “Hey,” his deep voice slid into my ears and one strong hand touched my shoulder, “it’s okay. This is all just a mistake. A bad mistake.”
    “You’re telling me.” I sniffled and blinked his image back into focus. Bad move. As the details grew clearer, my panic mounted, along with my lust. How in the world was I going to do this? I was standing on his doorstep, about to waltz inside and share the same space with him— the mega hot, half-naked made vampire who’d inspired more than one erotic fantasy with his whole bad ass, alphalicious cowboy image—and I wasn’t going to bite him. Yeah. Right.
    My eyes misted again.
    “Take it easy.” Before I could so much as sniffle, he pulled me inside the apartment and led me over to a small living area. “There’s no reason to get upset.” He eased me down onto a leather sofa. “We can figure a way out of this.”
    We could? Of course we could. We were mature adults. There were oodles of things we could do to deal with the situation. We could respect each other’s personal space. We could sleep in separate rooms. He could wear clothes. I could wear a blindfold.
    “I put in a call to this guy I know in the department.” He walked back to the door to retrieve my luggage. “He’ll give us a hand.”
    “Does he know how to braid a garlic necklace?” Wait a sec. Ty was a vamp, meaning he couldn’t wear the blasted thing. Talk about a no-win situation.
    He set my bags inside the doorway and shut and locked the door. “What did you say?”
    “Never mind.” I settled on the soft leather while Ty plopped down in a nearby chair. Far, far away, or so I was trying to convince myself. The scent of him—fresh air and freedom and a hint of danger—teased my nostrils.
    Yum.
    Wait a second. No yum. This was not a yum situation and Ty was not going to sweep me off my feet and we were not going to have wild, monkey sex on the comfy-looking bed sitting across the room. And we certainly weren’t going to have a major drink fest to go with it.
    This was the opposite of yum. Bad situation. Wrong man. Major trouble. Ick.
    I forced myself not to take one more traitorous breath. I was going to deal with this and make the best of it. So what if Ty was alpha to the bone? I didn’t have to fall for him. In fact, I could so totally hook him up with Viola, who was practically salivating for a rough and tough macho male.
    One down, twenty-six to go.
    Then again, Viola had specifically requested a human, which put Ty completely out of the running and off limits.
    Thankfully.
    I frowned at the sudden relief that swamped me and shifted my attention to the massive apartment. The ceiling dangled a good twenty feet above us. Floor to ceiling windows consumed one wall. We sat smack-dab in the middle of the room where a living area had been set up with a dark blue leather couch and two black leather chairs. A chrome and glass coffee table sat between them. A matching chrome and glass entertainment center stood sentry nearby covered with enough