Tall, Dark & Hungry

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Authors: Lynsay Sands
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Paranormal
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a single, solitary friend who was not of his own kind. He had human business acquaintances, but only out of necessity; and he kept them at a distance as much as possible, dealing with them only to the degree that business required.
    And no, he hadn't taken the trouble to learn Mrs. Houlihan's first name, or anything else about the housekeeper. Why bother? She'd just die eventually anyway and have to be replaced like the last one. And the one before her. And the one before her. As all humans died.
    Did he treat mortals like cattle, despite the fact that he no longer needed to feed off them directly? Bastien hated to admit it, but perhaps he did.
    "Damn." He let his breath out on a slow sigh, then gave a start when a tap sounded on his window. Turning, he peered out at Vincent, who was gesturing for him to roll it down. Bastien hit the button to do so.
    "I just thought I should mention, you might want to check with Sleeping Beauty and be sure she isn't vegetarian. She looks the type." On that note, Vincent straightened and started back off down the street.
    Bastien hit the button to roll the window back up, then reached grimly for his cell phone. He punched in the number to the apartment, not at all sure that either Terri or Chris would answer a phone that wasn't theirs. Fortunately, Terri did, picking up the phone on the third ring and saying politely, "Hello, Argeneau residence."
    "Hi, Terri, this is Bastien Argeneau." He paused and grimaced at the pompous ring that had. The Argeneau part hadn't really been necessary, had it? He plowed on: "I was thinking of picking up some subs for supper. Is that all right? You aren't a vegetarian, are you?"
    "That sounds great!" Terri said. "No, I'm not a vegetarian. Can you pick up some chips and pop with that, too? Barbecue chips, Dr Pepper, and make my sub an assorted, please. Everything on it, including hot peppers."
    "Er… yes. Assorted. Everything. Hot peppers," Bastien repeated, tugging out his small notepad and pen to scribble down her order under Chris Keyes's address. "Barbecue chips and Dr. Who?"
    "Pepper. Dr Pepper," she repeated. "Shall I check with Chris and see what he wants?"
    "Er, yes. Sure. That would be good," he agreed, then winced as she set the phone down, apparently on a table, because the clack in his ear was almost painful. Several moments passed as he waited; then she was back.
    "Hello?"
    "Yes, I'm here."
    "Chris wants a meatball sub, plain chips, and Canada Dry ginger ale."
    "Meatball, plain chips, Canada Dry," Bastien muttered, then stilled. "A meatball sub? Like what they put in spaghetti Bolognese?"
    "Yes."
    "Oh. Okay." Silence reigned between them briefly; then he cleared his throat. "Is everything okay up there?"
    "Fine. Chris is watching television, and I'm unpacking," she said. "Where are you? You can't have gone far. You didn't leave long ago."
    "No, I'm downstairs in the parking garage, just leaving actually," he admitted. "I just thought I should check and be sure you weren't a vegetarian or anything. I wouldn't want to bring home a sub and find you couldn't eat it."
    "Nope. Not vegetarian. I love meat."
    Bastien smiled at her enthusiasm. At least there was something Vincent had got wrong.
    "Are you a vegetarian?" she asked curiously, then gave a laugh. "Well, I guess not, or you wouldn't be suggesting subs. Well, I suppose you could be," she corrected herself. "You could like vegetarian subs. But you just don't seem the veggie type to me."
    "Don't I?" he asked with a grin. "What kind of guy do I seem to you?"
    "A steak man. Rare," she said firmly. Then, "Am I right? You like your steak rare?"
    "Very rare," he said solemnly. She responded with a tinkle of laughter that helped ease some of the tension he had been feeling since talking to Vincent. As Bastien listened to the sound, he was suddenly aware of a distinct reluctance to hang up the phone. He'd rather sit and talk to her than take care of business. Mind you, he'd rather talk to her in person,

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