Demons Prefer Blondes (6 page)

Lucy glared at her friend. “Don’t make me put that glue on your lips.” And, being an owner of a hair and nail spa, she had plenty of it.

Rafe grunted, fumbled with his fly, then grunted some more. Grunting men weren’t supposed to be attractive. She remembered Tim the Tool Man and his buddy Al and cringed. But there was something sexy about Rafe’s grunt that caused warmth to spread throughout her body. And she enjoyed every minute of it.

Rising from his perch on the futon, Rafe glanced over to the floor lamp, bemusement filling his face. He reached up and grabbed a stray button from the top of its flat glassy surface.

Lucy covered her mouth and hid her smirk. “Those could be dangerous weapons.”

“We need to move.” He glanced up at the wall clock.
Whew, thank goodness.
She didn’t want to see Serah go all orgasmic over his fancy pocket watch. “It’s almost six a.m.”

After all his buttons had been retrieved from various corners of the room, Rafe pocketed them. So much for sewing being one of his demonic powers. Cool! Male demons were just as inept as the human kind.

“So what’s on tap today?” Serah asked, sounding a bit more chipper than Lucy would’ve liked. Lucky girl. At least someone got some sleep.

Lucy glanced at Serah and back to Rafe then, looked down at her pink painted toenails. “I don’t know about you guys, but I have to go to the shop and survey the damage.”

“There’s no damage.”

Lucy quirked a brow. “No damage? I saw the insides of the salon.”

Rafe crossed his arms in front of him. “I sent for some help. Your shop is spotless. No one but us know about the legion of demons you let escape.”

Wow, demons had their own crime scene cleanup unit.
“How very helpful of you.”

“It’s the least I could do.” Rafe lounged against the edge of the futon and crossed his legs. He looked so sexy standing there with that gorgeous hair flowing around his face. “After all, we can’t have our secrets revealed.”

She shrugged and heaved a sigh. It wasn’t like she knew demons actually existed. Fancy that. Guess she wasn’t agnostic anymore. “Yeah, I suppose that would suck.” She took a breath as she tried to find the right words to say.

In the blink of an eye, a bright flash of lightning streaked through the sky reflecting against the flecks of snow dancing in the air. Where the hell was the thunder?

“What the hell?” Serah squeaked. Then more flashes lit the sky right over the vicinity of the shop.

“So much for the demonic cleanup crew,” Lucy muttered, slumping onto the futon. So what if it was as comfortable as a torture rack. Any remaining heat left her body, cold radiating in its place. From the look of the lightning in the distance, her shop was screwed. Probably because
she
was too busy trying to get screwed.

Rafael tried to digest the entire evening, from Lamia’s inopportune attack to the sight of Lucy standing over the chest, the golden aura surrounding her to… No, he wouldn’t remember that, no matter how much he might have enjoyed it. What happened was impossible. A demon was supposed to be immune to the succubus’s seduction. Yet in a matter of a few minutes she had him caving. Then again, the minute he spotted her that afternoon in the salon, he knew he’d been ensnared. And the minx didn’t even know what she’d done.

Maybe he was losing his demonic powers. Bloody hell, he was being demoted. His third strike. It didn’t surprise him one bit if the Fore-Demons diminished him to impish duties.

Glancing over at Lucia, heat swelled within him. She sat on the hard settee she’d called a futon, her head in her hands. Her friend sat next to her, wrapping her arm around Lucy’s shoulder. Suddenly he felt like an intruder. With long strides, he walked to the window and took in the sight. Lightning zinged across the sky, relentless, as the loosed Infernati warriors searched for the chest. If only she unleashed some Paladin Demons too. Not that he wanted a war on Earth, but his options were dwindling.

An incessant noise echoed through the room, coming from his leather jacket. Blasted contraption, but Nic insisted he bring it along. He hated modern technology, but it was the most convenient way to keep in touch on Earth. Glancing over at Lucy and her friend, who both stared with bemusement, he fumbled inside his pocket and pulled out the mobile phone. He flipped it up and put it to his ear. “Speak.”

“The salon is clean, milord.” The familiar feminine voice rankled his nerves. Leave it to the Fore-Demons to send her. “I just love cleaning up your messes.”

“Stubble it.”

Kalli chuckled, a deep vibration that echoed in his ear. “Please, Rafe. That expression died out at least two hundred years ago.”

Rafael contemplated throwing the phone into the wall. Struggling to maintain his anger, he gripped the phone tightly. “Whatever. Is there danger? The succubus wants to get a few things.”

“The succubus?” he heard Lucy say, her voice indignant. “My name’s Lucy, you jerk.”

Rafael craned his head and narrowed his eyes into a scowl, yet on the inside he cringed. But he needed to stay as distant as possible, lest he fall under the spell she didn’t know she’d spun.

Lucy stood there, her eyes blazing, hands on her hips. Her glare burned deep. Even when angry, she was beautiful. The way her lower lip jutted out, the intense spark in her hazel eyes. He needed to find a way to steel himself, or he was doomed. Never had a demon been ensnared by a succubus—or an incubus for that matter. Leave it to him to be the first.

“Demons have cell phones?” Lucy asked, her voice laced with sarcasm. Her eyes narrowed into a searing glare. “I suppose you’ve got an iPod too?”

Lucy’s friend smacked her arm. Luckily it was only a small slap, or she might not have blown it off. “Shh. Can’t you see he’s on the phone?”

“I’m worried about my shop.”

Rafe pulled the phone away from his ear. “Your shop is fine.” Reluctantly, he put the phone back to his ear.

“Is it safe?” he asked Kalli.

“What’s going on? It sounds like there’s more than a succubus there.”

“Her friend,” he replied tersely. “The chest belongs to her.”

“What?” Kalli’s question boomed in his ear. “You’re just telling me now?”

Rafael adjusted the phone and stole a glance at Lucy. She paced back and forth, clenching and unclenching her fists. He didn’t blame her one bit. He’d act the same way. “I only just found out myself.”

“I’ll bring it up to the Fore-Demons and see what they recommend.” There was a brief pause. “The sun is out. I believe our loosed friends have realized the chest is no longer here.”

“So they can come back?”

Kalli huffed. “For now. Shit!” There was an annoying scratching sound followed by some muffled arguments. “…I’m the cleaning lady. Here’s my card.”

“Kalli, is everything all right?” He couldn’t hide the concern in his voice.

Lucia stopped mid-stride and turned to face him, her eyes filled with horror. “What is it?” she asked, her breath catching.

“Kalli?”

Kalli continued her discussion. “Lucia Gregory hired me. Feel free to call her.” She blew out a deep breath that rumbled in his ear. “Some of her employees have arrived and they aren’t pleased.” Kalli chuckled. “Can’t blame them.”

Rafael could only imagine. The last time he’d seen Kalli, in the eighties, she’d worn pink-and-white striped hose and a short magenta skirt. Her hair had stood tall, teased to high hell. She’d looked ridiculous, but apparently that’s how they dressed back then. Another reason he’d chosen to stay in the underworld. Humans and their strange fashion habits. At least fashion had improved slightly in the last twenty-five years. He looked down at his clingy leather breeches. Well, almost. “We’re on our way.”

“Good. See you.” The call ended.

***

Lucy clenched her fists. From the tone of the conversation, it was urgent. There was no way in hell—she needed to stop using that word—she’d let anything happen to her shop.

Shutting his cell phone, Rafe turned to face her.
A cell phone for a demon? Yeah Right! How good was Hell’s wireless signal?

“You’re right, we will.” She didn’t spend the last five years to see her dream erupt in a fountain of exploding shampoo bowls. “We shouldn’t have left.”

Throwing on his coat, Rafe glowered. He stuffed his phone in the pocket and stormed to the closet. With more force than she liked, he ripped open the door. “I wasn’t about to risk your or your friend’s lives.”

“I didn’t seem to be in danger. There was tons of glass flying, and not one scratch on my body. How do you explain that?”
Take that you sexy knave!

Rafe yanked her coat off the hanger and threw it at her. “It takes a lot to injure a demon.”

Of course he’d come back with an answer like that. How predictable. Then again, she wasn’t the only one in the shop with barely a scratch. “I understand that. But what about Serah? If she’s not a demon, why wasn’t she hurt?”

“Luck, I guess,” he muttered.

What was the deal with this man? He hadn’t said much since they met. It was as if he distanced himself. But there was that part of him—she stifled a grin—that had no qualms about being up-close and personal. He wasn’t a complete jerk, and his gentle caress showed he cared. Men! Even ones of the demon variety would remain a mystery.

“I suppose.” But she still wasn’t convinced. The glint in his silvery eyes showed he hid something.

She glanced over to Serah who stared out the window. The lightning bolts had since faded as sunlight danced with the fluffy snow.

She played with one of the ornaments on the artificial Christmas tree. If Lucy had any choice, she’d throw it in the trash, but her mom insisted she
get into the spirit
. So she got a small tree from the local Goodwill and
borrowed
some of her mom’s lights and ornaments.

Lucy wasn’t a real spiritual person. And now she knew why. Church probably wasn’t a popular hangout for demons. She stifled a chuckle remembering the many times her mom tried to get her to church. She’d laugh and say, “If I walked into a church, I’d probably burst into flames.”

Who knew? Maybe she would have. How ironic!

Now she had more important things to think about, like her shop. With a quick toss, she threw her coat on. “We better get going.” Rafe still acted pretty hush-hush about everything, and she was sick of being kept in the dark. “Since you’re not that forthcoming with information.”

Rafe grabbed her shoulders and gazed down at her, the silver in his eyes burning her, filling her with need. “In time, Lucy.” Despite the intensity of his gaze, his voice calmed her nerves but stirred something else deep inside.
Call the fire department!

Pushing her hormones to the side, Lucy clenched her fists. “I’ve spent the last five years pouring my blood and sweat into that salon.” She took long even breaths as she fought for the words to say.

Two could play this game. She’d show this hunk of a man she wasn’t one of the weak-minded females he was used to.
I’m a businesswoman, damn it!

“Your answer is unacceptable. Tell me what’s going on—now.”

“The shop is fine.” Rafe’s grip on her shoulders loosened. “Your co-workers—not so much. They want to string our cleaner from the rafters.”

A wide grin spread across her face. “Thank the… whatever for Frankie and Gerardo.”

At that precise moment, her own cell phone rang. The familiar sounds of Justin Timberlake filled the room. Rafe arched a brow. Serah giggled, and Lucy simply shrugged as she pulled the phone off the coffee table and flipped it open.

“Hello?”

Frankie’s frazzled voice greeted her. “Lucy, some lady is here claiming she’s been hired to clean the shop.” He rambled on about purple-and-red dreadlocks, tattoos, and body piercings. “What should I do?”

“Uhh, let her clean?”

“You sure?” he asked, clearly shocked. Silence followed. “But I am amazed. I’ve never seen the shop so clean.”

“Cool. Where’s Gerardo?” she asked nonchalantly.

Frankie giggled. “He’s busy interrogating the cleaning lady.”

Lucy chuckled. “We’ll get there before he resorts to any finger-breaking. I need to freshen up.” She took a glance into the mirror hanging on the far wall. Or maybe not.

Her face took on a glow she’d never noticed before. Her eyes were different too, like two giant topazes set in gold. The hair she expected to hang limp around her face now flipped up all on its own. And her lips! Plumper and rosier than ever! She could only gape in shock. If being a succubus meant she never had to do her own hair, sign her up! She loved doing other people’s hair, but her own was another matter.

“Lucy, hon? Are you there?” Frankie’s concerned voice brought her back to the world.

“Do you believe you’re a demon now?” Serah quipped. “If only I could look that good.” She bit her lip. “Not that you weren’t already pretty, but—”

Lucy threw Serah a warning gaze and went back to talking to Frankie.

“Tell Gerardo to stop with the CSI routine, and I’ll be right there.” Modeling, photography, all sixteen million
CSI
spin-offs—to name a few of Gerardo’s guilty pleasures.

“Sure thing, hot stuff. Smoochies.”

Hot stuff? What the hell? Frankie was calling her names he usually reserved for men he found attractive? Would he call Rafe
hot stuff
? He certainly was hot in her book.

“Smoochies?” Lucy arched a brow, even though her friend couldn’t see it. “Frankie, are you okay?”

“Just fine, baby. Can’t wait to see you.” He kissed her through the phone.
Eww!
Some people would think her rude, but the way Frankie talked was like she was his newest fling.

“Uh, okay. See you in a few.” Before Frankie could whisper any more sweet nothings in her ear, she folded the phone shut.

She smiled at Serah who stood ready, wearing her puffy Juicy Couture coat, looking like an Aspen snow bunny. “That’s weird.”

“It’s Frankie,” Serah replied. “Were you expecting normal?”

Lucy chuckled. “Okay, let me rephrase. That was weird—for Frankie.”

Rafe crossed his arms, his ripped arms bulging against the leather of his coat. God, he was sexy. Was her tongue wagging? It sure felt like it. She stole another glance at Serah. Hers certainly was. An intense shock of jealousy streaked through Lucy.
Whoa! What was going on?

“Is everything handled?”

“Frankie’s handled, but your friend is about to experience
CSI: Gerardo
.”

Serah cringed. “Ouch.”

Rafe arched a brow. “
CSI
? Isn’t that a TV show?”

“Which one?” Serah chuckled.

“There’s more than one?” Rafe’s brow furrowed in consternation. Despite his severe façade, it was cute.

“There’s like two or three set in different cities across the U.S.” She shook her head. She had more important things to do than stand here talking about television shows and their many spin-offs. “Okay, let’s go. I have a salon to inspect.”

Serah snapped to attention and saluted her. “Sir! Yes, Sir!”

She narrowed her eyes into an intense glare and contemplated giving Serah her own special salute—the one-fingered kind.

***

“How on Earth do you drive this sardine can?” Serah’s knee jabbed her through the back of her seat. “Oops. Sorry.” With an exhausted sigh, she wriggled her legs over to the side.

“Easy,” Lucy replied, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. “I drive alone.”

Serah squirmed as she turned to sit sideways in the seat. “Remind me to drive next time.”

Taking a left onto A-Line Road, Lucy shivered. “I prefer to arrive in one piece, thank you very much.”

Serah rolled her eyes. Didn’t she realize Lucy could see her in the mirror? Then again, it was Serah. She probably did. “I’m a good driver. You just bring me bad luck.”

“How do you explain that time in Chicago when I was three hours away scrubbing shampoo out of someone’s hair?”

Serah huffed. “I was thinking about you.”

“Yeah, whatever.” The light ahead of them turned yellow and Lucy slowed to a stop. Didn’t these lights know they were in a hurry? It was as if the traffic light gods had it out for her, giving them every red light on the street. Both of them.

“How much further?” Rafe asked, bashing his knee into the dashboard. “I despise modern transportation.”

“Me too, especially when I have to fill the tank.” She often wondered what riding in a carriage or stage coach would’ve been like. She remembered the time she drove through northern Indiana and passed a bevy of Amish wagons. She shook her head. Way too slow. “It’s faster, you know.”

“True, but I prefer my comfort, Lucy.”

She loved it when he said her name. The way it rolled off his tongue with his sexy English accent. She leaned back and exhaled deeply. “Sorry, but a Kia Rio was all I could afford. Maybe when I hit the big time, I’ll get you that Mercedes.”