plate to the sink. "Yes, Mr. Super Ego. Forty-three women and two men, to be precise. And that was before ten A.M."
"Two men?" Phineas snickered.
Ian muttered a few words in Gaelic that made Dougal laugh. His initial excitement was wearing off, for he now realized that all the women who had called during the day were mortal. None of them would do.
The phone rang, and Phineas reached for it.
"Don't bother." Toni returned to the table where she'd left some clothes on the back of a chair. She looped a green scarf around her neck. "It's probably another desperate woman. The answering machine's been picking them up since this morning."
"But she might be hot!" Phineas lifted the receiver. "Hello there," he said in a deep, sexy voice. "You have reached the luxurious abode of Dr. Phang, the love doctor. Tell me where it hurts, baby."
"Toni," Dougal spoke quietly. "Ye're supposed to answer the phone during the day. We doona want people thinking the house is vacant."
"I know." She stuffed her arms into a jacket. "But--"
"No, Travis, I'm not interested!" Phineas slammed the phone down. "Shit."
Toni snorted. "See what I mean? That's why Howard agreed to let me use the answering machine." She hitched her handbag over her shoulder. "See you guys later."
"Where are ye going?" Ian asked.
She ignored him and strode from the kitchen, leaving the door swinging in her wake.
"Bloody hell," Ian growled. He gulped down the rest of his cold breakfast, then set the bottle in the sink on his way to the kitchen door.
"Ian." Dougal stopped him. "Doona chase her away. We're in desperate need of mortal guards we can trust."
He pointed at his T-shirt. "What makes ye think we can trust her?"
"She's a good fighter, and she has good reason to hate the Malcontents," Dougal replied.
"And she hasn't killed us in our sleep," Phineas added. "Yet."
"That's reassuring." Ian strode into the foyer and found Toni by the front door, punching buttons on the security panel. "Ye canna leave."
"I don't see why not. I'm off duty." She finished the code to release the alarm, then reached for the doorknob.
"I need to talk to you."
"I don't want to." She motioned to the answering machine. "But there are hundreds of women who do."
"Ye're exaggerating."
She marched across the foyer to the sideboard where the phone and answering machine were located. She punched a button, and a robotic male voice spoke.
"You have three hundred and fourteen messages."
Ian's mouth fell open.
Toni gave him a knowing smirk, then strode back to the front door. "You'd better get busy. It'll take you hours to return all those calls."
"I'll just delete them."
She turned slowly to face him. "You're not going to answer them?"
"They called during the day, so they must be mortal."
"Good grief, you're an arrogant snob!"
He stiffened. "It's no' a matter of arrogance. It's reality."
"Your reality! You think you're too good for mere mortals."
"Doona presume to know what I'm thinking."
Her eyes narrowed. "Fine. We'll stick to the facts. Those are real people who called with real feelings. Only a pompous oaf would deny them the courtesy of an answer."
He moved closer to her. "Doona lecture me on courtesy, no' when ye wrote this rubbish on me while I slept."
"I was angry!" She stepped toward him, her cheeks growing flushed. "I had to endure hours of people moaning, 'Ooh, Ian is so hot!' You're lucky I only wrote on your T-shirt. I almost puked on it!"
He had trouble concentrating on her words, because her rushing blood filled his nostrils, and her racing heartbeat pounded in his mind. Just gazing into the fiery green depths of her eyes made his hearing grow dull. The scent of her blood combined with the fragrance of her hair and skin, and he'd never breathed in air so sweet.
She stepped back. "Is something wrong? Your eyes look a little weird."
He struggled to think. Why had all those calls made her angry? Then a sudden thought struck him.
"Ye were jealous."
"What?" she scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous."
He pointed to the words on his chest. "Ye dinna like other ladies saying I was a studmuffin."
"They never called you a--" She winced. "I have to go." She moved toward the door.
He followed her. "The studmuffin part was yer idea?"
"It wasn't meant as a compliment," she muttered.
He smiled. "But it is yer honest opinion, aye?"
She grabbed the doorknob. "I have things to do, places to go."
He planted a hand on the door. "Such as?"
"None of your business."
His smile faded. "Ye never told me yer full name. Or