On The Prowl Page 0,71

than a gas leak.

"That's better." Matt surveyed the empty platform with satisfaction.

"You could put up the wards," I pointed out desperately. The plinths were usually surrounded by magical shields, only they don't work so well with me around.

"I don't trust the wards, especially not tonight," Matt said irritably. "What's the matter with you?" His tiny eyes scanned the salon, but there were too many people – and assorted other things – in the way for him to notice my particular problem. And I wasn't planning to tell him. He only paid me a fraction of what I was worth, but a fraction is better than nothing. And until I sorted out some personal issues, this was the only income I had. Freaking Matt out would be extremely bad for my dwindling bank account. And maybe I was wrong. Maybe a Lord of the Light Fey was suddenly interested in acquiring a moldy old talisman of dubious provenance, for which he'd be expected to pay a premium price.

Yeah, right.

"Nothing."

"Okay, then." Matt did one more scan of the room. "I need to keep an eye on the Weres. You think you can manage to stand here and stay out of trouble?"

"Well... I can stand here." I didn't have much choice considering that the Fey was between me and the exits.

Matt rolled his eyes and moved off to crowd the two werewolves. I thought that was less than smart. It was another week until the full moon, but they were already vibrating with repressed energy and spoiling for a fight. But it was his call, and I had my own problems: while I'd been distracted, the Fey had disappeared.

I thought for a second that I spotted him trying to meld with the shadows in a corner, but a second glance told me that it was only one of the banshees that the house used as security alarms. I scanned the room again, but it was no use. The Fey was simply gone, and I didn't intend to wait around for him to show up. For once, Matt was going to have to make do without me.

I turned on my heel and pelted down the back stairs of the platform, intending to try for the fire exit, but something was in my way. I crashed into a broad, hard chest, and would have gone sprawling if someone hadn't caught my shoulder. My glasses fell to the tip of my nose and a hand pushed them back up. A very attractive hand, I noticed as sight returned, strong and sun-bronzed. It was attached to an equally beautiful arm, all slender muscles under a silken sleeve, and led to a very handsome face. A face with a slight smile curving its sensual lips and an amused glint in eyes the color of a glacier's heart – a pure, crystalline blue.

Oh, crap.

He stood at the bottom of the stairs, but I still had to look up to meet those eyes. That wouldn't have been true for many men – I'm almost six feet tall – and the step I was balancing on added another few inches. But then, he wasn't a man.

The Fey looked me over as he set me back on my feet. Despite my best efforts, his nearness made me shiver and a broader smile broke over his face. I adjusted a strap on my dress and tried not to let my panic show. Gerald & Company requires formal dress for important sales as a way of letting potential buyers know in advance not to expect any bargains, and I'd thought I looked pretty good. My usually frizzy red mane had been tamed by almost an hour with a curling iron and my moss green gown, while not exactly couture, had once been expensive. Now I was wishing I'd blackened my front teeth or, better yet, called in sick.

"Do you know," he told me, a thread of delight running through his voice, "I'm beginning to think this evening might not be as dull as I'd imagined."

I told myself to pull back, to get some maneuvering room, but my body wasn't listening. There was no slowly building passion, no steadily mounting desire as might have been true with a handsome man. Instead, the attraction was instantaneous and so overwhelming that it left me light-headed. I simply wanted him, so much that I had to fight not to throw myself back into his arms.

Of all the things I hate about the Fey, number one is the way