The Rogue Hunter (Argeneau #10)

The Rogue Hunter (Argeneau #10) Page 5

"Hurry up, Mortimer. It's nearly seven and we still have to feed."

Mortimer finished tugging his T-shirt into place, and then reached for the door handle, jerking the bathroom door open just as Bricker would have knocked again.

"Oh. You're ready," the younger immortal said, letting his hand drop back to his side.

"Yes," he said dryly. "And stop chivvying me. You are the one who spent more than an hour in here. I haven't been in the bathroom ten minutes."

"I like to soak in the tub," Bricker said with an unapologetic shrug. "Come on, we can feed while Decker takes his turn at the shower."

Mortimer just grunted with irritation. It seemed the shower upstairs had a leak or something, so they'd had to take turns with the lower washroom.

Muttering under his breath, Mortimer followed the younger man out into the rec room and to the refrigerator where the blood was stored. His eyes slid over the sky outside as he went, noting that while it was still light out, the sun at least was no longer in view. It would be safe enough for them to go out, but he still thought he might have an extra bag of blood just the same.

Mortimer accepted the bag Bricker handed him, waited for his fangs to descend, and then slapped the cold bag to them even as the younger immortal did the same with his own. The need to feed prevented speaking, and that was fine with him. He didn't wish for another lengthy discussion about how life mates were rare and to be cherished and he shouldn't be so resistant about accepting Samantha Willan as his. Both Decker and Bricker had had a go at him one after the other after the women left. He was heartily sick of the topic, mostly because he was torn on the subject himself. Mortimer was very aware of how rare not being able to read a mortal was.

"Here." Bricker handed Mortimer a second bag as he removed the now-empty first.

They stood in continued silence through three bags each, debated, and then had a fourth before deciding it was enough to counter any ill effects the remaining light of day might cause.

"I'll just go check on Decker and see if he's ready," Bricker said, taking the empty blood bags with him to throw away in the kitchen.

Mortimer nodded in acknowledgment and then moved to the windows and peered outside. The clack of a screen door drew his attention to the neighboring lawn. Mortimer slid the screen open and stepped out to see Alex and Sam huddled over a pot on the barbecue. Mortimer didn't know what was in it, but he'd seen them put it on the barbecue to boil when Bricker had first gone into the bathroom to take his bath.

Mortimer had found himself repeatedly drawn to the screen doors to watch the activity next door. Even as the men had lectured him, he'd stood grumbling suitable responses as he watched the women hustle about, preparing for their "power outage party."

Unfortunately, doing so had only made him more certain than ever that Samantha Willan was not for him. The woman was unbearably clumsy. She'd lost her balance countless times, dropping two drinks, a plate, silverware, and Lord knew what else as they'd rushed about setting the table and working at the barbecue. She couldn't possibly be meant for him.

The clatter of Bricker's feet on the stairs made him sigh heavily and turn back to move inside. He was pulling the door closed when the younger immortal stepped off the bottom stair and announced, "Decker is just getting out of the shower. He said to go ahead without him; he'll finish up and bite a quick bag or two and then follow."

"Why don't we just wait for him and go together?" Mortimer suggested.

"Because it's seven o'clock and that's when the girls said to be there when they brought their food over to put in the refrigerator. We'll just go over and tell them Decker will be right along." Bricker moved past him as he spoke and slid through the still-open screen door. "Come on, buck up. Parties are supposed to be fun."

"Right," Mortimer said on a small sigh, and followed reluctantly.

Sam was gone from the deck when they reached the Willan cottage, as was the pot that had been on the barbecue for the last hour or so. Alex was still there, however, hovering over an assortment of burgers, sausages, and strips of steaks grilling on the barbecue.

"Welcome." She greeted them with a bright smile as they stepped onto the deck and then frowned slightly as she saw there were only the two of them. "Isn't your friend coming?"

"Decker will be right along," Bricker assured her. "We had to take turns at the showers and he's still getting ready."

"Oh." A crooked smile curved her lips, and then she shrugged. "I hope he doesn't take too long. This stuff is almost done."

"He'll be quick," Mortimer assured her, and then added, "Bricker is the only beauty queen in the bunch. He takes forever about his toilette."

"I do," Bricker admitted with a shameless grin. "I like to soak until my skin is nearly falling off."

"So does our Jo," Alex said with amusement, and then offered, "Would the two of you like a beer?"

Mortimer hesitated, his glance slipping to Bricker. Alcohol didn't have the same effect on them that it would on a mortal. Rather than give them a buzz, it merely forced their blood to work harder at removing the chemicals that caused that effect in mortals, which made them thirsty for something else entirely. Still, he knew it was a social drink and expected at barbecues. It might seem odd if they declined. And they had consumed extra blood.

"They're cold," Alex added temptingly, and when they both glanced at her in surprise, added, "We've been using Mother Nature's cooler. The lake," she added when that didn't clear their confusion. "It was Sam's idea. We put some pops and beer and such in fish baskets and sank them in the lake off the dock."

"That's clever," Bricker said with admiration. "Isn't that clever, Mortimer?"

"Yes, it's clever," Mortimer agreed, just managing not to roll his eyes at the man's obvious ploy to point out the woman's good points. It was going to be a long night.

"We'd love a couple beers," Bricker decided for them, moving toward the steps. "Which side of the dock did you sink the fish basket?"

"I'll get them," Alex offered, closing the lid on the barbecue.

"Where is Sam?" Bricker asked as she started down the steps.

Alex glanced back, a slightly surprised expression on her face, but she answered, "Inside draining the potatoes for potato salad. Jo's in there too. She's cutting veggies to go with the dip."

"Thanks." Bricker smiled, and when Alex nodded and turned to continue off the deck, he immediately turned to Mortimer. "Sam's inside making potato salad."

"So I heard."

"Well... ?" the younger immortal said grimly.

"Well what?" Mortimer snapped with exasperation.

"Well, you should go offer her a hand."

Mortimer peered at the younger man as if he were mad. "What on God's green earth makes you think I know anything about cooking?"

"I don't," Bricker snapped. "I just thought you might know at least a little about women and that wooing them means you have to be in the same general proximity."

"Wooing?" Mortimer almost choked on the word.

"Getting to know her then," Bricker said dryly. "Go on, go see if she needs a hand or wants company while she's chopping and stuff." When Mortimer hesitated, he added, "You can ask her where everyone around here goes to party while you're at it."

"Right." Mortimer sighed and headed into the cottage.

Jo had just gone into the bathroom when Sam heard the screen door squeak open and then slap closed. Standing at the sink, draining the boiled potatoes into a strainer, she assumed it was Alex. "How are the steaks doing? I just have to finish draining these and run them under cold water then mix everything up and the potato salad will be done."

"The steaks looked nearly done to me, but then I like mine rare."

Startled by the deep male voice, Sam jerked her head around to see their tall, good-looking neighbor, Garrett Mortimer. Unfortunately, it was not a good move with her ear infection. The world immediately tipped, and she instinctively dropped the pot to grab for the counter and keep her balance. The pot hit the bottom of the sink with a thud and boiling water splashed upward, creating a mini tsunami of scalding liquid that hit her arm. Crying out in startled pain, Sam instinctively jerked backward, then immediately slipped on the hot water on the floor and lost her footing, ending on her bottom on the kitchen's linoleum tiles.

Sam was vaguely aware of Mortimer shouting out and rushing toward her, but stunned as she was by the fall and the pain now shooting through her bottom and throbbing arm, she simply sat where she'd landed, cradling her pained arm and gasping for breath.

"Are you all right?" Mortimer asked, dropping to his haunches beside her. "Let me see your arm."

"Sam? What happened?" Jo cried, rushing back up the hall into the kitchen.

"I'm fine, I fell," she answered her sister shakily, but her gaze was on Garrett Mortimer's face. While Jo looked alarmed and concerned, their neighbor actually looked angry. What the devil did he have to be angry about? Sam wondered with bewilderment. She hadn't burned him, she thought, and then gasped as he grasped her arm to examine her burn.

A second slap of the screen door had her glancing toward it to see who else had come to witness the latest humiliation caused by her stupid ear infection. She didn't mind so much when she saw Alex rushing in, but could have done without Justin Bricker, who was on her heels. The man paused just inside the door, his gaze sliding around the cottage, and Sam looked around herself.

Her parents had built this cottage when she and her sisters were just children, and it wasn't nearly as big or fancy as the cottage the men were staying in. While the front was one mid-sized room making up a small living room/kitchen area combo, the back consisted of three very small bedrooms, a tiny bathroom, and an equally tiny storage room holding the water heater and so forth. There was no second level as in the house next door, and the one floor was only half the size of that of the building next door. It was a real cottage, not a luxurious retreat for a rich man... and Sam wouldn't have traded it for the world. There were too many lovely memories tied up in this smaller, cozier cottage.

"The ear infection strikes again," Alex said with disgust, drawing Sam's gaze her way as she reached them. "Are you all right?"

"She's burned herself," Mortimer muttered, and there was no mistaking his tone for anything but being put out.

"Ear infection?" Bricker asked, pausing behind Alex and peering curiously over her shoulder at Sam.

"She has this recurring inner ear infection that puts her off balance," Jo explained, her worried gaze on Sam's arm as Mortimer turned it this way and that to see how much of it had been injured.

"An ear infection, eh?" Bricker said, and Sam noticed that his gaze was firmly on Mortimer as he said that. The man then glanced back to Sam and asked, "Can't they give you something for it?"

"They have," Jo answered for her. "They've given her every kind of antibiotic there is, I think, but it keeps coming back. Her doctor has finally made an appointment with a specialist."

"Yeah, but it takes forever to get in to see specialists. She'll be lucky if she doesn't kill herself before the appointment," Alex said with disgust. "I'm amazed she hasn't already. If she'd insisted her doctor send her to a specialist when I suggested it, she'd be infection-free by now. But no, not Miss I'm-Too-Busy-to-Be-Bothered. She let it drag on and on and-"

"Alex!" Sam snapped irritably. "I'm sitting right here, you know." She scowled at her sister and then paused when she noted the way Mortimer's lips were twitching. Apparently she'd amused him with her grumpiness. That just made her scowl harder.

"This is a nasty burn," Mortimer murmured. He bent over her arm to look closer, and Sam found herself staring at the top of his head. His hair was blond, cut short, and so thick she could barely see through it to the healthy pink scalp below. And he had a nice spicy sort of woodsy smell to him, Sam noted, and tried to inhale deeply without making it obvious she was sniffing the man.

Sam gave her head a shake, wondering if she'd hit it on the way down without realizing it. She was generally so wrapped up in her career that she took no notice of men. And this certainly wasn't a man she should find interesting. He was a stranger. She knew nothing more than his name and that he was staying at the cottage next door.

"Here, we'd best get you up."

Sam blinked in surprise as she was suddenly lifted off the floor and set on her feet by the man who had been examining her arm.

"Do you have any salve for the burn?" Mortimer asked, glancing to Alex as he urged Sam toward the old Formica-topped dining table a couple of feet away.

"In the bathroom," Alex answered. "I'll go get it."

"I'll start mopping up the floor," Jo said, turning to move off down the hall behind Alex.

"Here, sit down," Mortimer said, and Sam couldn't help but notice that his tone was less angry now and a touch gentler for some reason. Earlier he'd sounded like she'd deliberately thrown the potatoes around, burned herself, and tossed herself to the floor.

That thought reminded her of the potatoes, and Sam glanced toward the sink. Much to her relief, while water had splashed out and onto the counter and linoleum, none of the potatoes had. They remained mostly in the pot, with only a couple of stragglers lying in the sink. A quick rinse would fix them, she thought, grateful that was all that would be needed. It had taken her forever to peel and cut those damned things, and bringing them to a boil on the barbecue had seemed to take just as long. She'd have been mighty upset if all her efforts had been ruined.

"The potatoes are fine. Sit," Mortimer ordered, apparently noting where her concern had gone.

"I'll handle the potatoes," Bricker assured her, moving to the sink even as he spoke.

"There, see. Bricker will handle them. Now sit down and let me look at your arm."

"You already looked at it," she said with a scowl.

"Well, I want to look at it again in better light."

Sam opened her mouth and then closed it again. The table was by the window, and there was better light here. She hadn't noticed how dim it was getting as the day waned, but now glanced out the window to see that the sun was well down in the sky. It had taken them longer than expected to transfer the food they wouldn't be using to the refrigerator in the cottage next door and then to do all the prep work for the barbecue.

"Here. This should help." Alex reappeared with a tube of cream, which she handed to Mortimer rather than Sam. Her concerned gaze moved over the burn on Sam's arm and then she said reluctantly, "I have to go out and check the stuff on the barbecue. Most of it was nearly done. I was just coming in to see if the potato salad would be much longer."

"I'll finish it up as soon as I put some cream on my arm," Sam assured her, and tried to take the salve from Mortimer, only to have him hold it out of her reach.

"Bricker will tend to the potato salad while I put cream on her arm," the irritating man corrected, brushing her still-reaching hand aside. "We'll be out in a minute."

Alex's eyebrows rose at the authoritative tone the man used, and then she turned away to head back out of the cottage, but not before Sam saw the slow grin beginning to pluck at her lips. Alex was obviously finding this amusing. Sam was not. She was a strong, independent, career woman and wasn't at all used to being treated like a naughty child.

"I can take care of my own arm," Sam growled, a bit rudely she supposed, since the man was just trying to help her.

"I'm sure you can, but I'm going to do it," Mortimer announced, and ignored her stony glare as he opened the tube of cream. Since it seemed obvious she wasn't going to be allowed to do anything else, Sam glanced around to see that Jo had finished mopping up the water and was now busy at the sink helping Bricker with the potatoes. Her gaze jerked back to her arm, however, when Mortimer took it in hand again. She saw with relief that it didn't appear to be blistering.

Her attention shifted to Mortimer's fingers as they gently spread the cool cream over her injured skin. He was being incredibly gentle, his touch feather-soft, and Sam noted that he had very nice hands; smooth and unblemished by calluses or any roughness. Whatever he did for a living, it obviously wasn't hard labor.

"Why didn't you see a specialist when your sister suggested it?" Mortimer asked, distracting her.

Sam shrugged, embarrassed to admit she hadn't been taking proper care of herself. "The infections started about the same time I graduated and started my job. It's been crazy busy while I learned the ropes and..." She shrugged uncomfortably and admitted, "I just kept hoping my body would fight it off."

When he didn't comment, her gaze shifted from the injury he was tending to him, to find that he was looking at her face rather than her arm. His expression was rather odd. It seemed to her that the man had avoided looking at her when she'd first met the men at their cottage, and when he had looked at her, she'd seen traces of what had seemed almost to be resentment or anger. Now, however, he was eyeing her almost speculatively. That made her extremely uncomfortable.

"You take your job seriously," he said slowly.

Sam glanced away and shrugged. "Doesn't everyone?"

"No, I don't think they do," Mortimer said quietly.

The slap of the screen door made both of them glance that way as Alex rushed back in.

"The meat's done. How are we doing in here?" she asked, her anxious gaze moving from Sam and Mortimer to Bricker and Jo.

"All set," Jo said cheerfully as Bricker picked up the bowl of potato salad that they'd finished putting together.

"Done here too, I think," Mortimer murmured, releasing Sam's arm and straightening to stand beside her. "Has Decker shown up yet?"

"Yes, he's down at the lake getting drinks for everyone," Alex said, not bothering to hide her relief that there wouldn't be a holdup and everything was ready. "Shall we?"

Without waiting for an answer, she turned and hustled back out of the cottage, leaving them to follow.

Sam stood up, unable to keep from stiffening when Mortimer immediately took her arm as if to steady her.

"We don't want any more accidents," he said calmly when she glanced at him.

"I'm fine really," she assured him. "I can walk."

The assurance had absolutely no effect. If anything, his grip on her arm became a little firmer as he urged her to the door. Sighing, Sam didn't bother to protest further. It seemed obvious to her that he was used to getting his own way. Why fight him over something so small? She preferred to pick her battles.

Decker had returned from the dock by the time Sam and the others arrived at the patio set on the deck. He was busily putting several bottles of beer and a couple of cans of soda on the table as they arrived. Sam glanced over the table now, silently inventorying everything. She'd set the table while waiting for the potatoes to boil earlier, laying out plates and napkins, as well as forks and spoons and all the condiments that could be needed. There were also the vegetables Jo had cut up and the dip Alex had made for them; two large bowls of potato chips, one barbecue and one sour cream and onion; and now the large bowl of potato salad Bricker had carried out.

"Everyone grab a seat," Alex ordered cheerfully as she set a large platter stacked with cheeseburgers, sausages, and steaks on the table.

Sam began to shuffle forward, held back slightly by Mortimer, who seemed to be moving at a snail's pace. By the time they reached the table there were only two seats left, and those were side by side. She managed not to grimace at the fact that she'd have to sit next to the bossy man as he politely pulled the chair out for her to sit down, but she would rather have sat away from him, like at the opposite end of the table.

Deciding she'd just ignore him, Sam settled in her chair and proceeded to try to do just that as the food began to be passed around. Unfortunately, that was impossible. The man seemed to have decided to take care of her like she was some ailing bird with an injured wing.

The food was circulating clockwise, and since Mortimer was on her right, it meant he got each dish first. Every time a new item came around, he placed food on his own plate and then on hers before passing it across her to Bricker on her other side. He didn't even ask if she wanted what he was serving up either. When the potato salad came by, he served her two large scoops, leaving a small mountain of the snowy dish on her plate. It was soon joined by two large servings of first barbecued potato chips and then sour cream and onion. The vegetables came next, and Sam finally got over her shock at his presumptuous behavior.

"I don't really care for broccoli. I'll serve myself, thank you."

"Greens are good for you," Mortimer said, setting another floret on her plate and following it with cauliflower, celery, and several baby carrots before handing the dish of vegetables off to Bricker.

A burble of sound drew her gaze to Alex, to see that her sister was desperately trying to stifle a burst of laughter. Apparently she was finding his behavior entertaining. Sam was not.

"Which would you like?"

Sam blinked and glanced to the tray of meat Mortimer was now holding. At least he was going to take her wishes into account with this, she thought on a sigh.

"I'd like a cheeseburger," she said stiffly.

Mortimer nodded and set a cheeseburger on her plate, then hesitated and picked up the fork on the plate to stab one of the strips of steak as well.

"I don't want that," Sam said quickly, raising her hand to block him from putting it on her already overflowing dish.

"You're too pale; you need more red meat in your diet," he said firmly.

"But I can't possibly eat all this," she protested as the steak landed on her potato salad mountain.

"You're too skinny. Eat up." He passed the platter on to Bricker without further comment and then turned his attention to his own meal.

Sam stared with disbelief as he proceeded to eat. She couldn't believe the sheer gall of the man. Bossing her around, deciding what she should and shouldn't eat, and then ignoring her when she'd intended to ignore him to begin with. Somehow the evening had turned topsy-turvy and she hadn't a clue how or why.

Shaking her head, she glanced toward Alex and then Jo, frowning when she saw that rather than being offended for her, both of her sisters seemed amused. She could have smacked them. Neither one would enjoy being treated like a child.

"It's all right."

Sam glanced to Bricker in question.

"He's just trying to help you," Bricker said, though she didn't think she'd seen his mouth move. Sam was frowning as that realization tried to grab hold of her thoughts, but it was the oddest thing... the thought was as slippery as a fish, slipping out of her grasp before she could get a proper hold on it.

"Don't be angry with him."

Those words distracted her from the worry about his lips moving and Sam stared at him silently.

"Just relax and enjoy yourself."

Relax and enjoy herself, she thought slowly. Yes, that made sense. She was on vacation, after all. She should relax and enjoy herself, Sam thought. Feeling her tension slipping away, she smiled serenely and turned to the food on her plate.

They ate in silence at first, everyone concentrating on the meal.

"This is good," Bricker said suddenly as he took a second of the thin strips of steak from the platter. "What did you put on the steak?"

"It's Alex's special marinade," Jo announced with a proud grin. "She won't tell you what's in it so don't even bother to ask."

"It's really good," Bricker complimented again, making Alex flush with pleasure. "So is the dip. What's-?"

"That's Alex's recipe too," Sam informed him. "And again, don't even bother to ask the ingredients. She guards her recipes like a miser hoards his money."

"She has to. It's her business," Jo said in Alex's defense and then announced proudly, "Alex is the owner and head chef at La Bonne Vie, one of Toronto's premier cordon bleu restaurants. Normally any meal she cooks would cost the earth, so enjoy."

A round of murmuring went up at that, and there were several compliments on her cooking, but Sam couldn't help but notice that only Bricker and Mortimer were actually eating the food. Decker Pimms was mostly pushing his food around his plate. There was no worry about leftovers, however; Justin Bricker and Garrett Mortimer were eating enough for four men. She caught Decker and Bricker exchange a meaningful smile as they watched Mortimer eat, but didn't understand what that was about since Bricker was matching the man.

"What do you do, Sam?" Decker asked suddenly. His tone sounded interested, but she couldn't help but notice that his gaze was on Mortimer as he asked.

"I'm a junior lawyer at a firm in Toronto," she admitted.

Apparently deciding that her explanation was too tame, Alex elaborated, "She works for Babcock, Hillier, and Bundy."

A moment of silence passed as the men exchanged questioning glances. It was obvious none of them had heard of the firm, but then why should they? Unless they'd had legal difficulties or were in law themselves, they wouldn't. Alex decided to enlighten them. "Babcock, Hillier, and Bundy are one of the most prestigious firms in Canada. Lawyers from all over the country would kill to work for them, and she was headhunted straight out of university. It was a major coup."

"It's not that big a deal," Sam said modestly when the men all turned interested glances her way. "Mostly I'm a glorified law clerk. I do a lot of research and information gathering and gofering-"

"For Babcock, the head guy," Alex interjected firmly, and then informed them, "She's being groomed for a senior partnership."

"We hope," Sam insisted with embarrassment.

"His last assistant was Bundy," Alex pointed out insistently. "And he's a full partner now."

"Yes, but-" Sam cut herself off, knowing there was no sense arguing the point. Alex was sure she was brilliant and heading places and was proud enough of her to brag about it. There was only one way to shut her up, and that was to change the subject.

Sam was trying to think of how to do that when Bricker helped her out by asking Jo, "And what do you do?"

"Oh." Jo smiled wryly. "I'm the underachiever in the family. I work in a bar."

Sam frowned at the self-deprecating claim and spoke up. "She's working her way through university getting a degree in marine biology. She's also just been promoted to manager of the bar, so she's no slouch either."

"It's no big deal," Jo insisted. "It's a small bar, a hole in the wall really. I only have a dozen or so people under me."

Sam wanted to argue the point with her, but could see she was embarrassed by the attention. Alex apparently wasn't as aware of it, however, and opened her mouth, no doubt to tell them that Jo was being self-deprecating, but Jo quickly asked the men, "What do you guys do?"

Her question was followed by a sudden silence that was almost electrifying as the men again exchanged glances. It was Bricker who blurted, "We're in a rock band."

Sam felt her jaw drop in surprise and then peered sharply at Mortimer as his fork slipped from his fingers and clanged on the side of his plate. If her mouth was hanging open, he was positively gaping at his friend. As was Decker, she noted, her eyebrows rising.

Bricker noted it as well, cleared his throat, and explained apologetically, "I wasn't supposed to tell. We were going to keep a low profile this week. You know. Avoid the whole fan, groupie thing and jus-awkk!" His words ended on a startled squawk as Mortimer suddenly stood, jerking him up out of his seat by the collar.

"Er..." Decker's gaze shifted from the women to Mortimer, who was marching Bricker across the deck. Setting his napkin on the table, he got up. "We'll just be a moment, ladies. Please go on with your meal."

"Well," Alex murmured as they watched the men form a huddle at the far end of the deck and begin to speak in hushed tones. "I think Bricker just tried to feed us a line of bull."

"I'm afraid I'd have to agree," Jo said on a disappointed little sigh. "I've heard a lot of guys spew bullshit lines at work trying to pick up girls and 'I'm in a rock-and-roll band' is definitely a bullshit line."

Sam bit her lip on a laugh as she took in Jo's despondent expression. She hadn't missed the way her little sister and Bricker had seemed to be doing a bit of bonding over the potatoes. Jo was obviously disappointed that he had turned out to be just another guy on the make.

"He could have at least come up with something a little more believable," Alex said with disgust, her gaze narrowing on the huddle of men. "I mean a rock-and-roll band? Like we'd believe that?"

"What the hell are you doing?" Mortimer growled the minute he'd dragged Bricker to the end of the deck.

"What?" Bricker asked, wide-eyed. "I was just-"

"A rock-and-roll band?" Mortimer snarled. "Dear God! Are you mad? Why not just tell them you're Santa Claus?"

"No, wait, listen," Bricker began, but Decker had joined them now and was no more impressed than Mortimer with the claim.

"I'm afraid I have to concur with Mortimer," Decker said dryly. "That was just asinine."

"No it's not," he argued quickly. "Chicks dig that sort of thing."

"Stupid ones who are gullible enough to believe it, maybe," Mortimer snapped. "But these women are neither stupid nor gullible. Haven't you been paying attention? Sam is a lawyer, for God's sake! And Alex is a restaurateur and Jo is working on a degree in marine biology. These are not stupid women likely to fall for some I'm-a-rock-star line."

"I'm afraid he's right," Decker concurred, glancing back toward the table they'd just left. "Right now they think it was a line."

"They do?" Bricker glanced back to the table with a frown.

"Yes." Decker was concentrating on the women, obviously reading them. "They're debating whether it's just you who's the twit, or we're all bald-faced lying assholes hoping to get laid."

"Oh man," Bricker muttered and then said accusingly, "Well, they wouldn't be thinking that if you two hadn't reacted like I'd announced we were Jack the Ripper wannabes. For Christ's sake! You're both older than me. You've had to lie to mortals about countless things for centuries. I would have expected you to be better able to carry this off."

"You claimed we were in a rock band," Mortimer pointed out, as if that explained their inability to follow up the lie believably.

"Girls like that stuff," Bricker insisted. "They find it exciting. And it's not like I said we were band members in Nickelback or something. We don't have to be successful rock stars. And," he added grimly, "it saves having to come up with an individual lie for each of us."

He let them consider that for a moment and then added, "It wasn't like either of you were speaking up and coming out with something."

Another moment of silence passed, and then Mortimer said reluctantly, "We really should have considered cover stories before we came over tonight."

"Yes," Decker muttered, running a hand through his hair with a sigh.

"Look," Bricker said eagerly, seeing that his argument had a chance of winning. "I've had more experience with women. I know what they-" He stopped abruptly as the two older immortals turned cold-eyed scowls on him. Both of them were much older than Bricker.

"I mean, I have more recent experience with women," he corrected himself quickly. "You two stopped bothering with them a long time ago. I still... er... socialize."

Mortimer and Decker relaxed.

Releasing a sigh, Bricker went on, "We can tell them that we're a road band, an opening show for bigger bands. We've just got our first recording contract, spent months in the studio recording our first CD, and we're taking a break together up here before we go back on the road."

"Jesus," Mortimer breathed, staring at him with disbelief. "How often do you use this line?"

"All the time," he admitted airily. "And it never fails. Trust me."

Mortimer shook his head and glanced at Decker in question.

The immortal hesitated, but then grimaced and shrugged. "I suppose it might work."

"I suppose," Mortimer muttered reluctantly.

"And it would save us having to come up with alternate lies," Decker pointed out. "Besides, if we don't go with it and pull it off, we either have to erase the memory or they're going to keep thinking we're a bunch of lying losers."

"Losers?" Bricker echoed, glancing toward the women with dismay.

"If they're having trouble believing it, we can always slip into their thoughts and help out a little," Decker pointed out, ignoring him, and then glanced at Mortimer and offered, "I'll take Sam since you can't."

Mortimer nodded, but he was scowling. He now really didn't want Decker touching Sam's mind. His attitude toward the woman had changed since he'd learned her clumsiness was due to an ear infection. The more time he spent with her, the more he realized she was an intelligent, sharp-witted woman and the less he noticed that she was overly slender, lacking in a proper bosom, and befreckled. She was clever and amusing, and he was starting to like her a little. Mortimer wasn't ready to announce that she was definitely his life mate, but she was showing possibility, and as long as there was a possibility she might do for him, he didn't like anyone else messing with her.

"I'll take Jo."

Something about the eagerness in Bricker's voice made Mortimer turn his narrowed gaze on the man. "Can you read her?"

"Yes."

"Then don't mess with her romantically," Mortimer snapped.

"Oh, come on, Mortimer. She's cute. And I think she likes me. She-"

"She's Sam's sister. I'm not going to have her upset because you acted like a horndog."

"A horndog?" he echoed with amusement, and then, grinning, asked, "So you're willing to admit Sam is your life mate?"

"I didn't say that," he snapped. "But if it turns out she is-"

"Okay, okay," Bricker interrupted. "I won't take advantage of the situation."

Mortimer narrowed his eyes on the younger immortal for a moment and then nodded. "Okay."

"So." Bricker glanced at each of them. "We're in a rock band?"

Decker glanced at Mortimer. When he shrugged, Decker shrugged himself and said, "It would seem so."

"God help us," Mortimer muttered, turning back toward the table.