The Watcher

The shower revives me though I scrub so hard, my skin tingles when I'm through. I lather on a rich, perfumed body lotion and slip into a clean sweat suit to head downstairs for coffee.

I'm a purist when it comes to coffee, no flavored blends for me. I like the rich, dark taste and aroma of a Jamaican or Kona coffee, mellowed with real cream and a little sugar.

I fill a mug and take it back upstairs. I've only been back in the cottage a month. It burned to the ground not long ago, another of Avery's legacies. When I rebuilt it, I added a deck off the master bedroom. I furnished it with a wicker table and two chairs, though I've yet to have anybody up here to occupy the second. I sink into one now and cast a glance toward the empty one. It seems I've more than one itch that needs scratching. I've fed, in a matter of speaking, but a different kind of hunger remains. My sexual appetite is as strong as my appetite for blood.

I selfishly wish Max were here. Except for the one time when I scared myself by almost drinking from him, sex with Max is great. But what am I thinking? I've got to stop this. I'm breaking up with Max the next chance I get. I have to.

So then what? Maybe David's surprise is a hot friend who just got into town and David wants to set us up. Maybe I should wear something sexy to the office. Maybe …

Maybe Williams is right. If I had a mate, I could be inside right now sweating up the sheets instead of sitting here alone thinking about it.

So stop thinking about it.

My coffee is at perfect drinking temperature—body temp—and I suck at it greedily. It's still too early for the beach to be crowded, but there are a couple of surfers bobbing hopefully on the water. Hopefully is the operative word, the swells are as flat and listless as I feel. Still it's a distraction from a body aching for release.

I focus on the surfers until my cup is empty, then rouse myself to a standing position. I may as well get this over with. I change into jeans, a cotton sweater and ru

IT'S NOT.

I smell her as soon as I walk into the office.

David is sitting alone at the desk, but her perfume, some expensive, flowery signature brand made exclusively for her, emanates from his clothes and skin like deadly fumes from toxic waste.

Gloria.

I was right. I'm going to hate this.

He looks up, sees me standing at the doorway and frowns. "Jesus, A

"Where is she?"

The frown dissolves into a grin. "How did you know?"

It takes every bit of effort not to roll my eyes skyward and groan. My sinuses are still revolting from the onslaught. I haven't felt like this since I was exposed to a creep who had binged on garlic. I cross the office and open the slider. Wide. "A lucky guess. Where is she?"

He sits back in his chair, still gri

I grunt a noncommittal reply and drop into my chair. I'm sure it'll take Gloria longer than a minute to get back. Someone will recognize the goddess and beg an audience. It happens all the time. If I'm lucky, she'll be detained a long time.

Gloria Estrella is a model. Tall. Beautiful. Rich. She and David became an item when he was playing football. Why they are still together is one of those great mysteries of life. She hates what he does for a living, hates that he lives in San Diego alone instead of L.A. with her and most of all hates that he has a female partner. Or more precisely, she hates me. She met Max not too long ago and got it into her brain that if David insists on doing what he's doing, Max would be a more suitable partner for him. David won't admit it, but I know in my gut she tries to impress that upon him at every turn.

I must have a glazed look on my face, because David leans across the desk and asks, "Seriously, A

I shake off his question with a curt shrug. It would do no good to tell him what's wrong. I've tried before. Now my indigestion is coupled with disgust. So, I ask, "What's she doing in town?"

He gives me a raised eyebrow. "You can't have forgotten. The restaurant grand opening. It's this weekend, remember?" He flourishes a fancy envelope with gold engraving. "Your invitation. We expect you to be there, you know."

I can't keep the aggravation out of my voice. "That's your surprise?"

The corners of his mouth turn down. "I know you and Gloria don't get along but this is a big deal. She wants you to be there. It's a peace offering."

Gloria is at the door trying to sneak up on us. A tightness in my shoulders puts me on alert. That, and the insipid smile that appears suddenly on David's face.

"And Max, too, if he's in town."

Even expecting it, her voice from the doorway makes me jump, which is a pretty good indication of how she affects me. She dulls all my senses except an overwhelming feeling of revulsion.

I don't bother to swivel around in the chair to face her. David, however, jumps to his feet like an eager puppy and motions for her to take his seat.

She does.

We're face-to-face. Unless I pretend I'm blind, I have no choice but to raise my eyes to hers. I have to look up. Even sitting down, she's tall. My shoulders start to bunch together again.

The last time I saw Gloria, her hair and eyes were dark. Today, hazel contact lenses complement auburn hair touched with silver. The face is the same, though, heart shaped and delicate with flawless skin made even more radiant by artfully applied makeup, subtle makeup. Only a critical woman would notice the paint. I peer at her, searching for an imperfection.

Not even a solitary laugh line.

She knows what I'm doing. She sits without moving and lets me take inventory. She's wearing black slacks and a sweater the color of jade. It's tight. It would be. Got to get your money's worth out of the implants.

I make a vampire note to look her up in thirty years when she's sixty and I'm—the same as I am now.

I'd smile if I didn't hate this woman so much.

She is smiling, though, idiotically, as if the expression on my face was not poisonous. "Hello, A

Every muscle in my body clenches in preparation for attack. The last time Gloria saw me I was in the hospital, recovering from being beaten, raped, and turned into a vampire. How nice of her to remember how awful I looked.

My jaw locks. Probably a good thing. Forces me to swallow the "fuck you" response that springs to my lips.

David jumps in. "Gloria. A

His tone is scolding, but his face betrays how he feels about her. He's so fucking in love, it rolls off him in waves like her obnoxious perfume.

It's disgusting.

She tilts her head as if listening, but her eyes never leave mine. "Oh, that's right. Then she got involved with the doctor that treated her at the hospital. I hear he resigned not long after and disappeared. And what about Max? Seen much of him lately?"

Her implication is obvious. I get a mental picture of throwing Gloria on the carpet and gnawing at her throat like a dog with a bone. The fantasy makes me smile.

"Saw Max just last night," I reply.

"Really?" One perfectly plucked eyebrow jumps skyward. "How is he?"

"Fine." Didn't ask about you, though.