"It's me, Ian."
Her blue eyes widened. "Ian?"
"Aye. Ian MacPhie."
"You can't be Ian. He's just a young'un."
He glowered at his glass of Bleer. It was a wonder he hadn't gone crazy from being treated like a child for five centuries. "Ye used to ask me to help tighten yer corset. Ye must have thought I was too young to be eyeing the curve of yer hips or the way the corset pushed yer breasts—"
"Why, I never!" Cora Lee stepped back.
"Nay, no' with me, that's for certain."
She huffed. "I would never bed a child."
"I'm three hundred years older than you," he growled.
She tilted her head to study him. "I do declare, your eyes bear a remarkable resemblance to Ian's."
"That could be because I am Ian."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure. Who else would I be?"
She gave him a suspicious look. "It's just that…I don't recall you being so…"
"Charming?"
"Grumpy." She sighed. "Ian was such a well-mannered and friendly boy. I was quite fond of him, really."
"Bloody hell, I dinna die. I just look twelve years older now."
"Land sakes. How did you do that?"
Ian hesitated. Roman's Stay-Awake drug was best kept a secret. "It was something I…ate. In Texas."
"Something you ate? You wanted to look older?"
"Aye."
"But why would you do something so awful?"
He gritted his teeth. Being trapped for centuries with a fifteen-year-old face had been a living hell. If Cora Lee couldn't figure that out, well, he didn't feel obliged to explain. "Maybe I just want to get laid."
She huffed. "And you were such a nice young boy."
"Aye." He gulped down the last of his Bleer.
Cora Lee studied him, frowning. "If you got what you wanted, then why are you so grumpy?"
"I'm no' grumpy!"
Her eyes suddenly widened. "Oh, I get it. You haven't gotten laid yet. Maybe I can help."
Bloody hell, he could do his own hunting. He noticed the music's volume had decreased. The Indian dancer had left the stage, and the female natives were restless. He needed advice quick. "Is Vanda here? I need to see her."
"Just a minute." Cora Lee rushed to a table where a lady Vamp sat, chatting with a few male customers. "Pamela! You'll never guess who that fella is over there."
Was Cora Lee trying to set him up with Lady Pamela Smythe-Worthing? No. Hell, no. The Regency-era viscount-ess from Britain had also been in Roman's harem, and she'd spent fifty years sneering down her nose at him.
Lady Pamela stood and examined him. Her frilly Regency gown was gone. She'd completely embraced the modern age with a red miniskirt and black leather camisole.
"Oh dear, look at that shabby old kilt." Lady Pamela's snooty accent was still the same. "He must be another barbarian from Scotland. Doesn't anyone from that dreadful country die a natural death anymore?"
Ian arched a brow. She had to know he could hear her.
Cora Lee grinned. "Pamela, that's Ian!"
Pamela's eyes widened. "Surely you jest. I shall be quite overset if you're toying with me."
"It is Ian," Cora Lee insisted. "He grew a bunch."
"He certainly did." Pamela's gaze raked over him. "I must say, this brings to mind a question of the utmost importance."
"You mean how did it happen?" Cora Lee guessed. "He told me it was something he—"
"No." Pamela waved a dismissive hand. "The question is" — she leaned close to Cora Lee—"is he a virgin?"
"Land sakes!" Cora Lee giggled. "He did say he wants to get laid."
"Hmm." Pamela tapped a finger against her cheek as she considered. "A five-hundred-year-old virgin. This could be interesting."
Bugger. Leave it to Lady Pamela to make him feel like a circus freak. Ian turned his back to her and strode toward Vanda's office.
"Whoa there!" Cora Lee zipped over at vampire speed and blocked the door. "Vanda gets all riled up if we interrupt her while she's busy."
"Indeed." Lady Pamela sauntered over. "Vanda is the brains behind this business." She smoothed back her long blonde hair. "We're the beauty."
"We sure are." Cora Lee fluttered her eyelashes.
"Congratulations," Ian grumbled. Did the two ladies realize they'd just admitted to being brainless? He silently raised the attribute of intelligence on his wish list from number four to number three.
Cora Lee cracked the door and peeked in. "Woohoo, Vanda! There's someone here to see you."
"It had better be a sexy new dancer," Vanda growled. "Business is down this month."
"I say, capital idea!" Pamela gave Ian a sly grin.
He strode into the office.
Vanda glanced away from her computer screen. "Nice costume. Let's see what you've got under the kilt."
"Oh goody!" Cora Lee clapped her hands together.
"Indeed." Pamela shut the door behind them.
"I'm no' exposing myself." Ian crossed his arms, frowning. "And this is no' a costume."
"Oh, the girls will love that accent." Vanda stood as she looked him over. She was wearing her usual purple catsuit with a black whip around the waist. "You'll need a plaid thong to match your kilt."
"With a red tassel on the end," Cora Lee added.
"Smashing," Pamela murmured.
"Could you make the tassel twirl?" Vanda circled a forefinger in the air.
What the hell? Ian stepped toward her. "Vanda—"
"Come now, we're embarrassing the poor chap." Pamela sidled up to Vanda and whispered, "We think he's a virgin."
He glared at them. "Vanda, do ye no' recognize me?"
She smirked. "Honey, if I'd met you before, you wouldn't be a virgin."
Pamela laughed. "Now which one of us will have the honor of deflowering him?"
"We could draw straws," Cora Lee suggested.
"I'm no' sleeping with any of you," Ian growled. "Vanda, it's me, Ian."
"What?" Vanda blinked, then she narrowed her eyes. "No, I don't think so."
"Bloody hell." He ran a hand through his long hair and accidentally pulled a strand loose from the tied leather strip in the back. "I thought ye might cut my hair like ye used to. And I–I need to talk."
"Ian?" Vanda walked up to him, looking at him closely. "It's really you? What happened?"
"I know!" Cora Lee waved a hand in the air. "He ate something."
"You ate something?" Vanda gave him a dubious look.
"He could eat me," Lady Pamela murmured, casting him a seductive look from under her eyelashes.
Cora Lee pressed her fingers to her mouth and giggled.
"I canna say more on the matter." Ian motioned with his head toward Cora Lee and Lady Pamela. A secret would never be safe with them.
Vanda nodded slowly, then glanced at the two blondes. "You two check on the customers."
"Humph. You just want the virgin to yourself." Lady Pamela strolled from the room, followed by Cora Lee.
Vanda shut the door, then walked back to Ian with a grin spreading across her face. "I can't believe it! You're all grown up." She hugged him. They had once been close in height, but now the top of her head reached his chin. "What on earth did you eat that made you grow older?"
"Doona repeat this, but I drank Roman's Stay-Awake drug. I took it twelve days, so I aged twelve years."
Her eyes narrowed. "But you're so much bigger and taller…it must have hurt."
It had. He shrugged. "My hair grew a lot, too. I thought it might need cutting."
She pulled the leather thong free from his ponytail and stood back to study him. "I don't think the short curls suit you anymore. You have a rugged look to you now."
Rugged? As in mountainous terrain? No wonder he was having such a hard time shaving. There'd always been a small dent in his chin, but now it felt more like a bloody crater. Actually, it was bloody half the time. Shaving without a mirror was damned hard.