“You have had way too mush wine, misshy,” I said, pulling her upright. “But I agree. I want to see the naked gorgeous neighbor.”
Patsy glanced at the clock. “Normally I don’t see him until closer to midnight, but a little fresh air will do us good. Tallyho, ladies!”
“We’re off to get a fox,” Terri said, giggling as we clutched each other and staggered after Patsy, who carried a bottle of wine with her, pointing it toward the backyard.
It took a good ten minutes to get to the spot Patsy had mentioned, but only because we all had to troop back into the house, one by one, to use the facilities.
“Sucks having a tiny bladder,” Terri said, wobbling slightly as she returned to where Patsy and I were lying on the grass, sharing the last bottle of wine. “C’mon, let’s go find that neighbor.”
There was no one in the pool.
“Dammit,” I said, clutching a tree that stood next to the neighbor’s house.
“Well, that’s disappointing,” Patsy said. “Maybe he’ll be out later.”
“Antimacassar,” Terri said, taking a swig off the bottle.
“Huh?” I asked.
“I think she means anticlimactical,” Patsy said with great precision.
“Ah. Gotcha. Well, hell. I’m all keyed up to see a gorgeous guy.”
“I know!” Terri said, heading for the house. “Let’sh peek in the windows to see him.”
“Ter!” Patsy said, her voice hushed as she ran after Terri. “That’s illegal.”
“No it isn’t,” she insisted. “He’s your neighbor, right? That’sh not illegal to look in a neighbor’s house. You ever hear of Neighborhood Watch? We do it all the time. It’sh good. C’mon. Let’s peek.”
“Somehow, that makes sense,” I said, following the pair. “I think it’s because I’m drunk.”
By the time we found a window that wasn’t curtained, and which looked in on what appeared to be a living room done in shades of cream and white, Patsy had to pee again, and was urging us to return to her house.
“What’sh the big deal?” Terri asked, having some difficulty navigating the one step that led up to the doors.
“He’s my neighbor! I don’t want him pissed at me.”
“It’s not like he’s going to know we were here,” I pointed out, admiring the intricate tile laid in the entryway.
“He’s going to know I was here if I leave a big puddle of wee,” she said, her legs crossed as she did a little hopping dance. “Let’s go back home. I really have to go!”
“OK. I don’t see him anyw—hoo! I see him!” Terri plastered herself to the glass on either side of the double front doors, loudly jabbing the glass with her finger. “Look! Do you see? Oh, baby, you’re right. He is gorgeous, although he’s not naked. Hey, he’s looking this way. I wonder if he can see us.”
“It’s night outside,” I said, waving my arms around to show her the night. “See? Black. Night. No one can see us. We’re like ninjas. Except for the wee puddles.”
The door opened, light spilling out from inside, the silhouette of a man clearly visible. “Can I help you?” he asked, his voice deep and alluring with a slight German accent.
“I have to wee!” Patsy wailed, clutching at herself. She shoved the bottle at me and pushed past the neighbor into his house.
“Second door on the left,” he directed her. She ran in the direction he was pointing.
He turned back to us, but I couldn’t see him clearly, what with the light behind him. “Is there something I can do for you ladies?”
“Pats said you like to swim in the altogether,” Terri said, looking hopeful.
“Ah. Well, I’ve had my swim for the day. Is there anything else?”
He stepped out of the doorway and onto the entryway, straight into the light cast by a standing yard lamp a few feet away.
I dropped the bottle of wine, pointing at him as my skin tried to crawl away.
“What’s wrong, Cora?” Terri asked, weaving slightly. “You look like you’re going to barf.”
“Vampire,” I said, the word coming out as a croak.
The man, who had been reaching out to steady Terri, suddenly whirled around to look at me.
“What?” Terri asked, wobbling her way down the lone step.
“Vampire,” I repeated.
The man narrowed his green eyes at me. “Who the hell are you?”
“VAMPIRE!” I screamed, and suddenly, the world started to spin, and a great big black hole opened up at my feet, and I fell into it.
The last sound I heard was that of Patsy. “Oh, thank you, Alec. I really didn’t want to wee on your lovely tile work. What’s Cora doing on the ground?”
Dear Readers,
Lest you be freaked out by the excerpt that follows—and I know right now some of you are looking worried at even the mention of doing such a thing—let me reassure you that even though the excerpt from It’s All Greek to Me is (gasp!) a contemporary romantic comedy, there are more Dark Ones and dragon books coming.
Why, then, you might be asking yourself, did I suddenly run amok and write a contemporary? I can answer that in two words: my muse. Or, rather, three words: my pesky muse. She had an idea for a book that would poke a little gentle fun at some romance novel stereotypes, and I learned long ago to listen to her when she insists we write a book.
While I’m on the subject of upcoming books, let me add a note about the Dark Ones in particular. I know many of you are hoping for another Ben and Fran book, and I want to reassure you that they have a significant part to play regarding the situations brought to light via the previous Dark Ones book, In the Company of Vampires . They may have to adopt secondary roles for the next book, but they will, indeed, be present and looking for some answers.
Katie MacAlister
The man in front of her was crazy. That, or he was having some sort of an attack—one that involved dancing up and down and gesturing wildly, all the while talking a mile a minute, his words tumbling out with such speed, they all ran together into one dense, unintelligible stream.
Not that Harry could have understood the words even if he had been speaking slower. She stood up from where she’d been seated on a wooden lounge, enjoying the peace of the balmy Mediterranean night. “The temptation to say ‘I’m sorry, but it’s all Greek to me,’ is almost overwhelming—you do realize that, right?” she asked the man.
He continued his dancing-gesturing-babbling routine, this time adding a peculiar plucking motion with the hem of her linen tunic.
She glanced around, wondering if she’d misunderstood. “Am I not supposed to be here? Is this garden off limits to us? Derek said it was the garden area on the other side of the house that was for guests only. Did I get that wrong?”
The little man—and he was little, at least a good ten inches shorter than her solid six feet—evidently grew distressed at her inability to understand, and grabbed her wrist, hauling her toward the massive bulk of the house.
“Is Timmy in the well?” she asked, a little smile curling her lips before her gaze moved from what must surely have been one of the servants to the house itself. “Only house doesn’t quite cut it as a description, does it? It’s more like a palace. Houses don’t have wings—palaces do. And I defy you to find a house sitting by its lonesome on its very own Greek island. No, sir, this is a palace pure and simple, and although I’m sure you have a good reason for dragging me to it, I should point out that the only people who are staying in its palatial confines are guests, and I’m with the band. We have the little bungalow on the servant end of the island. Hello? You really don’t speak a word of English, do you?” Harry sighed.
The man continued to drag her through a very pleasant garden, filled with sweet-scented flowering Mediterranean shrubs unfamiliar to her, attractive hedges, and pretty neoclassical statues. The night air was balmy, the heavy scent from some flower mingling with the sharper and, to her mind, more pleasing tang of the sea. It was everything she imagined a rich man’s private island paradise should be. Well, with the exception of the wizened little man attached to her wrist.