Part 1 (1/2)
Accidentally dead, again.
Dakota Ca.s.sidy.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.
ber-thanks to Saranna DeWylde-auth.o.r.ess and, probably by the time of this book's publication, a superstah in the literary romance world! After a totally random check-in email, you gave me the best ideas ever for this particular edition of the Accidentals. Much love, chica. You're a rock star!
My son Cameron, who's so brilliant it frightens me (He really is. Buy this book because he wants to go to an Ivy League school. Pleaaaase.), and who came up with such a terrific idea when talking this plot out with me. And my pal and beta reader Kaz who gave me a deeper insight to this particular plot.
To all my Facebook/Twitter fans and friends-I can't begin to express to you the rollicking good time I have with you every day in proper words. You hang out, you answer my questions of the day, we talk books, we snark American Idol auditions and The Bachelor, or we just talk life. Whatever we're doing, know how much you're appreciated and adored by me. And to Mark Boyer, the hilariously funny man I based Phoebe's best friend on and an active partic.i.p.ant on my Facebook fan page who might be sorry he won that contest!
Also, to all of you soap opera fans out there: I loved soap operas and was a faithful watcher for many, many years. My shout-out to them (in my parody sort of way) is with the greatest love and the absolute deepest respect.
And huge, huge thanks to the following shows, all of which had a hand in this book: Castle, Glee, The X-Files, Fringe, Grey's Anatomy, and Psych!
Most especially to Melissa Dwyer, whose emails not only make me smile, but remind me the human spirit is not just alive, but on fire! I love ya, honey-you're one h.e.l.luva fighter!
And, as always, to my (in earlier Accidentals dedications) one-time boyfriend, now husband, Rob. I could never do this if I didn't have a safe harbor to park my whine in. That safe harbor is you.
Dakota.
CHAPTER.
1.
”Will I sparkle in the sunlight? Because confession: I'm uncomfortable sparkling,” Samuel McLean said.
”Oh, dude, if you go out in the sunlight, I can promise there'll be no sparkling. Now sparks? Hmmm. Could be. Definitely some f.u.c.king flames. For sure a whole lotta screaming, *Oh, my G.o.d, it burns!' but no sparkles. Though, I gotta give it to you, dude. With what you're wearin', you give sparkly a whole new level of ugly.”
He ignored the crude woman's crack about his dress. According to the lady in the thrift store, he'd gotten a good deal on it, and it was a hot color this season. So, yeah. ”Another pressing thought?”
”Shoot.”
”Do I have to pick a team? I don't want to screw with Edward or Jacob's self-esteem.”
A cackle with a definite hint of devious pleasure threading through it followed Sam's question. The deep chuckle literally clanged in his ears to the point of painful, leaving him feeling like one full-bodied raw nerve. He s.h.i.+fted in his chair at the bas.e.m.e.nt offices of OOPS, pulling uncomfortably at the front of his red sequined dress to create some much-needed airflow.
Christ, it was hot. Why was it so d.a.m.n hot?
From behind him, the lingering presence of the woman who'd plowed into the office like he owed her money was downright imposing. When she leaned over his shoulder, Sam forced himself to forget he was wearing a hot little number. He mentally put his man-suit back on and asked, ”You are, again?” with as much of an arrogant, I'm-still-in-charge-of-this-situation tilt to his penciled-in eyebrow as he could muster.
For which the imposing female wasn't at all fazed. ”Nina. Nina Blackman-Statleon. Vampire. The non-sparkly kind.”
The breathtaking brunette in jeans and a sweats.h.i.+rt clamped a hand on his shoulder. She clenched it with fingers of steel that burned clear through his s.h.i.+fting shoulder pads and made his big hoop, clip-on earrings sway. ”Man, as soon as I heard you were here, I skipped right over like I was on my way to the flippin' Ring-Ding factory VIP tour. So. Jazzed. Look.”
She came to stand in front of him, holding out a basket before she unceremoniously plunked it in Sam's lap. ”When Marty called me, I got so f.u.c.king excited you weren't a whiny female this time round, I threw this s.h.i.+t together. We've never had a legit dude accidentally bitten before. So call it my Vampire Welcome to the Clan gift.”
She grinned, beautiful and maybe just a little too smug for his liking, quite obviously pleased with her generous contribution to this vampire thing.
Samuel's eyes trailed down to the wicker basket in his lap and pushed his skirt toward his knees in the effort to keep his man bits properly covered-still too dazed to respond. Though not so dazed he missed the packet labeled BLOOD in bold black letters. It glistened, red and delicious, taunting him from its plastic casing.
Hungry, Sammy?
He clenched his jaw again, grinding his teeth together-which wasn't easy, considering their recent growth spurt. f.u.c.k. He was actually eyeing the blood like it was a filet. Apparently a delicacy, as part of Marty's Welcome to the Night Dwellers Club information packet, he'd never eat again.
”Oh, look,” the aforementioned Marty remarked in dry tones, leaning against a chipped desk with her arms crossed over her chest. ”Nina the Sensitive was kind enough to make you a vampire care package, Mr. McLean. Suppose you could've waited until he knew everything he was in for before you threw him into the dark overlord deep end of the pool, Nina?”
The brunette turned her middle finger up at the blonde with a smirk. ”Blow me. He's a man, Marty. He'd better take it like one. Which means he needs to get used to the fact that if he goes out in the sunlight without that G.o.dd.a.m.ned SPF two trillion, he'll burn like a Yule log. And he's got to feed or he'll shrivel up just like all of his useless organs have.”
Sam fought hard to keep the man in his male equation intact and not flinch when Nina reminded her friend his organs were now persona non grata and his time-share in Aruba was going to be a future Craigslist ad.
He squared his shoulders. Not that it was easy to do in a sequined red dress and heels.
Project his manliness, that is.
How the h.e.l.l did women keep these skimpy dresses in place? For that matter, how did they keep their legs closed, their nylons from ripping, their bra straps from digging a hole in their skin, apply false eyelashes with diamond studs on them and not end up with glue all over their faces, and walk in heels all at the same d.a.m.n time?
Suffice it to say, Sam did not enjoy being a girl. He looked down at his chest in disgust, adjusting his half deflated gel bra with impatience when the third woman in the trio spoke.
”Did you say manly?” a chestnut-haired brunette remarked with a snort at Nina's comment. ”You mean like the way you took it, Nina? All manly?” she taunted with a raised eyebrow, her eyes gleaming with laughter.
Nina made a face, distorting her beauty, and plopped down in a chair behind a duplicate of the desk Marty stood in front of. ”Shut the h.e.l.l up, Wanda. I did not either cry.”
Wanda. Yes. Sam remembered now. The elegantly dressed, gracious lady was Wanda Schwartz-Jefferson-the werevamp. At least that's what he recalled her saying when he'd woken up in their office to find himself being hurled into a chair with the declaration that he had the ugliest pumps ever. Though, they'd a.s.sured him, his color something or other was spot on.
That had been Marty's contribution to his condition.
Marty Flaherty ... the woman. Who'd lifted all six-foot-five and two hundred and thirty pounds of him like he was nothing more than a curling iron. Marty the werewolf-woman, that is.
So. Much. Crazy.
Wanda clucked her tongue. ”No. You didn't cry, bada.s.s. You p.i.s.sed and moaned and carried on for days. That's what you did.” She snapped her fingers together to shush Nina, who was quite obviously ready to react. With venom, if Sam was accurately reading her vibe. ”Now, before things get out of control like they always do, shut up, Nina. Yes, you're the expert on vampires here. Yes, I'm sure you'll have plenty to add to Mr. McLean's misery because that's all part of the Nina genius. But you're not going to do it for the pathetic glee the shock value brings you. Not today, Elvira. I refuse to have one more accidentally turned client fill out that infernal comment form Casey insisted we put on our site with another negative review about your skills as a paranormal crisis intervention counselor. Refuse.”
Nina brushed imaginary lint from her sweats.h.i.+rt that had a thumbs-up sign and read, VAMPIRE s.e.x. 24 PEOPLE LIKE THIS. ”Oh, please. We all know that dude was a total d.i.c.k. Of course we weren't helpful or whatever the f.u.c.k he said. He wasn't really accidentally anything-except maybe a moron. He was no more accidentally turned into a dragon than I am the new Miss f.u.c.king Universe. He had eczema-not scales. Bet he'd take that s.h.i.+t off the OOPS site if he knew his a.s.s was in for a poundin' from me. Shoulda just killed him when I had the little douche in the trunk of the car.”
Wanda took a deep breath, her hands gripping the edge of her desk. ”The point being, he should have never been in the trunk of your car, Nina! For the love of-you can't just throw someone who makes you angry in the trunk of your car and threaten to make them a pair of cement Louboutins-even when they send us on a wild-goose chase! We are professionals. Now, false report or not, Chester wasn't the only one who left a comment that was less than favorable about you, Mistress of the Dark. So knock it off! This is someone's life-not a game where the poor, accidentally turned is the hunted and you're the hunter. So stay seated, quiet your ever-unhelpful mouth, and let us a.s.sist Mr. McLean.”
Nina's lips formed a thin line, but upon Wanda's order, she leaned back in her chair, letting her ankle rest on her knee.
Watching their interaction, one that had a certain rhythm to it, Sam was capable of only one a.s.sessment. It was d.a.m.n obvious these women were experienced in this sort of thing. So had it just been luck that he'd landed here? Or was it a calculated stop, drop, and roll on the doorstep of three women who just happened to claim they were supernatural? His usually sharp-as-a-tack mind couldn't process much further than the scenario before him.
Maybe he was being punked by his new poker buddies? How did he know these women were telling the truth about all these accidents they lay claim to? Seriously, who thinks a werewolf looks like a dog, and did vampires really have dental plans?
If you listened to Wanda and Marty and the tales they'd told him about their accidental events, apparently, they did.