Perfect, indeed. One of the country’s most beloved stars of one of its most beloved institutions—a vampire? Oh, the conservative witch hunters were going to have a field day with this. She totally hadn’t been on my list—my potential vampire list that included every celebrity who looked younger than plastic surgery could explain.
And I couldn’t tell anyone. Jones was smart—she’d given me a very good reason to keep the secret. I had to, if I wanted to get the exclusive story. Breaking this kind of news on my show? Ha! This was too cool.
I took a breath and tried to sound nonchalant. “That’s quite intriguing, Ms. Jones. I think I can make the time to have Ms. Cook on for an interview.” I acted like I was poking through a calendar. “Yes, I’m sure I can fit her in. When is she available?”
“Is this week too soon? She’ll be in Denver for her concert tour.”
“This week is fine.”
“I can arrange for her to come to your studio for an interview. I’m assuming that would be convenient?”
“Yes, yes, of course. I’ll make sure we’re set up on this end.”
“That’s great. Would you like tickets for her concert?”
Why the hell not? “That would be great. Thanks.”
“I’ll be in touch.”
She clicked off, and I had my show for the week all set up. Belatedly, I realized I had admitted that I was in Denver. But surely the publicist couldn’t reveal that to anyone who would cause trouble.
After the show, I’d have to call Detective Hardin and tell her that Mercedes Cook had hundreds of publicity photos and several videos of her musicals. Vampires did appear on film, and something else had robbed that store.
chapter 4
Judy Jones reserved tickets for me for the Thursday night concert. Not only that, but I had an invitation to visit Mercedes Cook afterward, with a backstage pass. I was starting to feel like some kind of big deal myself. This was all to butter me up so I’d give a flattering interview. We’d see about that.
I had two tickets, and I wanted a date. Ben didn’t want to go.
“That really isn’t my kind of thing,” he said, working at his desk the day before the concert.
“Have you ever even been to a show like this? World-class singer, world-class concert hall, it’ll knock your socks off.”
He spared a brief glance over his shoulder. “I’m really not all that into music.”
Oh, now he tells me. “Ben, I started my adult life as a radio DJ. You can’t live with me and not be into music. Are you saying that all the times I blast The Clash while making dinner you haven’t been into it?”
“To be honest, I mostly tune it out.”
How the hell do you tune out The Clash? Turned all the way up? Once again I reminded myself that Ben and I were together by accident. Did we even know each other, really?
“Ben, I’d really like to go to this. Together.”
He leaned back in his chair and sighed. Still wouldn’t look at me. “Can’t you get someone else to go? Maybe your sister.”
Uh, no. Not the same. “You know how you keep saying that we’ve never been on a real date?” We were living together, sleeping together. We were practically married. We’d skipped clean over the whole dating thing and went straight into settled. I wanted to change that. “Can this be it?”
Finally, he turned, stared at me in a way that was almost a wolf challenge—asking for a fight or offering to give one. Then, he gave a sly half smile.
“Are you asking me out?” he said.
“Yeah, I am.”
“Well, okay then.”
I turned my gaze to the ceiling, as if that would tell me how his brain worked. “You’re really obnoxious, you know that?”
He was still grinning when he turned back to his desk.