“He didn’t dump me,” I said as I grabbed the fish food and fed Mr. Fish. I could see Kisten’s reflection watching me in the dark window. “He’s out of town for a few days. Gave me his key to check on everything and pick up his mail.”

“Oh.” Kisten glanced sidelong at Ivy. “A long excursion?”

Flustered, I set the fish food down and turned. “He said he was coming back,” I protested, my face tightening as I heard the ugly truth behind my words. Why would Nick say he’d be coming back unless it had occurred to him not to?

As the two vamps exchanged more silent looks, I pulled a mundane cookbook out from my spell library and set it thumping onto the island counter. I’d promised Jenks the oven tonight. “Don’t even try to pick me up on the rebound, Kisten,” I warned.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” The slow, soft tone of his voice said otherwise.

“ ’Cause you’re not capable of being half the man Nick is,” I stupidly said.

“High standards, eh?” Kisten mocked.

Ivy perched herself on the counter by my ten-gallon dissolution vat of saltwater, wrapping her arms about her knees yet still managing to look predatory while she sipped her coffee and watched Kisten play with my emotions.

Kisten glanced at her as if for permission, and I frowned. Then he stood in a sliding sound of fabric, coming to lean on the island counter across from me. His necklace swung, pulling my attention to his neck, marked with soft, almost unseen, scars. “I like action movies,” he said, and my breath came fast. I could smell the lingering aroma of leather on him under the dry scent of silk.

“So?” I said belligerently, peeved that Ivy had probably told him about Nick’s and my weekend-long stints in front of the Adrenaline channel

“So, I can make you laugh.”

I flipped to the most tattered, stain-splattered recipe in the book I’d swiped from my mom, knowing it was for sugar cookies. “So does Bozo the Clown, but I wouldn’t date him.”

Ivy licked her finger and made a tally mark in the air.

Kisten smiled to show the barest hint of fang, leaning back and clearly feeling the hit. “Let me take you out,” he said. “A platonic first date to prove Nick wasn’t anything special.”

“Oh, please,” I simpered, not believing he was stooping this low.

Grinning, Kisten turned himself into a spoiled rich boy. “If you enjoy yourself, then you admit to me that Nick was nothing special.”

I crouched to get the flour. “No,” I said when I rose to set it thumping on top of the counter.

A hurt look creased his stubbled face, put-on but still effective. “Why not?”

I glanced behind me at Ivy, silently watching. “You have money,” I said. “Anyone can show a girl a good time with enough money.”