Ian turned and spotted the gleam of a Highland dagger, held by a large Scotsman by the kitchen door. "Dougal?"

"Aye." Dougal Kincaid flipped on the light switch. No recognition lit his eyes till his gaze dropped to Ian's kilt. "Is that you, Ian?"

"Aye, it's me. Do ye want to see my ID card?"

"Nay." Dougal smiled as he sheathed his weapon beneath a knee sock. "I recognize yer plaid more than yer face. We dinna expect ye back for another week."

"I was bored." Lonely was more accurate, though Ian didn't want to admit it. "How's everything been?"

"Fairly quiet." Dougal retrieved a bottle of synthetic blood from the refrigerator, then popped it into the microwave. "Are ye coming back to work then?"

"No. I still have a week of vacation." A week when he could concentrate on his search for the perfect mate.

Dougal tilted his head as he studied Ian. "I'd heard ye'd gotten older, but 'tis amazing how different ye look."

"Aye, I can hardly recognize myself." Ian had gazed for five minutes at the photos Vanda had taken. And it wasn't just his face that was different. His body had grown so quickly, he'd barely had time to adjust. He occasionally knocked his hand against things when he overreached with his longer arms, and sometimes he tripped over his bigger, size thirteen feet.

The microwave beeped, and Dougal removed his bedtime snack. "We just had a martial arts practice downstairs." He guzzled down some blood. "Ye should have seen it. Our new guard knocked Phineas off his arse."

"Really?" Ian was impressed. It wasn't often that a mortal could defeat a Vamp in hand-to-hand combat.

Dougal headed out the door. "I'd better get to my shower before the sun rises."

The sun was nearing the horizon. Ian could already feel his metabolism dropping. He followed Dougal down the back stairs to the guardroom in the basement. The pool table had been shoved to the far wall by the sofa to create a large open space for their practice sessions.

Ian picked up a chair that had been knocked over and noticed one of the legs was broken. "That must have been one hell of a fight."

"Aye. A bit embarrassing for Phineas, though." Dougal finished his bottle as he strolled into the dormitory next door. A bathroom door banged shut.

Ian wandered into the dormitory, expecting to see Phineas McKinney, but the young black Vamp wasn't there. The sound of rushing water emanated from both bathrooms, so he was probably taking a shower like Dougal. A lot of Vamps liked to be clean before succumbing to death-sleep. It helped them feel less like a dead, rotting corpse.

The dormitory was nearly empty now. Ian remembered a time when there'd been ten coffins in the room, one for each Vamp guard to sleep in. Most of the Vamps were gone now, transferred to Eastern Europe to hunt for Casimir.

The floors upstairs were just as vacant. At one time, there'd been Roman, ten harem ladies, and numerous visiting Vamps. It had been an exciting place. But now everyone had moved on.

Roman lived with his mortal wife and child in White Plains, with Connor serving as their bodyguard. The Vamp guards who lived here at Roman's townhouse worked security at Romatech Industries, where synthetic blood and Vampire Fusion Cuisine were manufactured. Connor was head of security there, but he planned to pass the title to Ian so he could concentrate solely on Roman and his family's safety.

Ian was delighted with his upcoming promotion, but annoyed that it hadn't happened until now when he looked older. He'd started working for MacKay Security and Investigation in 1955, and he'd never made it past second-in-command. Even his best friends had found it difficult to treat him as an adult when he had looked fifteen.

He pulled his knitted jumper over his head and tossed it into the laundry hamper. He sauntered over to the coffin he'd slept in for more than fifty years. The pillow and blanket boasted the red and green MacPhie tartan, the same as his kilt. He removed his sporran and the knife from his sock, then deposited them in the small dresser by his coffin. He kicked off his shoes, then halted with a sudden thought. He'd grown five inches.

Bugger. He'd outgrown his coffin.

He climbed inside, and sure enough, his feet hung over the end. There was only one other coffin in the dorm, and it belonged to Dougal. The twin bed was for Phineas. All the other beds were upstairs.

Well, why not? In a few weeks Ian would be in charge here as well as Romatech. He could sleep anywhere he wanted. He strode from the dormitory and up the stairs.

Usually he had a snack before bed, but tonight he was full of Bleer. Vanda had joined him at the bar around four A.M. to announce his profile was complete, and he was officially posted on the Single in the City dating service.

A third glass of Bleer had boosted his confidence. He'd talked to a few ladies, and they'd agreed to meet him at the club tomorrow night.

When he reached the ground floor, the alarm went off. He froze a second, then realized what was happening. An intruder! And dammit, his reaction was too slow. He shouldn't have had that fourth glass of Bleer.

He ran into the parlor. Empty. He swiveled, tripped over his feet, and stumbled to the keypad by the front door. He turned off the alarm, so he could hear. He caught a slight noise, emanating from the library. He eased toward the entrance.

A gust of cold air from the open window stirred the curtains. The person who'd opened that window had triggered the alarm, and that person was still in the room.

Female. And mortal. The scent of her blood swirled around him, caressing his skin like the touch of a lover. She was his favorite flavor--Type AB positive.

Thank God Roman had invented synthetic blood in 1987, so Ian and other Vamps were no longer slaves to bloodlust. Even so, his body reacted with the same primeval instinct that had ruled him since his transformation in 1542. His gums tingled. He had enough years of experience to know how to control himself, but it was taking some extra effort tonight. That fifth glass of Bleer had been a bad idea.

Her back was to him as she studied the bookshelves on the far wall. No doubt she was planning to steal the rarest books in Roman's collection. The library contained everything from medieval tomes hand-scribed by monks to first print editions from the nineteenth century.

She hadn't heard him arrive in his stocking feet. And she hadn't heard the alarm since it was set at a frequency only Vamps and dogs could hear. And she certainly didn't sense the reaction she'd ignited in him.

He felt ten degrees hotter in spite of the cold December air that drifted through the open window and over his white undershirt. The lamp between the two wingback chairs was turned on low, and it cast a golden glow across the room to outline her form with a shimmering aura.

She made a stunning cat burglar, dressed entirely in black spandex that molded to her waist and sweetly curved hips. Her golden hair hung in a ponytail down her back. The ends swished gently across her shoulder blades as she moved her head from side to side, scanning the bookshelf.

She stepped to the side, silent in her black socks. She must have left her shoes outside the window, thinking she'd move more quietly without them. He noted her slim ankles, then let his gaze wander back up to golden hair. He would have to be careful capturing her. Like any Vamp, he had super strength, and she looked a bit fragile.

He moved silently past the wingback chairs to the window. It made a swooshing sound as he shut it.

With a gasp, she turned toward him. Her eyes widened. Eyes green as the hills surrounding his home in Scotland.

A surge of desire left him speechless for a moment. She seemed equally speechless. No doubt she was busily contemplating an escape route.

He moved slowly toward her. "Ye willna escape through the window. And ye canna reach the door before me."

She stepped back. "Who are you? Do you live here?"

"I'll be asking the questions, once I have ye restrained." He could hear her heart beating faster. Her face remained expressionless, except for her eyes. They flashed with defiance. They were beautiful.

She plucked a heavy book off a nearby shelf. "Did you come here to test my abilities?"

An odd question. Was he misinterpreting the situation? "Who--" He dodged to the side when she suddenly hurled the book at his face. Bugger, he'd suffered too much to get his older, more manly face, and she'd nearly smacked it.

The book flew past him and knocked over the lamp. The light flickered and went out. With his superior vision, he could see her dark form running for the door.

He zoomed after her. Just before he could grab her, she spun and landed a kick against his chest. He stumbled back. Damn, she was stronger than he'd thought. And he'd suffered too much to get his broader, more manly chest.

She advanced with a series of punches and kicks, and he blocked them all. With a desperate move, she aimed a kick at his groin. Dammit, he'd suffered too much to get his bigger, more manly balls. He jumped back, but her toes caught the hem of his kilt. Without his sporran to weigh the kilt down, it flew up past his waist.

Her gaze flitted south and stuck. Her mouth fell open. Aye, those twelve years of growth had been kind. He lunged forward and slammed her onto the carpet. She punched at him, so he caught her wrists and pinned her to the floor.

She twisted, attempting to knee him. With a growl, he blocked her with his own knee. Then slowly he lowered himself on top of her to keep her still. Her body was gloriously hot, flushed with blood and throbbing with a life force that made his body tremble with desire.

"Stop wiggling, lass." His bigger, more manly groin was reacting in an even bigger way. "Have mercy on me."

"Mercy?" She continued to wriggle beneath him. "I'm the one who's captured."

"Cease." He pressed more heavily on her.

Her eyes widened. He had no doubt she was feeling it.

Her gaze flickered down, then back to his face. "Get off. Now."

"I'm halfway there already," he muttered.

"Let me go!" She strained at his grip on her wrists.

"If I release you, ye'll knee me. And I'm rather fond of my balls."

"The feeling isn't mutual."

He smiled slowly. "Ye took a long look. Ye must have liked what ye saw."

"Ha! You made such a small impression on me, I can barely remember."

He chuckled. She was as quick mentally as she was physically.

She looked at him curiously. "You smell like beer."

"I've had a few." He noted her dubious look. "Okay, more than a few, but I was still able to beat you."

"If you drink beer, then that means you're not..."

"No' what?"

She looked at him, her eyes wide. He had a sinking feeling that she thought he was mortal. She wanted him to be mortal. And that meant she knew about Vamps.

He studied her lovely face--the high cheekbones, delicate jawline, and beguiling green eyes. Some Vamps claimed mortals had no power whatsoever. They were wrong.

Their eyes met, and he forgot to breathe. There was something hidden in those green depths. A loneliness. A wound that seemed too old for her tender age. For a moment, he felt like he was seeing a reflection of his own soul.

"Ye're no' a thief, are ye?" he whispered.

She shook her head slightly, still trapped in his gaze. Or maybe it was he who was trapped in hers. "Ian." Footsteps approached them. "Ian, what the hell are you doing?"

He dragged his gaze away from her and saw Phineas standing beside them. "What?" Phineas gave him a confused look. "Why are you beating up on Toni?"

He blinked and glanced at the woman he'd pinned to the floor. "Ye're...Toni?" Their new guard was a woman?

"You're Ian?" Disappointment flickered in her eyes before she looked away. "You're one of them."

That hurt. For centuries he'd been judged too young, and now, after all the pain he'd endured, he was still found wanting. His jaw shifted as he ground his teeth. "Ye have something against Vamps?"

Her eyes flared with anger. "Yes. I tend to get really pissed when they attack me."

"She's got a point, bro," Phineas muttered as he adjusted the tie around his purple satin bathrobe.

"You shouldn't attack her. She's our friend."

Ian moved his weight off her. "Friendship is earned."

She scooted away from him and sat up. "I'm not here to be your friend. I'm your guard. That's all."

He stared at her. Connor had hired a woman to guard men? This was unheard of in the vampire world. A mortal woman wouldn't have the strength...unless she was a shifter like Phil and Howard. "Are ye--" How could he put this when shape shifters were a secret? "Do ye change a bit at a certain time of the month?"

She gave him an incredulous look. "Are you asking me if I get PMS? Are you serious?"

"Nay! I dinna mean--" Ian stopped, interrupted by Phineas's laughter.

"I know what you're thinking, man, but she's normal."

"Normal?" She glared at Phineas. "I nailed your ass earlier this evening."

Phineas held up his hands in surrender. "Don't hurt me, sweetness. You're a strong, beautiful hunk of woman."

She inclined her head. "Thank you."

"Connor told me on the phone that he'd hired a Tony," Ian muttered. "I thought ye would be a man."

Her eyes narrowed. "I thought you would be somewhat intelligent."

"Snap!" Phineas grinned. "She got you good, bro."

Ian scowled. "It was perfectly logical to assume Tony was a man's name."

She lifted her chin. "Is it logical to attack people without talking to them first?"