"I'll help," Lissianna offered. "He's probably around here somewhere. I—"
"No, no. This is your night off," Father Joseph said, then frowned. "Besides, you aren't wearing a coat. What are you doing out here without a coat?"
"Oh." Lissianna's gaze slid to the garbage bins as a thump sounded behind them. A quick probe of Dwayne's thoughts told her that he'd thumped his head against the bin as he leaned against it. Idiot. She turned back to find Father Joseph peering toward the containers and spoke quickly to distract him. "I forgot something in my cousin's car."
It was a bald-faced lie, and Lissianna sincerely hoped the man hadn't noticed where exactly she'd come from, but would think she'd been in the little black Mazda parked beside the bins. Not wanting to lie any more than necessary, she rubbed her arms, and added, "Gosh you're right though, it is cold out here."
"Yes." He peered at her with concern. "You'd best go back inside."
Nodding, Lissianna wished him good night and made her escape. She hurried across the parking lot, then around the corner of the bar, only slowing once she stepped inside the loud and crowded bar.
Thomas was nowhere in sight, but—thanks to the fuchsia-tinted tips of her ebony hair—Lissianna didn't have any trouble spotting Mirabeau at the bar with Jeanne.
"Well, you look…" Mirabeau hesitated as Lissianna reached them, then finally finished with, "the same. What happened?"
"Anemic." She spat the word with annoyance.
"But he looked so healthy," Jeanne protested.
"Padded shoulders and bottled tan," she said. "And that's not all."
"What else could there be?" Mira asked dryly.
Lissianna grimaced. "He had a cucumber down his pants."
Jeanne gave a disbelieving giggle, but Mirabeau groaned, and said, "It must have been a seedless English cucumber, the man looked huge."
Lissianna gaped. "You looked?"
"You didn't?" she countered.
Jeanne burst out laughing, but Lissianna just shook her head and glanced around the bar. "Where's Thomas?"
"Here."
She spun around as his hand settled on her shoulder.
"Did I hear you right? Was your Romeo sporting a cucumber down his pants?" he asked with amusement, giving her shoulder an affectionate squeeze.
Lissianna nodded with disgust. "Can you imagine?"
Thomas gave a laugh. "Actually, the sad fact is I can. First women padded their bras, now men pad their boxers." He shook his head. "What a world."
Lissianna found a reluctant smile tugging at her lips at his expression, then gave in and allowed her irritation to drop away. She wasn't really upset that Dwayne had sported a cucumber; she hadn't been interested in what was in his boxers anyway. Hell, she hadn't even really wanted to take him out for a bite. She was just annoyed at the waste of time and the fact that she'd used up more en-ergy staying warm out there than the man's weak blood had supplied. She was even hungrier than she'd been before going outside. All the outing had managed to do was whet her appetite.
"How long until we can go to Mom's?" she asked hopefully. Her cousins and Mirabeau had decided to take her out dancing before heading to the birthday party her mother was having for her. Lissianna had been pleased with the idea at the time, but that was when she'd only been hungry. Now she was ravenous and eager to get to the party and whatever offering her mother would have on hand. She'd even accept an intravenous at that point, which was saying something. Lissianna hated being fed intravenously.
"It's only a little after nine," Mirabeau announced, with a glance at her wrist watch. "Marguerite said we weren't to bring you to the party until ten."
"Hmm." Lissianna's mouth twisted with displeasure. "Do any of you know why the party starts so late?"
"Aunt Marguerite said she had to pick up something for you in the city before the party, and couldn't do it until after 9 p.m.," Thomas offered. "Then, she has to drive back too, so—" He shrugged. "—no party till ten."
"She must be picking up your gift," Mirabeau guessed.
"I don't think so," Thomas said. "She mentioned something about Lissianna and feeding. I suspect she's picking up a special dessert or something."
"A special dessert?" Jeanne asked with interest. "In the city? After nine?" Her gaze slid to Lissianna full of excitement as she suggested, "A Sweet Tooth?"
"It must be," Lissianna agreed, grinning at the prospect. She'd inherited her mother's love of sweets and nothing satisfied it like a Sweet Tooth, which was how they re ferred to undiagnosed diabetics who ran around with dangerously high blood sugar levels. It was a rare treat, made rarer by the fact that afterward they always put the thought in the person's mind to call his doctor and arrange to have a blood test, thus removing one more Sweet Tooth from the menu.