"Just a minute." Cora Lee rushed to a table where a lady Vamp sat, chatting with a few male customers. "Pamela! You'll never guess who that fella is over there."
Was Cora Lee trying to set him up with Lady Pamela Smythe-Worthing? No. Hell, no. The Regency-era viscount-ess from Britain had also been in Roman's harem, and she'd spent fifty years sneering down her nose at him.
Lady Pamela stood and examined him. Her frilly Regency gown was gone. She'd completely embraced the modern age with a red miniskirt and black leather camisole.
"Oh dear, look at that shabby old kilt." Lady Pamela's snooty accent was still the same. "He must be another barbarian from Scotland. Doesn't anyone from that dreadful country die a natural death anymore?"
Ian arched a brow. She had to know he could hear her.
Cora Lee grinned. "Pamela, that's Ian!"
Pamela's eyes widened. "Surely you jest. I shall be quite overset if you're toying with me."
"It is Ian," Cora Lee insisted. "He grew a bunch."
"He certainly did." Pamela's gaze raked over him. "I must say, this brings to mind a question of the utmost importance."
"You mean how did it happen?" Cora Lee guessed. "He told me it was something he—"
"No." Pamela waved a dismissive hand. "The question is" — she leaned close to Cora Lee—"is he a virgin?"
"Land sakes!" Cora Lee giggled. "He did say he wants to get laid."
"Hmm." Pamela tapped a finger against her cheek as she considered. "A five-hundred-year-old virgin. This could be interesting."
Bugger. Leave it to Lady Pamela to make him feel like a circus freak. Ian turned his back to her and strode toward Vanda's office.
"Whoa there!" Cora Lee zipped over at vampire speed and blocked the door. "Vanda gets all riled up if we interrupt her while she's busy."
"Indeed." Lady Pamela sauntered over. "Vanda is the brains behind this business." She smoothed back her long blonde hair. "We're the beauty."
"We sure are." Cora Lee fluttered her eyelashes.
"Congratulations," Ian grumbled. Did the two ladies realize they'd just admitted to being brainless? He silently raised the attribute of intelligence on his wish list from number four to number three.
Cora Lee cracked the door and peeked in. "Woohoo, Vanda! There's someone here to see you."
"It had better be a sexy new dancer," Vanda growled. "Business is down this month."
"I say, capital idea!" Pamela gave Ian a sly grin.
He strode into the office.
Vanda glanced away from her computer screen. "Nice costume. Let's see what you've got under the kilt."
"Oh goody!" Cora Lee clapped her hands together.
"Indeed." Pamela shut the door behind them.
"I'm no' exposing myself." Ian crossed his arms, frowning. "And this is no' a costume."
"Oh, the girls will love that accent." Vanda stood as she looked him over. She was wearing her usual purple catsuit with a black whip around the waist. "You'll need a plaid thong to match your kilt."
"With a red tassel on the end," Cora Lee added.
"Smashing," Pamela murmured.
"Could you make the tassel twirl?" Vanda circled a forefinger in the air.
What the hell? Ian stepped toward her. "Vanda—"
"Come now, we're embarrassing the poor chap." Pamela sidled up to Vanda and whispered, "We think he's a virgin."
He glared at them. "Vanda, do ye no' recognize me?"
She smirked. "Honey, if I'd met you before, you wouldn't be a virgin."
Pamela laughed. "Now which one of us will have the honor of deflowering him?"
"We could draw straws," Cora Lee suggested.
"I'm no' sleeping with any of you," Ian growled. "Vanda, it's me, Ian."
"What?" Vanda blinked, then she narrowed her eyes. "No, I don't think so."
"Bloody hell." He ran a hand through his long hair and accidentally pulled a strand loose from the tied leather strip in the back. "I thought ye might cut my hair like ye used to. And I–I need to talk."
"Ian?" Vanda walked up to him, looking at him closely. "It's really you? What happened?"
"I know!" Cora Lee waved a hand in the air. "He ate something."
"You ate something?" Vanda gave him a dubious look.
"He could eat me," Lady Pamela murmured, casting him a seductive look from under her eyelashes.