Toni jerked back to her senses. Good grief, how long had she and Ian stared at each other? He moved back and folded his arms across his chest.
Carlos sauntered into the living room and gasped. "What are you doing, girl? You haven't changed clothes!"
"Excuse me?"
"You can't go to a nightclub like that." Carlos huffed. "Come on, let's get you ready." He grabbed her arm and dragged her toward her bedroom. "Make yourself comfortable, Ian. We'll just be a moment."
Ian looked confused. "Ye're…dressing her?"
"Don't worry. I'll make sure she looks fabulous." Carlos shoved her into the bedroom and shut the door. Then he rushed over to her closet. "You need to show some skin. How about this?" He pulled out a short denim skirt.
"I'll freeze my tail off."
"You're wearing it." Carlos tossed it on the bed, then returned to the closet. "You have to wear this vest. I just love it." He dropped the black leather vest on the bed.
"I'll need a shirt underneath."
"Must you?" Carlos groaned. "If you insist." He grabbed a sleeveless white turtleneck top. "Now you'll need some black boots, more makeup, and God forbid you wear that ponytail."
"You think this club will help?" she whispered.
"Yes, and I have something for you." Carlos pulled something small and metallic from his pants pocket. He attached it to her vest. "It'll send images back to me."
It looked like a spy camera. "Are you sure you're an anthropology student?"
He chuckled. "Some of the jungle tribes I've come across don't like the bigger cameras. They get very nervous when they see themselves shrunk down inside a little box. So I've learned it's better to record them this way."
"Oh." She supposed that made sense.
"You're all set." Carlos patted her shoulder. "Good luck."
Ian listened as he sat on the love seat, but whenever they whispered, he caught only a word or two. Something about nervous jungle tribes? What the hell was Carlos talking about? And why should he get to watch Toni dress? Just how close was he to Toni? The man had introduced himself as only a next-door neighbor.
A slight sound drew his attention. Carlos had exited Toni's room, closing the door with a click. He hunched over and shut his eyes, his brow furrowed. Ian opened his mouth to ask what was wrong when Carlos suddenly straightened.
He pressed a hand against his chest. "I swear by all that is holy, if I ever find another scrunchie in this apartment, I will hack it to pieces with a meat cleaver."
Ian wasn't sure what a scrunchie was, but it sounded ominous. "Is Toni all right?"
"Yes. Thank God I was there to save her. You'll just love the outfit I picked out. And I gave her a new do."
A new what? Ian was confused.
"I insisted she wear more makeup." Carlos waved a hand to emphasize his words. "But she's such a natural beauty, she hardly needs any at all. Don't you just hate that?"
Were they speaking the same language? "She's verra pretty."
"She's a nice girl." Carlos's face grew grim. "I'll be very upset if you hurt her."
Now this he understood. "I would never harm her." Ian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "How long have ye known her?"
"Two years. She and Sabrina are like sisters to me."
"Who's Sabrina?"
"Oh dear, I left a quesadilla in the oven. See you later, Ian." Carlos dashed to the kitchen, scooted through the kitchen window, then shut it behind him.
There was something definitely odd about that man. His scent was off, and his behavior inconsistent. There was a click of stiletto heels against the wooden floor, and Ian's attention snapped back to the bedroom door.
"I'm ready," Toni announced.
He gulped. His brain quickly registered luscious red-painted lips, loose silken hair, a clingy knit top, a tiny skirt, trim golden thighs, and high-heeled black boots. He blinked. She was still there, still stunning.
She walked toward him, her hips swaying just enough to hypnotize. "Will this be okay for your club?"
"Aye," he croaked. Thank God the Horny Devils was mostly full of females. But even a female Vamp could be tempted by Toni. "Ye'd better stay close to me."
"How can I?" She leaned over the coffee table to gather her belongings, and her knit top molded tightly against her breasts. "Don't you have three dates?"
"Aye." Her bra must be too tight, for he could swear she was spilling out of it. "They're lovely handfuls."