No. I won't ruin this evening any more than I have to. I put on a bright smile. "You all look pretty spiffy yourselves."

My mother is wearing a cream-colored silk pantsuit with a blouse of warm rose. Dad is wearing Hugo Boss, charcoal coat and slacks, white shirt, burgundy tie. Trish is lovely in dark slacks and a hand-knitted rainbow-hued angora sweater.

I'm not the only one who went all out for the evening.

Mom and Dad grin at the compliment; Trish touches the collar of her sweater as if self-conscious. "You don't think this sweater makes me look, you know, weird?"

I laugh. Typical teenager. "Why would you think it makes you look weird?"

"Well, it's bright."

"Bright is good. Bright is happiness and excitement. You three could light the city of San Diego tonight with your luminescence."

Trish giggles.

"You should be happy, too." Mom reaches over and touches my hand. Then she takes it in both of her own and rubs gently. "You are so cold, Anna. Do you feel all right?"

c.r.a.p. I didn't move fast enough. I forget at times to avoid skin contact. I pat her hands with my left and gently pull my right from her grasp. I fold my hands on my lap and nod. "I'm fine."

She doesn't look as if she believes me, but she picks up the thread of her conversation and adds, "This is a new beginning for all of us."

There. No possible way I could misinterpret that. I have to say something. I open my mouth, but the maitre d' chooses that moment to announce that our table is ready. I've been granted another reprieve, however brief, to keep from breaking their hearts. That's the big break. The small one will come when I tell them that I'm leaving before the first course.

We take our seats at the table, the server places our napkins in our laps (Trish giggles unpretentiously and charmingly at that, too), and the sommelier approaches with a wine list. Dad waves it away and asks about champagne choices. He's given several that sound foreign and expensive. Not surprisingly, Dad orders real champagne, not a domestic clone. The sommelier bows away with a smile of approval and snaps his fingers for the servers to begin their preorder hovering with the rituals of water pouring, silverware straightening and candle lighting.

Trish watches it all with the curiosity and delight of one who has spent the better part of her life dining at McDonald's. It's a joy to see. I can only imagine her reactions to the marvels awaiting her in France. I'm struck by sudden and intense sadness that I will not be there to share in her journey of discovery.

If there is a journey of discovery. I'm still concerned that this is some elaborate hoax and when it comes to light, the disappointment will be as bitter as the excitement now is sweet.

"Anna?"

Mom's voice pulls me back.

"What's wrong? You have the strangest look on your face, and you're wringing that napkin like it's someone's neck."

Not a bad a.n.a.logy. If this does turn out to be a hoax.

I refold the napkin, place it beside my plate and try to smile. "Just thinking of work."

"Work?" Mom echoes. "Why would you be thinking of work tonight?"

G.o.d. I steel myself to say it. "I'm really sorry, but I'm not going to be able to stay for dinner."

Three voices say, "Why not?"

"It's a job. David and I are heading up the coast to Del Mar. There's a guy we've been trying to grab and this is our chance. He's been seen hanging around a local watering hole." I make a sweeping gesture with my hand. "That's why this getup."

Trish leans forward eagerly. "Could I go with you? I'd love to watch you in action."

Mom and Dad both make gasping noises. Dad says, "I'm afraid that's not a good idea, is it, Anna?"

Before I can answer, Mom says, "Absolutely not, young lady." She half turns in her seat so that we're eye to eye. She's angry. Her voice quakes with it. "I can't believe you're leaving us tonight of all nights. This is a family celebration. You aren't going to need that job much longer. The sooner you tell your partner you're quitting, the sooner he can find a replacement. Call him. Tell him something came up and you can't make it."

Her vehemence catches me off guard. Suddenly I'm plunged right back to the time before Trish when we were never able to get together as a family without the inappropriateness of my work becoming a hot topic of conversation. Saving Trish masked it for a while, but I didn't realize until this moment how close to the surface the acrimony still boils.

Trish is stirring in her chair. She's gone pale, her expression anxious, as if afraid that Mom's displeasure will be turned on her. That the negative turn the evening has taken is somehow her fault.

Mom sees it, too, and reaches over to take Trish's hand. "I'm sorry, honey. Anna and her Dad and I should discuss this in private.

I have no right to ruin our evening."

She doesn't look at me as she adds, "Well, if you must go, Anna. We're sorry you're not going to share in what promises to be a wonderful meal. There'll be plenty of family time when we're in France, though."

Dad stands up and comes to hold my chair for me as I prepare to leave the table. He squeezes my shoulder and kisses my cheek.

"Come by the house tomorrow. We'll talk. We have plans to make."

The lump in my throat prevents me from answering. I smile at Trish and she looks back with eyes wide and wet. I manage to croak, "I'll see you tomorrow, Trish. Promise."

Mom doesn't acknowledge my leaving. Dad resumes his place at the table. Trish follows me with her eyes.

There's a fissure, cold and brittle as ice, forming in my chest. It expands until my heart aches from the pressure.

I shouldn't have worried so much about breaking their hearts. I should have worried more about breaking my own.

CHAPTER 26.

I SPOT WILLIAMS' TAIL FOR THE FIRST TIME WHEN I leave Mister A's.

The guy is seated at a table not far from ours. He has a forkful of salad halfway to his mouth when I sweep past him. I doubt I'd have noticed him at all except that in one second, he's arisen, pulled some money out of a pocket and slammed it down on the table before whirling after me.

His action pushes the sadness out of my head, at least for the moment, and jump-starts my internal warning system. Every probe I send out, though, returns nothing. The guy's human.

The concerned server follows after him, inquiring if anything was wrong and asking if he'd like his dinner boxed to take home.

He answers an abrupt "no" to each question.

To make it more embarra.s.sing for him, when the elevator appears, the outside gla.s.s elevator to the parking lot, he has no choice but to step in with me.

Once the doors close, I can't help it. I laugh out loud.

This isn't the first time that Williams has had a mortal tailing me. It's not that surprising. If the guy was good (and up until now, he has been), there'd be no telltale vibe for me to pick up on. A vampire can shut down the conduit that prevents thought transference, but there's always the chance that distraction can cause the wall to slip. I'd be able to detect another vampire the second it did.

Other supernaturals, like shape-shifters, project telepathic signatures that are stronger still.

So, here I am, in the elevator with the mortal who is supposed to be shadowing me, laughing like a crazy woman.

To his credit, he laughs, too."I figured you'd be spending the evening with your family," he says. "Guess I blew it."

"I guess you did." I turn and hold out my hand. "I'm Anna. You know that, though, don't you?"

He takes my hand. His grip is firm and dry and warm as only a mortal's can be. He doesn't pull his hand back or comment on the fact that mine is as firm, but cold as death.

He knows that I'm a vampire.

"Tom," he says in reply. "Well, Anna, it's been a pleasure. I imagine I'll be replaced as soon as I tell Williams how I botched it tonight."

I watch his reflection in the gla.s.s of the elevator. He's tall, stands at ease, his broad shoulders filling out the well-tailored coat he's wearing. His face is strong featured without being arrogant. Lined, as if he's spent a good deal of time in the sun. The expression reflected in his dark eyes and gently smiling mouth is one of quiet strength touched with amus.e.m.e.nt. He senses that I'm checking him out though he can't see me in the gla.s.s.

"Are you a private detective?"

He nods.

"How do you know Williams?"

"I used to be a cop."

I let a moment go by while I weigh my options. What's that old saying about the devil you know being better than the one you don't?

"Why don't we make a deal."

He raises an eyebrow. "What kind of deal?"

"I think we should let things stand. I won't tell Williams if you don't."

"Yeah? How is that going to work?"

I shrug. "The same way it's been working. I'll go about my business and you go about yours. I'll pretend this never happened."

He chuckles. "You're not going to try to lose me the first chance you get?"

"Why should I? You're supposed to watch me, right? Not interfere?"

He lifts one shoulder. "My instructions are to keep you in sight. Report who you meet with. I figured it was some kind of family thing. Williams' family since it came from him."

The way he says it makes me wonder what family he's referring to. Williams is a vampire married to a mortal. That this man knows about vampires means that Williams must trust him. Maybe Tom is a relative of his mortal wife.

The elevator stops. We step into the cool night air and are greeted by the valet. He takes both our tickets.

"May as well wait together for our cars," Tom says.

"Does that mean we have a deal?"

He smiles. "Care to tell me where you're headed from here?"

I look up at him, turning up my own smile a notch. "Now what fun would that be? Let's see how good you really are."

CHAPTER 27.

MY CAR ARRIVES BEFORE TOM'S AND I THROW him a two-finger salute as I pull away. He looks chagrined that I'm getting the jump on him. Too bad. He can always call Williams, make up a story about losing me. I have no doubt Williams knows where I'm headed tonight. He and Culebra and Frey seem to make my business their own.

It's eight forty-five, already too late to make it to Avery's by nine. Impatience nips at me, but there's one more thing to do. I circle the block, come back and park a block away from the restaurant. When Tom pulls out in his big, black Escalade, I take note.

I know what kind of car to keep a watch for now.

He turns in the same direction I did moments before. The direction that takes him away from me.

Finally, I'm free.

Angst over what happened with my family, surprise at identifying Williams' tail, irritation at allowing myself to be drawn into Gloria's drama-everything is swept from my thoughts. Only anxiety, excitement and antic.i.p.ation remain, making me feel like a teenager on a first date.

No, not exactly a first date.

Like the first time a girl knows she's going to sleep with someone and she's breathless with wanting.

Wanting it to be perfect.

Wanting not to be found lacking.

Jesus.

Sandra is female.

Doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter.

Concentrate on something else. Concentrate on driving.There's not much traffic on the highway to take my mind off Sandra. I take 5 North from downtown and head toward La Jolla, doing my best to ignore the tight coil of uneasiness unraveling along with my self-confidence.

Anxiety over Sandra is giving way to the realization that I'm soon going to be setting foot in a house that holds dreadful memories.

David almost died there, at the hands of a man who spun an intricate web of desire and intrigue. For a time, I was Avery's willing pupil, believing that he loved me and was honestly trying to help me understand my new nature. He was a doctor of medicine, devoted to the care of mortals. I thought he understood how important it was that I stay close to my human family.

Truth was, he did everything to sever those ties. He burnt down my home and kidnapped my partner, torturing him under the same roof where he made love to me. He played an elaborate charade, offering his help to find David when in reality he threw up one roadblock after another. He manipulated and controlled me.

And I let him.