She gave me a curious look. "And? You don't need that job. You're with me now, and what I can't provide, Noah will."

"As swell as that sounds, I'd rather not be a kept woman, or kept succubus, or whatever I am now. Besides, I like my job." It wasn't much of a lie; I did like it most of the time. There were just aspects of it I hated-like my boss. "Just because I'm undead doesn't mean I have to totally change my life."

At least I hoped it didn't mean that.

Remy smiled and put down her coffee cup. "We're not undead. We're immortal."

"I'm immortal?"

"Essentially. There are only two ways for our kind to die."

"And how is that?"

"Usually by proxy. If both of your masters die, you die."

That sounded like a crappy catch. "And what happens then?"

She lifted her shoulders in a dainty shrug and avoided eye contact. "You cease to exist on this plane."

Gee. "Do I still exist in another plane?"

Another vague shrug. "I suppose. It's not something our kind likes to talk about."

I ignored the feeling of dread in my stomach. I wouldn't think about that now; I'd think about that later.

I shoved the phone under her nose again. "Regardless, I need you to call in to work for me." I wasn't budging on this. "Do you know how hard a good museum job is to come by in this city? And my boss will smell a scam a mile away, so you need to, like, be my doctor or something. Tell her I have something harmless, okay?" I took the phone from her fingers and dialed the number before she could protest.

Remy grinned at me and held the phone up to her ear, waiting. I assume someone picked up on the other end, for Remy cleared her throat and began in a businesslike tone, "Yes, I should like to speak to ..." She paused to look at me.

"Ms. Cliver, museum director."

"A Ms. Cliver, if you please. She would be the supervisor of a Ms. Jacqueline Brighton." Gone was the playful, teasing Remy voice. In its place was a clipped British accent. She flashed me a wink while we waited. "Yes, Ms. Cliver? This is Dr. Summore. Jacqueline Brighton is a patient of mine, and she wanted me to let you know that she is having an adverse reaction to the anesthesia she received. I'm afraid we cannot release her from the hospital for several more days. She will remain under my care until then."

There was a pause in the conversation and Remy nodded, making a few "mm-hmm" noises of agreement. "It was a surgical procedure of a personal nature." Another pause. "Breast augmentation."

I gasped and tried to snatch the phone away from her. Remy sidestepped me easily and continued to talk into the phone. "I understand, Ms. Cliver," she responded, looking me straight in the eye and trying not to laugh. "Yes, I will tell her when she recovers consciousness. Yes, yes, of course. Good day to you." She snapped the phone shut with a smug smile and handed it back to me. "All taken care of."

"What are you thinking?" I exploded. "My boss can't think I'm skipping work for a boob job!"

"If it makes you feel any better, she said she wasn't surprised. Besides, how else do you plan on explaining the new, improved you?"

As she spoke, a small elderly woman in an apron and powder-blue dress entered the kitchen and my protest died in my throat as I watched her prepare a plate of bacon, eggs, and sausage for Remy.

My stomach rumbled at the sight. Remy picked up a piece of bacon and nibbled on the end. "You hungry?"

"We just ate not too long ago." But I was was hungry. hungry.

"Your metabolism's different now that you're immortal." She leaned in, whispering, "Besides, if I have the servants cook three meals a day for me, they think I'm normal."

"You have servants?"

Her brows creased together. "Uh, yeah. You didn't think I was the housework type, did you?"

Well, no. I leaned in, trying to keep my voice low. "But what about the whole undead thing? The vampires?"

She rolled her eyes and took another bite of bacon. I was tempted to steal it off her plate; it smelled amazing and I was starving. "First of all," she said, "quit saying that we're undead. It makes me think of zombies. Second of all, no vamps or any other weirdos can come here. I'm warded, remember? The best witches in town crawled all over this place. Priests too, so stop worrying about that part. Third of all, it's not like I do anything unusual except have a few male guests now and then." She shrugged once again. "Ethel just thinks I'm a bit of a loose woman." Remy took another bite of bacon and beamed at me. "So do you want breakfast?"

Of course, I did. I turned to Ethel. "I'll have what she's having, please."

Remy grinned at me. "Well, well, aren't we proper and polite? I bet you turned in your homework on time and made straight A's through school."

I ignored her and poured myself a cup of coffee.

Remy wouldn't be deterred. "Any boyfriends? Or did dating interfere with work? And how about sex partners? I'd be guessing fewer than three."

She'd be guessing two too many, if you didn't count Noah, but I wasn't letting her know that. I returned her ambiguous shrug and dug into the food Ethel placed in front of me.

"Oh, come on. Are you still mad about the job thing?" Remy gave me an incredulous look.

"I'm a little mad, yeah," I found myself saying. "Do you know how hard it is to find a decent docent position in this city?"

"A decent what?"

"A docent. docent. Museum tour guide. It's a good job." Museum tour guide. It's a good job."

Remy's bright blue eyes looked over-bright in her honey-colored face. "Sounds boring as all hell. Don't worry, I imagine you'll still have a job in a few days-which gives you plenty of time to figure out what your situation is."

I stirred four cubes of sugar and some creamer into my coffee and slurped it. Delicious. "Uh, situation? What do you mean, other than the whole succubus thing?"

Remy polished off her breakfast with a few quick bites. "Well, you've got a lot of things on your plate right now: first and foremost being the fact that someone took the time to drain you dry and then left you in Noah's path. It could have been coincidence, but I'm not a big believer in that sort of thing. That means the vamps have an agenda, and we need them to make the first move so we can figure out what they're up to. Not to mention I'm still expecting one of the others to make an appearance. They usually do."

I took a bite of the most blissfully crisp bacon in my life and sighed with delight. As I ate a few more slices, Remy continued to stare at me. "Oh," I said, realizing she was waiting for me to respond. I had to think back to what she had said. "What 'others' do you mean?"

"Angels and the like. If we're unlucky, a demon or two."

I choked on my bacon. "Do we have to see all those?"

"I'm hoping not, but you never know-especially with a new succubus. You're like an ever-flowing goody bag to them, so they're drawn to our kind."

I wrinkled my nose at her. "So in other words, I'm now catnip to the scum of the world?"

"Scum of the Heavens is more like it." Remy jumped up and grabbed my plate as I was buttering a biscuit. "Come on, we've got to leave soon if we don't want to be late."

I crammed the biscuit into my mouth and watched longingly as she removed my plate. "Why is it," I muttered around a mouthful of food, "that we can't be late to your your job? My boss thought I was out getting my boobs done." job? My boss thought I was out getting my boobs done."

Remy winked. "Trust me, all right?"

I sulked. "I hate it when you say that."

"That's why I say it. Now go and get dressed like a good little succubus."

I slammed out of my seat. "Fine. But we'd better be making a doughnut run on the way, or someone's going to be cranky."

Remy laughed as I trotted upstairs.

Since I didn't know what Remy did for a living, I didn't know what I should wear. Since she was dragging me against my will, I opted for casual and slid into the hot pink Juicy sweatsuit we'd picked up yesterday. It was comfortable, hugged my new body like a second skin, and bold printing across the fanny pronounced my ass was "Juicy" indeed. With my new looks and my new friend, it felt more like I was playing a role than being myself, and I decided to dress for the part. I stepped into some matching sneaker pumps and grabbed my purse.

Remy met me at the bottom of the staircase. I was relieved to see she was wearing something similar, except her jumpsuit was a dark blue and she wore a shirt under it that had a pink star across the chest. "Let's get going, shall we?"

She drove, naturally. I didn't own a car, and Remy didn't seem like the public transportation type. I had to admit that I didn't mind riding around in the posh little BMW.

The drive downtown was relatively short. Perhaps because it was so early in the morning, but the traffic was clear as could be. Remy was as wide awake as me, and since neither of us had slept in days, I supposed that the not-sleeping thing had some truth in it.

We pulled up in front of a nondescript building on the corner of Sixth and Main, in the business district. The windows were clean, the shades open, and I could see people moving around inside what seemed to be a busy office. Surprised, I turned to Remy. "You work in a corporate office?"

"Not exactly." She winked at me and slid out of the car.

The sight of two beautiful women walking into the office didn't cause even one head to turn. It bugged me; I knew how damn good I looked. But the suits sat in their desks, answered their phones, and ignored us. Bizarre.

Remy waved at the receptionist as she walked to one of the back rooms. "We're heading for the studio."

I followed close behind her, curious. "Is that why you looked so familiar to me? Are you an actress?"

"Something along those lines, yeah." She gave me a very blue-eyed look and I realized that Remy would need to feed her Itch, and soon, or we could have some problems.

She pushed through the double doors ahead of me and was immediately greeted by a man with a headset over his ear. "Remy baby, how are you?"

"Good morning, James. I'm lovely. How are you?" She gave him a kiss on the cheek, her hand sliding into his. "Is everything ready for the shoot?"

"Ready as they'll ever be." He gestured to the set in front of us, which looked like a bedroom in the final stages of preparation. Stage hands rushed everywhere, fluffing pillows and straightening the covers, and securing microphones in out-of-the-way locations. I watched with interest, wondering what they were taping. Soaps, maybe?

"Your costar's in his dressing room. I'll get him if you like, and we can begin whenever." He turned toward me and gave a low whistle of appreciation. "Who's your friend? Redheads are in right now."

Flattered, I gave him a faint smile and looked to Remy. She beamed and looped her arm through his, grinning. "This is my friend Jackie. She's a museum dough-spend."

"Docent," I corrected, offering James my hand, smiling graciously. "At least, if I still have my job."

"They'd be fools to fire you," he whispered against my hand, raising it to kiss. "Let me know if you'd ever like a job in the industry."

"The industry?"

Remy shook her head at me. "Trust me when I say I don't think it'd be your thing."

At first I bristled, but James's attention was definitely riveted on particular parts of my appendage. I extracted my hand from his. "I'll think about it," I lied.

Remy flashed me a smile and bounded away, bright blue eyes gleaming. "I've got to change into wardrobe. Have a seat; hopefully, this won't take too long."

I sat in the director's chair I'd been pointed to at the edge of the set. "How much time are we talking?"

"An hour or two. We just have to reshoot this one scene."

A male assistant came up to me and held out a tray of snacks and a variety of bottled waters, which improved my mood. "Fine," I said, picking up a finger sandwich or five. "I promise I'll be good while you're gone."

She trotted to the far end of the bustling studio and disappeared into a room with a star on the door, which I assumed was her dressing room. Cool. Her own dressing room. Maybe I should take her boss up on his job offer, since I was about to be unemployed. Being famous would be neat.

"So Remy's a big star, huh?" I glanced over at the assistant still holding the tray for me and took a cookie off his hands.

"Miss Summore is our biggest draw," he gushed, smiling down at me.

Or rather, smiling down at my boobs. I resisted the urge to zip my top up higher. "Great," I said, turning my attention to the stage. "So what are we filming here? Commercials? Soaps? It'd be really cool if Remy was a soap star."

A strangled look crossed his face. "Soaps ... ?"

He was saved from answering me as Remy entered the small stage flooded with lights. She sat on the edge of the bed in a filmy night robe-part of her costume, I guessed-and her blue eyes shone like beacons.

"Is Braddock behind the door?" the director boomed into his megaphone, and I watched all cameras position themselves on Remy's lovely face.

Someone gave the thumbs up, and the director nodded. "Action, then."

I leaned forward, nibbling on my sandwich. "How awesome is it to see a movie made from the front row?" I glanced over to the assistant, whose eyes were glued on the stage, and I turned my attention back there as well.

And nearly choked on my sandwich. Braddock had entered the room all right, naked as a jaybird. Remy was disrobing as well, and she had nothing on but a black garter belt and some stockings, and the highest spiked platform heels I'd ever seen.

Before I could spit out the piece of lettuce that was clogging my throat, they set upon each other like rabid wombats in mating season. And then I just couldn't couldn't look away. Her tongue was all over his face, and then she was throwing him down on the bed and making a beeline for what had to be the biggest schlong I'd ever seen. look away. Her tongue was all over his face, and then she was throwing him down on the bed and making a beeline for what had to be the biggest schlong I'd ever seen.

"Um," I managed, covering my eyes. "Is she doing what I think she is?"

The sounds of slurping and moaning echoed through the microphones on the set. "Oh yeah," the assistant breathed, his eyes riveted to the bed.

"Are they ... supposed to be doing that?" I mean, Remy's eyes were blazing. Maybe her hormones went out of control and she was just nailing the first guy she'd run across.

The assistant looked at me in surprise. "Miss Summore is a huge adult film star, didn't you know?"

Aww hell. I'd probably seen her on cable the other night and not even realized it. That was why she looked so familiar. It would also explain the money, and how she managed to control her Itch. I'd probably seen her on cable the other night and not even realized it. That was why she looked so familiar. It would also explain the money, and how she managed to control her Itch.

It also explained the smarmy director, who'd given me a few creepy looks. I shuddered at the thought.

A low groan caught my ears and I couldn't help looking over at the bed again. Remy was locked onto the actor in a position I'd heard referred to as "reverse cowboy." She had her head thrown back, her black hair rippling down her back as she cried out in ecstasy. I wasn't sure if it was real or fake, but it was sending aftershocks directly to my groin. As I watched, she licked her fingertips and slid them down her body to finger herself. My body responded to the blatantly sensual move with a jolt, and I shifted in my seat, trying to accommodate the sudden throb of desire.

I hated hated being a succubus. being a succubus.

On a hunch, I jerked out my makeup compact and took a look at my eyes. Sure enough, they were brightening with every moment I spent watching Remy have wild porn-film sex like some horny voyeur.

That thought was a little too close to the mark.

When Remy cried out again and he grabbed her long hair, arching her backward over his body, my breath caught in my throat. I had to get out of here, or I was going to end up joining them on the bed.

I stood up abruptly and handed my sandwiches to the assistant. "I'm going to Remy's dressing room."