Eventually, I got up and grabbed a jigsaw puzzle box. It was either that, or cry. I turned the TV on in the background and shook the pieces out on the table. My mother had loved puzzles and had done them when she'd been unable to sleep at night. Now I was following the same patterns she had followed.

The thought made me want to weep even more.

I twisted my hands in my lap, my feet swinging nervously under the examination table, the paper runner crinkling with every swing of my foot.

When the doctor entered the room, he wore a puzzled look. "Back so soon, Marie? Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," I lied. "I just wanted to talk about my medication."

The doctor flipped open my chart. "You've lost six pounds since you last came in."

I shrugged. "Just watching my weight."

He eyed me. "You were here last Tuesday."

"Stomach bug. I'm better now. That's not why I'm here, anyhow. I wanted to talk to you about the sleeping pills you prescribed."

"Are they upsetting your stomach?" he asked, folding his hands around the clipboard and studying me.

"Actually, I wanted to see if you had something stronger. Or if it's okay to double the medication from time to time."

Like every night.

The puzzled frown grew. "I already have you on the strongest dose, Marie."

"Oh, okay. I just thought I'd check."

He put down the clipboard and moved to my side, bringing out his scope to check my pupils. "You look tired. Are the pills not working?"

"Not really," I confessed. "Maybe a different pill? Something I haven't tried yet?"

"In the last few months, you've tried everything I can recommend. If it's not helping, there might be other factors we need to look at."

"I'm sure it's nothing." I didn't want to become his science project or guinea pig once he found out exactly what I had. That was why I switched doctors constantly. "I've just been under a lot of stress lately, and I'm working nights, so I'm sure that's not helping things."

He ignored my excuses, checking my pupils and continuing to examine me. When he was done prodding, checking my ears, nose, throat, and my pulse, he stroked his chin, frowning. "Marie, I'd like to send you for more tests."

My heart sank. "All I really want are some stronger pills."

"If the pills aren't working now, a stronger dose isn't going to do anything for you. I think there's a larger problem at hand, and I'd like to run some blood work. There are some rare illnesses that can cause insomnia, and I'd like to rule them out."

Yeah, I was familiar with those diseases. I gave him a tight nod. "Sure. Whatever you say."

"We can schedule for you to run down to the blood center today, if you like, and once the results are in, we can discuss where to go with this. Again, it may be nothing, but I want to rule out every possible scenario so we can get down to a cure."

He patted my knee. "Just see Betty at the front desk on the way out and tell her that I'm sending you to the lab for more tests. I'll update your chart."

I grabbed my purse, thanked the doctor, and slid out of the room. He paused to talk to a nurse, then headed down the hall to see another patient. I glanced at the front desk, then turned and walked out the front door.

I wasn't going to go for more blood tests. I already knew what was wrong, and I didn't want a doctor poking and prodding me for the next six months in an attempt to find a cure, when the only one that I knew of involved fangs and neck-biting.

Still . . . My stomach knotted, I pulled out the card of the Alliance doctor and dialed.

"Little Paradise Family Clinic," a woman announced. "How can I help you?"

"I need to see the doctor. Today, if possible," I told her. "I'm having trouble sleeping and wanted to see if he could recommend something."

She typed for a moment, then paused. "The doctor has an opening at four today."

"Four sounds great. Thanks."

Chapter Six.

You look like hell," Sara told me bluntly as I entered the office Saturday night.

The office was only closed on Sundays, and Ryder and I alternated on the overnight shift on Saturdays. It wasn't so bad, since it was only a half shift until midnight.

"Thanks," I murmured, not even having the energy for a sarcastic comment. In the last three days, I'd gotten probably a half hour of sleep. My repeated catnaps and sleeping pills had only made things worse. I existed in a half-awake stupor, and my entire body felt as if it had been run over by a truck. This was just the early stages of the disease, though. It would get much worse from here on out.

"You sure you're okay?" she asked, moving over to my desk, looking worried. "Is something going on?"

"Just not sleeping well," I told her. Understatement of the century.

"Is something bothering you? Is it money?" She bit her lip, clearly concerned about me. "Family problems? I'm not trying to pry, honest I'm not. I just want to help. You look like you're going through a rough patch."

I gave her a wan smile. "I'm fine. Seriously. I just need some caffeine and I'll be good."

She reached out and squeezed my hand. "I'm here if you want to talk."

"Thanks, Sara, I appreciate it." But I can't tell you anything, because you'd tell your sister.

The bell clanged and a shadow loomed in the doorway of the agency, blocking out the setting sun-the massive form of Ramsey Bjorn, resident were-bear, scowling monster of a man, and tiny Sara's mate.

She gave my hand another comforting squeeze, then bounded over to him, flinging herself into his arms. "Hey Huggy Bear," she said. "Did you miss me?"

"Yes," he said gruffly.

She gave him an enthusiastic kiss in response and whispered something into his ear that made the man flush red. When he caught me staring, he scowled in my direction.

I hastily booted up my computer.

"We're out of here," Sara told me, sliding down from Ramsey's arms. "It's Xbox night at our place, so if you need me, just let it keep ringing. We'll hear it over the noise eventually."

"Will do," I said. "So, are all the Russells there when you guys play?"

Because a certain Joshua Russell hadn't shown up in two days after promising to help me with my vampire situation, and it was ticking me off.

"All of them," she said cheerfully. "I'd invite you, but . . . "

"Work, I know." I wasn't all that interested in video games anyhow.

She brightened. "Maybe next weekend, when it's Ryder's turn to do the night shift?"

"Maybe," I agreed. If Josh kept avoiding me, I'd hunt him down.

They left, Ramsey's big hand resting on the back of Sara's neck and her arm looped around his waist. I watched them go, wondering how that worked for them-Ramsey was so enormous and strong, and Sara was small and fragile.

I blushed at the mental image. Not my business.

I buried myself in work, pulling out the stack of folders of inactive clients. I'd give Josh two more days, and then it was back to hunting down vampires in the hopes that they'd want to date me.

Right now, I see three things that are the problem.

That had bothered me more than anything. I wanted to know what those three things were so I could fix them and move on to the next stage of my plan.

I called clients for hours, leaving voice mails when the clients were unavailable. Voice mail was tricky. I had to make sure not to give away discreet information; no mentions of paranormals or shifting, and certainly not vampires. Nothing that could be used against someone. My message was bland. Hi, it's Marie from Midnight Liaisons. If you're not currently seeing anyone, we'd love to set you up with just the right person. Give me a call back and let's talk about updating your profile.

I then gave the date and time. It was a late hour for most humans, but shifters and vampires and even fae ran all hours of the night, and a late call wasn't so odd. That was why the agency had a night shift, after all.

When I was a third of the way through the stack, the doorbell clanged. I glanced at the clock. Eleven thirty. I peered over my monitor, looking for a face.

A large drive-thru coffee cup appeared from around the side of my monitor, held in a big hand. Josh took a step forward. "I'd have brought you flowers, but you said you had an allergy."

I looked at it, then looked at him, then turned back to my computer. "I'm busy."

"You get off work in a half hour, don't you?"

"Yes, and then I'm going home."

He ignored my stiff tone and sat down across from me. "Coffee's not a great apology gift, I know. Next time I'll bring chocolates."

He had my attention now. "Apology gift?"

He set the coffee cup down on my desk. "Remember that I said all my clients were totally paranoid? Well, one was paranoid with good reason. Someone tried to take him out. I stopped 'em, and I haven't left his side in two days. He's hired a second shift, which has finally given me some time off."

I noticed the jagged scratch that went up his tanned arm, then noticed a similar one running down one cheek and under his ear. He had circles under his eyes, too. I pushed the coffee toward him. "You take it. You look tired."

He gave me the slow, sensual smile that made me think we were sharing a moment. The one that sent shivers up my spine. He bowed his head over the cup as if I'd given him a gift, then he lifted it to his lips and drank.

I suddenly thought of that moment in the diner when he'd deliberately turned my cup and placed his mouth on the exact spot that I'd drank from. Heat crept through my belly, and I glanced away before he could notice my blush. My face felt hot with . . . embarrassment? Awareness? "There are things such as phones and voice mail," I reminded him. "And texts."

"Now you sound like my last girlfriend," he teased.

I raised an eyebrow.

"It was just a joke. Sorry. Next time I'll call when all hell breaks loose. If you want to kick in our vampire plan, we can start tonight."

I perked up at that, more than ready to get things moving. "I'm ready whenever. Say the word."

"Good. We'll go to your place after you get off work."

"Uh-uh."

He put down the coffee and raised his hands in the air. "Just a wardrobe check. Very innocent."

"I don't believe you have an innocent bone in your body," I told him.

He grinned. "You might be right."

"No Xbox for you tonight?" I asked him as I stepped out of my car in the parking lot of my apartment complex. Josh had followed me here and was exiting his vehicle at the same time I'd left mine. "I thought it was tradition."

"It is," he said, taking the stairs behind me. "But I had other plans tonight."

And those other plans obviously included me. I wasn't sure if I was flattered or concerned. Probably both. I unlocked my front door and placed my keys on the small table next to the door, then flipped on the light. "Come on in."

I moved to the side as he entered, watching his reaction. If he was expecting stuffed animals and some knitting, he was in for a disappointment. I had a large flat-screen TV on the back wall, sleek floor lamps, and track lighting. A small white couch and a low table in the living room. My kitchen was always neat, my floors spotless. The only concession to a mess were the puzzle pieces laid out on my dining room table, but even those were neatly piled. I knew my bathroom was clean, the marble gleaming, and my bedroom was tidy, the bed made.

When one didn't sleep, one had plenty of time for housekeeping.

"Nice place," he said, glancing over at me as I shut the door. "It's not what I expected. I thought you'd be a slob. You know, so guarded on the outside and a wild woman on the inside. That's usually how it goes."

Was that why he was so interested in me? He was in for a huge disappointment, then. "So, you wanted to check out my wardrobe?" I moved toward the bedroom and went inside.

He followed close behind me and stepped to the side, surveying my room with a knowing smile. Josh's gaze flicked over my bookshelf (dusted), my neat queen bed (made) with perfectly arranged throw pillows, and the organized stack of magazines on the bedside. "Bed made, too? Man. You are something else."

He sat down on the bed and lay back, lacing his fingers behind his head and lounging amid my throw pillows. That casual, confident smile was on his face, and it unnerved me to see him relaxing. On my bed.

Like he belonged there.

"Make yourself at home," I said.

He winked at me and adjusted one of the pillows behind his head. "This is a prime spot for viewing."

"Viewing? You expect me to model for you?"

He shrugged. "How else am I supposed to tell you if you look soft or not? We're going for soft, and sexy and come-hither. With vampires you need to look fragile and helpless, not strong and independent."