Virgin Daiquiri (Last Call #4) by Moira Rogers Page A

ask him to do the honors. But he had, and she couldn’t
fault him for that. Only now she was stuck finding some stranger
to… deflower her? Make her a woman?
    She giggled and snorted, then took a deep
breath. Three vodka tonics had perhaps been too many, but she’d
needed them. She’d sip her daiquiri and wait until someone
appropriate came along. She’d be choosy but not picky, and clear
about the rules.
    It would be fine.

    Leo knew she was a virgin. He knew it before
Bernie’s voice cut through the music and announced that the cute
little brunette at the bar had ordered a virgin daiquiri. Seventeen
hundred years on Earth had given him some finely-honed instincts,
but he didn’t think there had ever been a time when a virgin
psychic hadn’t stirred the magic inside him. He was, after all, a
demon.
    And probably the only one in the bar who
didn’t get hard at the thought of corrupting the woman. The
half-dozen demons in Last Call were already winding through the
crowd, intent on out-maneuvering each other to win the prize at the
bar. Their excitement crackled through the crowd as an undercurrent
only another demon could feel, and the whole thing made Leo feel
just a little bit old.
    Then again, he was old. Most demons
corrupted their way to a higher -- well, lower -- plane well before five hundred years
had passed. He’d never understood their desire to leave Earth, not
even in the tumultuous years before modern conveniences. And
now…
    Life as a filthy rich playboy suited Leo. He
liked the willing women and the satellite cable and life in a world
of both light and dark. And he really liked enjoying sex because it
was fun, and not because he’d get frequent corrupter miles that
could be traded in for favors from the evil powers.
    So he told himself he wasn’t interested in
the hot little number at the bar, even if he was already halfway to
hard and admiring the way her too-short skirt bared a gorgeous
expanse of leg.
    But he wasn’t interested in her. He
wasn’t.
    A bar regular --
Michael , he
remembered -- whistled as he walked over. “Bernie’s calling an SOS.
Says the Virgin Daiquiri is a friend of Ben’s, and it’s up to you
to make sure she doesn’t take a demon upstairs.”
    Being the oldest demon in the northern
hemisphere did have its disadvantages, like being expected to keep
the rest of them in line just because they were terrified of him.
Leo sighed and glanced at the bar, where the huge bartender was
watching the approaching wave of demons with a determined look.
“None of them will harm her,” he felt compelled to point out.
“Place is too well warded for that. Worst they can do is whisper
some dirty promises in her ear, and Ben can straighten her out
later.”
    The woman surveyed the bar patrons with an
almost defiant expression. Her dark eyes met his and widened for a
split second before she turned away quickly.
    Michael eyed the demons circling the dais.
“Who is she? Do you know?”
    She did look familiar, but Leo
couldn’t put his finger on why. “Not a clue. I suppose I should
find out, though. For Bernie’s sake.” Yeah, Bernie’s sake. It was as good an
excuse as any.
    Two demons hurried out of the way as he
approached the bar, both casting him annoyed looks that were as
close to insolent as they would get. Leo ignored them and took the
steps two at a time. “What’s going on, Bernie?”
    Before the bartender could answer, the woman
-- who barely came up to his shoulder -- cleared her throat.
“Excuse me. Bernie is trying to be subtle about this, and I’m sure
you will be, as well, but… Could you both just please mind your own
business so I can take someone upstairs and lose my damn
virginity?”
    Leo pretended to ignore her even as his body
vibrated from her proximity. “What’s got her so hot to get a man
between her legs?”
    Bernie grimaced, and the brunette arched an
eyebrow at Leo. “I like the prospect of making it impossible for my
family to kill me and