Demons Prefer Blondes Read Online Free PDF Page A

was lucky Frankie had the day off. Then she’d have two enraptured gay men on her hands.
    “Gerardo!”
    He jumped about a foot in the air. “What?” He glanced around, a sheepish smile on his face. “Oh, my bad. Can I help you?”
    Lucy shook her head. “Sorry, Gerardo’s a tad occupied with his new toy. So how can we help you?”
    Rafe crossed his gloriously ripped arms. Fabio had nothing on this guy. His muscles bulged in places she didn’t know muscles existed. Yummy with a capital Y. “I came to search for something.”
    “Something?” Lucy snickered. “What sort of something? We’ve got a lot of things here. How about a pedicure?” If his feet looked as good as the rest of his body, he didn’t need one. “Or some shampoo and conditioner. You seem like a guy who knows how to take care of his hair.”
    “That’s for sure,” Gerardo chimed in. “I’ve never seen hair so shiny. Not a split end in sight. What brand do you use?”
    Rafe arched a brow. “Brand?”
    “Conditioner.” Gerardo leapt over the desk and reached for a strand of Rafe’s hair.
    In a blink of an eye, Rafe spun around, grabbed Gerardo’s arm and pinned him against the desk. Elbow at Ger’s neck, he held firm, his gaze stony. “I did not give you permission to touch me.”
    Great! Her fantasy come to life was a homophobe. Not that she had a chance in hell with such a fine specimen of man. Even if his gaze looked like he wanted to eat her up. And he was manhandling her employees anyway. “Let him go! He didn’t mean any harm. He just wanted to check your hair out.”
    Loosening his hold on Gerardo’s feathers, Rafe lowered his elbow. Several crumpled feathers floated to the ground. Poor Gerardo. That was his favorite shirt.
    He raked his fingers through his hair and backed away. “Next time, ask.”
    Rubbing his neck, Gerardo nodded. He slumped against the desk. “ ¡Ay Dios mío! ” he murmured as he crumbled to a little ball on the floor.
    “I’m not sure how things are done where you’re from, mister, but here we frown at violence.” Lucy raised her chin. Call it her defiant nature.
    Rafe crossed his arm. With stony intensity, he returned her defiant gaze with one of his own. Despite the furor, crackling heat raced through her body. What was happening? “Yet people seem to thrive upon it. Since the dawn of time. TV, cinema, fisticuffs.”
    “Fisticuffs? What in the hell is that?”
    Rafe growled a sound that, despite its gruffness, caused her gut to flutter. “I suppose it’s called boxing, now.”
    “I hate boxing.” Lucy stood proud. “As well as professional wrestling and that ultimate fighting shit. I hate watching people getting the crap kicked out of them.” Then again, the sight of blood—period—made her cringe. She crossed her arms. And this guy had her rambling like a buffoon, too. Now she needed to put her foot down. “So tell me what you want so you can get the hell out of my shop.”
    Rafe groaned in obvious frustration. “It’s not here anymore. I would have felt it.” His gaze still burned. “Don’t you know what you are?”
    Any attraction she felt for this man faded as anger took over. “Sure I do. I’m the owner of this establishment, and you’ve overstayed your welcome.”
    “You need protection.” He stalked toward Lucy, his gaze steady, yet still wounded. “But I cannot stay where I am not welcome. If you need me, call my name.”
    What a god complex! “I can take care of myself, Mr. Deleon. I’ve been doing it for almost thirty years.”
    “Very well, Miss Gregory. Have a good day.” His silver eyes sparked as he bowed. In one swift turn, he spun around and stalked toward the exit. With a loud whoosh, as if a hurricane force wind swept through the building, the door swung open. Rafe, unaffected by the gust, stepped out onto the sidewalk and proceeded down the street.
    As if on similar wavelengths, Lucy and Gerardo sprinted toward the window. They trained their gazes