Page 102 of The Music Demon

Without looking her way, he replied as smoothly as a player. “Just saying he has impeccable taste in females.”

Even someone recently introduced to modern life could recognize that was a cheesy thing to say. She liked it anyway. Long live cheese.

Turning back to spying on Doo and his date, Shivaun’s mood was growing affectionate. She slipped her hand into Lyric’s and squeezed a little. He looked down at their joined hands with an expression she couldn’t identify.

Her mouth was open with a question about making him feel uncomfortable, when he looked up and said, “Let’s get out of here. I have an idea.”

Her answer was a smile and a nod. She was enjoying the music more than she could have imagined and was reluctant to leave early, but she’d learned that Lyric’s ‘ideas’ were always worth pursuing. The demon knew how to show a girl a good time.

Just before they vanished, Lyric looked past the performers to the other side stage. A male was staring at them, not the band. And something about it didn’t feel right. He was trying to place where he’d seen that face when the bass player stepped in the way and blocked his vision. He leaned around, but whoever had been there was gone.

“Are we goin’? Or no”?” Shy asked.

He smiled. “Don’t be so impatient. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Where are we?” Shivaun looked around.

They were standing on the driveway of a well-kept ocean front estate just outside Monterrey. Accent lighting transformed the landscaping into the luxurious feel of a five-star resort at night.

“This house belongs to an actor who’s never home. But he has a great car collection.”

“And why do we care about that?”

Ignoring the question, Lyric lifted his hand and one of the garage doors rolled up. At the time, the motorized garage door opener was a status symbol reserved for the very rich.

She looked back at the door neatly tucking itself out of sight, hugging the ceiling of the garage. “Huh.”

Since Shivaun had no experience with garages or garage doors of any era, she was unimpressed.

What the raised door revealed was a brand new, navy-blue Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz; a two-door convertible with white leather seats that still smelled new. It was showroom fresh and inviting.

“What’re we doin’, demon?”

He grinned. “Something romantic.”

She cocked her head in anticipation of the surely outrageous thing he’d be suggesting next. “I like my romance without the crime.”

With a chuckle, he said, “Get in. We’re going for a moonlight drive along the Pacific Coast Highway, past Big Sur. At this lovely twentieth century moment, we may not pass another car. Itdefinesromance.”

“While that is no doubt true, and I give ye credit for it, ‘tis the furthest thing from a moonlit night. ‘Tis foggy and,” she sniffed, “likely to begin drizzlin’ any minute.”

He laughed low in that way that made it sound like his chest was rumbling. “Look again.”

With a scowl, she looked up. It was her turn to laugh. The night sky was black, full of sparking stars and a half moon. “You can change the weather?”

“Not on a grand scale. But I can push a little fog out to sea and keep it there for a couple of hours.”

She gave the car a hard look. “You’re no’ concerned about the owner comin’ home and noticin’ somethin’s missin’?” His smile broadened as he shook his head like he knew a secret. She let it go, deciding she might not want to know the real source of the Cheshire cat smile. “And you have no compunction about stealin’ someone’s very pretty, very costly car?”

He looked a little indignant. “We’re not stealing it. We’re going to borrow it. And when we bring it back, it will have fewer miles, perfect tires with showroom-new whitewalls, and a polish that’s chauffeur perfect. I could even soup up the engine a little if you like.” He amped up the smile designed to undermine every shred of resistance. “Cherry on top?”

“You make it sound like you’d be doin’ the man a favor.”

“In fact, I would. Unlike valet parkers, I leave my joy rides better than before. Everybody should be so lucky as to have me borrow their ride.”

She bit her bottom lip for just a second. Lyric had been paying attention and recognized that mannerism usually preceded acquiescence. And sure enough…“When you put it that way, how can I be a party pincher?”

“Party pooper. And you really can’t. Let’s go.”