Before I could shiver, cry out, or rip either of our clothes off, though, a single rapid knock struck the door and Pam strode in sharply.

Eric's look was hardly welcoming, but she appeared not to notice. "Do you have the receipts for the store run? I need to put them away before you lose them again. The accountant says we could really save money with these deductions." She abruptly glanced over at me. "Oh, hello, Sookie. I didn't think you'd still be…here." She winked.

And once again, being amidst vampires left me utterly confused. "Pam," Eric said, in a dark tone, and she just smirked and turned back to him.

"Yes, Eric?"

He huffed, seemingly unwilling to continue whatever silly silent vamp-chat they were having. He rose-and rose, and rose; Eric's the definition of Big and Tall, and I don't just mean his height-to his feet, jamming his hands into his jeans for his wallet. I was not, of course, entirely disinterested in this process but Pam found it expedient to talk to me again.

No, I didn't cuss her. But I thought about it.

She must've known my mood, because she just smiled. "So tell me, Sookie, is that tiger still coming around?" Behind her, Eric paused briefly as he stuffed his wallet back into his pocket.

"I don't talk about my personal life, Pam."

"Oh, I need to know; we always do a Christmas party, you know, and I would want to have the right presents on hand for him." Pam's gleaming smile indicated she no more expected to me believe this than she expected me to stand up and start hula-dancing on the spot.

"I'm sure Dear Abby would agree," I muttered darkly. My eye was caught again by movement behind Pam-Eric was stretching again. Why? Why did he have to do this to me? I turned my eyes resolutely back to Pam.

Her eyes were dark and her smile, faded, abruptly flashed again. She looked back over her shoulder. "Which reminds me. The waitresses are complaining our back room is too dry, because of the heating. They say we need a-what's that device called, the kind that creates steam?"

"A humidifier," I supplied thoughtlessly. Eric was nodding to all of this, grabbing a bottle of some kind from his desk drawer and squirting something into his hands. Oh, oh, my.

"Oh, that's the Jergen's, isn't it?" Pam asked, sniffing delicately. Her eyes flicked closed, as if this helped her to scent the air. Why she bothered with that scent when a Viking god sat before us, slowly drawing his hands up his own bare arms, was beyond me. "Much better than that awful one you had before. It was supposed to be scentless," she added, for my benefit, I suppose. I guess she noticed my expression. "What do you think, Sookie? Is it scentless to you?"

I stared unabashedly as Eric continued to draw his hand slowly up the bare pillar that was his left forearm, making the golden hairs there slick back, and up across his bicep, the kind of bicep that you just know could lift any girl, including one with curves like me, and right into that indent that looked like it could fit the tip of my tongue-

"Sookie?" that damned Pam persisted.

I swallowed rapidly. Eric, still silent, was peering at me beneath his lashes, bolts of blue that made it difficult for me to breathe. Or to keep my hands to myself. Whichever need was stronger at the moment, I don't know.

"Er, yeah, unscented," I managed to bleat out, squirming hopelessly. Eric flicked me a lazy smile, still quiet. Quinn might have been a tiger by nature, but Eric was very much a big cat himself-languid, powerful, and dangerous.

Pam smiled brightly as I shook myself and started to reach for my purse, pretending to look at my cell phone-anything to get away from the thoughts of "helping" Eric with that lotion. All over. "So, what did you guys want me for?"

"Everything, of course." Eric made it sound obscene. Then again, Eric could make the Lord's Prayer sound filthy. It didn't help that he'd left one of his obnoxious text messages on my phone, apparently while he was out at Costo-"BRB, getting silk sheets for us, lover. I hope they give you as much pleasure as I will. Yield to me. Kthnxbye." I snorted and kept my eyes on the phone, looking over old messages, just to keep my eyes down. It was actually mostly a series of messages from Eric and Jason-Eric messaging me for sex, Jason messaging me for money and beer, and both getting the same answer-but I felt it was better than being glamoured by Eric's damn delts again. (Deltoid was my Word of the Day. I should've known.) "Do you have a…message?" In his lightly accented English, the word sounded like "massage." I cringed. Don't look up, Sookie, don't look up.

"Nope, nothing important." I knew better than to pretend I was getting messages from Quinn or Alcide-Lord knows Eric would feel no compunction about picking my pocket and having a look at my phone behind my back. That's the nice thing about Eric: You definitely know what he's capable of: everything.

Pam smoothed the leather of her glove impatiently. "Sookie, we need you to test some of the food we're making."

"What am I, the court taster?" Eric guffawed. This time, I did shoot him a glare. I knew exactly where his mind was going.

Pam did, too. She smiled with fang, her sign of appreciation. Somehow, it didn't warm the cockles of my heart. "Really, Sookie, you need more faith in us. You keeping trying to die and we're the ones who keep saving you."

"More like the other way around. But tell me what you needed."

"It's simple, really." Eric put his feet on the floor and swiveled to face me. "Pam thought Fangtasia would do better with the customers if we offered more in the desert line. For mortals, that is." He grinned and I saw his fangs half-extended. Only a depraved woman would consider that sexy. I made a note to call a psychologist the next day. "And since our tastes in these areas run counter to yours…"

"And you couldn't just, y'know, ask the waitresses? Have a tasting party?" I couldn't believe I'd been hauled all the way to Shreveport just to eat some cake. Unless it was really good cake. I paused. "This isn't going to be some dirty thing, is it? You're not going to try to serve me cookies shaped like-like-" I'm sure I got redder with every stammer. Across from me, his reaction didn't help at all. Eric's eyes widened as he gathered the tenor of my thoughts, and he began to laugh.

"Like what?" Pam seemed genuinely baffled.

"Things that aren't ladylike," I huffed, at the same time that Eric replied. "*A gracious plenty* of sugar, Pam." Now his fangs were fully straightened; I had no doubt, from the look in his eyes, other parts were as well. "Something of which Sookie dreams…"

"You wish."

"Oh, I do."

"I so did not need to know that."

Pam interrupted before he could mortify me further. I'm sure I was blood red by then. Maybe that's why Eric is always after me-I turn the color of his Corvette when he's teasing me. "If you two are done mating in front of me, I'd like to carry on. Now. The desserts." She smiled brightly. "I've been watching on Martha Stewart, Sookie, and I helped design a bunch of items for Fangtasia. I think it will help to add a bit of class to the bar, and you know we need that." She shot Eric a pointed look. His eyebrow went up, quite unrepentant. "And you represent more of the customers we'd like to have-" Eric's eyes as Pam said this underlined this point; I looked away- "-so I want to see if they're to your satisfaction."

I wanted to protest-after all, it's not like I needed extra sugar, what with the size 10 jeans I just bought; but it's after Halloween, and who doesn't gain a few then?-but I knew calling attention to my body anywhere that Eric is would end in a bad place. Or maybe a good place. Damn it! I don't know if the bond flared or what, but Eric seemed to be smiling at me across the desk again. I looked away.

"Sure, fine, whatever."

And then came the waitresses, streaming into the office one-by-one with dishes, as Pam and Eric watched me eat as if it were an Olympic sport. I tried to ignore them-didn't they know it wasn't polite to stare?-and focus on the task at hand. Bite, bite, gulp some water, move on. I still had to drive home, and a full belly was just going to make me sleepy.

It was worth it, anyway. The first dessert was some kind of layer cake confection with bits of coconut on top-it reminded me of a wedding cake you'd see in a celebrity wedding. I pronounced it acceptable, which made Pam beam; you could tell she'd picked that one. The second was a deep berry pie, which didn't much impress me; Gran's pies were much better. Eric scowled; I guess he associated all red things with tastiness. I didn't dwell on that thought much.

Pam oversaw the removal of my dishes. "Next one, whore!" I heard Pam yell in front of the office; she apparently had adapted her staff management techniques from her style with the fangbanger guests. "And here's the last one," she announced, waving a tray with a multi-tiered sundae on it. It sure looked pretty enough to eat-some white ice cream, probably vanilla, drenched with cherry sauce and chocolate of some kind. The problem was that Pam was about as good as waitressing as Eric was at sweeping. With a loud plop, the sundae flew off the tray and landed directly on the Viking vampire across from us.

"Oh, dear," said Pam. "Did I do that?"