Seduced by Moonlight

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Darla Cook, for being a sounding board, watcher at the gates, nag (her word not mine), and kindred spirit. Karen Wilbur, who got to read this book early. One of these years I'll be between books on your birthday and I'll actually have to buy you a present. To Shawn Holsapple and his Cathy, kindred spirits all. Sharon Shinn, who gave her expert feedback as the wonderful writer she is. Deborah Milletello, who I don't get to talk to nearly enough. Mark and Sarah Sumner, who I don't get to see enough of either. Never enough time to be with friends. Rhett MacPhearson, who is still writing delightful mysteries. Lauretta, I hope we get our families together for a trip sometime. Marella Sands, fine writer, and Tom Drennan, where's that book?

A lot of people lounge by pools in L.A., but few of them are truly immortal, no matter how hard they pretend with plastic surgery and exercise. Doyle was truly immortal and had been for over a thousand years. A thousand years of wars, assassinations, and political intrigue, and he'd been reduced to being eye candy in a thong bathing suit by the pool of the rich and famous. He lay at the edge of the pool, wearing almost nothing. Sunlight glittered across the blue, blue water of the pool. The light broke in a jagged dance across his body, as if some invisible hand stirred the light, turning it into a dozen tiny spotlights that coaxed Doyle's dark body into colors I'd never known his skin could hold.

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