Dead Perfect Page 6

  Closing the fan mail file, she tried to open a document titled Work in Progress, only to discover she couldn’t open the file without a password. Odd, that he lived alone but felt the need to have a password, and then she grinned. Not so odd, she thought. After all, she was here, trying to get a peek at something that was none of her business.

  Frowning, she tried to think of what Ronan might use for a password. She tried his pen name and then she tried every word she could think of for black and for vampire, but none of them worked, either.

  With a sigh of exasperation, she turned off the computer and went to fix something to eat.

  Later, she wandered through the house, looking for something to do. Using a dish towel, she dusted the furniture, upstairs and down, but that didn’t take long and she was again left with nothing to do.

  Where was Ronan, she wondered. What did he do all day? If he was a writer, why wasn’t he here, writing?

  She had a lot of questions she wanted to ask him.

  She asked the first one when she saw him that night. “Where do you go every day?”

  “Hello to you, too.” He sat down on the sofa, careful to leave a good amount of space between them though it didn’t really help. With his preternatural senses, he was all too aware of her—the scent of her hair and perfume, the warmth of her skin, the ever-present allure of her blood. “You went to the doctor today. What did he say?”

  “He said I’m doing well, and that I’ve gained some weight. Don’t change the subject. I never see you until it’s almost dark outside. Why? And how did you know I went to the doctor?”

  “If you must know, I sleep days and work nights.”

  “Anyone would think you really are a vampire,” she muttered. “Don’t tell me you sleep in a coffin in the basement.”

  He laughed softly, but she noticed he didn’t deny it.

  She frowned. “I must be sleeping in your bed, so where do you sleep?”

  “Shall we get busy?” he asked, hoping to distract her. “We still have a lot of work to do.”

  “How did you know I went to the doctor? I don’t recall mentioning it to you.”

  “I can smell it on you.”

  “You cannot!”

  He shrugged.

  Shannah looked down at herself and sniffed. “What do you smell?”

  “Disinfectant. Antibiotics. Alcohol.” He frowned. “Dirt.”

  “You must have a nose like a bloodhound if you can smell all that!”

  “Where did the dirt come from? Not your doctor’s office, I hope.”

  “Of course not. I pulled some weeds in the backyard.”

  “There’s no need for you to do that.”

  “I wanted to. Would you mind if I planted some flowers?”

  “Do whatever you wish,” he said impatiently. “Are you ready to get to work now? We still have a lot to do. I’ve made an appointment with a photographer for tomorrow night.”

  “So soon?”

  He nodded. “I had an email from my editor. She needs the photo for the next book jacket as soon as possible.”

  Except for her high school photo, she had never had anyone take her picture professionally. “Will you come with me?”

  “Of course. I told my agent that I would do signings in a few of the larger bookstores in Los Angeles and New York and a couple of radio interviews if they could set them up.”

  “Oh.”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Just memorize the answers I’ve given you and stop worrying.” He would be nearby for any night-time interviews or signings; during the day, she would be on her own, though he didn’t think that would be a problem. He had implanted everything she needed to know in her mind while she slept. “I’m going to write for a few hours while you study.”

  She sighed. “All right. Um…”

  “What?”

  “My parents live in New York. Do you think we could visit them while we’re there? I haven’t seen them in over a year.”

  “Why didn’t you go home when you got sick?”

  “I did, for a little while, but they just…” She made a vague gesture with one hand. “They smothered me, you know? I mean, I know they love me and they’re worried, but I couldn’t breathe. Every time I turned around, they were hovering over me, telling me to eat something, telling me to rest, asking if I was feeling all right, if there was anything they could do. But now, well, since we’re going to be so close…”

  “I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

  “Thank you, Ronan.”

  Nodding, he went into his office and closed the door. He knew immediately that she had been there earlier in the day. Her scent was heavy in the air.

  Pulling up his current work in progress, he stared at the screen and then he began to write. His heroine changed from a rather plump blonde with green eyes to a slender young woman with inky black hair and sky blue eyes. Shannah. She had bewitched him with her smile and her innocence, with her quick intelligence and her rare flashes of wit.

  For centuries, he had resisted the allure of some of the most beautiful women in the world. How ironic, to find himself falling in love now, with a woman who would not even live a normal mortal life span.

  No doubt the Fates were having a good laugh at his expense.

  What would she say if he told her the truth?

  He shook the thought from his mind. In spite of the fact that she had come to his house seeking a vampire, he feared she would run screaming from his presence if he told her she had actually found one. He knew that her coming to him had been an act of sheer desperation. Taking her blood had enabled him to divine her thoughts and he knew that, deep in her heart, the thought of becoming a vampire filled her with fear and revulsion. He knew, too, that had he offered her the Dark Gift the day she had knocked on his door, she would have refused. He dared not take a chance on revealing his true nature, not now, when he wasn’t ready to let her go.

  He glanced out the window. He wasn’t ready to let her go, he thought, not now. Perhaps not ever.

  Forcing himself to concentrate on the work at hand, he lost himself in a world of his own making, his fingers flying over the keyboard, his breathing growing erratic as he wrote the first love scene between his hero and heroine. Never before had he written a love scene so drawn out or so descriptive, and as he wrote it, he realized he was describing, in vivid detail, how he wanted to make love to Shannah.

  “Wow, that is so hot! I’m surprised your computer doesn’t go up in flames.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, shocked to find her standing behind him, stunned to realize he had been so caught up in what he was writing, thinking, that he hadn’t even been aware of her presence in the room. Had she been a hunter, he thought dryly, no doubt there would be a stake through his heart.

  “What are you doing in here?” he asked. “You’re supposed to be memorizing your answers.”

  “I’ve been memorizing for over three hours,” she retorted. “I don’t know about you, but I need a break.”

  “Of course.” He saved his work and exited the program. “Would you like to go for a walk?”

  “Now? It’s awfully late, don’t you think?”

  “Not at all. There’s nothing for you to be afraid of,” he said, sensing her thoughts. “I won’t let the bogeyman get you.” Little did she know that the man beside her was far more dangerous and scary than any childhood specter.

  “All right.”

  They walked down the driveway and out the gate. It was a lovely night, cool and clear with just the faintest hint of a breeze. A quarter moon hung low in a velvet black sky dotted with twinkling silver stars.

  Shannah walked beside Ronan, acutely aware of him beside her. He was so tall and strong and he exuded such power, it made her feel small and vulnerable. She had the feeling that if he took it into his head to do so, he could break her in two with his bare hands.

  The thought sent a shiver down her spine even as she wondered where it had come from.


  “Did you find anything interesting on my computer?” he asked.

  The question startled her. How had he known? She hadn’t moved anything except the mouse and she had been careful to put it back exactly the way she found it.

  She stared up at him, trying to decide what to say.

  “Well?” he coaxed.

  “I…I read some of your fan mail,” she blurted. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not. I said you could.”

  “You get so much of it, I don’t know how you find time to read it all, and write, too.”

  He shrugged.

  “I tried to read your work in progress,” she said, sending him a sideways glance. As long as she was confessing, she might as well admit everything.

  “Did you?”

  She nodded.

  “If you want to read it, I’ll remove the password.”

  “You will? You don’t mind?”

  “You’re supposed to be me,” he said with a shrug. “The more you know about my writing, the better.”

  “You really are a good writer, you know.”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

  They walked in silence for a time. When her hand brushed his, it sent a sizzle all the way up her arm. Unexpectedly, she recalled the love scene he had been writing earlier that night. It had been steamy without being graphic, descriptive without being lewd or vulgar. It had made her blush clear down to her toes when she imagined Ronan kissing her like that, making love to her like that. She shivered as she pictured his hands caressing her skin, his mouth on her bare flesh.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  She looked up at him. “What? Oh, no.”

  She stopped walking as his gaze met and held hers. His eyes were compelling, almost hypnotic.

  “Do you want to go back?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Shannah.” She looked incredibly beautiful standing there looking up at him, her eyes wide and a little scared.

  His hands folded over her shoulders as he drew her slowly toward him until their bodies were only a breath apart. Slowly, he lowered his head, until all she could see were his eyes and the desire that burned in their depths.

  Helpless to resist, she tilted her head back and closed her eyes as his mouth covered hers.

  Warmth. Heat. Pleasure.

  She swayed toward him, her body drawn to his by a force she could neither understand nor ignore. She forgot everything else as his lips played over hers, now soft and exquisitely gentle, now firm and demanding. Nothing mattered, nothing but this man, this moment. If he kissed her like this until the end of time, it wouldn’t be long enough. His tongue teased hers. Desire shot through her from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. Lordy, but the man could kiss!

  She moaned softly, her fingers delving into the thick hair at his nape.

  Ronan’s hands slid down her back. Spreading his hands over her thighs, he drew her body closer to his. Too long, he thought, it had been too long since he had wanted a woman as desperately, as passionately, as he wanted this one. He had been a young vampire then, new in the life, unable to separate his hunger from his lust…and the girl had died because of it.

  With a low groan, he put Shannah away from him, stood there, trembling, while she gazed up at him.

  “Why did you stop?” she asked plaintively.

  He drew in a deep breath. “This is hardly the time or the place.”

  Shannah looked around, only then realizing they were in the middle of the sidewalk and that cars were driving by. “I guess you’re right.”

  “I know a place where we can be alone.”

  She looked up at him, her heart thundering in her chest. “Do you?” She wanted to sound playful, teasing. Instead, she sounded breathless.

  “Indeed.” Taking her by the hand, he led her back to his house.

  Shannah shivered as they walked up the pathway to the door. The house looked spooky at night, the dark windows like blank eyes. Leaves rustled against the sides of the house, whispering secrets that she would never know. She let out a startled cry as a cat burst out of the shadows and disappeared around the corner of the house.

  Ronan put his arm around her shoulders. He could feel her shivering. At first he thought it was from excitement, but then he realized her skin was cool, damp with sweat. Her heart was beating much too rapidly.

  Swinging her into his arms, he carried her quickly into the house and placed her on the sofa. “Shannah?”

  “I’m sorry, I…I felt so good this morning.” She tried to smile. “The doctor said my vital signs were normal. I guess he was wrong.”

  “You’ll be fine.”

  “No.” Sadness welled in her eyes. “I’ll never be well. These last few weeks were probably just a…I don’t know. A reprieve.” Her eyelids fluttered down, her body went limp.

  Gathering her into his arms, Ronan sat down on the sofa, her body cradled against his chest. Biting his wrist, he held it to her lips.

  “Drink, Shannah,” he commanded. “Drink, and you’ll feel better in the morning, I promise.”

  He stroked her throat to make her swallow, closed his eyes as she surrendered her will to his. It pleased him greatly to nourish her, to know that his blood would drive away her pain and extend her life a while longer.

  He watched the color return to her cheeks, heard her heartbeat and breathing gradually return to normal. And then he lowered his head to her neck and drank.

  Chapter Eight

  In the morning, Shannah was surprised at how strong she felt, and how long she had slept. A glance at the clock showed it was almost two. She shrugged it off. Considering how she had felt last night, sleeping late didn’t seem so strange. She blew out a sigh. Last night, she had been certain she was again at death’s door. This morning, she felt like she could run the Boston Marathon and win. It was most confusing.

  But it was too beautiful a day to fret about a future she couldn’t change. She felt too wonderful to lay about any longer.

  Bounding out of bed, she took a shower and brushed her teeth. Famished, she ate a big breakfast, then went out the front door to fetch the morning paper. After refilling her coffee cup, she headed out the back door, intending to sit outside, enjoy a second cup of coffee and get caught up on the latest news.

  She frowned when she stepped into the sunlight. Squinting against the brightness, she went back into the house for her sunglasses. Funny, the sun had never bothered her before.

  Sitting in the chaise lounge, she scanned the front page of the paper. In all her life, she had never taken the time to read a newspaper from beginning to end.

  “I could get used to this,” she murmured as she turned the page.

  The sun felt good against her skin. Laying the paper aside, she leaned back in the chaise lounge and closed her eyes.

  Deep in the bowels of the house, Ronan stirred.

  “Shannah.” He murmured her name, heard it echo within the confines of his resting place.

  She was sitting outside, dozing in the sun.

  Lying there, drifting on the edge of oblivion, he felt what she felt, smelled what she smelled. He felt the touch of the sun caress his skin for the first time in over five hundred years. Here, safe in the darkness of his lair, it had no power to harm him. He was free to bask in its warmth vicariously, without pain or fear. An in-drawn breath brought him the scent of trees and grass and sun-warmed earth. Birdsong filled his ears, something he had not heard in centuries. He licked his lips and tasted the coffee she had been drinking, the bacon and eggs she had eaten for breakfast, tastes that he had forgotten long ago.

  With a sigh and a faint smile, he surrendered to the darkness that dragged him down into oblivion.

  It was late afternoon when Shannah woke. Returning to the house, she tossed her sunglasses on the table, then sat down and tried to study the list of possible questions Ronan thought she would be asked. It hit her all
of a sudden that in just a few weeks, she would be in New York City or Los Angeles pretending to be a successful romance author. People would interview her. She would meet Ronan’s readers. What if she said or did something to embarrass him or his agent or his publisher?

  Why had she ever thought she could pull off such a charade? He needed someone with acting experience, someone outgoing and self-confident. She was shy around strangers, quiet even with her family. She would tell him that she’d changed her mind when she saw him tonight. A glance at the window showed that it was almost dark now. He would be there soon.

  The thought of telling him “no” filled her with apprehension and she decided to put it off as long as possible. Hurrying up to her bedroom, she changed clothes and left the house, determined to eat dinner at a nice restaurant for a change.

  She had just ordered and was sipping a glass of raspberry lemonade when Ronan slid into the chair across the table from her.

  Shannah almost choked on her drink. “What are you doing here?”

  “I thought you might like some company with your dinner.”

  “How did you know where I was?”

  He shrugged. “Does it matter?”

  “Yes, I think it does.” She frowned at him. “And that reminds me, how did you find my apartment the other night?”

  “I followed you home.”

  She shook her head. “No one followed me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. No…” She frowned. She had been certain that no one had followed her that night, but she could have been mistaken. But he hadn’t followed her tonight. She was sure of that. He hadn’t even been home when she left. “How did you…?”

  “Did you forget you have an appointment tonight?”

  “What? Oh! I did!” she exclaimed. “Are we late?”

  “You have time to have dinner.”

  “Are you sure? I need to change. What should I wear?”

  He shrugged. “Whatever you think best.”

  The waitress brought her dinner a few moments later.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” Shannah asked.