Dead Perfect Page 7

  “No.”

  She ate quickly, aware of his presence across the table, of the way his dark eyes watched her, like a cat at a mouse hole. She should have told him she had changed her mind when he sat down, she thought, told him she couldn’t pretend to be Eva Black, that there was no way she could remember everything, no way she would ever be able to convince his editor or his readers that she had written all those wonderful books.

  She took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. Maybe she would tell him later, at home. Yes, that might be better, since he was sure to be angry. Best not to cause a scene in a public place. She would tell him on the way to his house. She couldn’t let him spend good money on photographs that would never be used.

  A short time later, he paid the check and they left the restaurant. During the ride home, she tried to rehearse what she would say to him, but she couldn’t seem to form her thoughts coherently, not when he was sitting so close, when she could feel his gaze like a physical caress on her face, when his presence made her heart beat fast.

  Inside the house, she crossed her arms over her breasts and took a deep breath. “Ronan, I’m flattered that you think I could…”

  “Shannah, we don’t have time for that now.” Putting his hands on her shoulders, he turned her toward the staircase. “We’re going to be late as it is.”

  “But I can’t…I’m not…”

  “Later,” he said.

  With a sigh of exasperation, she hurried up the stairs. Fine, it wasn’t her fault he wouldn’t listen. As for the photographs, maybe she could buy one or two for her parents so the night wouldn’t be a total waste of time. It might make a nice gift, a nice portrait for them to remember her by.

  She decided on a navy blue knit dress and matching heels. It was dressy yet casual. She applied her makeup carefully, brushed her hair, took a last look in the mirror she had bought. And frowned. She hadn’t really looked at herself lately; now she was surprised at how well she looked. Her skin had a healthy glow, her eyes sparkled, her hair was shiny. She had never looked better. A little beacon of hope flared inside her. Maybe she wasn’t dying, after all. Doctors had made mistakes before.

  Ronan nodded his approval when she went downstairs.

  “Are you sure I look all right?”

  He nodded. “Trust me. You look good enough to eat. Are you ready to go?”

  She nodded, though she wasn’t ready at all.

  The photographer, Ed Dewhurst, was waiting for them when they arrived.

  After welcoming the two of them, Dewhurst bade Shannah sit on a white wicker love seat. He arranged his camera, the lights, tilted her head at an angle, just so, and began taking pictures.

  He shot her sitting up and reclining, smiling and looking pensive. He shot her in front of a variety of backdrops and colors. He draped a long white silk scarf around her neck and turned on a fan so that the ends of the scarf blew softly behind her.

  Ronan stood out of the way, careful to avoid the large mirror that was set in the corner of the studio. He could see that Shannah was nervous and ill at ease. Her smile was tight, her whole demeanor declared she was uncomfortable in front of the camera.

  Shannah tried to relax, but it was impossible. She felt silly posing this way and that way, and worse, she felt like a fraud. Finally, she glanced beseechingly at Ronan. His dark eyes were watching her every move. It should have made her more self-conscious; instead, she forgot all about the lights and the camera and the photographer. She posed for Ronan, her gaze on his face, her body yearning for his touch. She imagined his mouth on hers, his arms holding her close, closer.

  “Perfect,” Dewhurst said, quickly snapping one picture after another. “Beautiful. Yes, yes. That smile! Wonderful!”

  A short time later, he put his camera down and turned off the lights. “That last roll,” he said, nodding, “you’ll be pleased with those, I’m sure.”

  “How soon can we see them?” Ronan asked.

  “The proofs will be ready by next week.”

  “We don’t have time for proofs,” Ronan said. “I want to see finished pictures as soon as possible.”

  “That’ll cost you extra.”

  “Just do it.” Ronan shook Dewhurst’s hand, then led Shannah out of the studio.

  “I think it went well,” he said as they walked to her car.

  “Do you? I felt…”

  He looked at her. “What did you feel?”

  She shook her head. At first, she had felt silly, posing as if she were somebody, but then she had looked into Ronan’s eyes and she had posed for him, wanted to look pretty for him. “Never mind.”

  “Tell me, Shannah. What did you feel?”

  “Pretty,” she said, ever so softly. “I felt pretty.”

  “And you were,” he replied. “You are.”

  Looking into his eyes, she believed him.

  But later that night, lying in bed, she found herself wondering yet again how he had found her apartment and how he had known where she was having dinner.

  The next week flew by. The flowers she had hoped to plant in the garden were forgotten as she spent practically every minute memorizing possible questions and answers and reading Ronan’s books. To her amazement, it grew easier and easier to memorize the answers. Even more amazing was the fact that she could recite long passages from all of his books. She wasn’t sure why, but she had never gotten around to telling him she had changed her mind.

  He removed the password from his current work in progress and she read it avidly not once but twice. Shannah was certain it was just her imagination, but the heroine seemed an awful lot like her, and not just her physical description.

  Her dreams were filled with lusty images that could have been taken directly from his books. She had never had such dreams before. Dark dreams that left her restless and yearning for his touch, that made her wake in the middle of the night, his name on her lips, her hands reaching for him.

  They went back to the studio to select a portrait. Shannah stared at the pictures spread before her, unable to believe that she was the woman in the photos. Did she really look like that?

  She looked up at Ronan and shook her head. “This can’t be me.”

  “Ah, but it is.”

  “But how…?” Shannah looked at the pictures again. She looked cool and confident and sultry and beguiling all at the same time. She had never been cool or confident or sultry before. Why now?

  She was still pondering that question when she looked into Ronan’s eyes. He was the answer, she thought. He made her feel beautiful and sexy and desirable. And even as the thought crossed her mind, desire arced between them like chain lightning.

  “We’ll take this one,” Ronan said. “And these two. And this one.”

  She felt her cheeks grow warm when she glanced at the photos he had chosen. She had been looking at him, thinking of him, when the photographer snapped the pictures.

  “Do you think I could have one for my parents?” she asked.

  “Certainly,” he said. “Pick whichever one you want.”

  Ronan paid for the photographs and they left the studio.

  “I thought you only needed one picture for the book jacket,” she remarked as they walked to the car.

  “We do,” he said. “The other three are for me.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t know what else to say. It was incredible that he wanted her picture. Incredible and flattering.

  She was getting into the car when she noticed that Ronan was still standing on the sidewalk, staring at something across the street.

  Following his gaze, Shannah saw a blond-haired man standing on the opposite curb. He was staring at Ronan.

  “Is that someone you know?” she asked when he finally got behind the wheel.

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  “I take it he isn’t a friend of yours.”

  Ronan grunted softly as he started the car and pulled away from the curb.

  Shannah glanced out the back window. The man
was still standing on the curb, staring after them.

  “Who is he?”

  “No one of importance. We’ll be leaving for Los Angeles tomorrow night.”

  “So soon?”

  He nodded.

  “I’ve never been on a plane before.”

  “Are you afraid of flying?”

  “I don’t know.” She grinned at him. “I guess we’ll find out tomorrow night.”

  Chapter Nine

  Shannah hadn’t expected to be afraid of flying. After all, people did it every day. They had gotten through security all right, although she had thought taking off her shoes was a bit much. At any rate, they had made it safely through security and boarded the plane. She was surprised to find that Ronan had purchased a row of first-class seats for the two of them. He indicated she should sit by the window.

  She hadn’t been the least bit nervous during boarding but now that she was actually on the plane, in her seat, she was suddenly very, very scared.

  Planes crashed all the time. And then there was the ever-constant threat of hijackers and terrorists. She knew she would never forget the sight of those two airplanes flying into the Twin Towers, or the nightmare images that had followed. She had been in bed, asleep, when her father called that morning. She had listened in stunned disbelief while he told her what was happening. Relieved that her parents were all right, she had turned on the television and watched, bewildered and horrified, as what was happening in New York City was played over and over again. It seemed as if the very fabric of time had been rewoven that day. There was the world before September 11th, and there was the world after. It was a day she knew she would never forget, a day when the impossible became possible and America realized it was no longer invulnerable.

  Even now, years later, airport security was stringent. The lines had been long. By the time they made it through security, she felt more like a criminal going to prison than a passenger going cross-country. Most of the other travelers endured the hassle without grumbling too much. She didn’t have any carry-on baggage other than a book, and neither did Ronan. While waiting in line, she had asked him if he had a photo ID, since she wasn’t sure if vampires could be photographed, but apparently it was no problem, since he had a driver’s license with his picture on it.

  She glanced at the other people on board the plane. None of them looked like terrorists. None of them seemed particularly worried about the flight. People were chatting with their companions, adjusting their seats, reading, or simply staring out the window. Was she the only one wishing she were somewhere else?

  “Shannah, is something wrong?”

  “No, why?”

  Ronan tapped one finger on the back of her hand. Looking down, she saw that her knuckles were white where she was gripping the edge of her seat.

  “I guess I am a little nervous all of a sudden.”

  She quickly decided that nervous didn’t begin to explain how she felt. She was excited by the prospect of flying, and terrified at the same time.

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Ronan said reassuringly.

  “Except crashing.”

  “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “Like you could stop it.”

  “Trust me, Shannah. Whatever happens, you’ll be all right, I promise you.”

  She stared at him. How could he make such a promise? Sincere as he sounded, if the plane went down, there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it.

  Her heartbeat quickened when she heard the captain’s voice saying they had been cleared for takeoff. She remembered reading somewhere that most plane crashes occurred during takeoffs or landings. This was it, she thought as the plane taxied down the runway. There was no turning back now. Fingers in a death grip on the arm-rest, she closed her eyes and prayed like she had never prayed before.

  The plane picked up speed and suddenly it felt like she was floating.

  “You can relax now,” Ronan said. “We’re in the air.”

  Opening her eyes, Shannah glanced out the window. The ground grew farther and farther away, the lights of the city faded into little yellow dots far below.

  “Weren’t you even a little scared?” she asked.

  He chuckled softly. “Takes more than a plane lifting off to frighten me.”

  She regarded him curiously. “What does frighten you?”

  He looked at her thoughtfully a moment, then shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” she asked skeptically. “Come on, everybody’s afraid of something.”

  “I used to be afraid of a lot of things,” he admitted. “But not anymore.”

  “Well, when you were afraid,” she said, “what were you afraid of?”

  “Being alone. Dying. Going to hell.” He wondered briefly if the fires of hell could possibly be as painful as the touch of the sun’s light on preternatural flesh. “The usual things mortals are afraid of.”

  “Mortals?” She lifted one brow. “As opposed to those who aren’t mortal?”

  “As opposed to dogs and cats,” he answered smoothly.

  “Sometimes I wonder about you,” she muttered.

  “What do you wonder?”

  She made a vague gesture with her hand. “You never told me how you found my apartment. Sometimes it seems like you can read my mind. I never see you during the day. I’ve never seen you eat or drink anything. I mean, it’s like…”

  “Go on.”

  “Oh, I don’t know what I’m trying to say. You’re just weird, that’s all.”

  He laughed softly. “Honey, you have no idea.”

  “Don’t say that! It scares me. I can see the headlines now. Girl’s body found in dumpster. Neighbors claim killer was such a nice quiet man, never caused any trouble.”

  He grunted softly. “Since you’re the girl, I guess that makes me the killer.”

  He was smiling when he said it, but a chill went down Shannah’s spine. There was something in his voice, a knife-like edge beneath the mildly spoken words.

  She shook her head. “Don’t mind me. I’m just nervous. It makes me say silly things.”

  “You have nothing to fear from me, Shannah. Believe that if you believe nothing else.” He wasn’t so sure he could guarantee the safety of the hundreds of other people on the plane. Every breath he took carried the scent of prey. Like a lion prowling the jungle, he could sense the weak in the herd, the weary, the ones who would welcome death. “Whatever happens, I’ll keep you safe.”

  “I believe you.” With a sigh, she rested her head against the back of the seat. “I think I’ll take a nap.”

  “It’ll have to be a short one,” he said. “We’ll be there in an hour or so.”

  But she didn’t care. If the plane crashed, at least she wouldn’t be awake when it happened.

  She was almost asleep when she remembered she had missed her appointment with her doctor. No matter, she thought, she had never felt better. She would have to find time to call him when they reached Los Angeles. It was her last thought before sleep claimed her.

  Ronan listened to the even sound of her breathing, watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest. She knew there was something not quite right about him. He wondered how long it would take her to figure out what it was, and what he would do when she did.

  Looking at her, sleeping so innocently beside him, he feared he had done the unthinkable.

  He had fallen in love with a mortal. And not just any mortal, but one who was dying. He stared out the window, his gaze piercing the distance of eternity. He could keep her from dying, he mused. That was why she had come to him in the first place. But once the deed was done, would she love him for it? Or spend eternity regretting the night a vampire gave her what she had come looking for?

  Shannah was glad that it didn’t take long to fly from Northern California to Los Angeles. It was a rather bumpy landing and it had Shannah gripping the edge of her seat again and praying the plane wouldn’t sink in the Pacific Ocean or crash on the runway o
r land in someone’s backyard.

  She breathed an audible sigh of relief when the plane was safely on the ground.

  They collected their bags and found a taxi. An hour later, Shannah was drinking a Coke in her hotel room. She would have her first book signing tomorrow night at an exclusive bookstore in West Hollywood. It was a good thing Ronan would be there with her, she thought, because she knew she would be a nervous wreck without him. In spite of all his assurances to the contrary, she still wasn’t sure she could carry this off.

  She glanced in his direction. He stood at the window, gazing out into the darkness. She wondered what he was thinking about. Was he, too, having second thoughts about her ability?

  “I can’t believe we’re really here,” she remarked. “Have you been to Los Angeles before?”

  “Once or twice.” It hadn’t been called Los Angeles then, and California hadn’t been a state. It had been a beautiful place in those days, the air clean and sweet, the sky blue instead of brown with smog, wide dirt roads instead of clogged freeways. Progress wasn’t always a good thing. “It’s late,” he said. “You should get some sleep.”

  She smothered a yawn. “I think you’re right.”

  “I won’t be here in the morning,” he said, moving toward the door that connected his room to hers.

  “Why not? Where are you going?”

  “I’ve got some business to take care of.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “No. Sleep late. Go sight-seeing if you like, or spend the day out by the pool.”

  “You’ll be back in time for the signing?”

  “Of course. And don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”

  She nodded, though she still had doubts.

  Retracing his steps, he drew her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. “Sleep well, Shannah.”

  She smiled up at him. “Good night, Ronan.”

  “Good night, love.”

  She stared after him as he left the room. Love. He had called her love. Warmth spread through her. Had he meant it? Or was it just a term of endearment, like “honey” and “sweetie” or any of a hundred other expressions of affection?