“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.