His hand reached up and closed around hers. He could feel her tremble beneath his touch, as though she, too, were deeply moved. Deeply aroused. They were standing face-to-face. Her eyes were beckoning to him, like silver flames in the darkness, and her lips were so close, so beautifully close….
Anya.
Had he whispered her name, or was it merely the wind in the trees? Her own eyes seemed to shadow with confusion. She glanced up, a quick, uneasy movement, as though she, too, had heard something in the breeze.
An icy chill closed in on Zach, and the pain in his head began to throb even harder. Anya wavered before his eyes, like a mystical illusion he knew would shatter at his touch. He reached for her, anyway, wanting to draw her into the protection of his arms, but the blackness was too strong.
Like a steel curtain, it dropped between them, and Zach was powerless to fight it. It drained every ounce of his energy, and suddenly, without warning, he felt himself pitching, face first, toward the ground.
* * *
He was dreaming.
At least, it seemed to be a dream. He was still lying on the ground, but the leaves beneath him made the softest of cushions. He was comfortable and content, with not the slightest inclination to move.
Especially when he saw Anya.
She was kneeling over him, her smile as misty and provocative as the night surrounding them. She touched his head, and her fingers were cool and soothing at first, then hot and demanding. Zach’s excitement stirred as he gazed into her eyes, as he willed her to come closer, closer….
She lowered her head and her lips grazed his, a whisper of a touch that sent his imagination soaring. Then her mouth moved downward, skimming his jaw, searching for the rapid pulse in his throat. Zach’s skin burned from her touch. She was teasing him, taunting him, tantalizing him with tiny kisses that drove him wild.
He wanted more. He was desperate for more. He wanted a deeper, more binding kiss….
* * *
Anya watched Zach sleep.
He moved restlessly against the mattress, throwing off the covers as the fever fired his skin. He groaned softly, erotically, a shocking sound that sent thrill after thrill streaking through her.
He was dreaming about her. About them. Anya could feel his excitement, his growing passion. She struggled to control her own whirling emotions, but the scent of his blood was still on her hand. She lifted it now and inhaled, letting the sweet perfume fill her being.
Every time Zach looked at her, the pull between them grew stronger. Every time he touched her, the lure deepened. Every time she thought about him, the excitement became irresistible.
A kiss.
Just one perfect kiss would bind them together forever.
Oh, to be in his arms at this moment. To feel his strength beneath her fingertips. To have him gaze into her eyes and know for the first time what it would mean to have him love her, really love her…
He would ravish her with kisses. His hands would worship her body until they were both trembling with passion, lost in a world of spinning desires. And then, when their bodies came together, when their souls began to merge, at the exact moment when Zach took her…
She would take him.
The power of the vision stunned her. Anya’s gasp rang against the silence of the bedroom where she had brought Zach a few hours ago. She put a hand to her breast, and felt the desperate pounding of her heart.
How much longer could she endure this? How much longer could she elude temptation when her yearning grew stronger and more demanding every second she was with him? How much longer would she have to go on denying herself a fulfillment that was like the essence of life itself?
For an eternity, a dark voice inside her whispered. Forever and ever and ever…
The knowledge crushed her. Anya bit back the bitter darkness welling inside her as she gazed out the window and waited for the light.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sunlight awakened him. Zach sat up in bed and looked around at his unfamiliar surroundings. The bedroom was spacious, but oppressive with its heavy, antique furniture, green velvet drapes, and dark-patterned wallpaper. Gauzy curtains suspended from the ceiling surrounded the elaborate, canopied bed, and a gold satin coverlet had been neatly folded at the foot.
Zach wasn’t used to such finery in sleeping accommodations. He felt like an idiot. Not only did the opulence of the room disturb him, but he had absolutely no idea how he’d gotten there. Lately, he’d been doing that a lot it seemed—having memory lapses. Especially after he’d been with Anya. If he didn’t know better—if the idea weren’t so completely preposterous as to border on lunacy—he might think she’d somehow hypnotized him. Mesmerized him. Made him remember only what she wanted him to.
The relentless pounding in his head drew his fingers to the wound on his forehead, and he winced. There was the reason for the memory lapse, he reminded himself. No big mystery. He’d nearly had his brains bashed out in a car crash. No wonder he couldn’t remember walking back to Anya’s house last night.
He swung his legs off the bed and sat for a moment, getting his equilibrium. He still wore the clothes he’d had on last night, but he noticed his bag had been brought in from the car. A shower, a shave and a change of clothes were definitely in order, but when he explored the adjoining bathroom, he discovered only an antique bathtub.
He made do, emerging from his room a little while later dressed in jeans and boots and a cotton shirt, feeling almost human again, and not nearly as sore as when he’d first awakened. He wandered down the stairs, taking in all the fascinating details of Anya’s home.
Like her place in the city, most of the windows were shuttered against the daylight. The rooms were all airy and spacious, but the lack of sunlight made them seem gloomy and not a little claustrophobic.
And also like her place in the city, a subtle aroma wafted on the air. A scent of something familiar, but Zach couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It wasn’t unpleasant, not at all, but there was something strange about that smell. It seemed…out of place somehow.
At the foot of the stairs, Zach met Freida. The grim-faced woman carried a silver tray laden with a covered bowl, a glass of water and a red silk rose.
“Hello,” Zach said. “It’s Freida, isn’t it?”
The little woman paused with one foot on the bottom step. She looked at him with reproachful blue eyes, obviously none too happy to see him. “Good morning,” she said. “Your breakfast will be served in the dining room.”
“Is Anya already in there?” Zach asked, “or is this tray for her?”
“Anya is…eating in her room.”
“I hope she’s not ill,” Zach remarked quickly.
“She’s working.”
“I see. Well, why don’t you let me take the tray up to her? It looks pretty heavy, and besides, I need to have a word with her this morning.”
Freida’s blue eyes narrowed with displeasure. “She doesn’t like to be disturbed while she’s working. You must go on into the dining room. I’ll bring your breakfast to you shortly.” The more agitated she grew, the thicker her accent became. She nodded curtly, dismissing him as she turned to carry the tray upstairs. Zach caught her arm, and she stopped, giving him a piercing blue glare.
“Just one more question,” he said. “I don’t seem to remember much about last night. How did I get here?” When the woman merely stared at him, Zach said impatiently, “Did I walk here with Anya? Did someone—your husband perhaps—drive us here? How’d I get upstairs and into bed without ever being roused?”
“You had a bad blow to the head,” Freida said, as though that explained everything. She looked as if she wanted to say more, but stopped herself by pursing her lips. This time, when she turned back to the stairs, Zach didn’t try to stop her.
He watched and waited until she’d disappeared around the landing, then slipped up the stairs behind her, hiding in the shadows at the end of the hallway until he saw her set the tray down outside a close
d door.
The housekeeper knocked once, lightly, then turned to retrace her steps. Zach inched back into the corner, holding his breath until she passed by. When he heard her footsteps on the stairs, he walked down the hallway to Anya’s door.
He knelt beside the tray, and removed the lid from the container. The tiny amount of broth inside seemed hardly enough to sustain a child. Zach felt that strange concern warring inside him again. That worry seemed to displace his anger all too easily.
Was Anya ill? Was that why she’d run away?
Determined to get to the bottom of her actions once and for all, he stood and knocked on her door. She didn’t answer at first, but Zach stood his ground, knocking even more firmly until he knew she had to hear him. He called to her through the door. “Anya, I know you’re in there.”
Anya stood on the other side of the door, leaning heavily against the frame as she willed Zach to go away. It was too much to ask her to face him this morning, after everything that had happened between them. It was too much to ask that she should open that door and gaze into his eyes and know that she could never have him—not the way she was beginning to want him.
“You may as well open the door,” Zach said, his voice heavy with threat. “I’m not going away until you do. I can be just as stubborn as you.”
An understatement, she thought. She’d never known a man as determined, as single-minded as Zach Christopher. Slowly, she unlocked the door and drew it open.
The first thing Anya thought when she saw him was how strong he looked this morning. How strong and capable and resolved as he glowered at her from the hallway.
There wasn’t a trace left of the vulnerability she’d witnessed last night—the vulnerability that had so teased her, tormented her. The memory of her temptation lit up inside her. For an instant, Anya felt that same awful hunger, that same fatal seduction luring her to Zach, pulling her to him, making her want him with a passion that could destroy them both.
Last night, it had taken every bit of her strength to resist him. He had been so weak, his blood so sweet smelling, so inviting. She had wanted to kiss him over and over and over….
But she had resisted. The important thing to remember was that she had overcome those temptations. She had kept Zach safe.
But for how long?
“I want to talk to you,” he said, brushing past her to walk into the shrouded room. The windows were all tightly shuttered against the sunlight, but the room was dimly lit by the soft glow of her computer screen. It cast an eerie blue light over his face, made his features seem harsh and unpredictable. Dangerous even. Anya shivered at the notion.
“How can you stand this darkness?” he burst out, strolling to the window. Before Anya knew what he was about, his hand reached for the lever that would throw open the shutters.
“No!” Her hand flew to her throat as she watched him in horror. Zach’s hand paused on the lever. With just one flick of his wrist, he could release sunlight into the room. He could destroy her. Slowly he turned and stared at her.
“What the hell is the matter with you? Why do you live like this?”
Anya’s heart pounded in her chest. She was frightened, so very frightened, of what he could do to her. If he only knew…
His hand fell from the shutter, and he walked back toward her. Anya let out a shaky breath. “I’m working,” she said lamely. “I always work in the dark.”
“So I’ve noticed.” He stopped in front of the computer, his gaze scanning the screen for a minute before lifting to her. “Question is, why aren’t you working for me? Why did you run away like that? The whole company is in chaos right now. My reputation is shot to hell and all because I trusted you. I trusted you and you let me down. At the very least, I think I deserve an explanation.”
“You shouldn’t have come here,” Anya said, willing a hardness into her tone. A coldness. A resolve she was far from feeling. She turned away from Zach as she gazed at the cloaked window. “Our contract was a mistake.”
“A mistake! Is that all you have to say?”
She gazed at him in defiance. “It was a mistake. I made the wrong business decision. It’s nothing personal, Zach.”
“Oh, well, that makes me feel a lot better,” he said. “Do you know what you’ve done? Do you even care? The whole campaign is in jeopardy because of you. We need that last photo session before Seduction can even be launched. Every day we wait costs the company an enormous amount of money—money Renee Alexander can ill afford to lose. I can’t let you do this, Anya. I don’t know what your problem is, but I can’t let you get away with this. You have to come back with me today.”
“I can’t. I can’t come back with you.”
From across the room, she saw his expression harden. His eyes flashed angrily, but when he spoke, his voice was carefully devoid of emotion. Somehow that frightened Anya more than anything. He said, very quietly, “Would you like to face my attorney instead?”
“You’d do that?”
His laugh sounded harsh, goaded. “Sue you for breach of contract? Damn right. This is business, Anya. It’s ‘nothing personal.”’
Nothing personal. He flung her words back into her face, and Anya’s pride stung. Nothing personal. Did he really mean that? Was his concern for the company the only reason he’d followed her up here?
Anya knew her disappointment was irrational. She should be glad, but she wasn’t. She felt lost, lonely, and utterly defeated.
“What’s it to be, Anya?” he asked. “Shall we talk this out now, come to some agreement on our own? Or shall I call my lawyer?”
Anya lifted a hand to her eyes. They felt dry, burning with tears she could no longer shed. She said wearily, “Do what you want. But I can’t come back with you. Not today. Not ever. And I want you to leave.”
He stared at her for a moment, then crossed the room to stand in front of her. His eyes gleamed angrily in the dim light, but his lips curved upward with just the barest hint of triumph. Anya felt her knees begin to tremble at that look. He was up to something.
His next words confirmed her suspicions. “And exactly how do you propose I do that?” he asked. “How do you propose I leave here? My car’s smashed, remember? Surely you don’t expect me to walk all the way back to New York.” His hand reached up, so quickly Anya had no time to retreat. His fingertips brushed against her throat, and then, as though taunting her, lingered briefly on her rapidly pounding pulse. His smiled deepened knowingly. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Anya,” he whispered. “You should know by now that I don’t take no for an answer. We’ll talk more later. You can count on it.”
Then he turned and left the room. Anya watched him go, her heart beating an unsteady rhythm against her breast. Zach’s voice echoed in her mind. It’s nothing personal. Nothing personal. Nothing personal.
Who were they kidding? Everything about their relationship was personal. Intensely personal. The emotions flaming through her now, at this exact moment, were more powerful than any she’d ever known. The passion she felt for Zach, the hunger, and yes, even the concern she had for his life were all so intimately connected, Anya could no longer separate them.
And that was what made them so dangerous. That was why she had to be so careful with Zach. Her passion and her hunger were too tightly woven. One fed the other. The only emotion she could trust was her concern for Zach. That alone had saved them so far—but for how much longer? How much longer could she fight her desire for him, even here in her own home, where her resistance was the strongest?
One kiss had very nearly sent her over the edge.
What would another kiss do?
What would making love with Zach do to her?
Anya shivered as images raced through her tortured mind. Making love with Zach was something she hardly dared even contemplate. The very thought left her weak and trembling and…Oh, God, why couldn’t she stop thinking about it? Why couldn’t she stop wanting it? It was too impossible, so very dangerous.
&nbs
p; And so incredibly tempting.
* * *
Anya remained secluded in her room all day, and much to her surprise, Zach left her alone. She didn’t hear from him again. When she emerged at sunset, she hoped—and feared—that he had given up on her and gone back to the city.
But the moment she came downstairs, she became aware of his presence. Neither Freida nor Karl were anywhere about, but Anya didn’t need them to tell her where Zach was. She opened the library doors and stood staring at him for a long, silent moment.
He sat, head bent, before the fireplace, apparently absorbed in his reading. He didn’t look up when she entered the room, didn’t acknowledge her presence at all. A lamp glowed on the table beside his chair, but the flickering light of the fire cast his features into alternate shades of light and dark. Anya found herself looking at him, as though for the first time, without the suspicions, without the fear, without the dangerous accompaniment of excitement. She simply studied him quietly.
His face fascinated her. Such a brooding face. And as unguarded as it was now, Anya found herself drinking in heretofore unfamiliar detail—the strength of character in the sharp angle of his jaw, the deepening lines of worry, not laughter, around his eyes and mouth.
It struck her, not for the first time, but possibly more forcefully than ever before, that Zach Christopher was a man with his own private demons to battle. He was a man who had known guilt, torment and a deep, unresolved anger that had furrowed those premature lines into an already harsh and withdrawn face. Such a countenance might have been daunting, even to Anya, if not for one small, almost indefinable nuance.
There was something about his eyes….
As though sensing her thoughts, his lashes lifted unexpectedly, and he caught her staring at him. In the instant before the shield came down, Anya realized exactly what that detail was, why she felt so drawn to him. His eyes betrayed the unhappiness that tore at his life.
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