Tall, Dark and Paranormal: 10 Thrilling Tales of Sexy Alpha Bad Boys

by Opal Carew

  Going back to his desk, he sat down and pulled his laptop closer. He found it hard to believe someone as talented as Simone Kent could get writer’s block so badly she needed his help, especially since she already had a cute plotline going. He was halfway through chapter two when the story just stopped. Frowning, he checked the file to make sure it had downloaded correctly and that he’d gotten everything she’d sent. Yeah, he had the complete file. Hell, she really did need help.

  Drake considered several directions the story could go in before finally deciding on one. The corner of his mouth edged up. He’d read enough of Simone’s books to get an idea of what she liked to write and since she seemed to love romantic suspense, he’d go with that.

  He was just about to start typing when his cell phone rang. He glanced at it in annoyance. Since he’d become a recluse, he didn’t get many calls. Other than his editor at Money Issues magazine where he wrote a regular monthly column, a few people at Hewitt Literary Agency, and his friend Beck, no one else had his number. Which meant it was probably one of them.

  Picking up his cell phone from the desk, he checked the call display to see who it was. Beck. He should have known. Who the hell else would be calling this late at night?

  Beck Slaten was the private investigator he’d hired eight years ago to find the Voodoo priestess who had cursed him. He was Drake’s one and only friend, and the only person beside Madame Bijou who knew what he was.

  While Beck quickly tracked Cia Devereaux to the small college in Louisiana where she’d returned to finish her senior year, he’d never been able to find the Voodoo priestess. Beck was lucky enough to get Cia to admit the woman was her grandmother and that she lived somewhere in the swamps, but to Drake’s bitter disappointment, no amount of digging on Beck’s part turned up anything else on the old woman’s location. It was as if she’d disappeared off the face of the earth.

  Faced with knowing he was going to be a zombie for the rest of his life, Drake had plunged into a dark place after that. If it weren’t for Beck’s friendship, he probably would have drunk himself to death years ago—or tossed himself off his balcony. Drake wasn’t sure how the PI had known he needed a friend, but Beck came by the loft every few days to check on him. Drake hadn’t appreciated the man’s irritating habit of dumping out all his booze and shoving a heated TV dinner in front of him, but after a couple of weeks, he realized the other man’s frequent visits were the only thing keeping him going.

  Drake thumbed the answer button and held the phone to his ear. “Hey, Beck.”

  “Hey there, Z-Man. What do you have going on?”

  Drake’s mouth twitched at the nickname. Short for Zombie-Man, it was Beck’s way of reminding him he knew what Drake was and didn’t give a shit how disgusting he looked sometimes. He was Drake’s friend, end of story.

  When Beck first started coming around, Drake had been tense as hell, afraid he’d turn into the living dead in front of the guy. When he didn’t, Drake finally let himself relax a little bit and have a good time. He’d figured as long as he didn’t go zombie on Beck, everything would be fine. But then one night, he turned that ugly grayish black color right in the middle of watching a football game. Drake hadn’t even realized it until he looked down at his hand when he reached for his bottle of beer and by that time, Beck was already staring at him.

  Drake waited for his friend to freak out. He sure as hell would have if Beck was the one who suddenly went all horror movie on him. Beck hadn’t freaked out, though. Instead, the other man said he knew Drake had been hiding something big from him, then joked the awful coloring was actually an improvement on his looks. Unable to help himself, Drake had laughed along with him. Relieved he finally had someone he could talk to, he told Beck everything. Drake had been so worried he’d lose the only friend he had if Beck found out his secret, but the other man couldn’t care less. There weren’t many people who could hang out with a guy who sometimes looked as if he’d been dead for a week and calmly ask if he wanted another beer.

  “Not much,” Drake said in answer to the other man’s question. “Why?”

  “I thought I’d stop by with some Chinese from this new place near me. The restaurant isn’t much from the outside, but I heard the food’s pretty good. You game?”

  “You’re kidding, right? It’s after midnight.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I just got back from this case I’ve been working and I haven’t eaten dinner yet. So, how about it?”

  Even though Drake had eaten hours ago, he considered telling Beck to come on over anyway, but then he remembered Simone’s story. He really wanted to get his thoughts about her book down on paper. Now that he thought about it, Chinese take-out did sound good, though. Maybe he’d order some for a late-night snack.

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass,” Drake said. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

  On the other end of the line, Beck chuckled. “I’ll be damned. I knew if I set up that profile for you on one of those online dating sites, you’d get a woman sooner or later.”

  Drake snorted. As if any woman would want to go out with him. “Real funny.”

  “I think I’m going to ask for a refund, though,” Beck continued. “They guaranteed it’d only take ninety days to set you up with someone.”

  Drake’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t really set up a profile for me at an online dating site, did you?”

  “Sure I did. Though I felt obligated to point out you’re reclusive, anti-social, prone to moodiness, and get downright moldy-looking sometimes. And those are your good qualities.”

  “Tell me you’re not serious.”

  Beck chuckled. “No, I’m not. Now that I think about it, though, it might be a good idea. They always say there’s someone for everyone. Maybe there’s a female zombie out there looking for love. You two could get together and have zombie sex.”

  Drake scowled into the phone. He didn’t even want to imagine what that would look like. “You should seek treatment for that condition of yours. You’ve got a really sick sense of humor.”

  Beck just laughed. “Well, if you’re not with some hot babe, what are you doing?”

  “I’m working with an author who’s having some trouble with writer’s block.”

  “You don’t mean another romance book writer?” Beck sounded incredulous.

  Drake knew his friend found the idea of any man, much less a zombie, editing romance books amusing as hell. In all honesty, Drake had thought it was pretty funny at first, too. When the literary agency sent him that first romance novel to edit, he took one look at it and laughed his ass off. If there was one person in the world who shouldn’t be writing about romance, it was him. He hadn’t had a stable relationship since holding hands with Becky McKenzie on the bus in first grade. But since his next column at Money Issues magazine hadn’t been due for a week and the only other editing project he had at the time was for a boring instruction manual for a blender, he decided to give it a shot.

  The book wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be and editing it had been fairly simple. Until he’d come to the part where the hero and heroine started exploring their feelings for each other. That had tripped him up for a bit. Then he came to the simple realization he could write about being in love even though he’d never been in love himself. It was simply a matter of using his imagination. And he had a good imagination.

  “Yes, she’s a romance book writer and a very well-known at that. As a matter of fact, she probably makes more money than both of us combined.”

  “Doesn’t say much as far as my income is concerned, but okay. Your loss, Z-Man,” Beck said. “I’ll let you know how that restaurant turns out. Catch you later.”

  Drake set his cell phone down on the desk and turned his attention back to Simone’s book. Sitting back in his chair, he propped his feet up on the desk, then put his computer in his lap and started typing.

  Chapter Two

  Simone’s alarm clock went off at exactly eight o’clock the
next morning. Groaning, she rolled over onto her back and reached out to whack the snooze button. Damn thing. It would have to wake her up right in the middle of a sexy dream and just when she’d been getting to the really good part, too. She closed her eyes, trying to remember as much of it as she could before the images completely faded from her mind. Who knew? She might be able to use it in a book. Or in a masturbation fantasy.

  She played the dream over in her mind, her pussy quivering at the memory. Oh yeah, it had been a good one. Even if it had been filled with ridiculous romance book clichés.

  She’d been walking along a beach in some tropical place, the surf tickling her toes, the breeze playing with her hair and swirling the dress she wore. Coming toward her on a big, black stallion was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. With his dark hair, bedroom eyes and sensuous mouth, it just so happened he bore an uncanny resemblance to the heroes in every one of her books, right down to the broad shoulders, muscular chest, rock-hard abs and long legs encased in tight-fitting pants.

  As he’d brought his horse to a halt beside her in the dream, she waited breathlessly for him to do something wildly romantic—like sweep her up into his arms and make love to her right there on the horse. But as things went in dreams, the windswept beach and the hot hunk disappeared to be replaced by with a cold, dank, dimly lit stone room.

  Just as she’d begun to wonder if her romantic dream had turned into a nightmare, the door on the far side of the room suddenly burst open. Her heart had raced anew at the sight of her hero’s tall, broad-shouldered form filling the doorway, a gleaming sword in his strong hand. Upon seeing him, she’d run across the small room to throw herself into his strong arms. He had saved her and now he would claim her as his own, making love to her like she’d only imagined. But just as he tilted her face up to his for that first breathtaking kiss, her dream had decided to jump again.

  That time, she had found herself in a bedroom right out of an historical romance, stretched out naked on a bearskin rug in front of a roaring fireplace. Her big, strong, handsome lover had been deliciously naked above her, the firelight dancing over his muscles, his big cock at full attention and ready to plunder her to the depths of her soul.

  Unfortunately, that was when the alarm had gone off. No matter how long she closed her eyes and tried to escape back into the excitement of the dream as she lay in bed now, it wouldn’t work. The gorgeous hunk was gone. Damn. She couldn’t even get romance right in her dreams lately.

  Simone let out a sigh. Maybe the dream was her subconscious telling her to turn her book into an historical romance. More likely, though, it was once again pointing out that her love life was awful. On some level, it was ironic the women in her books could always find the perfect man while she couldn’t find even one suitable guy in a city of eight million people. With that many options, she should have the law of averages on her side, but it never seemed to work out. Maybe she was too demanding. Or maybe Megan was right and she was a loser magnet. She’d certainly gone out with a lot of them.

  First there had been Bob. She’d fallen in serious lust with the blond-haired, blue-eyed psychiatrist’s abs at first sight. It definitely hadn’t hurt he’d been really good in bed or that her parents liked the idea of her dating a doctor. Unfortunately, it turned out Bob became a psychiatrist so he could psychoanalyze himself. Between his obsessive need to work out at the exact same time every day and his urge to shower within seconds of having sex with her, she quickly came to the conclusion he needed a lot more work than she wanted to put into it. The last straw had been when he’d wanted her to play the part of his mother in a what he called a “return-to-the-womb” regression therapy session. She’d run out the door so fast she hadn’t even bothered to grab her extra toiletries from his bathroom.

  After that, there had been Craig. Though not quite as good looking as Bob, at least he hadn’t been carrying around as much baggage. He’d been between jobs, though. That hadn’t been a problem in the beginning. Anyone could find themselves between jobs at any given time. It didn’t define who they were and she’d been okay with paying for their nights out. But when she stopped by his apartment one day to see how a job interview went and discovered he blew it off so he could sit in front of the television in his underwear playing video games instead, she knew it was time to dump him.

  Then there had been Andrew. He was even better looking than Bob, though without those amazing abs, and he’d had a good job, too. But as usual with the men she dated, Andrew had a downside. It turned out he was still living with his mother in a tiny walk-up apartment in Brooklyn. Simone didn’t learn that little detail until he picked her up for a date one evening and casually said his mother had already made him dinner and he’d rather skip getting something to eat and go straight to the movie instead. She thought that was bad enough until he told her he couldn’t ever spend the night at her place because he didn’t want his mother to find out he wasn’t a virgin. That had been too weird for her.

  And most recently, there had been Markus. He was a mystery novelist she’d met through her publicist. Good-looking and easy to hang out with, he didn’t have any of the flaws her previous boyfriends did and it seemed as if he actually had some long-term potential. After a few months, though, she figured out he was still hung up on his ex-girlfriend. At first, it was little things like taking her calls in the middle of their dates and his constant references to the way his ex-girlfriend had done something. Simone hadn’t wanted to seem jealous, so she’d put up with it, but when he started canceling dates to help his old girlfriend through a “crisis” she was having, Simone had enough. Markus tried to insist he and his ex were “just friends,” but Simone didn’t buy his crap. They were sleeping together and Simone knew it.

  Those were the most memorable losers she’d gone out with, but there had been others. As she mentally ran through the list while she lay there in bed, Simone found herself wondering why she was attracted to men who were such fixer-uppers. For a change, she wanted a guy who was move-in ready, one with no baggage, no hang-ups and no ex-girlfriends. What she wanted was a guy like the heroes in her books. Of course, they had their own issues as well, but none of their problems ever seemed to get in the way of the happily ever after.

  Simone groaned. Okay, that was enough worrying about her love life. She had more important things to worry about right now. Like her book. She needed to sit down with her laptop and figure out where the heck she and that damn story were going.

  It had been one thing last night after hours of frustration to think some consulting editor was going to magically help her get past her writer’s block. But now in the light of a new day, she realized how foolish that was. The only way her book was going to get written was if she parked her butt down in front of the computer and started writing.

  With that thought in mind, Simone threw back the blanket, got out of bed and went into the bathroom to take a quick shower. As she squeezed some scented body wash into her hand, she revisited the Field & Stream idea from the night before, wondering if she could go at it from another angle, but by the time she was done showering, she came to the conclusion that plotline was never going to work. She was all for writing cute romances, but there was nothing cute or romantic about getting sued over a fly-fishing incident.

  Simone grabbed a towel and dried off, then threw on a short, terrycloth robe. Going into the kitchen, she made a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast then turned on her laptop and opened up her current work in progress. The story looked exactly as it had when she’d gone to bed. Damn. She was hoping the romance book fairy had paid her a visit last night, but no such luck.

  Sitting down on the couch, she pulled up her email. There was one from her agent, along with several from her readers, as well as the usual friend requests from MySpace and Facebook, but her gaze locked on the one from Drake Parrish. He’d written back already.

  Simone set the bowl of oatmeal down on the coffee table with a thump and pulled her laptop closer, eager to see if he’d
given her any ideas.

  Simone,

  I’m glad Megan recommended me to you. I took a look at what you have so far and I think you’ve got some really interesting main characters. How do you feel about turning it into a romantic suspense? See what you think of the attached plotline. It’s not a whole story line, just some quick thoughts. We can take the book in any direction you want to go, but this might get you started.

  Drake

  P.S. Love your books.

  Simone blinked in surprise at that last part. He loved her books? A compliment like that from another author was always incredibly flattering—even if it did come from a guy who made his living writing under other people’s names. She clicked on the attachment and waited impatiently for Word to open the file. Romantic suspense, huh? That definitely sounded like it had possibilities.

  When the document came up a moment later, she was astounded to see the plotline was five pages long. Curious, she started reading and immediately found herself nodding her head in agreement. His idea to have the hero and heroine get involved in industrial espionage was certainly better than her Field & Stream story, that was for sure. And the best part was that it wouldn’t involve any research on fly fishing, which was definitely a good thing.

  But while she liked most of his suggestions, she wasn’t quite sure where he was going with some of the others and she didn’t want to start reworking the book until she clarified a few things. It would be easier if she could just chat back and forth with him like she did with her regular editor. She typed a quick email to Drake, telling him she had some questions and asking if he had Yahoo Messenger. She added her Yahoo ID, then hit the send button.