Love. Not long ago, she had been certain she would never fall in love again. It was too much trouble. Too time-consuming. Too painful when it was over. She had loved and lost and she had decided that, in the future, it would be better not to love at all. And then she had gotten sick and she didn’t have the time or the energy to think about love or anything other than surviving from day to day.
But all that had been before she met Ronan. He was unlike any man she had ever known. She guessed he was probably in his mid-thirties, though he seemed older than his years. He was certainly older than any man she had ever dated…
Dated. The word made her giggle. They weren’t dating, exactly, she thought. Mainly, he was teaching her how to be his alter ego. Still, there were those devastating, mind-boggling, soul-shattering kisses. It was for certain no one had ever kissed her like he did. Not even Billy Ray. Until Ronan kissed her, she would have said no man in the world kissed better than that swine, Billy Ray. Just proved how wrong a girl could be, she thought, grinning.
Just thinking about Ronan’s kisses made her toes curl inside her shoes. Kicking off her heels, she went into the bathroom where she soaked in a hot bubble bath while her wicked imagination pictured Ronan in the tub with her, washing her back, nuzzling her neck…
With a shake of her head, she stepped out of the tub, dried off, and slipped into her nightgown. She was making far too much out of one endearment.
But she was still smiling when she fell asleep.
Ronan strolled along the dark streets, shielding his presence from those he passed along the way. It was relaxing, wandering through the city alone, especially after being confined inside an airplane. All those beating hearts. Warm bodies. Rivers of blood, each with a taste and texture of its own. The urge to feed, to gorge himself on the bounty before him, had been almost more than he could bear. He lived a solitary life most of the time. When he felt the need for company, he did what any man did, he went to one of the singles bars or one of the Goth hangouts and surrounded himself with music and people, and when he felt the need for feminine companionship, he found a woman who knew the score. His needs were few and simple. He had grown accustomed to his life and his lifestyle, had been content to live alone, until Shannah wandered up his driveway one afternoon and knocked on his door. Since the moment he had looked into her eyes, nothing in his life had been the same.
He walked the streets until the stars began to fade and then he found a deserted stretch of ground. He stood there, staring up at the sky, until a familiar tingle spread through his body, warning him of dawn’s approach. With a sigh, he burrowed deep into the earth as the first hint of the sun’s golden light heralded the dawn of a new day.
Chapter Ten
It was late afternoon when Shannah woke. She stayed in bed for several minutes, enjoying the luxury of having nothing to do. Luxury. It was something that had been sorely missing from her life until she met Ronan. Now it seemed as if her every wish had been granted. Her health was good. She had more clothes, and better clothes, than she had ever had before. She was in a posh room in a swanky hotel. She had cash in her wallet, given to her by a handsome man, and a whole day to do just as she pleased. It reminded her of the movie Pretty Woman. Ronan was Richard Gere and she was Julia Roberts.
Rising, she called room service and ordered breakfast. She took a long shower, washed her hair, then wrapped up in one of the fluffy hotel robes. She ate quickly, dressed, and called for a cab.
It was waiting for her when she went downstairs. Slipping on her sunglasses, she left the hotel.
She spent the day doing her best Julia Roberts impersonation. She went to an exclusive Beverly Hills salon and had a manicure and a facial, and then she spent several hours exploring the chic dress shops on Rodeo Drive. She bought two dresses, a gauzy white skirt and a peasant blouse, a gray cashmere sweater, and three pairs of shoes. Passing a men’s shop, she went inside and bought a tie (black, of course) for Ronan. She didn’t know him well enough, or have nerve enough, to be wearing nothing but the tie ala Julie Roberts’s character when she saw him in the hotel that night, but it made her feel daring to buy it just the same.
The book signing was scheduled for eight p.m. At five, she returned to the hotel and ordered a lobster dinner with all the trimmings, only to find that she was too nervous to eat it.
She had just finished dressing when there was a knock on the connecting door.
She had tried it earlier, only to find it locked from Ronan’s side. It opened now, revealing Ronan clad in a pair of black trousers, a white shirt open at the throat, and a black silk jacket.
“Lordy,” she murmured, “you look good enough to eat.”
His gaze moved over her. “As do you.”
“Here,” she said, handing him a long, narrow box, “I bought you a present.”
He lifted one brow as he took the box from her hand and lifted the lid. A slow smile curved his lips as he withdrew the tie. It was black, with a tiny wolf’s head embroidered in silver near the bottom.
“I don’t know why, but it reminded me of you,” she said. “Do you like it?”
“Very much.”
“You don’t have to wear it,” she said as he slipped it around his neck. “I just wanted to buy you something.”
“But I want to wear it.” He couldn’t remember the last time he had received a gift. The fact that it was from Shannah made it all the more special. “How does it look?”
“Perfect,” she said. Just like you.
Drawing her into his arms, he kissed her cheek. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She looked up at him. “I’m so nervous. I don’t think I can do this. I’ve forgotten everything you told me, everything I memorized.” She tapped her forehead with her fingertip. “Poof! Just like that, it’s gone.”
He laughed softly. “It will all come back to you, trust me.”
“What if it doesn’t?”
“You’re not there to answer a lot of questions. Just to sign books.”
“But people are sure to ask me…”
“Shannah.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and gazed deeply into her eyes. “Relax, Shannah. You’ll be fine. I’ll be there with you. There’s nothing to worry about. They’re going to love you.”
She stared up at him, mesmerized by the intensity of his gaze, calmed by the tone of his voice and his words of assurance. He was right, of course. She had nothing to worry about. She knew all the answers. She had read his books. She was ready.
“Shall we go?” he asked.
“Might as well,” she said, grinning, “since we’re all dressed up.”
They took a taxi to the bookstore.
The manager came forward to greet them. “I’m Blanche DeVries,” she said, offering her hand to Shannah. “And you must be Eva Black.”
“Yes. And this is my…this is Ronan.”
The manager’s smile widened as she shook his hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Ronan.”
“The pleasure is mine,” he said, bowing over her hand.
Blanche DeVries blushed to the roots of her dyed red hair. “If you’ll follow me, we’ve set up a table back here.”
Shannah followed the woman to a table that had been set up in the middle of the store near the romance section. Ronan’s latest novel was available, as well as several of his older books.
There was a small vase of flowers on a long cloth-covered table, as well as a water glass and bottle of Perrier. Stacks of his current book were arranged at the end of the table. Another, smaller table held soft drinks, a plate of cookies, a coffee urn, Styrofoam cups, and a bowl of mints.
“We’re so happy you could make it,” the manager said as Shannah took her seat. “Is there anything I can get for you?”
“No, thank you.”
“Mr. Ronan, can I get you a chair or a cup of coffee, or anything?”
“No, thank you.”
“Well, I think we’re all set then,” Blanche said. “If you need an
ything, just let me know.”
“I will, thank you,” Shannah replied. She watched the manager walk away, then looked at Ronan, one brow arched. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know what I mean. You had her eating out of your hand.”
“Oh, that.” He shrugged. “It’s nothing.”
Shannah grunted softly. She didn’t know what it was, but it was definitely something!
At five minutes to seven, there were a dozen women lined up in front of the table, all waiting to get Eva Black’s autograph.
It was a heady experience. Shannah signed new books, as well as older books that readers had brought with them in shopping bags. She listened as they praised her writing and her characters and gushed over her heroes. They asked when her next book would be coming out, begged her to tell them what it was about, or at least give them a hint. Was the hero from the last book in it? Did she plan to do a sequel sometime in the near future?
All the women, from the youngest to the oldest, wanted to know who Ronan was and when she replied that he was just a friend, they all smiled knowingly and asked if he was the model for her heroes.
“He does look just like a vampire, you know,” one woman said, keeping her voice low as though she was afraid she might offend him.
“He does, doesn’t he?” Shannah agreed.
As the evening wore on, she was amazed by the number of women who were willing to wait in line for an autograph. Twelve turned to twenty and then to thirty. Grandmothers and teens, young mothers with children in tow, even a few men showed up to get her autograph and praise her books. Many of the women lingered near the refreshment table, partaking of the cookies and coffee, chatting about their favorite authors, frequently stealing looks in Ronan’s direction.
Ronan stood back, watching Shannah. She was a natural, he thought. She was warm and gracious, charming both old and young alike with her innocence and her ready smile. Knowing that she would be all right, he told her that he needed to go out for a few minutes.
Shannah stared up at him. “You’re leaving me? Now? But…” She gestured at the people still waiting in line. “You can’t go now.”
“You’re doing fine,” he said, squeezing her shoulder. “I won’t be gone long.”
She didn’t have time to wonder where he was going. The line of people waiting for her autograph now stretched from her table to the front door.
One man in particular stood out, though she wasn’t sure why. He was average height, with blond hair and brown eyes. He wasn’t especially good looking and yet there was something about him, something that made her think she had seen him before.
“Who should I make this out to?” Shannah asked when he reached the front of the line.
“Jim.”
She signed the book and handed it to him with a smile, and then forgot all about him as more people crowded around her.
Ronan returned a few minutes later and resumed his place behind her.
A few of the women had brought cameras and asked if they could take her photograph, or have their photos taken with her. Feeling self-conscious, Shannah posed for them or with them, wondering what they would think if they knew she was a fraud and that the person who deserved their praise and adulation was standing quietly behind her. She couldn’t understand why he shunned meeting the very people who had made him famous.
Several of the women wanted Ronan’s photograph, also, but he politely declined.
Even Shannah couldn’t convince him to pose.
“I just love your books,” a teenage girl gushed. “They’re so sexy! I wish my boyfriend was more like your heroes.”
“Well, give him time,” Shannah said with a wink, “or let him read one of my books. Maybe he’ll get the hint.”
“You’re my favorite author,” a middle-aged woman said, pulling several paperbacks from a plastic bag. “I’m so glad your books aren’t full of bad language and sex. I never worry when I let my daughter read your books.”
“Thank you,” Shannah replied.
The lady leaned in closer. “I want to thank you for saving my marriage,” she said, her voice hushed, “Before I read your books, I’d sort of lost interest in s-e-x. I mentioned it to my doctor and she suggested I read romance novels to help put me in the mood. And you know what? They really helped!” She laughed softly. “My husband thanks you, too.”
Feeling as though her cheeks were on fire, Shannah stammered, “I…I’m so glad.”
“You don’t write fast enough,” another woman complained. “When I get your books, I can’t put them down and then, when I’m done, I have to wait six months to a year for the next one!”
“I’m sorry,” Shannah said, stifling the urge to laugh. “I’ll try and write faster.”
“You look too young to have written all those books,” another woman remarked. “You must have started writing when you were twelve years old!”
Shannah and Ronan had discussed a number of answers she could give if someone mentioned her age. Smiling, she said, “I was thirteen, actually. Who shall I make this out to?”
She was amazed when the manager announced that it was nine o’clock and the store was closing. The time had flown by.
She signed a book for the manager and another for one of the clerks.
“I’d hoped to have some stock for you to sign,” Blanche said, “but these are the last two copies.”
“Good thing we didn’t put them out,” the clerk said, clutching her copy as if it was made of gold. “I can’t remember when we’ve had a more successful signing.”
“Yes,” Blanche agreed. “I do hope you’ll come again.”
“I’d like that,” Shannah replied. She thanked the manager again for her hospitality, then followed Ronan out of the store.
“I’m famished,” she said. “Can we go get something to eat?”
“Sure.”
They stopped at the first restaurant they came to and went inside. “I don’t suppose you’re having anything,” Shannah remarked.
“No,” he said easily. “I grabbed a bite to eat earlier.”
Shannah ordered a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich, fries, and a chocolate shake, then sat back and smiled at Ronan. “The book signing was fun. I can’t imagine why you don’t want to do them yourself.”
He shook his head. “I’d rather remain out of the limelight.”
“Did I do all right?”
“You did better than all right.” He sat back in the booth, one arm resting along the edge of the seat. “So, what did you do this afternoon besides buy me a tie?”
“I bought clothes,” she said, grinning. “Lots of clothes. Wait until you see the bills.”
He smiled indulgently. “I’m glad you had a good time.”
“What did you do today?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I slept late. Took a quick tour of the town. Enjoyed an early dinner. None of it was as gratifying as watching you this evening.”
“Stop it, you’re making me blush.”
“And quite prettily, too.”
“Ronan!” She pressed her hands to her heated cheeks.
“You charmed them all,” he said, “just as I knew you would.”
“I couldn’t have done it if you hadn’t been there with me.”
“Of course you could.”
She shook her head. “No way.”
“Way,” he said, grinning. “Trust me. Have you forgotten you’re doing another signing tomorrow afternoon?”
“Oh! I did. I was so nervous about tonight, and then so relieved that nothing went wrong. You’ll be there tomorrow, won’t you?”
“No.”
“No? Why not?”
“I have some other business to take care of while I’m in town. You’ll do fine, Shannah. You proved it tonight.”
“But…”
Leaning forward, he placed a finger over her lips, stifling her protests. “You’ll be fine. I have every
confidence in you. Now you need to have a little in yourself.”
After dinner, they walked for a while, stopping now and then to look in this window or that, before catching a cab and returning to the hotel.
In her room, Shannah kicked off her heels and dropped into a chair. “I’m beat.”
Coming up behind her, Ronan brushed her hair aside and began to massage her shoulders.
“Oh,” she purred. “That feels wonderful.”
He closed his eyes as his fingers kneaded her neck and shoulders. Her skin was soft and warm. His nostrils filled with the scent of her hair and skin. He could feel the heat of her blood rising from beneath her skin, hear it flowing through her veins. His fangs lengthened in response to the temptation she presented. He had fed earlier that evening but he was filled with a sudden urge to take her in his arms and feed again. He could easily wipe the memory from her mind…
With a shake of his head, he opened his eyes and stepped away from the chair.
“It’s late,” he said. “You should get some sleep.”
She nodded, covering a yawn with her hand. “You’re right, I am tired.”
“Sleep well, Shannah.”
“You, too.”
She was extremely nervous when she entered the bookstore alone the next afternoon. She missed having Ronan beside her. His presence gave her confidence, something she was sorely lacking on her own.
The store manager, a short, red-headed man named Fred Barton, led her to a table near the center aisle of the store. Again, there were flowers and refreshments and stacks of Ronan’s latest novel.
Shannah sat down, wishing Ronan was there beside her, but she didn’t have time to fret over his absence for long. Within minutes, she was surrounded by readers asking for her autograph or a photo or both. Most of the comments and questions were similar to the ones she had been asked the night before, readers wanting to know when her next book would be out, if she was planning a sequel to the last one.
During a lull, Shannah glanced around the store, startled to see the man who had introduced himself as Jim standing at a book rack a few feet away. Catching her gaze, he smiled and nodded at her.
Dead Perfect Page 8