Dead Perfect

by Amanda Ashley

  “Well, I’m sure if you wrote murder mysteries, no one would ask me if I’d actually killed someone. He also asked me if I really believed in vampires and if I had ever let anyone drink my blood.” She shook her head. “Can you believe that? Real vampires, indeed. Honestly…”

  She felt a rush of heat flood her cheeks when she recalled that she had once thought Ronan was a vampire. Judging by the look in his eyes, he was remembering the same thing.

  “And what did you say?” he asked, no longer grinning.

  “I said I didn’t believe in vampires, of course. You don’t want your readers to think you’re some kind of kook, do you?”

  “Of course not,” he replied, “but it might have added to my mystique if people thought I did.”

  “Well, next time someone asks me, I’ll tell them that I believe in vampires and goblins and things that go bump in the night, and…” She looked down at her hands, her voice trailing off.

  “And?” he prompted.

  “I just remembered that man you killed.” She wondered why the fact that Ronan had killed a man didn’t bother her more than it did. Was it because she hadn’t actually seen him do it, because she hadn’t seen the body, or because she knew he had killed the man in self-defense? Whatever the reason, it bothered her that she wasn’t more upset by what had happened. Had something like that happened a few weeks ago, she would probably have been in hysterics. What had happened to change her?

  Ronan grunted softly. “He was of no consequence.” And not very tasty, he recalled, but a free meal was a free meal. “Are you ready to go?”

  She hesitated a moment but try as she might, she couldn’t summon any regret over the man’s fate. The man had had a gun. He might have robbed them, or worse, but for Ronan’s swift intervention. Still…

  “Shannah.” His gaze caught and held hers. “It’s over and done. Put it out of your mind.”

  She blinked at him, then shook her head. “How do I look?”

  She pirouetted in front of him. The black cocktail dress was chic and flattering with its full skirt and bare back. The high heels did wonderful things for her legs.

  “Good enough to eat, as always,” he murmured. “Shall we go?”

  Ronan’s agent, Lorena Barbour, and his editor, Patricia Miliken, were waiting for them when they arrived at the restaurant. After introductions were made, the four of them went into the bar for drinks.

  “I can’t tell you how happy I am to meet you at last,” Patricia said, smiling at Shannah. “I was beginning to think you were a recluse or something.”

  Lorena grinned. “My thoughts, exactly. I’ve been representing Eva for years and we’ve never met.”

  Shannah smiled. “I do tend to be a homebody. I don’t like traveling, and I don’t care for crowds.”

  “I understand,” Patricia said, “and I promise not to ask you to do another tour for at least a year or two. But I must say, I think it’s been worthwhile. We’ve been very pleased with the turnout at your signings.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Here,” Patricia said, producing a manila envelope from her briefcase, “I thought you might want to see this. It’s the cover for your next book.”

  Opening the envelope, Shannah withdrew a cover flat, making sure Ronan could see it, as well. It was a striking cover, done in blue and black, with a man and woman embracing under a full moon. It was subtle and seductive.

  She looked at Ronan. “What do you think?”

  “I like it.”

  “So do I,” Shannah said, turning it over to read the back cover copy. “Oh, this is wonderful.”

  Patricia smiled, pleased. “I think the art department really outdid themselves this time. We’ll take out the usual ads in the romance magazines.”

  Shannah nodded, thinking how exciting it would be if she were really a published author. She had never done anything noteworthy in her life. When she was gone, only a few people would remember she had ever existed. But Ronan’s books, people would read them for years to come.

  Dinner passed pleasantly. Most of the talk was about future projects. Patricia said they were looking into e-books and audio books, and that they had been approached by a major movie company that was interested in acquiring the rights to her last book. Details would be forthcoming at a later date.

  Even though she was only pretending, Shannah couldn’t hide her excitement at the thought of a movie being made out of one of Ronan’s books.

  “Wouldn’t that be wonderful!” she exclaimed, smiling at him.

  “Yes, indeed,” he replied. “There might even be a part in it for you.”

  Patricia grinned. “I’m sure that could be arranged.”

  It was almost eleven when Shannah and Ronan left the restaurant amid hugs and handshakes.

  “Did I do all right?” Shannah asked on the ride back to the hotel.

  “You did fine.”

  Slipping off her heels, she wriggled her toes inside her nylons.

  “One more signing and it’s over,” Ronan said.

  “I can’t say I’m sorry, although it was kind of fun, pretending to be somebody important.”

  Ronan took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “You are important, Shannah, don’t ever think otherwise.”

  “I’m not,” she said. “But you are.” She looked at him, her eyes filled with admiration. “You’ve made something of yourself. You’re a published author. People admire and respect you. They write you letters and send you presents and wait in line for your autograph. I mean, don’t you think that’s awesome?”

  “I never gave it much thought,” he admitted. “Mostly, I just write for myself, to pass the time.”

  “Well, it must be nice to get paid for doing something you like.”

  “Yeah,” he said, grinning. “It is.”

  The taxi pulled up in front of the Waldorf a few minutes later. After paying the driver, Ronan picked up Shannah’s shoes and stuck one in each pocket, and then he swung Shannah into his arms and carried her into the hotel.

  “What are you doing?” she exclaimed.

  “You don’t want to ruin your stockings, do you?”

  “No,” she said, slipping her arms around his neck, “I guess not.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  Murmuring, “This is nice,” she rested her head on his shoulder.

  He carried her toward the elevator, heedless of the stares of the desk clerk and the people in the lobby.

  “You must be very strong,” she mused as they waited for the elevator.

  He laughed softly. “Honey, I could carry you all night long.”

  “I believe you could.” The thought bothered her on some deep dark level that she didn’t quite understand.

  The elevator arrived and he stepped inside.

  The doors closed, and they were alone.

  “You can put me down now,” she said.

  “No,” he said, his voice low and husky, “I don’t think so.”

  The look in his eyes made it suddenly hard for her to breathe. She murmured his name, her eyelids fluttering down as his mouth covered hers in a soul-shattering kiss. There was a roaring in her ears as his tongue slid along her lower lip, trailing fire.

  She gasped and his tongue slid along the inside of her upper lip, tasting her.

  She was melting, she thought, melting like chocolate on a hot day.

  He put her on her feet, slowly, so that her body brushed intimately against his on the way down. With his mouth still on hers, he backed her up against the wall of the elevator, his body leaning into hers, letting her feel his heat, his desire. She put her arms around his neck and stood on her tiptoes, her only thought to be closer to him, to drown in his kisses.

  She shivered as his hand slid up and down the length of her thigh.

  “Ronan.” She groaned his name as he deepened the kiss, caught between the pleasure of his touch and the pain of wanting more, so much more.

  “Hush, love.” He rested his forehead aga
inst hers as he fought the searing hunger rising within him. He had fed earlier but his hunger rose again, fueled by his desire for the woman in his arms. He closed his eyes, afraid that this time his thirst would prevail and that Shannah would look up and see him for what he was.

  “Ronan, please…”

  The elevator came to a stop with a quiet shushing sound and the doors slid open.

  He took a deep, shuddering breath.

  “Ronan?”

  Taking her by the hand, he stepped out of the elevator and walked her to her room. “Good night, Shannah.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes filled with confusion. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, love.”

  “But…you…aren’t we…aren’t we going to sleep together?”

  “I’d like nothing better, but it can’t be tonight.”

  “Why not? I know you want me,” she said, her voice barely audible. “I think you need me.”

  “Ah, Shannah, I need you more than you know, but this isn’t the time.”

  “Why not?”

  He looked at her, his eyes filled with anguish. “Because I’m afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “I’m afraid of hurting you or worse, scaring you. Good night.”

  Before she could ask for an explanation, he was gone.

  She stared after him. Afraid of scaring her? What the heck did that mean? Was he into something kinky? She knew he was a dangerous man. She had sensed it on more than one occasion, but she had never worried that he might hurt her. She wondered now if she was being foolish, if she was putting her life at risk by trusting a man she knew very little about.

  Frowning, she closed the door. She didn’t have much time left, but what she had, she wanted to spend with Ronan.

  Dissolving into mist, Ronan flowed out of the hotel and onto the sidewalk. Only when he was safe in the cover of darkness did he resume his own corporeal form.

  Shannah. Her scent permeated his clothing, lingered on his skin, on his tongue. It filled his nostrils with every breath. He would never be rid of her, he thought. Even if he sent her away, even if he never saw her again after tonight, her image was indelibly imprinted in his memory.

  He stalked the dark streets, his senses testing the wind for prey, and even as he closed in on his quarry, his thoughts were on Shannah, the taste of her lips, the warmth of her skin, the siren call of her heartbeat. Would his hunger for her lessen if he drank from her, or would it increase? If he dared drink from her, would he be able to stop before he took it all? And what of his desire? Would it ease if he made love to her? Or would it drive him over the edge? Would he take her blood and her life and leave nothing behind but a dry empty husk? It had happened once before and even though it had been centuries ago, he had never forgotten it, never forgiven himself.

  He took his prey quickly and unawares, took what he needed to survive without remorse, and sent the woman on her way. And it wasn’t enough. Though it assuaged his thirst, it didn’t satisfy his need.

  He was sorely afraid that only Shannah could do that, and that doing so would destroy her.

  Shannah called her mother Saturday morning to let her know that she would be coming to visit Sunday afternoon and that a friend would be joining her later that evening.

  “A male friend?” Verna Davis asked.

  “Yes, Mom, but don’t read any more into it than that.”

  “How are you feeling, dear?”

  “I’m doing well, for now, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Verna sighed. “Would you like anything special for dinner?”

  “No, Mom, anything you want to fix is fine with me.”

  “What about your friend?”

  “He probably won’t be there in time for dinner.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad. Well, no matter, I’ll make your favorite chocolate cake for dessert.”

  “Sounds wonderful, Mom.” There was no point in telling her mother that Ronan probably wouldn’t eat the cake either. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Shannah looked at the clock. She had to be at the book signing in another hour. She wondered where Ronan was and what he was doing. It seemed odd that he was always busy elsewhere during the day. She wondered if he had a girlfriend who worked nights and could only see him during the day, but even if that was true, it didn’t explain his absences here in New York. Of course, it was none of her business. They were just…what? Friends? Business partners who had the hots for each other?

  She shook her head. What difference did it make? She didn’t have time to get involved in any kind of relationship, romantic or otherwise. Doing so would only cause heartache for herself and anyone who was foolish enough to get emotionally or romantically involved with her.

  After getting dressed, she took a cab to the bookstore, put on her happy face, and signed autographs and answered questions for the next two hours. But always, in the back of her mind, were thoughts of Ronan and the kisses they had shared in the elevator and the way he had left her at her door, as if he was scared to death of her.

  It was a little after six when she returned to the hotel.

  Ronan was in her room, waiting for her. Dressed in black slacks, a dark blue shirt, and a long black coat, he looked extremely handsome.

  “How did the signing go?” he asked.

  “It was good.”

  “Any sign of Overstreet or Hewitt?”

  “No, at least I didn’t see them.”

  “Good.”

  “I need to change my clothes and touch up my makeup before we leave for the theater,” Shannah said. “Would you order me something to eat from room service?”

  “Sure, what do you want?”

  “A turkey sandwich and a small salad, please, and a glass of iced tea.”

  Nodding, he picked up the receiver while she went into the bedroom to change.

  Her dinner arrived a few minutes before she emerged from the bedroom.

  Ronan whistled softly. She seemed to grow more beautiful each time he saw her. Tonight, she was wearing a deep blue silk dress that outlined every delectable curve and made her eyes glow like sapphires. She wore a pair of navy high heels that did wonderful things for her legs.

  She twirled in front of him. “Do you like it?” she asked. “It cost a small fortune.”

  “Believe me, it was worth that and more.”

  Smiling, she sat at the table and spread a napkin in her lap. “I guess you’ve eaten?”

  He nodded. “I’ll call for a cab so we won’t have to wait.”

  Shannah ate quickly, her gaze darting to Ronan again and again. He couldn’t be more perfect if he had been sculpted by Michelangelo. His shoulders were broad, his arms and legs long and well-muscled, his face the epitome of masculine strength and beauty. And his eyes…she had never seen eyes like his. They were deep and dark and expressive; sometimes they were shadowed with pain she didn’t understand, at other times they were opaque, hiding secrets she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  He was pacing the floor in front of the windows. He moved with fluid grace, almost as if his feet weren’t touching the floor. His long black coat flowed behind him like a dark cloud. Sometimes he looked…she frowned, searching for the right word. Otherworldly, she thought. That was it, as if he was a visitor from another time, another place. She grinned at the thought. She had obviously been reading too many of his books.

  Finishing her dinner, she went into the bathroom to brush her teeth and apply fresh lipstick, and then she was ready to go.

  She had never been to the theater before, and this one was beautiful. She wasn’t surprised to find that they had seats in the front row orchestra. Ronan always managed to secure the best of everything.

  “This is so exciting,” she whispered as she thumbed through the program.

  Ronan grinned at her. He probably thought she was acting like a tourist, but what the heck, she had never been to a Broadway show before. Beauty and the Beast had been her favorite fairy tale when she
was a little girl, and it still was. She had seen both the French film and the Disney cartoon numerous times.

  When the lights dimmed, Ronan’s hand found hers and gave it a squeeze.

  She was mesmerized from the moment the curtain went up and she heard the narrator’s voice tell the tale of how the young prince had been cursed by an enchantress and doomed to live as a beast until he learned how to love. The settings, the actors, the songs, all held her spellbound. She loved Belle’s enthusiasm, Gaston’s arrogance, Lefou’s clumsiness, Lumiere’s humor, Cogsworth’s gruffness that covered a soft heart, and Babette’s coy manner. But mostly she loved the Beast. She felt his anger and his frustration, his sense of hopelessness at the fate that awaited him because she, too, had experienced those emotions and never more so than now, when her life was draining away and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. She cried when he sang, “If I Can’t Love Her.” It was the most beautiful, heartbreakingly sad song she had ever heard.

  They went out to the lobby during intermission. Shannah couldn’t help noticing that practically every woman they passed slid a glance at Ronan and smiled.

  He bought her a soft drink and a brownie and then they returned to their seats.

  The second half of the show was as wonderful as the first. She cheered silently as the Beast saved Belle’s life by fighting off a pack of wolves, smiled as Belle tended his wounds, felt her heart swell as Belle and the Beast danced to the title song. She loved the scene in the library when Belle read the story of King Arthur to the Beast because he didn’t know how to read. She felt his pain and his loneliness when he let Belle go, watched in awe as the Beast was magically transformed into the Prince right before her eyes at the end of the show. She wondered what was wrong with her that she liked him better as the Beast than the Prince.

  She hated to see it end. She applauded until her hands hurt and left the theater singing “Be Our Guest.”

  She was still humming in the cab on the way back to the hotel.

  “I take it you liked the show,” Ronan remarked dryly.

  “It was wonderful! The best play I’ve ever seen. Oh, I’d love to see it again some day. Thank you.”