Clutching her car keys, she climbed the stairs and knocked on the door.
Her heart jumped into her throat when the door opened and Navarre stood there, looking dark and dangerous in a pair of tight black jeans and a black sweatshirt.
"Adrianna!" Navarre exclaimed, and then smiled. "What are you doing here?"
She stared up at him, wondering what she could say.
Navarre frowned. "Is something wrong?"
"No. No, I… I just wanted to see you."
"Come in."
She hesitated, her gaze darting past him, sweeping over the interior of the house.
"Adrianna?"
She murmured a quick thank-you and stepped inside, wondering if she'd just made what could be a fatal mistake. But that was silly. There was no such thing as vampires. She was simply letting her imagination get the best of her. That's what comes of reading too many paranormal romances, she mused. You start to see monsters in the closet.
She shivered as she felt his arms around her. Were his hands unusually cold, or was it just that her skin was suddenly so warm?
"I'm glad you came," Navarre said, his lips brushing the top of her head. "Would you care for a cup of coffee?"
"Yes, thank you."
Relief seeped through her. Everyone knew that vampires couldn't consume normal food.
"It's instant," he said. "I hope you don't mind?"
"No, that's fine."
She followed him down the hallway into the kitchen. Glancing into each room they passed, she noticed that all the drapes were drawn against the morning sun.
She sat at the table while he filled a teapot with water and set it on the stove to heat.
"It's dark in here," she remarked. "Why don't you open the curtains?"
"Bad for the furniture." Navarre shrugged. "I can't afford to have the fabric on some of those old pieces fade any more than it already has."
Adrianna grunted softly. Of course! Why hadn't she thought of that herself? Her grandmother had always kept her house dark, claiming the sunlight would fade the carpet.
She felt a flutter of excitement in the pit of her stomach as she watched him move around the kitchen, taking a cup from the shelf, adding a spoonful of instant coffee, filling the cup with water.
"Do you take cream or sugar?" he asked.
"Both, please."
It was only when he placed the cup before her that she realized he wasn't having any.
"I don't care for coffee," he said in answer to her unspoken question. "I only keep it on hand for company."
"Oh."
"Are you taking the day off?"
"No." She glanced at her watch. "I'll have to go soon. The store opens at ten."
His gaze moved over her face in a soft caress. "Would you care to go for a walk along the beach?"
His question put the last of her doubts to rest. "That sounds wonderful."
He smiled as he slipped on a pair of dark glasses, then took her hand in his. "Ready?"
The next hour was magical. Adrianna kicked off her shoes and they walked hand in hand along the beach, watching the sun dance on the water, listening to the quiet whisper of the waves against the shore, watching the gulls wheel and soar against the cloudless sky.
Sitting in the shade of the cliff, she told him of how she'd bought the bookstore, and how one of these days she was going to have to sit down and go through all the old boxes that she'd found in the attic of the building.
"The previous owner was a gypsy woman. I don't think she ever threw anything away." Adrianna laughed softly. "My great-grandmother didn't either. I inherited a huge old trunk when she passed away. I started to go through it a couple of times, but it made me sad, somehow, going through her things, so I just locked it up and put it away."
"The loss of a loved one is never easy," he remarked, "but time is a great healer."
"You sound as though you're speaking from experience."
"Yes."
He glanced out at the ocean, and Adrianna knew intuitively that he was thinking of another woman in another place.
"Would you care to talk about it?" she asked.
His gaze moved back to her face, and he shook his head. "No. It was a long time ago."
"I've been doing all the talking," Adrianna said, forcing a note of cheerfulness into her voice. "Tell me about you. Where did you live before you came to Moreno Bay?"
"Many places."
"Really? Like where? I've never lived anywhere but here."
Navarre blew out a deep breath. "Europe, mostly."
"Have you been to Paris? And Italy? Oh, I'd love to go to Italy. Is it wonderful?"
"I suppose so."
"You suppose so! Tell me what Europe is like. Did you see the Eiffel Tower and the Tower of London? Did you go to Venice?"
Navarre nodded.
Adrianna sighed. "I guess I'll never get there."
"Anything is possible," Navarre remarked. He glanced up at the sun, still amazed, and inordinately pleased, that he could endure the weak winter sunlight for short periods of time. He could feel the heat penetrating the heavy sweatshirt and pants he wore, making his skin tingle. Soon, he would have to go inside, but not yet. He wanted to spend a few more minutes sitting on the beach with Adrianna, pretending he was no different than any other man she knew.
"Do you have family here?" she asked.
"No. Do you?"
Adrianna nodded. "Well, not really here. My dad's company transferred him to California during my senior year."
"Why didn't you go with them?"
"I wanted to graduate with my friends. My great-grandma said I could stay with her, and my mom thought it was a good idea, since Grams was so old. It's her house I'm living in. She left it to me in her will, along with enough money to buy the bookstore."
"Do you have brothers or sisters?"
"Oh, yeah. I've got two brothers. Todd is fifteen, and Troy is sixteen. They came to stay with me last summer. At least, they said it was to see me. I suspect they just wanted to check out the girls in town and see if they'd missed anything while they were gone. I suppose next year I'll go there."
"Of course," he said quietly, though he disliked the thought of her leaving town, even for a day. "Family is important. You should stay close to them."
She looked at Navarre, wondering if she was imagining the longing, the loneliness, she saw in his eyes.
Navarre glanced up at the sun again, his eyes narrowing against the brightness that burned his eyes in spite of the dark glasses.
Rising to his feet, he pulled Adrianna up beside him. "As much as I've enjoyed this, I have to go."
"Of course. I didn't mean to take up so much of your time." She pulled her hand from his. "I really should be getting to work."
"Annie, don't." He drew her into his arms and kissed her cheek. Her skin was as smooth and warm as a sun-kissed peach. "I'd rather be here, with you, than anywhere else."
"Navarre…"
"I wish I didn't have to go." With a low groan, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, ignoring the heat of the sun that burned through his clothing and seared his flesh.
Breathless, Adrianna gazed up at him. "I don't have to go to work," she murmured.
"But I do." He kissed her again, deeply, passionately. "Annie, I'm sorry, but I have to go. I'll see you tonight," he said and then, after one last kiss, he ran down the beach to the path that led up to Cliff House.
Adrianna frowned as she watched Navarre run effortlessly up the steep slope until he was out of sight. He was in a hurry, all right, there was no doubt of that.
Picking up her shoes, she made her way up the path, hoping, as she did so, that Navarre had left the kitchen door open so she could get her keys, which she'd left on the table.
The door was unlocked, the house quiet, when she stepped into the kitchen. "Navarre?"
She picked up her keys and walked through the rooms downstairs. There was something about Cliff House that made her walk softly, that made her fe
el that she wasn't alone even though it seemed apparent that the house was empty. And yet, strange as it seemed, she couldn't help feeling that Navarre was nearby. She felt his presence all around her.
She glanced up the stairway, and then, after a moment's hesitation, she climbed the stairs to the second floor, wandering slowly from room to room. A narrow set of stairs led to what she assumed was the attic. A narrow chain stretched from one side of the bannister to the other. A neatly lettered wooden sign, with the words private, keep out, hung from the center of the chain.
Adrianna felt her pulse quicken as she stepped over the chain. On tiptoe, she climbed the stairs, which led to a solid oak door.
She stood there for several moments, her hand hovering over the doorknob, her heart pounding in her ears, and then, overcome by a sudden irrational fear, she turned and ran down the stairs and out of the house.
Lying in his bed, hovering in the shadow world between awareness and oblivion, Navarre listened to Adrianna's footsteps as she moved from room to room, as she climbed the stairs to the attic. He could hear the frantic beating of her heart as she stood outside the door, then the quick tattoo of her footsteps as she ran out of the house, suddenly afraid without knowing why.
But he knew why. A primal instinct buried deep in her subconscious had recognized the danger that lurked beyond the door.
He took a deep breath when he heard her drive away. He grimaced against the pain that stalked his body, caused by his exposure to the sun. But the pain was of no consequence when compared to the pleasure of walking along the beach with Adrianna, of seeing her face in the full light of day, of watching the sunlight dance in the wealth of her hair.
Closing his eyes, he waited for the darkness to descend, waited for the blackness that would carry him into oblivion; the blessed darkness that would heal him while his body took its unholy rest; the cursed darkness that kept him from sharing the daylight hours with the woman he loved.
He groaned softly, the pain in his heart rivaling the pain in his flesh. He had no right to love her, no right to let her love him.
And as the blackness washed over him, he knew he would have to let her go.
Chapter Seven
"Not tonight, Marty," Adrianna said. "I really don't feel like going out."
"Come on, babe," he coaxed. "It's Friday. A movie and a meal is just what you need."
"I don't think so." She gazed out the front window of the book store, watching the rain come down. "I just want to go home and curl up with a good book."
"You're sure?"
"Afraid so."
There was a slight pause on the other end of the receiver, and then a sigh.
"Listen, Addie, tell me the truth. Am I wasting my time? If I am, just say the word and I won't bother you anymore."
"Do we have to talk about this now?"
"Yeah. Just tell me the truth, Addie. I'm a grown man. I can take it."
"We're friends, Marty. We've been friends for a long time, and I'm afraid that's all we'll ever be."
"Sure you won't reconsider? I'm a heck of a catch."
"I know. I'm sorry, really, but…"
"Hey, don't sweat it." He laughed, a hollow, forced sound. "We can still be friends, and if you ever change your mind, well, like they say, I'll be around."
"Thanks, Marty. Good-bye."
"So long."
Adrianna hung up the receiver, then sat back in her chair and stared out at the rain again. It was the first big storm of the year, and she loved it. She loved the thunder, the rain, the lightning that lit up the sky.
Another couple of hours and she could close up, go home and take a hot bath. Later, she'd curl up on the sofa with a pizza and a good book.
The idea wasn't as appealing as she'd made it sound. What she really wanted was to see Navarre. She'd spent every minute of the last four days waiting for him to call, waiting to see him again.
Why hadn't he called? She closed her eyes, reliving the time they'd spent on the beach. Had she read more into his words, his kiss, than he'd intended? She remembered the night he'd come to her house, remembered the sound of his voice when he'd told her he needed her. Had it all been a lie? If so, what had he hoped to gain?
She slammed her palm against the desk top. It made a satisfying smack. If only she had Nancy's confidence! A dozen times in the last four days, she'd reached for the phone, only to hang up. She couldn't call him. She'd chased him too many times already. This time, it was up to him.
And what if he never calls?
"Then he never calls!" The words hung in the air. How had she fallen for the man so fast? She hardly knew him, hardly knew anything about him. But the thought of never seeing him again sat like a lead weight in the pit of her stomach.
"Damn you, Navarre, why don't you call me? Please call me…"
Muttering a very unladylike oath, she jumped to her feet. She wouldn't chase after him any more. It was Friday, and she was going out! She didn't need Mr. V. Navarre.
She glanced at the sign behind her desk, and read the words aloud: "A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle."
With a nod, she picked up a stack of books and carried them out to the front of the store. She'd fill the "New Romance" section, and then close up early. So what if it was only four-thirty? That was one of the advantages of being the owner, she thought as she arranged the books. You could go home whenever you wanted.
She grimaced as she heard the bell over the door ring, announcing a customer in the shop. Darn! So much for quitting early.
Pasting a smile on her face, she turned around, her breath trapped in her throat when she saw Navarre standing inside the door.
His gaze reached out to her, probing, searching, and then he held out his arms. "Annie?"
The ice around her heart melted at the sound of his voice. With a sigh, she flew to his arms like a bird to its nest.
"Navarre, it's been four days. I thought…" She bit the words off. She wouldn't ask questions. He was here, and that was all that mattered.
Arms locked tightly around her waist, he rested his forehead against hers. "I'm no good for you, Annie," he whispered. "Tell me to go away before it's too late."
"No!"
"I'm so afraid," he said, his voice thick with anguish. "So afraid I'll hurt you."
"You won't."
Her words were like acid, eating at his heart. "You don't know…"
She lifted her hand to his mouth, stilling his words. "I missed you."
He groaned low in his throat. He shouldn't have come here. He could hurt her in ways she couldn't begin to imagine. The thought of what he was capable of sickened him, yet he lacked the willpower to stay away from her. He'd tried. Oh, how he'd tried, but her memory haunted his nights and tormented his days, until he could think of nothing else but Annie—Annie, in his arms. The scent and the taste and the touch of her. Annie…
"I was just about to close up," she said, taking his hand. "Come on, we'll go to my place. I'll fix dinner and we can watch a movie or something."
Helpless to resist, he watched her lock up the store.
"Where did you park?"
"I walked." It had been wonderful, walking in the rain. Bundled up in a heavy jacket and a scarf, with the clouds hiding the sun, he had relished the opportunity to be outside, to tread the damp ground in the daylight, as if he were a mortal man.
"We'll take my car then," Adrianna said, "and I'll drive you home later."
She couldn't stop looking at him, couldn't stop touching him, assuring herself he was really there, in the car beside her. The day, which had seemed gloomy in spite of the rain, suddenly seemed bright and filled with possibilities.
"I love winter," Adrianna remarked as she pulled into the driveway. "It's my favorite time of the year."
Navarre nodded. "Mine, too." A wonderful time of year, winter, he mused. The sun was less intense, the days were shorter, the nights longer.
Adrianna switched off the engine, then smiled up at Navarre a
s he slid out of the car and came around to open her door. Hand in hand, they ran up the stairs to the porch.
"What would you like for dinner?" Adrianna asked as she unlocked the door.
Dinner! What did people eat these days? "I don't care," Navarre said with studied nonchalance. "Whatever you like."
"I was thinking of ordering in a pizza. I've got a good bottle of wine I've been saving for a special occasion."
"Pizza will be fine."
"Good."
He watched her go through the house, turning on lights, drawing the curtains. He glanced quickly around the living room, relaxing when he saw there were no mirrors in evidence.
"Here, let me take your coat."
He shrugged out of the heavy jacket, removed the scarf, and handed them to her.
"Make yourself at home," she invited. "I'll just go hang these wet things in the bathroom."
He was sitting on the sofa when she returned to the living room. "I called for the pizza," she said, sitting down beside him. "I hope you like cheese with everything."
Navarre nodded, wondering just what "everything" included.
"Should we have a fire?"
"If you like."
She started to get up, but he put a restraining hand on her arm. "I'll do it."
"Okay."
She loved to watch him. She had never known a man who moved the way he did, always in control, each movement light and seemingly without effort. He walked that way, too, hardly making a sound, as if his feet barely touched the floor.
He knelt in front of the fireplace, deftly arranging the wood before striking a match. There was a quiet whoosh, followed by the crackle of flames, and then a warm glow filled the room.
Adrianna smiled at him as he sat down beside her. "Cozy," she remarked.
Navarre nodded. There was something primitive about the sound of the rain combined with the heat of the flames. He could smell the wood and the fire and the storm.
And the woman.
Hunger rose within him. A hunger that had nothing to do with food, and everything to do with Adrianna.
He stared into the flames, feeling the hunger swell within him, feeling his desire flare to life, as hot as the fire blazing in the hearth.
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