Everlasting Desire (8 page)

“Who are you?”

He lifted one brow. “What do you mean?” It was an inane question. He knew exactly what she meant.

“There's something about you. Something…” She shook her head. “I can't put my finger on it, but there's something not quite right.”

“I'm going to take Megan up to bed.”

“You're not going to tell me who you are, or what you are, are you?”

“No. All you need to know is that I'm in love with Megan, and I would never hurt her.”

Shirl nodded. She didn't know much about this man, but she could see the truth of his words in his eyes.

She led the way up to Megan's room and turned down the covers on the bed. After Rhys lowered Megan onto the mattress, Shirl shooed him out of the room and shut the door. She undressed Megan, eased a nightgown over her head, then pulled the covers over her before allowing Rhys back into the room.

“I'll wait for you downstairs,” Shirl said, and left the room.

Rhys sat on the edge of the bed, one hand lightly stroking Megan's cheek. She might have perished in the fire if he hadn't been there tonight. The thought cut like a knife. Even though she wasn't hurt, he was hesitant to leave her, but Shirl was waiting downstairs to lock up after him. It was the only thing keeping him from leaving by the window. Using his supernatural powers would only add to her suspicions. Rising, he kissed Megan's cheek before going downstairs.

He found Shirl by the front door.

“Good night, Mr. Costain.”

Stifling a grin, he murmured, “Good night, Miss Mansfield,” and left the house.

She stared after him. Megan had been right to be wary of Rhys Costain, Shirl decided as she turned off the lights in the living room. He was remarkably handsome. He was polite. He dressed well and drove a great car, but…She shook her head. Something about him definitely wasn't right.

“Mr. Costain,” she murmured. “Who are you?”

Feeling a sudden chill, she closed and locked the door. Maybe that double-date she and Megan had talked about wasn't such a good idea, after all.

In the morning, Megan woke feeling wonderful. Smiling, she sat up and stretched her arms over her head. It was a beautiful day.

Rising, she took a long, hot shower, washed her hair, brushed her teeth, wrapped up in her favorite fluffy robe, and went downstairs to get the Sunday paper.

Humming softly, she fixed a cup of hot chocolate, then sat down and spread the paper on the kitchen table.

She frowned when she read the headlines:

 

I
NFERNO AT
D
OWNTOWN
R
OCK
C
ONCERT
E
IGHT
D
EAD
, T
WO
H
UNDRED
I
NJURED

 

How could she have forgotten about the fire? She quickly read the article, which gave a brief review of the concert, then went on to say that the cause of the fire was still under investigation, although the preliminary report pointed to defective wiring and faulty smoke detectors.

Reading the paper brought all the unbelievable horror of the evening rushing back—the terror that had engulfed her, the almost hypnotic glow of the flames as they licked at the building, the bodies of the dead being put into shiny black body bags.

How could she have forgotten such a horrible ordeal?

And then there was the way Rhys had spirited them out of the stadium. How had he done that? And why couldn't she remember? She drummed her fingertips on the edge of the table. One minute she had been inside the burning building and the next she had been across the street with no memory of how they had gotten there. Had Rhys been right? Had she been so afraid she had blocked it from her mind?

One thing she did know. If it hadn't been for Rhys, she probably wouldn't have made it out of the building alive. She read the names of the deceased again. Six of them had been teenagers. One had been a young mother. The last fatality had been a member of the band. Four firemen had suffered smoke inhalation; three had been hospitalized with severe burns. The building was a total loss.

Megan was trying to work up an appetite when Shirl entered the kitchen, looking gorgeous in a pair of snowflake pj's and pink bunny slippers. “Hey, girlfriend, I didn't expect you to be up so early.”

“It's almost noon.”

“Well, after the night you had…” Shirl lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “I thought you'd be out most of the day.”

Megan frowned. She had expected to have nightmares last night, or at least to have trouble sleeping, but she had slept like a baby. There had been no bad dreams, and when she woke this morning, she hadn't even thought of the fire until she read about it in the paper. How could she have forgotten something so traumatic, she wondered again. She pondered that a moment, trying to wrap her mind around the strangeness of it.

“Have you eaten?” Shirl asked.

“Not yet.”

“What are you in the mood for?”

“Nothing really.”

“Well, you need to eat.” Moving to the fridge, Shirl opened the door. “How about French toast? Waffles? Pancakes? Scrambled eggs, hash browns, and bacon?” She glanced over her shoulder. “Well?”

“Pancakes and bacon sounds good.”

When Megan started to get up, Shirl waved her off. “I'll do it. You just relax.”

“Shirl…”

“What?”

Megan ran her finger around the rim of her cup, and then, taking a deep breath, she told Shirl what was bothering her.

“Don't you think it's odd?” Megan asked when she finished. “I mean…” She shrugged. “It's like I completely forgot about the fire and everything that happened last night.”

After mixing the pancake batter, Shirl pulled a frying pan from under the stove for the bacon. “It does seem odd, but maybe it's not uncommon. I mean, it was a horrible experience. Maybe your subconscious just wasn't ready to handle it when you woke up.”

“Maybe, but I can't help thinking there's more to it…something I can't put my finger on. It's like, I don't know, somebody wiped it from my memory. I guess that sounds really strange.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“And then…you know, I don't remember getting out of the building. It's like, one minute we were inside, and the next we were across the street. Rhys said the reason I don't remember is because I was so scared.”

“Well, that makes sense, I guess.”

“I guess. It just seems so, I don't know, weird.”

Shirl sighed heavily. “Girlfriend, the whole world is weird these days. I mean, have you read about all those deaths back East? Bodies drained of blood. It's like we're living in the twilight zone.” She turned the bacon, then began ladling batter onto the griddle. “One of the news channels mentioned vampires.”

“Vampires! Are you serious?” Megan tilted her head to one side. “You're loving this, aren't you?”

“Of course not, but it is kind of exciting. Get the syrup and the butter, will you?”

Vampires, Megan thought, as she set the syrup and the butter on the table, along with a couple of knives and forks. There were rumors of creatures of the night from time to time. It seemed that whenever there was a mysterious death, some reporter attributed it to werewolves or vampires. She had even heard that you could buy vampire blood on the Internet, but she had laughed it off, certain it was either a joke or just some kind of fake blood for the Goth crowd.

Megan sat down at the table across from Shirl. “Looks great, thanks,” she said, and then did a double take when Shirl actually put a pancake and a strip of bacon on her own plate. “I don't believe it. You're eating real food?”

Shirl blew out an aggrieved sigh. “I deserve it. Besides, I'm on vacation for a week.”

“I didn't know that. What are you going to do?”

“Greg has a cabin up in the mountains. He wants to go up there, but I don't know….”

“You should go. It'll be good for you to get away for a while.”

“I don't think I should leave you alone.”

“Don't be silly. I'm fine. Really.”

“Are you sure? I mean, Greg and I can find plenty to do here in town.”

“Shirl, I'm a big girl, remember? I think I can get along without you for a few days.”

“Well, I really would like to go,” Shirl admitted with a dreamy smile.

“Then it's settled.” Megan slapped her palms on the table. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning. Early. And we'll be back next Sunday, not too late, since I have a shoot on Monday.”

Megan nodded. “I think it's just what you need. You've been working way too hard lately. I'll help you pack.”

The rest of the day passed quickly. Megan dusted and vacuumed. Shirl did the laundry. Since they'd had such a late breakfast, they skipped lunch and splurged on hot fudge sundaes instead.

After packing Shirl's suitcase, they went out to their favorite Italian restaurant for dinner.

“So,” Shirl said, reaching for a bread stick still warm from the oven, “what are you going to do about Rhys Costain?”

“I don't know.” Megan propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her folded hands. “When I'm with him, he makes me feel wonderful, beautiful. Special. Safe.”

“And when you're not with him?”

“I know he's hiding something,” Megan said. “I just don't know what it is.”

“Well, you be careful. I'll call you from the cabin tomorrow night. And I'll keep my phone on in case you need me.”

 

Shirl hadn't been kidding when she'd said Greg was picking her up early in the morning. Greg arrived at six, bid a sleepy-eyed Megan a quick hello and good-bye, and whisked Shirl away.

Megan waved as the car pulled out of the driveway, and then went back to bed, only to get up an hour later. She made her bed, fixed breakfast, did the dishes, and got dressed, and it was only eight thirty.

She had expected to enjoy having the place all to herself for a few days; instead, she was overcome with a feeling of depression. Even though there were days when Megan didn't see Shirl at all, it was comforting to know that, sooner or later, Shirl would come home from work and there would be another warm body in the house.

The day stretched before her. At loose ends, Megan went to the local day spa and indulged herself—she had a facial and a full body massage, swam in the heated pool, spent some time in the meditation garden before leaving for home. On the way, she stopped and picked up some Chinese takeout for dinner.

When she reached home, it was only six o'clock. Would this day never end?

The house seemed incredibly empty without Shirl. After eating, Megan went upstairs to take a shower, donned her favorite pj's, and then went downstairs. Curling up on the sofa, hugging a pillow to her chest, she surfed through the channels.

“Five hundred channels,” she muttered, “and there's nothing worth watching.”

As always, she eventually found her thoughts turning toward Rhys. How did she really feel about him? She had told Shirl she thought he was hiding something, but what? The most likely secret would be a wife. Or worse, a wife and a couple of kids. Maybe it was something even more damning. Lord, what if he was a sex offender or a felon? He certainly knew how to take care of himself. He had taken those two would-be robbers at Shore's down in the blink of an eye. And then there was his quick thinking at the concert. She still didn't know how he had gotten the two of them out of that burning building without a scratch.

She drummed her fingertips on the arm of the sofa. Where had he learned to react to danger with such blinding speed? Maybe he belonged to some Special Ops organization, or the CIA, or maybe the DEA. Maybe he taught martial arts. She blew out a sigh. Maybe she'd never know.

She was thinking about going to bed when the doorbell rang. Her heartbeat immediately jumped into overdrive.

It was Rhys. She knew it with every fiber of her being. She wished fleetingly that she was wearing something more alluring than pj's and a tank top, but there was no help for it now.

She forced herself to take three slow, deep breaths before she opened the door. And he was there. Dressed all in black, he blended with the shadows, a part of the night and the darkness.

“Megan.” His voice, soft and low, yet filled with heat and desire. It wrapped around her, seeping into her very being. “I thought you might like some company.”

“What makes you think I'm alone?”

“Didn't Shirl leave town this morning?”

“Yes, but how did you know that?”

“She must have mentioned it the other night, after you fell asleep.” The lie rolled easily off his tongue.

“Oh. Well, come on in. To tell you the truth, I was feeling a little lonely.”

He followed her into the living room, sat beside her on the sofa. Not too close. He was well aware of her ambivalent feelings toward him. It was time to reestablish trust, assure her that she had nothing to fear. He jerked his chin toward the TV. “What are you watching?”

“Nothing, really. I was about to turn it off.”

“Why not put some music on?”

“All right.” She found an all-music channel that played soft rock.

“Would you care to dance?”

“What? Here, now?”

“Why not here?” Rising, he reached for her hand.

Why not, indeed, Megan thought. Putting her hand in his, she let him pull her to her feet.

Dancing with Rhys wasn't like dancing with anyone else. He moved effortlessly, fluidly. She wasn't any great shakes as a dancer, but he held her so close, it didn't matter. Her body moved with his as though they had danced together for years instead of only once before. But dancing at the club hadn't been anything like this. They were alone now, just the two of them. It was exhilarating, being in his arms, feeling his breath against her cheek, seeing the heat in his eyes. She had once heard someone describe dancing as vertical sex. With Rhys, it was definitely true. Her hormones sat up and took notice every time his body brushed against hers.

“You're trembling,” he remarked.

“Am I?”

“Are you cold?”

“No.” How could she be when he was looking at her with such blatant desire?

“Afraid?”

She blinked up at him. She was afraid, afraid she would wake up in her bed and discover that this was only a dream. Afraid that when the music stopped, he would disappear. But she couldn't tell him that.

The music changed to something slow and sensual. His arms tightened around her, drawing her even closer. “Megan?”

“Kiss me, Rhys.”

If her request surprised him, it didn't show.

She closed her eyes as he bent his head toward her. Her heart slammed against her rib cage when his lips met hers. Heat flowed through every nerve and cell, turning her blood to fire, threatening to melt her bones.

“Ah, Megan, do you know what you do to me?” His gaze moved to the pulse throbbing wildly in the hollow of her throat. The rapid pounding of her heart was like the beat of a drum only he could hear. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is not to…” Muttering an oath, he released her and stepped away.

Confused, she wrapped her arms around her waist to keep from reaching for him. Had she done something wrong? Displeased him in some way? Disappointed him?

Seeing her bewildered expression, Rhys drew her back into his embrace. If he was smart, he would leave now and never see her again. The longer he was with her, the harder it would be to let her go. Even though he cared deeply for her, he knew, realistically, that there was no future for the two of them.

There was no denying that she was attracted to him, but then, most women were. He had no way of knowing how much of that attraction was due to the inherent allure all vampires possessed, and how much was genuine affection.

For his part, he hadn't felt this way about a woman since Josette. Closing his eyes, he opened his senses, basking in the feel of the woman in his arms, the flowery perfume of her hair, the musky scent of her skin.