His scent tickled her nostrils. She tried to place it, but couldn’t. It wasn’t aftershave lotion, it wasn’t cologne. Maybe it was just the man himself.
“What kind of car do you drive?” she asked, desperate to break the taut silence between them.
“I mean, you do drive, don’t you?”
“When I must.”
She slid a glance at him. “So, what kind of car do you have?”
“An old Firebird.”
“Black, I’ll bet.”
He turned to look at her, one brow raised.
She shrugged. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out.” She glanced pointedly at his attire. “You seem to like black.”
He looked thoughtful a moment before replying, “It suits me.”
When they neared the mall, he said, “Pull over. It’s early yet. Maybe we can find you something appropriate to wear.”
“Excuse me?”
“For the photo, Shannah. For the book cover, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” She pulled into the parking lot, found a place to park, and cut the engine.
It was Friday night and the mall was crowded. Ronan followed Shannah up the elevator to the second floor of Nordstrom’s, trailed after her as she moved from rack to rack in the Women’s Department, assiduously avoiding the mirrors that were virtually everywhere.
When a saleslady approached Shannah and asked if she could help, he told the woman they were looking for something suitable for a professional portrait. With a nod, the woman led them to another department and quickly picked out several outfits in Shannah’s size.
“I want to see you in all of them,” Ronan called as Shannah followed the saleslady toward the dressing rooms.
He waited for her near the entrance, his hunger aroused by the proximity of so many women, the sound of so many beating hearts.
Shannah emerged from the dressing room a few moments later clad in a mauve pantsuit.
He shook his head.
He rejected the next outfit, and the next, smiled when she appeared wearing a pair of navy blue slacks, a bright pink silk blouse, and a navy blue jacket with bright pink piping on the lapels. It made her look confident and successful.
“We’ll take it,” he said.
He bought her three other outfits for public appearances, pantyhose, shoes and matching handbags, as well as underwear, a nightgown, and a robe. He bought her several casual dresses with shoes to match, a couple pairs of jeans, sweaters and blouses. He also bought her a set of luggage and a day planner.
“This is too much,” she said. “Really.”
“You’re supposed to be a successful author,” he replied. “You need to look the part. Can you think of anything else?”
She shook her head as they left the last department store. “I don’t know how we’ll get all this into my car.”
“We’ll manage.”
He was heading for the elevator when she stopped at the entrance to the food court. “I’m hungry.”
“What do you want?”
“A corn dog and a root beer.”
Nodding, he waited while she put her packages down, then handed her a twenty-dollar bill. He was glad to see the line was thankfully short.
He felt his gorge rise at the myriad scents that assailed him, not only the smell of food and drink but the odor of the mall itself. But it was the scent of blood all around him that was the most unsettling. He could hear it pumping through a hundred hearts, smell it flowing, thick and rich and red, through the veins of the men and women closest to him. It aroused his thirst and with it, the urge to hunt. With an effort, he fought it down.
“Let’s go,” he said when she returned carrying a cardboard tray. “You can eat it in the car.”
“Why are you in such a hurry?”
He shrugged. “I don’t like crowds.”
When she reached for the packages she had been carrying, he took them from her hand. “I’ve got them,” he said, his voice gruff. “Let’s go.”
She frowned at him but knowing it was useless to argue, she followed him out of the mall to the car.
He loaded the packages into the back seat and the trunk. “I’ll drive.”
Again, she didn’t argue, merely pulled her keys out of her pocket and dropped them into his outstretched hand.
He seemed tense, though she didn’t know why.
She wolfed down the corn dog, surprised at how hungry she was and how good it tasted. The root beer, too, tasted better than any she’d had in a long time.
When they reached his house, he parked the car in front, slid from behind the wheel, walked around the front of the car and opened her door. When she reached for one of the packages in the back seat, he waved her off.
“I’ll do it.”
“At least let me help.”
“Go to bed.”
Shannah stared at him. “What?”
“I said go to bed.” There was a strange glitter in his eyes; his voice was deep, a low growl that brooked no argument.
She didn’t argue, didn’t linger to ask what was wrong. Instead, she ran up the porch steps and into the house and didn’t stop running until she was upstairs in the bedroom with the door locked behind her.
What had she gotten herself into?
Agitated and more than a little afraid, she paced the floor, then came to an abrupt halt. How had he found her apartment? She hadn’t given him her address or her phone number. He didn’t have her last name. She knew he hadn’t followed her home when she ran away. She had glanced over her shoulder more than once to make sure he wasn’t behind her.
So, howhad he found her?
And how had he persuaded her to invite him inside? She’d had no intention of doing so. And how had he convinced her to participate in this charade? She’d had no intention of doing that, either. Yet here she was, sharing a house with a complete stranger, albeit a very handsome stranger, who had just bought her a wardrobe worth a small fortune and was willing to pay the rent on her apartment and a salary while she pretended to be him. It seemed too good to be true. As her mother had often said, anything that seemed too good to be true probably was.
What had she gotten herself into? He had scared her tonight when he’d told her to go to bed.
There had been something in his eyes, his voice…She shivered at the memory. Maybe she should tell him she had reconsidered his proposal and changed her mind.
Sleep, she thought, she needed to get some sleep. Perhaps things would look clearer in the morning.
She changed into the nightgown he had bought for her, turned out the light, and slipped under the covers, only to lie there in the dark, wide awake, wondering if her decision to stay here was going to turn out to be the biggest mistake of her life.