The Perfect Kiss

by Amanda Stevens

  Still, Zach knew he was on to something. He alone had faith in his decision. The fragrance Matthew had adopted to replace Seduction hadn’t done so well, anyway. In fact, Zach had been surprised at how poorly the sales figures for Sundancer had been since its inception eleven years ago. Why William had kept marketing the fragrance year after year was a mystery to Zach.

  Or was it? His father had complete faith in every decision Matthew had ever made. Evidence to the contrary be damned.

  “Youth isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be,” Zach snapped, surprised by the fresh sting of old bitterness. “I happen to think Seduction is a classic that can make a successful comeback—just like Anya Valorian. The two were made for each other.”

  A light of interest glinted in Julian’s gray eyes. He seemed to mull over the idea. “Hmm. An intriguing concept, Zachary, I must say. You may be on to something at that. Anya Valorian is no longer a fresh-faced teenager, though you certainly couldn’t tell that by her complexion. But there’s something…timelessly alluring about her.”

  Zach paused, for some reason hesitant to question Julian further, reluctant to show how much this campaign meant to him. But his curiosity got the better of him. He said, “What’s she like, Julian? I mean, besides the obvious.”

  It was Julian’s turn to pause. Something flickered in his eyes, nothing more than a brief shadow, but it was enough to make Zach experience that same sort of vague uneasiness he’d had in his office earlier.

  “She’s beautiful, of course,” Julian said slowly. “Very elegant and reserved. Extremely intelligent. But there’s something about her. I don’t know how to explain it. She has a sort of haunting, unforgettable quality I’ve never run across in my thirty years in this business. And her eyes. My God, those incredible eyes!” It was hard to decipher the nuance in Julian’s voice. Was it wonder? Admiration? Zach would almost have named it fear, if the notion hadn’t been so ludicrous.

  “Her eyes are utterly compelling, almost…hypnotic,” Julian continued. “The color is extraordinary. It’s almost as though she can see inside your soul…. I tell you, Zach, it’s a very disconcerting feeling, being alone with her….”

  Zach smiled, anticipating that pleasure himself. “And if you can capture that quality on film…” His voice trailed off suggestively. Their gazes met and held.

  “Exactly,” Julian agreed. “She would make us all very rich indeed.”

  Success, Zach thought. That was what Anya Valorian stood for to him. Success in his own right. Success no one could diminish. Success that would vindicate him, once and for all.

  “Look alive, people!” Julian barked, clapping his hands for attention. “And someone inform Miss Valorian we’re ready for her.”

  There was a general exodus toward the dressing room as everyone clamored for their first look at the eccentric model. But before anyone had time to knock, the door opened, the crowd fell back, and a reverent hush descended over the room.

  * * *

  This was the worst part, Anya thought, her stomach churning in dread. This transformation—stepping from the dimly lit dressing room into the brilliance of the set, putting herself on display for all the world to see. She hated it, despised it as passionately as she had once loved it—the attention, the adoration, the mindless worship of the flesh. How foolish she had once been, how caught up in her own pleasures, her own sense of immortality.

  How small and insignificant it all seemed now with her knowledge and her power and her vision. Still, if she could turn back the clock and return to that same shallow, conceited adolescent she had once been, Anya knew she would gladly do so. But that was impossible, as impossible and remote as…her next sunrise.

  She blinked rapidly, trying to accustom herself to the lights as she walked toward the set, ever aware of the dozens of eyes that moved all over her. Anya’s skin crawled from the invasion, but she ignored the sensation as she gave Julian Sindel a tentative smile. Anya knew she looked good. As always, Freida had skillfully applied her cosmetics and done her hair. Anya would never trust anyone else to do so.

  “Magnificent,” Julian said, his critical eye roving over her face and hair, then downward, to the bloodred satin gown she wore. “We’ll tone down the lighting, focus on the eyes….”

  Julian turned to say something to one of his assistants, and for the first time, Anya noticed the man standing behind him. He towered over the photographer by a good seven inches or so, and even Anya had to slant her gaze upward. As her vision adjusted to the bright lights, her eyes locked with his. Her heart skidded to a stop, then pounded against her chest like a caged animal trying to get free.

  The first thing that struck Anya about his looks was how bronzed his skin was, a testament to a great deal of time spent outdoors, she thought, with a keen stab of envy. His eyes were beautiful, extraordinarily green and lush. They reminded Anya of a meadow on a summer’s day, and his hair was light brown and streaked with ribbons of trapped sunlight.

  He was tall, at least six two, and his shoulders looked broad and powerful beneath the leather jacket. The snug jeans confirmed his narrow waist, lean hips and muscular thighs, and as Anya’s gaze lifted once more, she felt the pulse flutter in her throat at the intensity in the verdant depths of his eyes.

  But it wasn’t his looks that had set her nerves on edge or the blood pounding through her veins. It was the fact that he could look her in the eye for long, unwavering seconds and not turn away, as most people had to. His stare burned its way into her soul—as though with that one look he could drag from her her deepest secrets, her darkest memories and expose them to the golden light that seemed to surround him.

  Dear God, she thought weakly. Could he be the one?

  As though recognizing her weakness, the man stepped forward, his own gaze frankly returning her appraisal. He held out his hand. “Zach Christopher. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Valorian,” he said in a deep, resonant voice that seemed to thrum through her entire body.

  Anya stared at his outstretched hand. Did she dare touch him? she wondered. Perhaps that would be the ultimate test. She let her fingertips briefly glide against his skin, felt a searing sensation somewhere inside her chest. Quickly she broke the contact.

  “Mr. Christopher,” she said with a slight breathless quality to her voice. “Why do I know that name?”

  “My company has made you several offers over the last few days. Which, I might add, your agent summarily rejected.” There was nothing in his voice to imply his displeasure, but Anya knew it was there. Sensed it. Along with the cold determination glinting in his eyes.

  She suppressed a shudder as she continued to stare up at him. “You’re with Renee Alexander Cosmetics?”

  “Guilty.” His smile was easy, utterly charming. And dangerously misleading.

  “I see. Well, I must say, you people are persistent if nothing else. But as I’ve instructed my agent to inform your representative, Mr. Christopher, I’m not interested in an exclusive contract.”

  “You haven’t heard my latest proposition.”

  Their gazes touched once more. Once more, Anya felt the impact deep, deep inside her. “Mr. Christopher—”

  “Zach, I hate to interrupt these delicate negotiations, but get lost,” Julian invited without malice. To Anya he said, “Let’s get started, shall we? As I understand it, we only have a short time.”

  Anya turned toward the set, but the man called Zach Christopher caught her arm. Her skin burned with awareness beneath his touch. As though he felt the fire, too, he dropped her arm immediately, but Anya could still feel his mark.

  It made her tremble to think of what his kiss might do to her.

  “Ms. Valorian, I would very much like an opportunity to discuss this further. A breakfast meeting, perhaps?”

  “I’m afraid that would be quite impossible.”

  His jaw set stubbornly and he frowned. “Lunch then.”

  “Mr. Christopher, no matter what your proposition might be, I�
�m afraid you’d be wasting your time. I’m not available for a long-term commitment.”

  “I think I could change your mind,” he insisted, his green eyes deepening to jade.

  “Believe me, you couldn’t. There’s…no hope.”

  “There’s always hope,” he said, the darkness of his gaze hinting at arrogance. “And I never take no for an answer.”

  Then God help you, Anya thought sadly as she turned and took her place on the set. God help you.

  * * *

  She was good, Zach thought. Damned good. Better even than her photos had suggested. The smoldering sensuality conveyed in her eyes, her mouth, her body was a unique essence no film could ever really capture. Seeing her in person was an almost mystical experience. The way she moved, the way she looked and smiled was pure sensual poetry.

  Julian had been right about her eyes, Zach thought. They were compelling, mesmerizing but…somehow different. And then he had it.

  The color.

  The color of her eyes was different from the pictures he’d been looking at earlier. The revelation startled him. The photos had shown them to be as blue as a summer sky, but now they were the most amazing shade of gray—silver actually—and so light and transparent they seemed to be bits of crystal.

  And Zach couldn’t seem to look away from them, from her.

  Overhead speakers blasted music, a dark, decadent, dangerous-sounding song that blended erotically with the setting and made Zach think of moonless nights, tangled satin sheets and unspeakable fantasies.

  Anya reclined on her side against massive gold-tasseled pillows. She propped herself on her elbow, and slowly, ever so slowly, drew one knee up to reveal a long, tantalizing glimpse of leg and thigh that practically had the mesmerized crew salivating and Julian Sindel gushing in ecstasy.

  Hell, he was no exception, Zach thought, backing even more deeply into the shadows. His palms itched to feel their way up that silky leg, to explore deeper and deeper until he found the delicious warmth that remained hidden beneath her clothing. Her ruby lips parted as she leaned toward the camera, and her lids became heavy and sensual.

  She looked exactly like a woman who was waiting for her lover, a woman who was every man’s fantasy, and Zach found himself falling irrevocably under her spell.

  He tried to recall the dollar signs Anya Valorian represented, tried to remember that success was the name of the game. He reminded himself once again that she was perfect for Seduction.

  And for seduction.

  He wanted her, he realized, in a very basic man-to-woman way. He wanted to bury his face in the silvery cloud that was her hair, wanted to leisurely sample the sweet lushness of her lips, the soft fragrance of her cool skin. He wanted to press himself against her, feel her heart beating against his own as she whispered to him, touched him, thrilled him.

  He wanted to explore every inch of her beautiful body, and he wanted her to do the same to him. He wanted her naked, slick and ready, wanted to hear her breathy words of praise, her hot, greedy demands and her shuddering, desperate pleas. He wanted to be the man, the only man, who could answer her every prayer.

  Her gaze found his as her tongue licked her lips. Whether a deliberate act or merely a reflex stimulated by the excessive heat under the lights, Zach didn’t know.

  Nor did he care.

  The effect on him was exactly the same. He was turned on, incredibly aroused, and as he tore his gaze from hers, he looked around the room.

  Every man in the place wore the same enraptured, slightly dazed look he knew mirrored his own. For some strange reason, Zach experienced an almost overwhelming feeling of possessiveness. He suddenly hated the notion that all those men were thinking the same thoughts about Anya Valorian that he’d been thinking.

  Which was ridiculous, of course. When he signed her to an exclusive contract, this was exactly the kind of reaction he’d want her to generate because it was exactly the kind of reaction that would launch Renee Alexander to the top again—and Zach right along with it.

  Men would buy Seduction in their vain attempt to possess Anya Valorian, and women would buy it in their desire to emulate her. The visceral elements were all there, ready to be tapped, and Zach couldn’t afford to let his own hormones get in the way—no matter how they raged. His need for success was even more powerful, more relentless than his desire. Anya Valorian couldn’t know it, but she was no match for someone as bloodthirsty as Zach Christopher.

  Their gazes touched, looked away, met again and lingered. Shock waves rippled through Zach, for it wasn’t seduction he read in her eyes now. It wasn’t passion or need that radiated from those silvery depths.

  What he saw in Anya Valorian’s eyes was fear.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Anya was scared. Terrified. More frightened than she had ever been in her life.

  She leaned forward urgently and spoke to Karl Aldermann, “Is he still following us?”

  “He’s back there all right,” her driver said grimly. “I’ll try to lose him at the next light.”

  Beside her in the back seat, Freida Aldermann, Anya’s housekeeper, makeup artist and friend, wrung her hands nervously. “I knew he was trouble. Oh, liebchen, the moment I saw the way he looked at you back there, I knew he would be dangerous.” Her blue eyes glowed in the flashing lights from the street. “He could destroy everything,” she whispered frantically.

  Anya turned and glanced out the tinted back window. She could see his headlights in the distance, keeping a steady, measured pace. Like Freida, she knew who was in that car. She had no doubt whatsoever.

  Zach Christopher was following her.

  Zach Christopher, an arrogant, headstrong, thoroughly determined man who never took no for an answer.

  Anya’s heart pounded against her chest. She felt weak, hot and cold all over. With her growing frustration toward his stubbornness came another, deeper, far more dangerous sensation.

  Excitement.

  She could feel the heady emotion mounting inside her. He was getting nearer, drawing so close she could sense the strength of his will, the ruthlessness of his pursuit.

  Hurry, she thought. The word beat a relentless litany in her head. Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.

  But whom was she coaxing? she wondered desperately. Herself…or Zach?

  It was a question she was afraid to answer.

  Oh, what should she do? Stop and confront him? Order him to quit following her? Demand he leave her alone?

  Or should she run from him, as far and as fast as she could? Because Freida was right. Zach Christopher was a dangerous, dangerous man. Of that Anya was certain. There was something inside him, a darkness of his own, that drove him relentlessly, that made his single-minded determination a deadly threat to her.

  Because Anya couldn’t allow him, or anyone else, to get too close to her.

  She couldn’t allow anyone to learn her secret.

  She couldn’t allow herself to forget, even for a minute, who and what she was. No matter how much she might want to.

  Why else had she turned down such a lucrative contract when she so desperately needed the money? Because a long-term commitment was something Anya couldn’t even consider. Too many appearances would be required for which she would be unavailable. Too many questions would arise. Too many suspicions would be aroused. People would start to wonder, to talk….

  Somehow, she had to find a way to make Zach Christopher leave her alone. His very proximity made the ache grow and strengthen inside her. With one brief touch, with one possessive look, he had made her passions rage out of control.

  You can never know the love of a man, Anya.

  She closed her eyes, remembering Gershom’s final warning. Her mouth suddenly felt as dry as cotton. “Hurry, Karl,” she said hoarsely. “Lose him. For God’s sake, whatever you do, lose him!”

  The car shot forward into the darkness. Lights from the street grew dimmer and dimmer as they drew homeward. The dark streets, the abandoned neighborhood welcomed her. The desol
ateness comforted her. She could lose herself here, in a place time had forgotten.

  Up ahead, a traffic light changed to yellow. Instead of slowing, Karl stepped on the accelerator. The big car sped through, and Anya saw Karl quickly glance in the rearview mirror.

  “The light caught him,” he announced with a note of triumph in his tone. “We can lose him now.”

  “Thank God,” Freida murmured, her hands still moving restlessly in her lap.

  We can lose him now. Why didn’t Anya feel enormously relieved by Karl’s words? Why didn’t she feel comforted by them? Why, instead, did she feel such bitter disappointment, such a keen sense of loss?

  You’re losing control, Anya, she told herself sternly. After ten years of living in relative isolation, her return to the limelight had taken its toll. No wonder she felt so disconcerted, so edgy. It had nothing to do with Zach Christopher and everything to do with her impossible situation.

  As the car turned into the dark, run-down neighborhood and glided down the street, Anya gradually began to feel stronger. The old houses, with their shuttered windows and their tightly locked doors, stood mute and blind. She was in her element here. The dark silence settled over her like a blanket. Anya snuggled into the anonymity. No one asked questions here. No one came to her door. No one cared.

  In this neighborhood, it was live and let live.

  Or die.

  * * *

  The gleaming black Mercedes slipped along the darkened streets like a hungry cat on the prowl. It lunged through a caution light and sped away into the night, red taillights blurring in the cold drizzle of rain that had begun to fall.

  The light turned red, and Zach ground his own car to a halt, cursing violently and rapping his fist impatiently on the steering wheel.

  Run the damn light, he ordered himself. She’s getting away.

  And he might have done precisely that had it not been for the memories he always carried with him, memories that were only a little paler with age, only slightly less painful with time. He closed his eyes briefly, vainly trying to blot out the image of Matthew’s face, forever young in his mind, laughing and shouting, “Just run the damn light, Zach. Show ’em what this baby can do.”