His shoulder blades twitched in anticipation over the time he was taking to accomplish this objective. His goal was to get in, take care of this problem and get out, unnoticed.
But he was...hesitating.
The last time he’d had a similar task, he’d met a crusty celestial heretic named Galileo who had caused all sorts of trouble. How hard could dealing with a young astronomer like Savannah Clark be, no matter how much he respected her accomplishments or appreciated her looks?
What is it about you that stops me from doing my task, I wonder?
He felt close to her intellectually. In following her writings, he had gleaned the way her mind worked. Her more obvious physical attributes would easily cause any male’s imagination to spring into overdrive.
No matter what other titles he carried, he was male enough to imagine the warm, flawless skin beneath that red sweater. Beings like himself craved warmth and company above most other things.
Allowing himself another moment of leeway, Dylan pictured Savannah Clark’s lush nakedness spread out beneath him on a bed of silk, with her hair fanned out around her like a sun-kissed corona. That image, seared into his mind, caused a flutter inside his chest that made his fangs ache.
Yet personal feelings didn’t matter. He was supposed to be miles beyond things like that. All he had to do was take that first step toward Savanna. The rest would be easy. He’d done this before.
But he didn’t take that step.
After traveling all this way, and after existing apart from the world of mortals, he suddenly wanted to trespass in their world, a world in which he no longer belonged, for a while longer.
With that extra time, he might find out what had sparked Savannah’s interest in the Christmas Star, so that he could watch for that same warning flare of inspiration in others in the future. He might observe how mortals had evolved in their dealings with what were now called holidays.
The lights, sights and sounds surrounding him were comforting in a strange way. Everyone here, in this small, roped-off section of a parking lot filled with trees, seemed...happy.
What he felt as he watched Savannah Clark move among the trappings of the season was a rush of pure pleasure. And both heaven and hell knew how long he had been removed from sensations like that, in fact from all feeling, out of necessity.
He wanted to keep looking at her. Surely it was as important for him to understand her research as it was to suppress it?
She turned her head. Several strands of golden hair swung to curtain part of her face. Dylan leaned forward, wanting to catch hold of those golden strands with a need so strong it was accompanied by a sharp, unexpected stab of pain.
He could not touch her. No agenda stretched that far. He wasn’t like her, and she most certainly was nothing like him.
But her turn had caused her sweater to open at the collar, revealing a triangle of ivory skin stretched across delicate bones. Above those bones lay an artistic lacing of fine lavender veins.
Dylan’s body began to throb, as if he was at war with himself. Waves of pleasure beat at him mercilessly, when Savannah Clark had no right to affect him in any way. The spark inside her that signaled her life force was a difference too vast to be breached. The loss of his spark was just a memory.
Before realizing that he had moved, Dylan took a step toward her.
“Perhaps you,” he said as he continued to watch Savannah, flashing his fangs briefly, “hold the key to this mysterious lapse in behavior.”
In fact, he was almost sure that she did.
And what self-respecting being of any kind didn’t like the challenge of a good mystery to solve, now and then?
* * *
Moving to the opposite side of the seven-foot Douglas fir that she had chosen to take home, Savannah gave the handsome stranger in the next aisle a covert sideways glance.
Though she liked what she saw, she knew it wasn’t advisable to talk to, or stare at, strangers. Even if this guy had the “it” factor in spades.
He had a towering presence, broad shoulders and dark brown hair reaching to the chin of a face that seemed unusually pale in the moonlight, even for December. The whiteness of his skin stood out in the night like a star would among the dark heavens. And once she made that kind of analogy—star, heavens—Savannah was entranced.
“Of course,” she muttered, “looks can be deceiving.”
Still, she was willing to bet that someone so delicious would be good in bed, though fantasies like that were futile. She wouldn’t have known what to say if he walked right up and spoke to her. Astronomers were geeks. Most of her time was spent alone, with a computer and a world-famous telescope.
All she knew about were stars. All she really cared about were stars. So, you, she wanted to tell the guy who had given her heart a jump start from a distance, are a nonissue, and nothing for me to lose sleep over.
In afterthought, she added, Although I actually did wish upon a star tonight for a partner, companion, lover and mate, only hopeless romantics and idiots believe that a star can listen, let alone help that wish along.
Wrapping both hands around the trunk of her tree, Savannah smiled wistfully at it. “It’s just you and me, tree.”
“Can I help with that?” someone behind her asked.
She turned toward whoever had made the offer. “Sure. Thanks. Help would be appreciated.”
Blinking, her eyes came level with the top button of a dark coat. Without having to look up, her body issued a warning alert. Can’t be him. Not that guy. She hadn’t even seen him move.
It was that guy, though, not only two heads taller than she was, but oozing an overt masculinity that triggered an unusual rumbling sensation deep inside her.
“This tree is quite a bit taller than you are,” he said in a voice that was deep, husky and sexy as hell. “I’ve been wondering how you were going to move it.”
Being unused to people invading her personal space, Savannah found his closeness, after all those renegade wishes, unusually intimate. Stepping back, feeling a flush rise up her neck, she said, “It is rather large, isn’t it? Still, if my ceiling was any higher than eight feet, I’d opt for something from the next row over.”
Her heart was thumping monstrously.
“There are hundreds of trees here. How did you choose this one out of so many?” he asked politely.
“It spoke to me.”
She glanced up to see if he smiled, and continued, “I guess it just comes down to personal taste. I like my trees fresh and fluffy. Some people prefer a leaner, more modern, less branchy aesthetic.”
She sounded too much like a scientist. “On a more metaphysical note, maybe there is only one tree meant for me here, and I somehow magically found it. That explanation would be more in keeping with the spirit of the season, I’m thinking.”
“So,” he said, nodding slowly, “could it be said that a holiday tree from a place like this one should match a person’s personality in some way, in order to be a perfect fit?”
“Are you saying I’m fluffy?”
“I’m merely trying to understand your interest in this particular tree and what made you smile when you found it.”
He had been watching her, too. The realization caused the heat of a rising flush to reach her cheeks.
“It’s a pretty tree,” Savannah said. “I liked it. Simple as that, if you don’t believe in trees actually speaking to people.”
“Well, I like it, too,” he agreed. “This was a good choice. I suppose admitting that says something about me?”
“Fluffy,” Savannah said. “Totally. Sorry to be the one to deliver that news.”
He grinned. When he leaned forward, Savannah allowed herself to imagine for one odd, highly electrifying moment that he was going to kiss her, unwarranted and out of the blue. But that turned out to be pure delusion on her part. The man beside her merely pressed a stray strand of her hair back from her face with his gloved hand, in a gesture as personal as any kiss would have been
.
Struggling to speak, not sure how to respond, she said, “I can find another Christmas tree. If you’d like to keep this one, it’s yours.”
The object of her illicit desire was silent for a moment. Maybe he wasn’t used to generosity and unselfishness in the season of giving, but the offer made her feel good. She’d give him the tree and that would be that, in spite of the warm current saturating the air between them.
“I wouldn’t think of taking your tree,” he finally said. “Thank you for the offer, though. It’s kind of you to want to share the tree that spoke to you.”
“Well, two kindnesses in one Christmas tree lot has to be some sort of record,” she remarked. “I’m thinking win-win, right? Maybe score some points with the jolly old elf himself?”
Pulling her sweater tightly around her, Savannah watched the man’s lips again lift in response to her elf remark. They were full lips, nice lips, though almost as colorless as his face.
She chanced a better look at him. He was, after all, the epitome of the tall, dark-haired and handsome cliché. Who could blame her for having delusions of grandeur?
The chiseled cheekbones were a true gift. His long, tapered nose gave him an aquiline air that didn’t detract from the rugged, masculine thing he had going on. This guy was all man, for sure. Maybe too much so, since his eyes, which might have been light blue, were trained on her intently.
“Shall we go?” she suggested, wanting to avoid the directness of that gaze. “I really would appreciate the help if you’re willing to drag this tree to the car for me. My hands are frozen.”
A new tactile sensation followed her remark. He had placed something in her right hand. Gloves. His gloves. The leather emitted an aromatic scent of animal hide that in a contest might have won out over the coveted fragrance of pine. She’d been so wrapped up in checking out his features, she hadn’t been aware of his hands.
“Helping you will be a pleasure,” he said. “Win-win, I believe, was how you put it?”
Taking hold of the tree with both hands, he lifted the fir as effortlessly as though it were table-size...making her terribly aware of the layer of muscles that had to lie beneath his coat.
Savannah trailed after the handsome stranger. She didn’t dare to check out more specifics. Already, she felt the rise in her pulse rate, a warning that she was out of small talk already and that decent goodbyes, in light of the gift of the gloves and his help with the tree, would be a chore.
Not to mention the variety of ridiculous bedroom images playing on a continuous loop in her mind.
But he didn’t speak to her again. He placed the tree in the back of her SUV and turned to her only after the tree had been safely stored, standing close enough that she felt his exhaled breath ruffle the fringe of bangs covering her forehead.
After that, he tilted her head back with a finger under her chin and gazed into her eyes as if he had the ability to see down into her soul. And maybe he could see down there, because his lips feathered over hers with a touch that was barely there, yet wickedly seductive.
The lightning in that touch of his mouth to hers careened through Savannah with a force that rocked her stance. She opened her eyes to see that a pained frown creased the man’s forehead and that for a few brief seconds, his incredibly chiseled face exposed an expression of unmasked, raw physical need that caused her heart to stumble over several necessary beats.
Somehow, her lips moved. “Merry Christmas,” she said, for lack of anything more clever to say. “I hope you find the right one for yourself.”
She offered him the gloves she hadn’t used. Instead of taking them, he took her hand in his. He closed his fingers over hers, his thumb resting on the pulse that throbbed in her wrist. Savannah fielded a sudden urge to melt into his arms. She could have sworn he was waiting for her to do that very thing.
“I have no doubt that I’ll find the right one,” he said after a moment of silence had passed. “No doubt whatsoever.”
In the deeper silence following his statement, he failed to ask for her phone number or request a date. After several erratic, thunderous seconds, Savannah reluctantly withdrew her hand and turned. She got into the car, started the engine and backed the car out of the parking space with her eyes glued to the rearview mirror.
In that mirror, her eyes met his.
Her heart gave one solid kick after another that rocked her all the way to her toes. Moisture gathered at her temples and between her breasts. In uncharted depths, she felt as if this guy was calling to her in some way—even though his lips didn’t move.
It took several rapid breaths to regain her equilibrium. The thing that stopped her from going back to him brazenly with her phone number in hand was the mixed bag of signals he had offered: a touch of lips that wasn’t really a kiss; a few seconds of hand-holding; the gift of some really nice gloves.
“It’s possible you’re a Christmas angel, sent to remind people of the season of giving,” she proposed. Besides helping with the tree, he’d made her feel special, if only for a few precious minutes. She should be happy with her little Christmas miracle and accept it for what it was.
Now that guy would find his own tree—a worthy, friendly, cheerful holiday endeavor...while she would indulge in some hot, erotic dreams.
Shaking off the ludicrous belief that if she turned around she’d find him waiting where she had left him and that he’d be waiting for her, Savannah sighed.
He hadn’t asked for anything further from her, so she had no right to have expected anything more from the odd encounter. Yet, damn it, if the guy wasn’t some kind of beautiful pervert, she had just possibly eclipsed the chance of a lifetime because of that one awful word... stranger.
She didn’t actually hear him whisper, “Soon, Savannah, it will all be over.”
That was preposterous and couldn’t be right, because regretfully, it was over already.
Chapter 2
Dylan’s mouth felt dry as he watched Savannah Clark drive away. His throat had begun to burn. There was an unusual tightness in his jaw from withholding his innate power.
He shouldn’t have touched her. That was a mistake.
The strength and sparkle he saw in her was what had kept him riveted, that was all. He’d been human once and hadn’t thought about those times until now. She had made him remember.
After he had taken his final breath as a mortal, he’d been saved by the light and grace of an angel. The reward for his service to her cause, in the fight against darkness, was that he retained his soul. But regardless of what Savannah Clark had stirred in him, his job was to take away some of what had drawn him to her. He had to erase a few details from her mind, leaving parts of her mind blank.
He had to diminish her.
His whispers would make her forget about that Christmas Star and its secret celestial twin that no one was ever meant to find—a simultaneous event masked by the brilliance of a star that had guided wise men to a manger.
Finding that other event might expose the dwelling place of his brethren to the Fallen, the disgruntled ones cast out of the heavenly realm that also craved light but were doomed to exist without it.
The fear was that if Savannah answered the riddle of the star she sought, she might find the other.
It didn’t matter that she had single-handedly brought back to him the pain of recalling his own former humanness or that there was pure joy in repeating her name. Feelings had no place in an immortal’s life. Desire for a beautiful human soul was out of the question. The fact was that if Savannah were to complete her research on that star, she would find him in the details. Him and others like him.
Dylan grew restless as her taillights receded. He had missed the opportunity to take care of this problem. He had been distracted.
Finally, with an immortal’s incredible speed, he started after Savannah Clark, determined to put selfish needs aside and fulfill his duty.
* * *
The drive to the small cottage her parents had l
eft her took ten minutes. Savannah sat for longer than that in the driveway, staring at the quaint one-story house and the tiny front yard dotted with solar-lit plastic snowflakes.
“Home, sweet home.”
She pulled the tree out of the car with a good, hard tug. “You’ll like it here,” she said, dragging the fir toward the front door, panting by the time she had reached it.
She scrambled to get the key in the lock and shoved the door open. The tree left skid marks of dew and pine needles on the foyer’s wood floor as she wrestled it inside.
“Only six more paces to go, and you will find your place of honor,” she promised, straightening for a breath and to brush away a tickle at the base of her neck that might have been a draft seeping through the front window’s panes.
Catching sight of her reflection in the glass, she laughed. Pine needles stuck to her hair and her sweater. She was an unruly mess, and she’d dared to imagine that a gorgeous hunk of stranger had been attracted to that?
Movement drew her attention. She craned her neck.
Looking beyond her reflection, she sobered quickly, certain there had been another face out there; one that shouldn’t have been here at all, on the sidewalk in front of her home.
Tingling sensations engulfed her arms, tripping the leftover rumble still rolling around inside her. She’d know that face anywhere.
Dropping the tree, she turned. Though she might have been tongue-tied in terms of small talk, she had never been a weakling when push came to shove. A weakling wouldn’t have been allowed to get ahead in the male-dominated profession she’d chosen.
Instead of hiding or calling the cops, she went to the front door and flung it open. She stepped outside.
“What’s going on?” she asked the man standing there, immediately confirming his identity by the way her heart continued to pound. “What do you want?”
“I know I shouldn’t be here,” the man from the tree lot said.
“So, what? You followed me? You do realize what that looks like?”
Holiday with a Vampire 4: Halfway to DawnThe GiftBright Star (Harlequin Nocturne) Page 16
