“I do know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re admitting to being a stalker, then?”
“Not exactly, though I doubt if I can convince you of it in this day and age. Things aren’t as simple as they used to be, are they? In these times, people have to be wary.”
Savannah didn’t see a car behind him at the curb. She still felt the illicit brush of his lips across hers. “Why are you here?”
“I wanted more time with you.”
“Maybe you could have mentioned that before.”
She would have jumped at the chance if he had brought this up earlier and in public.
“I have a tree in the middle of my living room and work to do. So, look, I appreciate your help with the tree, but this is my home, and I don’t know you.”
“I can help with the tree, if you’ll let me. I’ll tell you about myself and why I’m here.”
Savannah shook her head. “I don’t think so. There are rules about this sort of thing for a reason.”
She hated those rules now. This guy was an exotic dream come true.
“What can I do to convince you?” he asked.
“Give me your cell number. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“I have no phone.”
He hadn’t raised his voice or advanced. His body was highlighted by the faintly garish light of the glowing snowflakes beside him. His handsome face was calm, his expression questioning.
“Do you live around here?” Savannah asked, smart enough to be aware of the fact that danger might have found her. At the same time, she couldn’t help but think that her wish for company, and this company in particular, had been heard by somebody.
What if his presence was some kind of sign?
“I live abroad,” he said in the sexy, lightly accented voice that intensified her inner longing tenfold.
Savannah used the doorjamb to steady herself. “What’s the use of getting to know each other if you don’t live here?”
“We have things in common that I’d like to speak to you about.”
“And you just happened to stop off at a Christmas tree lot?”
“I’ll confess to having followed you there.”
This was a shocking discovery. She winced. “Really? I wonder what those things we have in common might be.”
“Stars,” he said.
Savannah wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly and truly hadn’t been expecting his reply.
“One event in particular,” he clarified. “The so-called Christmas Star.”
He appeared suddenly at the bottom of the steps, materializing there while Savannah had glanced up at the sky. She hadn’t seen or heard him cross the lawn.
“You knew who I was at the tree lot,” she said.
“Yes. Savannah Clark, of the Duncan Observatory.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I thought...” She let that one go. The guy hadn’t been attracted to her. He had some sort of business agenda.
That hurt a little.
“Are you an astronomer or astrophysicist?” Her voice had slipped an octave.
“Neither. Though I do know what you’re after and have read your published research on the Christmas Star.”
“What am I after?”
“You want to find out what that event really was and affix a date to it, as well as its precise location. You’ve been driven to find these things and are closing in on the answer. Am I right?”
She nodded. “Everyone familiar with my research knows that.”
“I might be able to help you.”
“In what way?”
“I know something about that event.”
For a moment, Savannah forgot what was going on, as well as the dangerous aspects of this meeting. Quite possibly, this guy might be a colleague, which would make her attraction to him acceptable, if unrequited.
“Prove that you know something. Tell me about my research on that star.”
He glanced up at the sky in the same way she had a minute before. “Your last paper proposed that the Christmas Star might not be a star at all, but a supernova.”
“Do you even know what the word means?” Savannah asked.
“A supernova is a stellar explosion that often can outshine an entire galaxy.”
Being ungodly handsome and knowledgeable made for a heady combination. If that brief kiss in the parking lot had started something, this just sealed the deal.
Though the night was chilly, she felt feverish and the back of her neck was damp. Given the fact that her research was to be fiercely guarded until publication and she was really attracted to this guy, should she honor his request for some time and talk? Could he be trusted? And could she trust herself around him? She looked for a way to justify this meeting, deciding that he could be a reporter, a theologist or a priest with concerns that she might mess with the legends and beliefs affixed to that star.
Glancing to his throat to see if she spotted a white clerical collar, Savannah instead found a lightly raised line of scar tissue that encircled his neck. At first glance, the white band had the appearance of a tattoo. Tattoos were popular. She had one in the shape of a star on her right ankle.
Not a priest.
“Then again,” he said, bringing her attention back to his face, “since you already know everything, of what use is anything further I might have to share with you? Is that what you’re thinking?”
“That’s not it at all,” Savannah countered, wanting to prolong this meeting because heaven help her, in spite of the doubts, she desired company tonight. She felt lonely and alone, and it was almost Christmas, a time for joy, sharing, and the companionship of family and friends—both of which she sadly lacked.
“I’d like to share some conversation with you tonight,” the man across from her said, his tone a vibration that ran seductively along the length of her spine.
He went on. “It’s possible that I might know things you don’t know about the heavens. I’m willing to trade confidences with you, if you’ll also talk about something I’ve been wondering about.”
“What might that be?”
“Your enjoyment of this holiday is what I’d like to know about.”
Truly, she hadn’t been ready for that. And she had no right to be disappointed that what he wanted didn’t involve her body and a large, soft mattress.
“How can you not know about Christmas?” she asked.
“I know of it, of course. I’d just like to understand what it means to you. What finding that star means to you. But it’s cold out here, and you’re trembling, chilled to the bone. Can we go inside if I promise to help with the tree and whatever else you might need help with as penance for disturbing you? If you’re worried, you can keep a phone in your hand, with a finger on the dial.”
“Do you have a name?” Savannah asked.
“Dylan. McCay.”
“Do I need to be afraid of you, Dylan?” Her question was absurd, because what kind of homicidal maniac—if that’s what he turned out to be—would answer that question truthfully?
“I won’t harm you. I’m no threat to you physically,” he replied. “You can check me for weapons if you like.”
It wasn’t the weapons Savannah was worried about. It was the rest of him, the glorious whole of Dylan McCay, along with the unexpected bonus of his knowledge of her research.
“Come back tomorrow,” she made herself say, knowing that if he turned his back, she’d recant.
“Tonight is all the time I can afford. I have to be somewhere by daybreak.”
“Like a vampire?”
He took seconds to reply. “Yes, like that. I’ve taken far too much time here already.”
Savannah smiled. “I’m flattered.”
He smiled, too, as though her expression was contagious. That smile gave him a boyish air and made him more approachable, more believable somehow. The earnestness of his expression also seemed to snap into place some kind of conspiratorial bond that made it all right to break a few r
ules.
If this guy was a stalker, he was also a damn good actor who had studied his part. Stars, supernovas and help with a tree?
She wanted more than anything to spend time with Dylan McCay. That truly would be a wish come true.
She could invite him inside, take a chance, if precautions were taken, and she just happened to know how to take them. She’d turn on the computers and tape recorders she’d placed in nearly every room to record any spontaneous ideas she had. She would use them to record this meeting with Dylan McCay.
The visual part of the feed would go to the observatory data banks. If anything happened to her, someone there would find the record, use face-recognition programming and chase this guy down. Geeks knew all these tricks.
It was chancy, but a chance she had to take. Sheer providence might have sent this guy to her on yet another lonely December night. Plus, he’d get her tree ready for trimming...if he didn’t try to murder her first.
Win-win? Trusting in the goodness of others? These things were Clark family goals. Who was she to break with tradition?
“Can you wait here for a minute, please?” she asked. When he inclined his head, she left him on her front steps and went inside to prepare the way for who knew what...hoping he would turn out to be the angelic creature she’d imagined him, rather than a devil in beautiful disguise.
When she had finished, she opened the door and stepped aside for him to pass. He hesitated for a moment before she invited him in.
Tall, enigmatic Dylan McCay stepped into the foyer and the smell of cold nights, wool coats and another unidentifiable scent that suggested he’d bathed in an aphrodisiac combined to form a heavenly fragrance.
Savannah met his intense blue gaze. Heat flooded her body, pushing the night’s chill into the past. The masculine power he gave off curled around her like little fingers of flame.
This was a man with a business agenda?
It was hard for her not to react or respond to this kind of attraction. Conversation alone wasn’t going to suffice, and she hoped her willpower would be strong—at least for the get-to-know-him part of this meeting.
She hadn’t been wrong about the attraction—or the fact that he felt it as much as she did.
With her hand gripping the doorknob and her heart racing, Savannah said, “Make yourself at home.”
Although her guest didn’t move, his next smile was a thing of real beauty.
Chapter 3
It took all of Dylan’s willpower to keep from lowering his mouth to the soft crook of Savannah Clark’s neck. Her body was giving off a luxurious kind of sexual heat that made her fragrance sultry. Savannah Clark was like a piece of candy offered up to a starving soul.
“What’s that delightful smell?” Dylan hoped that a question might lessen the extraordinary heat of the moment.
“Cinnamon candles and my friend over there.” She pointed to the tree, the turn of her head exposing more pale skin that lured him with the smooth grace of the forbidden. He had to tear his attention away from that enticing bareness. Though he had fangs, his kind didn’t thirst. Yet tonight, so close to Savannah, his fangs seemed to have a mind of their own.
The discernible tick of Savannah’s pulse filled the hallway with its echo, each beat marking the passage of time with a reminder of how little of it he had to share with her. Dylan raised his hands to trap that pulse beneath his fingers, and stopped himself. Just one look, now, into her eyes, and he’d avoid confronting the rest of this mysterious dilemma of justification, lust and restraint.
Do it.
She stood inches away.
All he had to do was whisper his instructions for her to forget about that star.
He felt her hands on his shoulders and had to hide his surprise. When she said “Take off your coat” in a breathy voice, he was slightly taken aback.
The warmth of her hands seeped through his clothes, penetrating his skin layer by layer, first with a hint of heat, then real fire. At the same time, her invitation seemed filled with the expectation of comfort and companionship, rather than danger and withheld secrets. He had never been offered such an innocent invitation to share space, certainly never from a target.
This was strange and troubling. The way his skin danced beneath her touch, as if anticipating more touches to come, was as much a discomfort as it was a pleasure.
He searched Savannah’s face for hints of apprehension over having him so close and found none. He smelled no fear on her. Savannah didn’t know what kind of being stood beside her and what he had come here to do. Her eyes were incredibly bright.
He was keenly aware of every detail of her movement, as if it were somehow suspended from time. He saw each golden lash that lined Savannah’s blue eyes and the delicate flush of pink tinting her cheeks. She was biting her lip, and he wanted to do that for her. His fangs weren’t the only parts of him that ached.
Heaven forgive me, I need more from you than your research, Savannah. You make me want to be a man, with feelings I thought I had lost.
This was a shocking discovery. If he were a man, instead of what he was, things would be simple. He’d take her in his arms and to bed. He’d give her pleasure and take some back, then be there when she woke in the morning, able to soak in every nuance of her wide-eyed, golden existence. If mortal, he might have stayed here with her forever.
These were painful ideas. Immortals couldn’t afford to think or look back. Still, his heart had begun to beat with Savannah’s heart’s rapid rhythm, as if it were his own. That beat had the power to seduce in a way that nothing else could.
Dylan tore his gaze away. He would do his duty, but he had to understand this sudden problem with his resolve first. He needed some mental distance from Savannah in order to get his bearings.
He glanced at the colorful braided rugs covering the wood floors, and the soft furniture along the walls that were dotted with pictures in silver metal frames. The lamps near the front window cast a soft light.
The sideways slide of Savannah’s hands from his shoulders to his chest brought him back to the situation at hand.
She slipped her palms under the edges of his coat and pushed the coat to the side, her fingertips lightly rubbing against the silk shirt he wore underneath. Withholding a sound, Dylan worked to keep his body motionless—even though the physical sensations rushing at him were overwhelming.
Savannah had no idea what her touch was doing. Removing his coat meant he’d play the game out for a while longer and see a little bit more of what this woman had to offer.
He let her have the coat, though the imprint of her fingertips lingered after she turned to hang the garment on a peg near the door. When she turned back, she said in that same breathy voice, “Maybe you can get that tree out of the way while I get the cookies?”
Dylan made no move to disconnect from her extraordinary circle of heat. Again, he was wavering.
“Are you hungry?” she asked, tilting her head back to look up at him. “The cookies are in the kitchen. I baked them yesterday.”
Dylan thought about asking what a cookie might be and how it fit into her holiday sphere of influence, but that would have revealed too much about his long seclusion from her world.
“Cookies sound delightful.” He was careful to hide the fangs that were a reminder of the thin line he had almost walked before seeing the light.
“Great.” She smiled again, better at disguising her feelings. Her tone was steadier now, though her body language told him a different story. She was a ball of nerves. Every strand of her golden hair quivered ever so slightly.
Savannah Clark was as drawn to him as he was to her, and this posed a real challenge.
“If you’ll drag that tree to the stand, I’ll be right back,” she said, breaking free of the spell binding them together by heading toward another open doorway, giving him a great view of the back side of her commendable anatomy.
“Santas or stars?” she asked over her shoulder. “I made both.”
&
nbsp; He stared at her, completely at a loss.
“Stars, then,” she said. “That seems appropriate.”
Leaving behind a fragrant stream of scented pheromone particles as strong and vibrant as the tail of a comet, Savannah Clark disappeared into the adjoining room. For the second time in an hour, she had left him standing in her wake.
He was surrounded by her world, and it was filled with enough color, dazzle and scent to render the world he would go back to a colorless, loveless, lifeless place by comparison. Slipping back into the shadows seemed impossible now that he stepped out of them. Yet Dylan knew he was a visitor here.
He didn’t belong in Savannah’s home.
May the angels forgive him, he thought. The worst thing possible had happened. He had become a sucker for his prey.
* * *
Savannah pressed her back to the kitchen wall. Her breath came in great rasps that made her chest rise and fall as if she had been running. These reactions were due to the man in her foyer and the belief that she might have wished him there after all.
She leaned around the doorjamb, watched him finally head for the tree. He glanced around, his attention landing on the Christmas tree stand in the corner.
With the same smooth, effortless grace she had witnessed in the tree lot, he lifted the fir, carried it to the stand and set the tree upright. After studying the tree stand, he crouched on one knee to tighten the screws that would hold the tree in place. Back on his feet, he viewed his work with a critical eye.
Dylan McCay had to be the finest specimen of manhood she had ever seen. His black silk shirt billowed slightly above the waist of his pants when he moved and clung becomingly to his shoulders. His legs were long and lean. His dark hair swung sensually against the back of his neck when he turned his head. The inexplicable mystery of why these things affected her so strongly kept her nerves humming like the old wall heater.
Satisfied that he was okay for the time being, Savannah placed a few frosted sugar-cookie stars on a plate, poured milk into two crystal glasses and closed the refrigerator door with a bump of one hip. Before heading back to her guest, she glanced at the recording system on the counter. Because the visuals sent to the observatory would capture everything she did tonight as well as everything he did, she prayed that she wouldn’t make a fool of herself.
Holiday with a Vampire 4: Halfway to DawnThe GiftBright Star (Harlequin Nocturne) Page 17
