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.

With a sigh, she turned on the light and propped the pillows behind her back. Digging his book out of her bag, she began to read.

Chapter Six

Ronan listened to the sound of Shannah’s footsteps as she paced the floor overhead. Her scent filled the house. He knew she was doubting her decision to stay here, knew she didn’t trust him. Her agitation increased her heartbeat. He could smell the blood flowing through her veins.

It called to his hunger, even as her fear aroused his instinctive urge to hunt.

He heard the faint creak of bedsprings as she got into bed, his mind instantly swarming with images of her lying there, her hair spread out on the pillow, her body relaxed as she waited for sleep.

Not trusting himself to stay under the same roof with her in his current condition, he fled the house.

Plagued by his unholy thirst, he stalked the dark streets until he found a woman leaving a café, unescorted. He followed her to her car and slid into the passenger seat.

She stared at him in alarm. “What do you think you’re doing? Get out of…” The words died in her throat when she looked into his eyes. “No, please…”

He didn’t blame her for being afraid and yet he felt his anger rise as she cowered back against the car door. Perhaps he was being too harsh. Perhaps he shouldn’t be irritated by her fear. He knew how he looked when the hunger was upon him. He had seen the same look on the faces of others of his kind.

She thrust her handbag at him. “Here, take it, take it all, but please don’t hurt me.”

Take it all. Did she have any idea what those words meant to one of his kind? To take it all, to drink it all, to revel in the power that came from drinking a mortal’s life and memories? Of course, she was referring to something else entirely.

“What makes you think I want your money?” He hated himself as soon as the words left his lips.

What was wrong with him? He never toyed with his prey, never frightened them. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice low and hypnotic.

She only stared at him, her body trembling uncontrollably.

“Listen to my voice,” he said quietly. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“Nothing to be afraid of.” She repeated the words. There was no expression on her face, no emotion in her voice.

He drew her into his arms. “Relax, now. Close your eyes. You have nothing to fear from me.”

She went limp in his embrace. Her head lolled back against his arm, exposing the long clean lines of her neck, and the frantic pulse beating in the hollow of her throat.

With a low growl, he bent his head and surrendered to the ravening beast within him.

Shannah woke with the sound of her own screams ringing in her ears. Sitting up, the blanket clutched to her chest, she turned on the light, her gaze darting around the room, lingering in the shadows in the corners.

Just a bad dream. That’s all it had been. Just a bad dream. Expelling a shaky breath, she realized she had fallen asleep while reading Dark’s vampire book. Just a bad dream. But it had seemed so real…glowing red eyes staring down at her, bared fangs only inches from her throat, a sudden sharp pain that quickly turned to sensual pleasure…So real.

She lifted a hand to her neck, her fingers probing the skin below her ear, relieved to feel nothing more than her own smooth skin.

She took one last look around the room, turned off the light, and slid under the covers once more.

“That settles it,” she murmured. “No more books about vampires before bedtime.”

Ronan spent the next few weeks coaching Shannah. He gave her a list of all his books and a brief synopsis for each one.

“I want you to read the books so you’ll be familiar with them,” he told her. “If you memorize the outlines for now, you’ll be able to respond intelligently if someone asks you what a particular book is about.”

He gave her answers for every possible question he thought she might be asked, questions like how much research she did for each book, and did she visit the different locales she wrote about, and why she had decided to write romance novels in general and paranormal romances in particular, and wasn’t she afraid of giving her readers unrealistic expectations about love and happy endings.

Tonight, they were sitting on the sofa in the front room, his books spread out between them. A fire burned in the hearth, adding a cheerful glow to the room.

“Another question interviewers might ask you is, don’t you think that by writing romance novels, you’re feeding into a dangerous fantasy.”

“Well, aren’t you?” Shannah asked.

“Honestly? I don’t know. But you can’t say that. If they ask you that question, just say that if that’s the case, then you’re in good company, since many of the classics, fromCinderella toJane Eyre , are basically romances with happy endings.”