Everlasting Desire (Everlasting 2)

Stifling a yawn, she grabbed her handbag from the storeroom and followed Mr. Parker out the back door to the parking lot.

And found Rhys Costain waiting for her beside her car.

Startled, she pressed a hand to her heart. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought we’d go out for a drink so you could apologize for your little tantrum.”

“Excuse me?”

Rhys held up one hand. “I’m kidding about the apology, but not the drink. What do you say?”

She studied him while she tried to make up her mind. Dressed all in black, he blended into the darkness. No. He was the darkness. She didn’t know where that thought had come from, but it raised the hair on her arms. For all that he seemed to be a gentleman, she really didn’t know anything about him other than his name and the fact that he owned a nightclub and had a great deal of money. He looked normal enough, and yet…

“It was an easy question,” he remarked.

Quite the contrary. There was nothing easy about this man.

“Yes or no, Megan?”

Her common sense said no, but her curious heart said, “Yes.”

A slow smile spread across his face. In the darkness, his teeth looked very white. And sharp.

The better to eat you with, my dear.

Megan took a step backward. Had she heard those words in her head, or had Rhys spoken them aloud?

“My car, or yours?” he asked.

“I…” She bit down on her lower lip as she recalled Shirl’s advice. Follow your instincts. And right now, her instincts were screaming for her to get in her car and drive away just as fast as she could. Which was odd, since she had felt completely safe when he’d stayed with her the other night. Why was she so conflicted?

As though sensing her change of heart, Rhys took a step backward. “Another night, maybe?”

“Maybe.” Wrenching open the car door, she slid behind the wheel and shoved the key in the ignition as he thoughtfully shut the door for her.

When she glanced into the rearview mirror, he was gone.

Megan blinked and looked again. How could he have vanished so quickly? She told herself he was still there, she just couldn’t see him because he was dressed all in black. Like the night.

Because he was the night.

Suddenly chilled, she turned on the heater, hit the door locks, and drove out of the parking lot, tires squealing.

Shirl always left a lamp burning in the window for her, and tonight was no exception. Never before had that light looked so welcoming or been more appreciated.

There’s nothing in the dark that isn’t there in the light, her mother had always said. But tonight, in the dark with Rhys Costain, Megan might have argued with her.

Once inside, Megan double-locked the door, then laughed at her own foolishness. She was lucky she hadn’t gotten a ticket for speeding on the way home. Standing in her own living room, with the door locked and the lights on, she wondered what she had been so afraid of.

After making sure Megan got safely home, Rhys went to his club to ponder whether he should continue to pursue the delectable Miss DeLacey. She was beautiful, and he wanted her more than he had ever wanted any woman, living or Undead. She was attracted to him, as well, but tonight she had shown that she possessed a strong sense of self-preservation. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had recognized the darkness within him and fled from his presence.

He raised the glass in his hand. “Here’s to you, Megan, my sweet. May you have a long and happy life.”

Rhys didn’t show up at Shore’s the next night, or any night that week, or the next. On the one hand, Megan told herself she was relieved, and it was partly true. He frightened her on a level she didn’t fully understand, nor could she put her finger on what it was about him that troubled her. On the other hand, he was the most fascinating man she had ever known. Not to mention the sexiest. His touch, his voice, his very presence, enflamed her senses. Had he hypnotized her? Drugged her?

Megan fretted over him on her two days off, two days that seemed even longer because Shirl had gone to San Francisco to visit her folks. Megan cleaned the house from top to bottom, did the laundry, washed the windows, and even waxed the kitchen floor, but all the mindless chores in the world couldn’t keep her from thinking about Rhys, or wondering what he was doing, and whether he was thinking of her.

She arrived at Shore’s half an hour early Tuesday night, eager to get out of the house and back to work.

Her ten o’clock appointment arrived right on time. Shelby Brooks was a big-name Hollywood producer. In his midsixties, he had thick gray hair, blue eyes, and a no-non-sense attitude about shopping. He always brought a list, then sat in an empty dressing room, reading over a script, while she gathered the items he needed. He never tried anything on and rarely returned anything. She often wondered why he didn’t just phone in his order and have his chauffeur pick it up.

Time and again, as she moved through the store, Megan found herself glancing at the front door. Even though Rhys rarely arrived before midnight, she kept hoping to see him striding toward her.

When she finished filling the order for Mr. Brooks, he thanked her profusely, handed her a small black velvet box, waved to Mr. Parker, and left the store.

“Well, it’s been a good night,” Mr. Parker said, coming to stand beside her. “What with Brooks and that agent who was here earlier…yes, a good night, indeed.” He jerked his chin at the box. “What did he bring you this time?”

“I don’t know yet.” Mr. Brooks always brought her a gift—a watch from Cartier, a silk scarf by Forzieri, a bracelet from Tiffany’s. Megan opened the box, revealing a jeweled comb for her hair.

“Nice,” Parker said.

Megan nodded. Mr. Brooks had impeccable taste.

Mr. Parker glanced at his watch. “Well, what do you say we close up early?”

Megan couldn’t stifle a wave of disappointment. It was only a little after eleven. If Rhys should decide to come by, she wouldn’t be here. But she could hardly argue with the boss.

Pasting a smile on her face, she tucked the velvet box into her handbag, grabbed her coat, and followed Mr. Parker out the back door.

Her heartbeat accelerated when she saw a dark shadow by her car but, to her disappointment, there was no one there.

Rhys watched Megan from the shadows. In spite of his good intentions, he couldn’t stay away from her. Like a moth to a flame, he was drawn to her humanity, her warmth.

Would she destroy him if he flew too close?

After five hundred and twelve years of living alone, would he even care?