Dead Perfect

All the women, from the youngest to the oldest, wanted to know who Ronan was and when she replied that he was just a friend, they all smiled knowingly and asked if he was the model for her heroes.

“He does look just like a vampire, you know,” one woman said, keeping her voice low as though she was afraid she might offend him.

“He does, doesn’t he?” Shannah agreed.

As the evening wore on, she was amazed by the number of women who were willing to wait in line for an autograph. Twelve turned to twenty and then to thirty. Grandmothers and teens, young mothers with children in tow, even a few men showed up to get her autograph and praise her books. Many of the women lingered near the refreshment table, partaking of the cookies and coffee, chatting about their favorite authors, frequently stealing looks in Ronan’s direction.

Ronan stood back, watching Shannah. She was a natural, he thought. She was warm and gracious, charming both old and young alike with her innocence and her ready smile. Knowing that she would be all right, he told her that he needed to go out for a few minutes.

Shannah stared up at him. “You’re leaving me? Now? But…” She gestured at the people still waiting in line. “You can’t go now.”

“You’re doing fine,” he said, squeezing her shoulder. “I won’t be gone long.”

She didn’t have time to wonder where he was going. The line of people waiting for her autograph now stretched from her table to the front door.

One man in particular stood out, though she wasn’t sure why. He was average height, with blond hair and brown eyes. He wasn’t especially good looking and yet there was something about him, something that made her think she had seen him before.

“Who should I make this out to?” Shannah asked when he reached the front of the line.

“Jim.”

She signed the book and handed it to him with a smile, and then forgot all about him as more people crowded around her.

Ronan returned a few minutes later and resumed his place behind her.

A few of the women had brought cameras and asked if they could take her photograph, or have their photos taken with her. Feeling self-conscious, Shannah posed for them or with them, wondering what they would think if they knew she was a fraud and that the person who deserved their praise and adulation was standing quietly behind her. She couldn’t understand why he shunned meeting the very people who had made him famous.

Several of the women wanted Ronan’s photograph, also, but he politely declined.

Even Shannah couldn’t convince him to pose.

“I just love your books,” a teenage girl gushed. “They’re so sexy! I wish my boyfriend was more like your heroes.”

“Well, give him time,” Shannah said with a wink, “or let him read one of my books. Maybe he’ll get the hint.”

“You’re my favorite author,” a middle-aged woman said, pulling several paperbacks from a plastic bag. “I’m so glad your books aren’t full of bad language and sex. I never worry when I let my daughter read your books.”

“Thank you,” Shannah replied.

The lady leaned in closer. “I want to thank you for saving my marriage,” she said, her voice hushed, “Before I read your books, I’d sort of lost interest in s-e-x. I mentioned it to my doctor and she suggested I read romance novels to help put me in the mood. And you know what?

They really helped!” She laughed softly. “My husband thanks you, too.”

Feeling as though her cheeks were on fire, Shannah stammered, “I…I’m so glad.”

“You don’t write fast enough,” another woman complained. “When I get your books, I can’t put them down and then, when I’m done, I have to wait six months to a year for the next one!”

“I’m sorry,” Shannah said, stifling the urge to laugh. “I’ll try and write faster.”

“You look too young to have written all those books,” another woman remarked. “You must have started writing when you were twelve years old!”

Shannah and Ronan had discussed a number of answers she could give if someone mentioned her age. Smiling, she said, “I was thirteen, actually. Who shall I make this out to?”

She was amazed when the manager announced that it was nine o’clock and the store was closing. The time had flown by.

She signed a book for the manager and another for one of the clerks.

“I’d hoped to have some stock for you to sign,” Blanche said, “but these are the last two copies.”

“Good thing we didn’t put them out,” the clerk said, clutching her copy as if it was made of gold. “I can’t remember when we’ve had a more successful signing.”

“Yes,” Blanche agreed. “I do hope you’ll come again.”

“I’d like that,” Shannah replied. She thanked the manager again for her hospitality, then followed Ronan out of the store.

“I’m famished,” she said. “Can we go get something to eat?”

“Sure.”

They stopped at the first restaurant they came to and went inside. “I don’t suppose you’re having anything,” Shannah remarked.

“No,” he said easily. “I grabbed a bite to eat earlier.”

Shannah ordered a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich, fries, and a chocolate shake, then sat back and smiled at Ronan. “The book signing was fun. I can’t imagine why you don’t want to do them yourself.”

He shook his head. “I’d rather remain out of the limelight.”

“Did I do all right?”

“You did better than all right.” He sat back in the booth, one arm resting along the edge of the seat. “So, what did you do this afternoon besides buy me a tie?”

“I bought clothes,” she said, grinning. “Lots of clothes. Wait until you see the bills.”

He smiled indulgently. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

“What did you do today?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I slept late. Took a quick tour of the town. Enjoyed an early dinner. None of it was as gratifying as watching you this evening.”

“Stop it, you’re making me blush.”

“And quite prettily, too.”

“Ronan!” She pressed her hands to her heated cheeks.

“You charmed them all,” he said, “just as I knew you would.”

“I couldn’t have done it if you hadn’t been there with me.”