“Megan, how pretty you look this evening.”
“As do you.”
His dark eyes reflected his pleasure at her words.
His nearness made her nervous on several levels. She folded her hands to keep from fidgeting. “Did you come for the other half of your reward?”
“Reward?”
“The new coat Mr. Parker offered you. To replace the ruined one, remember?” She forced a smile. She hated being reminded of that dreadful night.
“Oh, that.”
“Yes, that.” He couldn’t possibly have come to buy more clothes. He had already purchased enough shirts, pants, ties, and socks to keep three men clothed for a year. What would she do when he tired of coming into the shop? The nights would be unbearably dull when he no longer stopped by.
Before he could reply, the front door opened and Drexel swept inside, followed by his entourage. The young rock star was dressed as flamboyantly as always, from his fluorescent green shirt to his mustard-colored slacks. He wore his long brown hair slicked back. A diamond stud sparkled in the lobe of one ear. His hazel eyes lit up when he saw Megan. Grinning, he swaggered toward her.
She didn’t know what other stores he frequented when he was in town, but one thing was certain; he hadn’t bought that garish outfit at Shore’s.
“Hey, babe, what’s shakin’?” His exuberance faded a bit when he noticed Rhys. “Who’s this guy?”
“Drexel, this is Mr. Costain. He’s a new client of mine.”
“Yeah, well, nice to meet ya, dude, but I’m gonna need Megan for an hour or two. I’ve got a happenin’ gig tomorrow night, and I need to look smokin’ hot.”
“You should have called in advance,” Megan quietly reminded him.
“It’s a last minute thing. I just found out about it this morning, babe. I need something fresh, and I need it now.”
Megan looked up at Rhys. “Do you mind?”
Rhys shrugged. Had Drexel been a grown man, he would have quickly put him in his place, but what the hell, he had all night, and the kid couldn’t be more than eighteen or nineteen. “Go ahead, I’ll wait.”
Megan smiled at Rhys as she led Drexel away.
Rhys grinned as he heard Drexel say, “So, babe, when are you gonna marry me?”
As Megan helped Drexel put together an outfit guaranteed to get him noticed, she was ever aware that Rhys’s gaze followed her every move. Drexel never stopped flirting with her, never stopped complimenting her. Once, when he used a line she recognized from a recent movie, she saw Rhys smile. Had he overheard what Drexel said? But that was impossible. Drexel had spoken to her in a whisper, and Rhys had been at the other end of the store.
Megan breathed a sigh of relief when, after a grueling two hours, Drexel finally rounded up his entourage and left the store. In those two hours, he had proposed three times and tried to kiss her twice. On his way out, he had given her two tickets to his upcoming concert and told her he would send a limo to pick her up. Megan would have refused the tickets, but it had been easier, and quicker, just to smile and accept. Besides, it might be fun.
Megan smiled at Rhys, surprised he had waited so long. “He’s like a tornado, that one,” she remarked.
“If he lays a hand on you, he’ll answer to me.”
“Oh, for goodness sake. He’s just a kid.”
“He’s old enough.”
“I don’t believe what I’m hearing,” Megan exclaimed. “Not to mention the fact that it’s none of your business.”
“You think not?”
Megan glared at him, momentarily speechless. And then her temper kicked in. “I don’t have to answer to you, Mr. Costain, or to anyone else, for that matter. Just because we shared a glass of wine doesn’t make you my keeper. Good night.”
With a toss of her head, she pivoted on her heel and stalked into Mr. Parker’s office, where she slammed the door so hard, the glass rattled.
Rhys stared after her, one brow raised in wry amusement. His kitten wasn’t as tame as she appeared. But that was all right, he thought with a grin. He liked a woman with a little fire in her blood.
Mr. Parker looked up from the papers scattered across his desk when Megan stormed into his office. “What’d Drexel do now?”
“Nothing,” Megan said quickly.
Mr. Parker regarded her quizzically for a moment, then shrugged. “I’m ready to lock up.” He gathered the papers on his desk and dropped them into a drawer. “You ready to call it a night?”
“More than ready.”“He’s like a whirling dervish, that boy,” Mr. Parker remarked, fishing his keys out of his pocket. “But he’s sure good for our bottom line.”
No doubt about that, Megan thought. Drexel had spent enough tonight to pay the rent on the building.
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.