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“Quick thinking.”
“Uh-huh. I wanted to hit him when he asked me how I researched my love scenes. Why does everyone ask that?”
He grinned at her. “Why do you think?”
“Well, I’m sure if you wrote murder mysteries, no one would ask me if I’d actually killed someone. He also asked me if I really believed in vampires and if I had ever let anyone drink my blood.” She shook her head. “Can you believe that? Real vampires, indeed. Honestly…”
She felt a rush of heat flood her cheeks when she recalled that she had once thought Ronan was a vampire. Judging by the look in his eyes, he was remembering the same thing.
“And what did you say?” he asked, no longer grinning.
“I said I didn’t believe in vampires, of course. You don’t want your readers to think you’re some kind of kook, do you?”
“Of course not,” he replied, “but it might have added to my mystique if people thought I did.”
“Well, next time someone asks me, I’ll tell them that I believe in vampires and goblins and things that go bump in the night, and…” She looked down at her hands, her voice trailing off.
“And?” he prompted.
“I just remembered that man you killed.” She wondered why the fact that Ronan had killed a man didn’t bother her more than it did. Was it because she hadn’t actually seen him do it, because she hadn’t seen the body, or because she knew he had killed the man in self-defense?
Whatever the reason, it bothered her that she wasn’t more upset by what had happened. Had something like that happened a few weeks ago, she would probably have been in hysterics.
What had happened to change her?
Ronan grunted softly. “He was of no consequence.” And not very tasty, he recalled, but a free meal was a free meal. “Are you ready to go?”
She hesitated a moment but try as she might, she couldn’t summon any regret over the man’s fate. The man had had a gun. He might have robbed them, or worse, but for Ronan’s swift intervention. Still…
“Shannah.” His gaze caught and held hers. “It’s over and done. Put it out of your mind.”
She blinked at him, then shook her head. “How do I look?”
She pirouetted in front of him. The black cocktail dress was chic and flattering with its full skirt and bare back. The high heels did wonderful things for her legs.
“Good enough to eat, as always,” he murmured. “Shall we go?”
Ronan’s agent, Lorena Barbour, and his editor, Patricia Miliken, were waiting for them when they arrived at the restaurant. After introductions were made, the four of them went into the bar for drinks.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to meet you at last,” Patricia said, smiling at Shannah. “I was beginning to think you were a recluse or something.”
Lorena grinned. “My thoughts, exactly. I’ve been representing Eva for years and we’ve never met.”
Shannah smiled. “I do tend to be a homebody. I don’t like traveling, and I don’t care for crowds.”
“I understand,” Patricia said, “and I promise not to ask you to do another tour for at least a year or two. But I must say, I think it’s been worthwhile. We’ve been very pleased with the turnout at your signings.”
“Thank you.”
“Here,” Patricia said, producing a manila envelope from her briefcase, “I thought you might want to see this. It’s the cover for your next book.”
Opening the envelope, Shannah withdrew a cover flat, making sure Ronan could see it, as well.
It was a striking cover, done in blue and black, with a man and woman embracing under a full moon. It was subtle and seductive.
She looked at Ronan. “What do you think?”
“I like it.”
“So do I,” Shannah said, turning it over to read the back cover copy. “Oh, this is wonderful.”
Patricia smiled, pleased. “I think the art department really outdid themselves this time. We’ll take out the usual ads in the romance magazines.”
Shannah nodded, thinking how exciting it would be if she were really a published author. She had never done anything noteworthy in her life. When she was gone, only a few people would remember she had ever existed. But Ronan’s books, people would read them for years to come.
Dinner passed pleasantly. Most of the talk was about future projects. Patricia said they were looking into e-books and audio books, and that they had been approached by a major movie company that was interested in acquiring the rights to her last book. Details would be forthcoming at a later date.
Even though she was only pretending, Shannah couldn’t hide her excitement at the thought of a movie being made out of one of Ronan’s books.
“Wouldn’t that be wonderful!” she exclaimed, smiling at him.
“Yes, indeed,” he replied. “There might even be a part in it for you.”
Patricia grinned. “I’m sure that could be arranged.”
It was almost eleven when Shannah and Ronan left the restaurant amid hugs and handshakes.
“Did I do all right?” Shannah asked on the ride back to the hotel.
“You did fine.”
Slipping off her heels, she wriggled her toes inside her nylons.
“One more signing and it’s over,” Ronan said.
“I can’t say I’m sorry, although it was kind of fun, pretending to be somebody important.”
Ronan took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “You are important, Shannah, don’t ever think otherwise.”
“I’m not,” she said. “But you are.” She looked at him, her eyes filled with admiration. “You’ve made something of yourself. You’re a published author. People admire and respect you. They write you letters and send you presents and wait in line for your autograph. I mean, don’t you think that’s awesome?”
“I never gave it much thought,” he admitted. “Mostly, I just write for myself, to pass the time.”
“Well, it must be nice to get paid for doing something you like.”
“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “It is.”
The taxi pulled up in front of the Waldorf a few minutes later. After paying the driver, Ronan picked up Shannah’s shoes and stuck one in each pocket, and then he swung Shannah into his arms and carried her into the hotel.
“What are you doing?” she exclaimed.
“You don’t want to ruin your stockings, do you?”
