Holiday with a Vampire 4: Halfway to DawnThe GiftBright Star (Harlequin Nocturne) Page 18

  “Perfect,” she said to Dylan brightly, stepping into the living room and setting the plate of cookies down on a table parked in front of her quilt-covered sofa. “Your penance is complete.”

  Her guest looked at the plate and raised an eyebrow.

  “Old family recipe,” she said. “Cookies make the house smell like Christmas and taste like sugar-coated sin. Clarks have made these same cookies for generations. I even leave some of them out for Santa, sure I’ll score more points.”

  Dylan didn’t reach for a cookie or pick up a glass. It was possible that his family didn’t have traditions. He might not believe in the Christmas fuss at all. He hadn’t, she reminded herself, been in that lot to buy a tree.

  Of course, his less-than-enthusiastic reaction to her baking skills could also mean that he wasn’t sure if astronomers could handle themselves in a kitchen.

  “I eat Santa’s share of cookies myself on Christmas Eve, you know, and just pretend there’s a giant elf in a red suit coming down the chimney to get at them,” she said. “Sometimes it just makes me feel good to temporarily believe that I’m a child again and that my family is still here.”

  “That’s Christmas for you?” he asked. “An elf and some cookies?”

  “Not entirely. It’s what I like to remember about the things surrounding the Christmas holidays and about my family who aren’t with me now. I like to keep track of all the things we shared to celebrate the season, from when I was a kid on up. Don’t you?”

  Dylan shook his head. “My family didn’t hold to such things. It’s a pity, though, after being here and seeing this.”

  He walked to the window and looked out at the night. “What happened to your family, Savannah?”

  “They died.”

  He half turned back. “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I. But you wanted to know about my Christmases, I believe.”

  “Yes.” He looked to the corner. “How about the tree?”

  “Trees in the house are all about nature and spirit, things that everyone should be reminded of this time of year, no matter what they believe,” she said. “Plus, like the cookies, they flat-out smell great. No other time of the year indulges the senses like Christmas.”

  “What will you do with the tree now that it’s here?”

  “Decorate it with lights and the ridiculously shiny things my family made through the years. I probably have strings of popcorn that are ten years old.”

  “All this brings you closer to your family?”

  “Every bit of it.”

  Savannah took a cookie from the plate and held it without taking a bite. “I’ve answered a couple of your questions, so how about answering some questions about you?”

  His blue eyes found hers with a directness so personal in intensity it brought another blush to her face. Savannah dropped her attention to the black silk shirt that rippled across his chest like poured liquid, and again felt that hint of a warm current filling the space separating them.

  “You came here to find me, you said, and to talk about my work, but I think you might owe me more of an explanation.” Her voice sounded weaker than she would have liked.

  Dylan’s face sobered.

  “I came to see if you believe that star was a supernova. And if not, what you think it was,” he said after a pause.

  “Are you asking for insider trading, maybe hoping to beat me at my game, Dylan?”

  “I’m no scientist,” he said.

  “Yet you know about my research.”

  “I’m interested in what you’ve concluded and if you’ve pinpointed when the phenomenon actually occurred.”

  Savannah sat down on the sofa and tucked both legs beneath her. “I believe you also mentioned that you knew something about the star and used that magical statement as your ticket into this party.”

  He nodded. “So I did.”

  Savannah waved a hand. “I’m listening.”

  “Can I ask one more question first?”

  “I’m pretty sure that might be cheating or reneging on the deal.”

  “There’s something I have to know before I say anything on the subject.”

  “Oh, all right.”

  “Are you interested in the religious side of the story of that star, Savannah?”

  She shook her head. “I’m only interested in finding it. I’m a scientist, not a theologian. I’m not out to prove or disprove anything having to do with anyone’s beliefs.”

  “You don’t want to see if the biblical stories are correct, or incorrect, as the case may be? That isn’t what drives you?”

  “Heavens, no. Tracing star histories is what I do, and I picked that one because this time of year holds such good memories of my family.”

  She took a small bite of the frosted star but found swallowing tough with her dark-haired guest watching her. Although they were six feet apart, he felt closer. She had a feeling that talking kept them from being in each other’s arms but that even that barrier was thinning.

  “Do those things concern you? Is that why you want to find out if I can prove anything about that star? I know this kind of research isn’t popular with some people, especially if the event turns out to be something different than they’ve imagined. I’ve been careful with my ideas so far because of that, but eventually I will publish what I find.”

  Even though Dylan McCay smiled, the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was troubled. Some new emotion in those blue eyes darkened them and made her think of sadness and loss. She recognized the haunted cast in his blue gaze. She’d had her share of loss.

  She wanted to see him smile in the way he had smiled in her yard, open and earnest, relaxed. She wanted him to sit down next to her and tell her exactly what he had in mind.

  Why had he wanted to know about her tree and what it meant to her when he’d come here to talk about the star?

  “Does that answer your question sufficiently?” she asked.

  “Yes. Thank you. I appreciate your candidness.”

  “Then the next question will be to ask you, point-blank, what my research means to you and why you’ve come to see me.”

  He seemed to carefully weigh his answer.

  “The timing of the appearance of the star you seek means something to me and to my...people,” he said.

  “People?”

  “Those I live among and work with.”

  “Does it mean something to you, Dylan, personally?”

  “What if I told you it meant life or death to many kinds of beings?”

  “I’d say you were way too serious about a celestial event that happened a very long time ago and the part I have in researching it.”

  Her gorgeous guest again faced her fully, his tall frame blocking out the night outside the window. The ball of longing inside Savannah grew. She fixed her attention on the scar on Dylan’s neck, not wanting to look at his eyes. Was he trying to talk about an event that was tied to that raised white mark?

  “Whose life and death?” she asked, realizing that her question had taken the conversation into a more personal arena.

  She watched his hand go to his neck.

  “Have you found that star?” he countered.

  She had to answer because he was looking at her so eagerly and as if her answer mattered to him more than she could guess.

  “Not as of yesterday,” she confessed.

  She had been right. Her answer mattered. Dylan looked so relieved to hear this news his stance lost some of its formality. His shoulders loosened. His features softened in a transformation that was visually stunning.

  This version of him took her breath away.

  Savannah dropped the cookie and bent over to retrieve it. When she sat up, he stood before her with his hand outstretched.

  The gesture had to be a statement for something she hadn’t quite grasped. Or maybe he just wanted to touch her as badly as she wanted to touch him. Nevertheless, self-preservation sat high on her list, as did maintaining her dignity. He hadn’t
answered any of her questions to her satisfaction and therefore hadn’t earned earnest answers in return. He owed her more than this.

  Instead of touching him, she placed her cookie on his upturned palm and crossed her arms. “How could an old supernova mean life or death to anyone, if that’s what it was?”

  She tilted her head back to look up at him, ignoring the crush of emotion she felt each time she viewed his face.

  He was eyeing the star-shaped cookie when he said in a velvet-toned voice that was like an itinerant stroke of his fingers between her thighs, “It wouldn’t mean anything in and of itself, but whatever that star phenomenon was might have hidden something else that does.”

  He set the cookie on the plate. His eyes came level with hers. “That doesn’t matter now, not if you haven’t found anything of importance.”

  His relief was evident in that remark.

  “I like you, Savannah. I’ll admit that coming to your home was to explore the reason for feeling like this so quickly. You seemed so happy with your tree that I wanted to share in that happiness. I was envious of it.”

  He made a gesture that took in the room, though his gaze remained on her. “I knew you were truly special when I saw that. I believe it even more strongly now that I’ve seen your home.”

  His confession made her heart race faster, beat harder, for no real reason at all.

  “You’re glad that I haven’t fingered that star?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it means that there’s a chance I might get to see you again.”

  He wanted to see her again.

  Savannah’s stomach tightened with an excitement she hadn’t fully appreciated until that moment. Her feelings were validated and reciprocated. He’d made excuses to come here, when seeing her again had been the ultimate goal.

  So, what did a person do when faced with an honest-to-God miracle?

  “You’ve made the extra time I’ve spent here worth every second,” he added. “After meeting you in the trees, I thought that you also liked me. Was I wrong?”

  “Possibly not, but you still haven’t contributed to the conversation about that star much, at least not in a way that makes sense.”

  She noticed how Dylan had turned his attention to the plate and the cookies on it in a manner suggesting that he was contemplating objects completely foreign to him. A tickle of something that felt like the arrival of a hazy premonition made Savannah reach for her throat.

  He continued reluctantly. “Some speculation is that the Christmas light show was a comet, but you haven’t landed on that conclusion.”

  “Oh, I’ve looked at it,” Savannah said. “Because a comet killed my parents, I’ve saved that theory for last.”

  Dylan brought his face close to hers. His expression showed concern. “Can you tell me what happened to your parents?”

  “As amateur astronomers, they had been following a comet sighting when their car crashed in the desert. Searching the heavens was part of my life early on. It’s why I became an astronomer. I wanted to know everything about what they were searching for. I wanted to find what had eluded them and make them proud of me, whether or not they were here to see it.”

  Her guest shut his eyes briefly, as if what she’d told him resonated with him in some way. He said with the authority of someone possessing absolute knowledge of the subject, “That celestial event you’re looking for wasn’t a comet or a supernova, Savannah. It was a star waking up for a purpose. A brilliant, sparkling star brightened by a master artist’s heavenly hand.”

  After a pause, he went on. “It was the flare of a special symbol for a special time that you and a lot of others celebrate to this day.”

  His expression softened. “If you believe that a tree spoke to you in a parking lot, maybe you can trust what I’m saying about the mysteries of the universe.”

  A weighty silence filled the room. Savannah didn’t try to break it.

  “Perhaps I’ve said too much.” Dylan McCay beamed his bright, slightly haunted blue eyes her way.

  “Yes, well, I’m sure I’ll get to all theories sooner or later,” Savannah said with effort. Dylan’s sexual vibe was starting to outweigh the need to chat about stars and research. The tension between them appeared to be clouding her mind.

  She pointed to the plate on the table in front of her. “And by the way, that treat isn’t poison, I swear. It’s just a bit of dough and colored frosting.”

  Dylan’s grin returned, if somewhat dimmer this time. “Your home is as warm spirited and inviting as you are, Savannah. It’s been a long time since any of those things mattered to me, and tonight I find them irresistible. Tonight, I find it difficult to concentrate on anything other than you.”

  He moved around the coffee table, reached for her and pulled her to her feet with a gentle snap of his arms.

  “You want to keep traditions going in order to keep your family’s spirit alive. I find this not only commendable but heartwarming.” His voice was magnificently gritty. “I will tell you this, I wish I’d had a family like yours. You are very lucky.”

  Her chest met with the hardness of his body. The luxurious fabric of his shirt, smooth against her cheek and saturated with his masculine scent, was a further seduction.

  Savannah thought about protesting this break in the rules, but this was part of the fantasy that she had subconsciously willed into existence. She had longed for him to hold her, and somehow he’d known.

  His hands stroked the length of her arms with a tender precision that was new and erotic. Each inch he traveled created swells of reaction that were startling in intensity.

  Moving to her spine, his fingers wafted over the tight weave of her sweater and over each vertebra beneath it in a downward line so intimate she stifled a gasp of surprise.

  Answers to other questions that should have come up, such as who did he think he was and what did he think he was doing, didn’t matter at the moment. Being in his arms felt good and right. However false the notion might have been, she suddenly felt wanted, needed, safe. And she didn’t feel so alone.

  Neither of them seemed to be breathing. Savannah waited in suspense for what would happen next, aware of each move he made until his hands had reached the base of her spine.

  He didn’t stop there or hesitate. His palms flowed over her curves. He cupped his hands around the trembling flesh of her backside and tightened his hold. They were groin to groin in the most personal of positions, and his interest was obvious. He was hard and waiting.

  She did not utter one word of protest against this. All of her senses rushed to where his hips pressed to hers. Every last nerve ending tingled and burned, reveling in their closeness. She was going to have the rest of that dream after all. If her research never brought a complete answer, it had at least brought her this.

  Dylan’s hands moved again. His fingertips brushed over her lips in an earnest exploration, tracing their shape with an agonizing precision. Dampness continued to gather at the nape of Savannah’s neck, at her temples and between her thighs. An unusual flicker wavered inside her before finally erupting into a brilliant, scorching flame.

  She shut her eyes. Had to. She couldn’t risk looking at Dylan, fearing not only what she might see in his eyes but what he might see in hers. She was in accord with this kind of closeness, so long overdue. The stars had sent Dylan to her as an answer to her loneliness. He actually was her Christmas surprise.

  “Trees, popcorn strings and cookies,” he whispered, his fingers dragging slowly along the line of her jaw. “What about these things brings your family closer, I wonder? I have to know, Savannah, why you love those things.”

  “They are things composed of light, Dylan. I’m in need of light and happiness. Everyone is.”

  “Yes. That’s it.” His voice was filled with an emotion Savannah couldn’t fathom that deepened it further. “It’s always the light.”

  When she met his gaze, the feeling of being lost
in a winter whiteout came, dissolving the room behind them. Walls disappeared, as did the floor and the ceiling. Wrapped in Dylan’s arms, she felt as if she were suspended in the air.

  A shudder ripped through Savannah that she felt also tear through him. Their bodies swayed together, in unison, as if they were already mingled and one.

  The whiteness broke apart when he spoke.

  “I hadn’t planned on taking such liberties.” His quiet tone stirred the air between them. “I’ll go now, if you wish it.”

  She couldn’t open her lips; couldn’t contemplate him leaving, but finally said, “Yes, go. Go now.”

  She didn’t mean it. She meant nothing of the sort. Sadness crossed Dylan’s features, accompanied by an expression that she took for the pain of regret. He didn’t want to leave her. Possibly he felt as she did and, outside of the attraction to her, longed for support and joy and warmth on a chilly December night.

  When he dropped his hands and stepped back, she fell, feeling the floorboards strike her feet. She almost shouted to protest the sensory interruption of losing Dylan’s special ability to elevate her above the most mundane things.

  Inclining his head so that his dark hair spilled across his cheeks, Dylan turned from her.

  Savannah’s body raged against the separation. Her mind cried out with a violent soundlessness. Being with him was all that mattered. Within the circle of his arms, things had felt so right. Her instincts were seldom wrong, and they now suggested that she and Dylan truly might have been meant to find each other. Two lost and lonely souls had been made to meet up, brought together by a similar purpose. Those damn stars.

  “Wait,” she said. “Who are you, really?”

  “Someone who cares more than he should” was his solemn reply. “Someone who wasn’t prepared for your brilliance and its effect on a needy soul.”

  Magic words. Passionate syllables. The correct ones.

  “Stay, Dylan,” Savannah said. “Please stay.”

  Sadness hung on his features like lurking shadows that Savannah wanted to chase away. She hurried on. “I want to know everything about you, and if that isn’t possible, then one night with you will have to do.”