The Perfect Kiss (13 page)

Before he could utter a word, Anya’s knees buckled, and she crumpled to the floor.

CHAPTER EIGHT

A
nya was floating, drifting on the softest of clouds, and she was warm. Warmer than she’d been in years and years. And so content. So happy and safe.

“Anya?”

Ah. She
was
dreaming. She was dreaming about Zach. His deep, dark voice flowed over her like the richest of wines. She snuggled deeper into the fantasy, letting her thoughts drift away once again.

“Anya! Can you hear me? Someone call an ambulance, for God’s sake!”

Ambulance? Doctors and hospitals? Tests?

The dream was fast becoming a nightmare. Anya struggled to lift her lids. The light seared her eyes, made them sting with fire. With an effort, she raised her hand to shield them.

Someone said, “She’s coming around now.”

And Zach said, “I don’t give a damn. Did you make that call?” The anger in his voice finally helped dissipate the fog. She could see a dozen faces all around her, peering down at her. Their confused emotions swirled through her head, mingling with the chaos already there.

“Take it easy,” Julian said to Zach. “This happens all the time. Models are always fainting.”

Anya struggled to sit up, but Zach’s strong hands held her back. “Easy now. Just relax. You’ll be fine.”

Anya’s panic began to mushroom. Heartbeats drummed in her ears. In spite of Zach’s strength, she sat up easily.
She saw surprise cloud his eyes for a moment, followed almost immediately by relief.

“How do you feel?” he asked, so tenderly her throat ached with unshed tears. “God, you’re so cold. Your skin is like ice.”

“I need to get out of the light,” she said weakly. When she tried to stand, her knees shook. Before she could protest, Zach swept her up into his arms. He carried her toward the shadows, calling over his shoulder, “I’m taking her to her dressing room. When the ambulance gets here—”

Anya clutched the front of his shirt. “No, please. No ambulance.”

His arms tightened around her. “You just blacked out, Anya. You need to see a doctor.”

“I’m fine. Julian was right. This happens all the time. I just got too…hot under the lights. And I haven’t eaten in a long time.”

They were out of the lights now, walking down a dim corridor to her dressing room. With the return of her strength came a new, more heightened awareness. Zach held her easily, and his underlying strength was all too apparent. His arms were hard, rippling with vitality. His warmth drew her closer and closer. With very little effort, she could touch his neck with her lips….

“Please put me down,” she said quickly. “I’m fine, really.” When he didn’t immediately release her, Anya pushed herself away from him. She twisted in his arms, making him almost drop her. Again she saw the surprise register in his eyes as he stumbled.

“Damn, you’re strong,” he muttered, still holding her as if to prove to himself and to her that he could. He reached around her and fumbled with the dressing-room door until it swung open, then strode inside and set her down on a sofa backed against one wall.

A diminutive, sharp-edged little woman rushed forward and knelt beside Anya. She glared up at Zach. “What happened?” she demanded in a thick German accent. “What have you done to her?”

Zach recognized her. She was the woman he’d barged past at Anya’s house that day. He’d assumed she was Anya’s housekeeper, but exactly what she was doing here at the studio, he had no idea.

He straightened, gazing down at Anya’s pale features. “She fainted,” he said. “I’ve asked someone to call an ambulance.”

“An
ambulance?
” There was unmistakable fear in the grim little woman’s voice. She and Anya exchanged a look that was not lost on Zach.

He frowned in exasperation. “Yes, an ambulance. Why the hell not?”

“Anya doesn’t need a doctor. I can take care of her.”

“Then why did she pass out from hunger out there?” Zach demanded.

“Hunger?”

“Yes, hunger,” he growled, causing the little woman to wince. He looked past her to Anya. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten a decent meal?”

Anya put a weak hand to her forehead. “I…don’t remember.”

“Don’t remember? Damn it to hell.” He turned on the housekeeper, stabbing a finger in the air toward her. “And
this
is how you take care of her? By letting her go around half-starved?”

“I’m a model,” Anya interjected. “I can’t afford to eat much. The camera shows no mercy.”

“That’s ridiculous. I won’t have you starving yourself on my account. You’re going to eat something tonight if I have to force it down you. Understand me?”

“Leave her alone!” The housekeeper whirled on him this time, piercing him with a challenging blue glare. “You’re pushing her too hard. Don’t you understand? Don’t you know what this is doing to her? All those people out there and the lights—”

“Freida!” Anya said the name softly, but there was no mistaking the warning note in her tone.

Freida turned back to Anya and muttered something in German. Zach swore under his breath. “What’s she talking about?” he asked Anya.

Anya’s smile looked strained, but the glitter had come back into her eyes. “Nothing. The session ran a little late tonight, that’s all. I just need to get some air. I’ll be fine.”

“Pack up her stuff and I’ll drive her home,” he said to Freida.

The hard little woman bristled. “Karl will drive her home.”

“Who the hell’s Karl?”

“My husband,” Freida said haughtily, “and Anya’s driver.”

“Well, you run along and let Karl drive
you
home. I want to talk to Anya.”

Freida’s head whipped around in agitation. “Anya—”

“That really isn’t necessary,” Anya said evenly, but her silvery eyes glistened with something that looked very much like dread to Zach. And fear. He swore again.

“Look,” he said, holding on to his patience by a thread, “in case you’ve forgotten, I have a vested interest in your health here. Either you let me take you out to get something to eat, or we’ll let the doctor decide the best course of action.”

A myriad of emotions flashed through Anya’s eyes, not the least of which was anger. Zach smiled grimly. She looked cornered, and a cornered animal could be dangerous.
A thrill of excitement spun through him. Just like in his youth, he felt himself skirting the brink of disaster and liking it.

“You might as well give in, Anya,” he said, purposefully softening his tone. “I never take no for an answer.”

“Then I warn you,” she said, “the price of a meal for me can be extremely expensive. Are you willing to pay that price, Zach?”

Her silver eyes bedazzled him. Zach found himself staring deeply into those crystal depths, heard himself saying as if from a distance, “No price is too high for you.”

* * *

Dinner was an ordeal, an agony to be endured.

Seated across an intimate table for two, watching the candlelight flicker across Zach’s face, Anya knew that he was just as aware of her as she was of him. At times, he seemed almost mesmerized by her, but the notion only made Anya more uneasy. For it wasn’t really
her
that drew his fascination—it was what she was.

Outwardly, you will become even more beautiful, irresistible to those around you.
When Freida had first warned Anya what would happen to her, Anya hadn’t understood. She had thought that change would be the least of any of the evils befalling her.

Now, she knew better. Now, she realized exactly what it meant because she would never know if Zach’s attraction to her was anything more than a helpless fascination. In another time, another place, if she were something other than what she was, would he still feel the same?

The smell of food nauseated Anya, and the sight of Zach’s rare steak was almost more than she could handle. She forced herself to take a few sips of clear soup, but could manage no more, even though Zach repeatedly encouraged her to eat.

Later, when Zach had insisted on walking her to her door, Anya had tried to hurry inside, but he’d caught her arm, pulling her back into the shadows of the porch.

“Not just yet,” he said softly, his gaze searching her face.

“It’s late,” she protested. Much, much too late.

“Is it?” Suddenly, his eyes were dark and deep and very mysterious, and Anya thought that she wasn’t the only one who could mesmerize. “There’s so much about you I don’t understand.”

“Does it matter?” She could feel the heat of his touch all the way through the layers of her clothing. She wanted to pull her arm away from his grasp, as much because of the pleasure as from the pain.

Zach’s smile seemed slightly grim. “I’m finding it does,” he said. “Rather a lot.” He released her arm, and Anya took a few steps away from him. Zach watched her, his gaze shadowed. “Why do you always do that? Why do you always feel you have to run from me, Anya? I would never hurt you.”

“Maybe not intentionally.” The bitterness edging her voice made her wince. She looked away. “But we can’t always predict the future, can we? No more than we can change the past.”

“I’ve wondered about that.”

“About what?”

“About your past,” he said. “Someone hurt you.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement filled with deep regret.

“Yes,” Anya admitted reluctantly.

“Would you care to tell me about it?”

How
could
she tell him? There was no way he would ever understand. Anya sighed as she shrugged. “It happened when I was seventeen. I was young and foolish, and I acted on impulse one night. I’ve lived to regret it ever
since.” She hesitated, then said, “It was just one night, but my life was changed forever because of it.”

“One night,” Zach repeated, as though caught up in his own memories. The wind blew a dead leaf across the street in front of them. He seemed engrossed in the action for a moment, then roused himself. “We all have our crosses to bear, I guess.”

Anya gazed at him, sensing his inner conflict, his own battle with the demons of the past. She resisted the urge to touch his hand, to connect their bodies as well as their minds. Instead she coaxed softly, “Tell me about your past.”

His laugh sounded harsh. “Like you, I was young and foolish and I acted on impulse one night. I’d just turned twenty, old enough to know better, but didn’t. I was driving my brother’s new sports car, a mint-condition Cobra that he’d just gotten. It was a real beauty.” His voice still contained a touch of awe as he remembered. Then his tone hardened. “I’d had a fight with my father that night, and I’d stormed out of the house. Matthew followed me, and he let me drive the new car our father had given him as a sort of—I don’t know—diversion, I guess. Anyway, I was angry, driving fast, showing off. I ran a red light, and a delivery truck broadsided us. Matthew was killed instantly, and I walked away with little more than a scratch. He was only twenty-five years old.”

“That must have been horrible for you.”

Zach was still staring into the darkness, unaware she’d spoken. “So you see, Anya, I know all about guilt and about shame and about how one night can change your life forever. My parents never forgave me.”

“How do you know they never forgave you?”

“I only have to look into my father’s eyes,” Zach said quietly. “Even though I wasn’t seriously injured, I was
taken to the hospital that night. I heard my father say right outside my door, ‘Why did it have to be Matt? Why couldn’t it have been…”’ Zach’s voice trailed off. He ran a hand through his wind-tossed hair as he looked away.

“You heard him say that?”

“I don’t know why it surprised me. Matthew was always their favorite son. My father was grooming him to take the reins of the company someday, and I took him from them. I took something from them that can never be returned.”

“But something was also taken from you that night, wasn’t it?” Anya asked softly.

Zach shrugged again. “Maybe. And now I’m a better man for it, right?” His eyes glittered darkly as his gaze met hers. “Enough about me, though. What I’d really like to talk about is you. Tell me about your past, about the night that changed your life forever,” he said, using her own words. “Tell me about the man who hurt you.”

“Why?” Anya asked, a little desperately. “What’s to be gained from it?”

“A little understanding? Come on. I’ve bared my soul. Now it’s your turn.”

Moonlight pooled between them. Zach’s gaze traced her features, lingered on her mouth. Anya felt her whole body react to his look. Her heart began to pound slowly, a mesmerizing beat that matched the pulse throbbing in his throat.

Such a tantalizing rhythm, she thought. Such a lovely cadence. A dance of heartbeats, a mating of souls. It was a beguiling song that lured and seduced and coaxed every nuance of Anya’s yearning to the surface.

Careful, she warned herself. Be very, very careful. Tell him just enough of the truth to make him go away, to make him leave you alone forever.

She tore her gaze from Zach’s and stared down at her
trembling hands. A terrible emptiness welled inside her. A terrible loneliness. “There’s nothing to tell,” she said bleakly. “I made a mistake. A horrible mistake. And now, because of that one night, I can never, ever be with another man.”

The silence tautened between them. Anya thought she would go mad from the sound of their pounding heartbeats. She saw Zach make a move toward her, then he held himself back.

“Did he…hurt you?”

“Yes.”

She saw his jaw muscles clench, as though he were having a difficult time keeping his control. “He forced himself on you?”

“In a way,” she whispered. She put her fingertips to her mouth to quell the trembling. “But it’s…not what you think. It was my fault—”

“Like hell it was!” Zach exploded, stunning her with the force of his outrage. “You were seventeen, for God’s sake. And how old was he?”

“Much…older.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said in disgust. “Who was he? Tell me his name.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Anya evaded. “It was a long time ago, and there’s nothing to be done about it now.”

“Nothing to be done?” If possible, his tone became even more outraged. Anya shivered at the uncontrolled anger flickering in his eyes. Such emotion, she thought. Such passion. And all for her.