The Perfect Kiss (22 page)

“I’ll just bet he is,” Zach said darkly.

And then Sutton had insisted on putting in his two cents. “You’ve really done it this time, Zach. William is outraged by this latest stunt of yours.” Sutton’s dark eyes gleamed
with satisfaction, making Zach wonder if Sutton had, in fact, already moved into Zach’s office.

Better watch your back, Zach warned himself. He had no doubt that if Roland Sutton could somehow sabotage this final shoot, if he could make Zach look even more incompetent, he wouldn’t hesitate to do so. He wanted Zach’s job. More so now than ever.

With an effort, Zach pulled his mind away from Roland Sutton and tried to focus on what Julian Sindel was saying. But it wasn’t easy to concentrate today. Not when his images of Anya and the passion they’d shared were still so vivid and fresh in his mind.

Just before dawn, he’d awakened with the feel of her cool lips against his, only to find that he was alone in the big, canopied bed. Alone, and achingly aroused.

And Anya was nowhere to be found.

Zach hadn’t seen her all day, either—a fact which had done little to improve his mood. She hadn’t even made an appearance when he’d sent Freida to tell her that Julian and the crew had arrived. Zach wondered if, in spite of last night, Anya was still angry with him for arranging this last shoot without her knowledge or consent. If she were, both she and Sutton could give him a lot of grief. Somehow, Zach’s brilliant ad campaign to launch the world’s most unforgettable perfume had turned into a nightmare.

Still, if he had it to do all over again, Zach knew he’d still want Anya. Even with all the problems and complications, he could envision no one else for Seduction.

He sighed, running his hand through his hair as he gazed up at the imposing lines of the Allison house. Julian had wanted a better view of the mansion, but as far as Zach was concerned, they were wasting valuable time. The house would only serve as an interesting background detail in the shots. Up close, it was still as unappealing as ever. There
was something ominous about the dilapidated structure, something that almost seemed evil.

Zach scoffed at himself for such a notion. Since when had he been given to flights of fancy? He recalled the story Anya had told him about the house being haunted, but Zach had never been one to believe in ghosts or spooks or things that went bump in the night. Reality was sometimes frightening enough.

But standing in the dense shade that canopied the yard, Zach felt a cold chill seep up his spine. Maybe he’d been working too hard.

Julian Sindel seemed to have no such revulsion for the house. The photographer mounted the rotting porch steps and rattled the knob at the front door. “Have you been inside?” he called, pushing at the door with his shoulder. The wood didn’t budge. The house remained solidly fortified.

“No,” Zach said, remaining in the yard. “The place is boarded up like a stockade.”

“Odd,” Julian commented, moving to a window. “Abandoned houses aren’t usually given so much care. Why do you suppose someone went to so much trouble to keep out intruders? And look, some of these boards look fairly new.”

Zach shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe the owners are afraid of lawsuits if somebody gets injured on their property. What do you say we go take a look at the cliffs now? The view is spectacular at sunset.”

“In a minute,” Julian said absently. “Come here for a second. I think I’ve found a hole.”

Zach approached the porch with a caution he didn’t understand. There was a smell in the air, a dank odor that conjured images of deep wells and dark cellars. Beneath
that was an even more odious scent. Somewhere nearby a dead animal had been left to rot.

For a moment, as Zach stepped upon the porch, the stench almost overpowered him. “Good God, don’t you smell that?” he asked Julian. “What the hell is it?”

Julian didn’t answer. He’d found a crack between two boards at the window and was trying to peer inside. With his hands, he tried to pry the planks apart. He jerked on one of the boards, and suddenly the wood came loose. An exposed nail ripped down the side of Julian’s hand. He cursed, letting the boards fall back into place.

Blood dripped from the wound onto the decaying porch floor. The photographer’s face whitened as he clutched his hand. Zach thought for a moment that Julian might actually pass out.

“Better stick to cameras,” Zach said, as he removed his handkerchief from a pocket. “A detective you’re not.” He took Julian’s hand and wrapped it tightly with the linen. In the fading light, Zach couldn’t tell how deeply the hand was cut, but blood already seeped through the flimsy bandage.

The wind shifted in the trees, and the scent of decay grew stronger, more rank. Zach thought he heard a rustle from inside the house, as though some creature had roused to life in the shadows.

“What was that?” Julian asked.

“Rats, most likely.” The sound grew louder, and Zach couldn’t seem to shake an almost overwhelming sense of foreboding. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Don’t you want to take a look inside?” the photographer asked gamely. “Hate to think I sustained this injury for nothing.”

“Some other time,” Zach muttered. “If you’re up to
exploring, then we’ll start with the cliffs. I’d like you to see it before the light goes.”

In spite of Julian’s bravado, Zach thought the photographer looked almost relieved when they walked away from the house. The farther away they got, the better Julian’s color became. He seemed back to normal now, and even paused to unwrap his hand and examine the wound closely.

“Bleeding’s almost stopped,” he announced. “You’ll be glad to know this little incident shouldn’t affect the shoot at all.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Zach agreed. “I can’t afford any more delays at this point.”

“Let’s take a look at the cliffs, then,” Julian said. “I’d like to scope out the location before we make a final decision. You amateurs can’t always be trusted to make the right choice. And besides, lighting can be hell on a night shoot. There’s more to be considered than just the view….”

Julian’s words trailed off as he gazed straight ahead toward the edge of the cliffs. Zach’s first thought was that the photographer had been just as struck by the savage beauty of the spot as he’d been. A strange, awed light shone in Julian’s eyes, but when Zach’s gaze followed his, he realized the photographer’s attention had been captured by something besides the scenery. Something that made Zach catch his breath, as well.

As though she had appeared out of nowhere with the sunset, Anya stood on the precipice, facing them. Only a rapturous glow in the distance remained of the day. Backlit by the misty light, Anya looked ethereal and fey, a mystical illusion that couldn’t be trusted.

Zach’s heart pounded against his chest. He couldn’t stop looking at her, couldn’t bear to tear his gaze away. She wore a long, full skirt of some gauzy fabric that seemed almost as elusive as the woman herself. She’d wrapped a
black shawl around her shoulders, and as her gaze met Zach’s, she pulled the woolen material even more tightly around her.

Zach’s first thought was how much more beautiful she seemed tonight. He wouldn’t have thought it possible. He had always thought of her as nature’s most glorious perfection, but now…now she took his breath away.

He was drawn to her in a way he never had been before. There had always been a pull, always been an attraction, but after last night the bond was so much stronger. He adored her beauty, but he worshiped her spirit. He admired her strength, but felt humbled by the quiet dignity in her soft, silvery eyes.

Beside him, Julian seemed just as shaken as Zach by Anya’s presence. When Zach moved toward her, the photographer followed reluctantly, as though up close he, too, feared such a perfect creation might vanish.

Up close, she
did
seem different. No less beautiful. No less mystical, but not an illusion any longer. She was very real, very much a part of the night. And Zach felt no less drawn to her because of it.

Her eyes didn’t quite meet his, and for some reason, every vivid image of last night came rushing back to him. He felt hot just thinking about it, about
her.
One of Anya’s hands fluttered nervously to her throat. Zach found it an incredibly sensuous gesture. He wished suddenly that Julian Sindel would somehow disappear. At that moment, Zach wanted very much to be alone with Anya.

Her gaze met his briefly, then darted away. “I was wondering where you were,” she said. “It’s getting late.”

Her concern gratified him. Zach smiled. “I wanted to show Julian this location. He’s the expert, after all.”

Julian was still staring at Anya. Like Zach, he couldn’t
seem to take his eyes off her. “It’s perfect,” he said. “Absolutely…breathtaking.”

Zach heard Anya’s breath catch. She made a soft, almost gasping sound as her fingers tightened at her throat. “What happened to your hand?”

Zach’s gaze followed Anya’s and found that she was staring at the blood-soaked handkerchief around Julian’s hand. He looked at Anya again. She seemed mesmerized by the sight; her unblinking stare never left Julian’s hand. Uneasiness fluttered inside Zach. Did the sight of blood repel her, sicken her? For some reason, Zach felt compelled to break her fixed stare.

“Julian will live, won’t you?” he said casually. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“But…there’s so much blood.”

Julian seemed to break free of his own spell. He held up his hand as he unwrapped the handkerchief. An angry red mark slashed down the side of his hand, but the bleeding had stopped.

“It’s just a scratch,” he said. “Stings like hell, though.” He lifted his hand to his mouth, but Anya’s gasp stopped him dead.

“Please don’t,” she whispered, her fingers trembling against her lips.

“I’m sorry,” Julian said. He looked embarrassed, awkward. “That wasn’t a very delicate thing to do, I guess. Perhaps I’d better get back to the inn and get some antiseptic on it.” A wariness had invaded his eyes now. Zach noticed the subtle change. The photographer seemed disturbed, pensive, as he gazed at Anya.

“Go ahead and take the Jeep back to town,” Zach said. “I’ll walk back to the house with Anya.”

Julian turned to leave, then said over his shoulder, “Are
we still on for dinner? We’ve a lot to discuss if we’re going to start shooting tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow night,” Zach corrected. “And we’re on for dinner, but I’d like Anya to join us, as well.” He turned to face her. “Is that a problem?”

She seemed to have latched on to only one word. “Dinner?” she echoed faintly.

“Yes, in town. At the inn, unless…”

“Unless?”

“Well,” Zach said, shifting uncomfortably, “we could have dinner at your house. Then Julian, Hawthorne and I could come back out here later, when the moon is up—”

“No!”

The violence of her reaction shocked him. “All right,” he said. “We’ll have dinner in town, then drive back out here—”

“No.” Again her denial interrupted him.

“Look,” he said impatiently, “we don’t have much time. Roland Sutton is here, and he’s after my head. He’ll pounce on any delay, any problem he can find to demolish the entire campaign. I need your help, Anya. Desperately.”

Anya hesitated. In the depths of her eyes, a battle seemed to be raging. Zach gazed at her, intrigued. What was she so afraid of?

“You can all come to dinner at the house,” she said at last. “But you can’t come back out here later.”

“Why not?” Zach and Julian asked at the same time.

“Because it’s not safe,” she said. “There might be…wild animals roaming the woods.”

Zach started to laugh, but then she lifted her gaze to his, and he’d never seen such stark terror in anyone’s eyes. In the face of her fears, he knew arguing would accomplish very little. Besides—though he couldn’t say why—there
was something about this place that was starting to get to him, as well.

Nevertheless, he’d chosen this location himself, and in spite of Anya’s protests and fears, work
would
begin tonight.

Come hell or high water.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

A
nya was given no choice. Roland Sutton, as bitter and angry and egotistical as she remembered him from the city, had insisted that he wanted to check out the location of the final shoot after dinner. Nothing Anya had said while they were eating had dissuaded him, and her protestations only served to garner her speculative glances from the others.

They had all risen from the candlelit table now, and were heading toward the foyer.

“If we humor him, perhaps he’ll go away,” Zach said, taking Anya’s arm.

“Oh, I’ll go away,” Sutton replied, his dark eyes gleaming. “But not before I make a full report to William. That’s why he sent me here, after all. He knows he can trust me.”

Anya felt Zach stiffen, and knew that Sutton had purposely hit a raw nerve. Suddenly, she hated the obscene smile which curled his thin lips, hated the greed and ambition which drove him to torment Zach. How easy it would be to enter Sutton’s shallow mind, she thought, to manipulate his thoughts, his dreams, to make him pay for the grief he’d caused Zach. How easy it would be to make him do her bidding.

Revenge, Anya thought. How easily she could extract revenge for Zach.

Then she heard Zach laugh, a low rumble of a sound filled with confidence, even a little arrogance, and she realized that Zach Christopher didn’t need anyone’s help. He could take care of Sutton all by himself.

“Well, then, once we’ve seen the location, Sutton, you
better trot on back to the inn and make your full report to my father like a good errand boy should. Don’t let us keep you.”

Sutton’s face flushed dull red. Anya saw Julian smother a smile, saw Evan Hawthorne nervously push up his glasses. Then Sutton turned on his heel, and strode toward the front door.

Zach’s hold on Anya’s arm tightened. “You don’t have to go,” he said softly.

“Yes,” she said, her heart pounding with apprehension. “I do.”

Zach stared at her for a moment, then touched her chin lightly with his fingertip. “There’s nothing to be afraid of out there, Anya. You’re safe with me.”