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Authors: Calista Fox

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“Shana has led a very solitary existence and it’s humbling
to her,” Jane told him. “Actually, it saddens her, but she can’t break free of
it. There’s a great deal of self-doubt within her that makes it difficult for
her to express herself except through writing or music. In fact,” Jane
continued, “she has no idea how to connect with other humans unless it’s
through those avenues…or how to embrace her own sexuality. She pretends to be
comfortable with her body, but she’s not.” She paused a moment, drew in a
breath and let it out slowly. “She’s completely oblivious as to how desirable
she is.”

“Then she doesn’t own a single reflective surface,” Drake
said in a dour tone. “How could she not see how striking she is?”

Jane shook her head, her eyes still closed. “People see what
they want to see. Or what someone else tells them to see.”

An ominous thought that lingered between them. Had someone
told this woman she wasn’t attractive—and she’d believed them? The thought
infuriated him, which, in turn, alarmed him even more. He couldn’t afford to
take a personal interest in Shana White. Yet he was buying into everything Jane
said about her and he found her revelations troubling and deeply disturbing.
Fool that he was.

“Oh dear,” Jane mumbled, drawing his attention. Her brow
furrowed in apparent consternation. “This truly is painful. She’s very, very
alone, Drake. But how could that be? We’ve read her articles and we’ve listened
to her music. She’s brilliant and thought-provoking. Emotionally stirring. And
yet… She’s completely closed off.” Her eyelids fluttered open.

Drake studied her closely. He knew better than to fall down
this rabbit hole, but couldn’t seem to stop himself. “Explain to me what you
mean. How can she possibly doubt her self-worth and yet express herself so
eloquently in both literary and musical forms?”

“I don’t know. Except to say that perhaps they’re channels
for her emotions. Meaning she can pour herself into her music and her writing
and pretend it’s not personal. She does it on a professional level and can
therefore justify she’s simply giving the masses what they want, rather than
admitting she’s revealing anything about herself.”

He thought of the iTunes tracks he’d purchased and
downloaded when he’d discovered she’d been a musician in her younger years.
“You’re saying she hid behind her violin when she was a child and a teenager
and now she’s hiding behind her computer?”

“Tragic, isn’t it? For someone so beautiful—and not just
physically—to be so distressed internally.”

Jane seemed entranced by her encounter with Shana’s soul.
She reached a hand toward the screen and Drake was convinced she had no idea
she’d made the gesture.

“What is it?” he asked in a low voice, so as to not break
the trance.

Jane pulled her hand back and pressed two fingertips to her
lips. She stared at the monitor until Shana was admitted into the club and
disappeared from the camera’s view.

“Oh,” Jane whispered. “That was just…so very odd.”

“What?” he demanded, eager to hear what else Jane had
discovered about Shana.

In a compelling tone, she said, “We have to help her.”

He cocked his head to the side. His gut clenched. There it
was again—trouble looming on the horizon. It was so palpable, he could feel it.
And inescapable, he knew it.

Still, he hedged. “We do?”

She nodded. “Yes, yes.” She turned to Drake and wrapped a
slender hand partially around his upper arm. Her tone was back to the
confident, lilting one she’d started with this evening as a smile touched her
lips. “Drake, it’s not just Shana’s photo that caught your attention. It’s not
just her face and her body you’re drawn to. I remember the day you downloaded
several of the compositions from the orchestra she performed with. From the very
first note of her very first solo, you were mesmerized. I don’t even think you
realized how many times you played the haunting pieces, over and over. And then
I found the articles she’d written that you’d printed out. They were scattered
all over your desk. Dozens of them. You connected with her on more than just a
physical level. There’s something about this woman, something inside her that
sort of…calls to you. To me too.”

His brow jerked up. “She’s human, Jane. That means
off-limits. To both of us.”

“You don’t understand. Reassurance is what Shana needs, yes.
But not just assurance that she’s attractive—it goes far beyond that,” she said
as she lifted her hand from his arm and waved it in a dismissive way. “She has
no idea how captivating she is, true. Her passionate nature has been channeled
into her career—which is what you respond to and find so stirring. But there’s
so much more within her that needs to be unleashed.”

Unleashed
.

Now that was a word worthy of raising more red flags than he
could process all at once. Yet damn it all to hell, he was sucked in by how
Jane’s eyes lit with determination and exhilaration. Her grin turned downright
wicked as she stared up at him, coming to whatever conclusion she’d derived
from her brief encounter with Shana’s soul.

“Drake,” she continued, the twinkle of lust and excitement
returning to her eyes. “May we help her? Please?”

He groaned. Oh what a loaded question
that
was.

As he raked a hand through his hair, he asked, “What exactly
do you propose we do?”

“Draw Shana from the protective shelter in which she hides.”

“For reasons we know nothing about, Jane.” They had no idea
why Shana felt the way she did, why she was so reclusive. They had no idea what
had happened to her to make her abruptly leave a world-renowned orchestra and
emerge a year later as an entirely different person with a completely different
identity. All of his late-night research and constant digging had not provided
him these answers.

Granted, he wanted to solve the puzzle that was Shana White.
But what would be the outcome? The consequences of his and Jane’s actions could
be devastating to the three people involved in this unexpected scenario.

For him, the reality of the situation was glaring and
unsettling. Were Shana to discover his and Jane’s true natures, they’d have to
close shop and disappear for a while. A long while.

Drake wasn’t inclined to pull up stakes just yet. He liked
the club and the few human acquaintances he’d made here and trusted, like
body-paint artist Finn Griffith and his girlfriend, Yvette Samson. Not
“trusted” in the sense of believing he could reveal his real identity to them,
but he could have a cocktail with them on occasion. Plus he admired Finn’s
steadfast rule to donate to charity a portion of the proceeds from the sale of
his commissioned murals following the real-life displays in the club.

But the fact still remained that no one at Body Scenes aside
from Jane knew he was a vampire. Even his staff had no idea. His existence was
fairly easy to maintain given his detachment and the fact that he only opened
the club’s doors once a month. He didn’t run with the secret society of demons,
nor did he try to infiltrate the human world more than he did with Body Scenes
and his limited human connections.

For centuries, he’d flown under the radar no matter where he
was. If he were to take his attraction to Shana to a more intimate level. That
could prove hazardous to both his business and his lifestyle.

Yet he simply couldn’t bring himself to tell Jane to let the
whole thing lie. To leave Shana alone. To let her enjoy her night at the club
without knowing anything about his or Jane’s existence.

His silence spoke volumes.

Without another word on the touchy subject, Jane crossed to
her desk and picked up the phone. “Michael, this is Miss Van Kamp. You’ve just
let Shana White into the club. Would you please escort her backstage? Mr.
Halston would like to give her a private tour.”

Despite his mounting reservations, Drake said, “Clever
tactic, love.”

Jane replaced the receiver. “Our artists use models of all
body types. There’s no way Shana can feel self-conscious with the provocative
figures parading around backstage. Not to mention all those naked bodies being
painted—and knowing the shagging that goes on before and after each curtain rises
and falls on a mural—serves as a potent aphrodisiac. It might help to open her
up a bit and let loose of some of her insecurities.”

He wasn’t at all comfortable with this new course of action,
particularly when he was wound so tight and the woman of his dreams was about
to be in very close proximity to him. But he had to concede. He honestly
couldn’t pass up the opportunity to spend time with Shana this evening, even
knowing it was dangerous.

“You have a point,” he said to Jane. “There’s definitely an
air of eroticism backstage that seems to make people less inhibited.” In fact,
he had a steadfast rule that Jane wasn’t allowed to spy on the models when they
were positioning themselves behind the curtains of their respective stages—or
peek in on them after the curtain dropped. He knew what went on down there and
privacy was a professional courtesy he extended his artists and their subjects,
much to Jane’s dismay.

And of course he wanted to meet Shana in person, there was
no denying it. Seeing her reaction to the artwork and how it all came about
intrigued him as well. So he went against his better judgment, caving not only
to Jane’s will, but to his own.

He strode over to the wet bar and retrieved a bottle of
Cristal from the mini-fridge. He popped the cork and nestled the bubbly in a
gold-rimmed crystal bucket filled with ice. Jane joined him, setting out three
champagne flutes on the sturdy wooden coffee table that sat before the
sectional and chaise lounge in front of the fireplace. A warm and cozy setting
in his private office.

“Remember,” he cautioned as they left the room and traveled
down the marbled hallway to the elevator. “What transpires this evening is
strictly up to Shana.”

Jane nodded. “Yes, I know.” She smiled in anticipation, a
playful glint in her eyes as she added, “But I truly think we’re fated to meet
her, Drake. And to help her, which should prove very…
exciting
.”

Chapter Two

 

“Excuse me, Miss White?”

An attractive man in a sharp, charcoal-gray suit extended
his hand to Shana, which she accepted.

“Yes?”

“I’m Michael Toliver, Mr. Halston’s head of security. He’d
like to invite you to take a backstage tour with him.”

It wasn’t really an invitation. She could tell by the way
Toliver coaxed her forward as he gently gripped her hand.

“Oh my,” her friend Yvette cooed from beside her. “That’s
setting precedence. Drake Halston doesn’t invite anyone backstage. In fact, he
rarely comes out of his office when the club is open.”

Shana glanced over at her. “I thought you and Finn had
cocktails with him recently.”

“We did, when the club was dark. He’s a fan of Finn’s work,
but I’ve never known him to take a personal interest in a guest.”

From Shana’s extensive research on the owner of Body Scenes,
she knew Drake Halston was shrouded in mystery, which intrigued her greatly.
That he’d allowed her access to his club was shock enough, but a backstage
tour? The idea was certainly an appealing one, sending a shiver of excitement
down her spine.

Conversely, the unexpected gesture prickled her nerves a
bit. It was an unfortunate double-edged sword. Shana wasn’t skilled at
in-person, one-on-one interactions, particularly with men. Something she’d
never regretted more than at this moment, with this extended invitation. If she
stayed true to form, she’d likely bumble her way through the entire
conversation—the reason she conducted the vast majority of her business within
a virtual environment.

Despite her love of journalism, she’d never been comfortable
interviewing people in the flesh and she didn’t venture outside her spacious
Fifth Avenue apartment much. But the rare opportunity to meet Drake was
impossible to resist. So she tamped down her nervous anxiety.

Turning back to Toliver, she said, “It’d be my pleasure to
accompany Mr. Halston on a tour.”

He released her hand, as though now convinced he wouldn’t
have to drag her kicking and screaming.
As if
. Although there were no
photos of Drake on the Internet and his existence was documented only by
shadowy accounts of brief interactions with him—their legitimacy questionable—he
fascinated the hell out of her. So much so, she’d practically begged Yvette to
get her a coveted invitation into the club. Her friend, however, had informed
her Drake had already expressed interest in inviting Shana to Body Scenes. So
the stage had been set long before this evening.

“This ought to be enlightening,” she said, excited by the
turn of events. “It’s like removing Batman’s mask and revealing his true
identity.”

Beside her, Yvette snickered. She reached into her small
clutch and handed over two folded tissues. “You’ll need these, Vicki Vale.”

Shana’s brow furrowed. She got the reference to the reporter
in the comics, but didn’t understand Yvette’s offering of the tissues. “My
allergies haven’t bothered me all week.”

With a wink, her outrageous friend said, “They’re not for
your nose, sweetie.” Her gaze dropped pointedly to the apex of Shana’s legs.

“Oh my God.” Shana gasped. Heat ignited in her cheeks as
embarrassment consumed her. Toliver was standing right there with them, in
earshot of Yvette’s wicked words!

“You could be a little more couth,” she snapped.

Not the least bit contrite, Yvette said, “I’ve tried. I’m
simply incapable of pulling it off.” With a sassy shake of her head that sent
long strands of sleek blonde hair flying over one bare shoulder, she sauntered
off, swaying her hips and making every male head within a twenty-foot radius
whip in her direction.

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