Shadow Lover (Siren Publishing Allure) (23 page)

"Yeah? What are we shopping for?"

"Sex!"

Joni spewed her coffee all over the dashboard, then turned and looked at Chyna's determined face with surprise.

“Joni, do you know what a makeover is?”

“Sure.”

“Well, I’m going to give myself one.” She smiled. “It’s funny. I was just telling Elaine the other night that she needed to pay more attention to herself. Hell, I’m just as guilty as she is. Sure I fix myself up, wear makeup, but because there’s been no man in my life I’ve sort of let myself go, you know? Jeans, old clothes, sweats, that’s all I ever wear. The only thing I dress up for is book signings, autograph parties, or speaking engagements. I’ve got to get myself out of this slump. Get something sexy, hot.”

Unmoved by what Chyna said, Joni said simply, “You’re on the wrong track. Fat is beautiful.” Then she looked over at Chyna defiantly and burped.

The two women spent the day going from store to store buying the sexiest clothes they could find. Shorts, leggings and over-sized sweaters for daily wear, and for evening, teddies, thin, lacey, see-through lingerie, garter belts, and push-up bras. When she tried them all on she was so embarrassed she was forced to look at herself through her fingers. Finally, with her eyes closed, and love deeply imbedded in her heart, she added them to her growing collection. On her way out of the store, she picked up a book from a display next to the cash register—
How to Play Sexual Hard Ball!

Late the next night while Chyna was working on her book, she kept looking down at her watch. Finally, she jumped up off the bed, opened her door and looked down the hall. She wasn’t sure about Quinn, but she knew Elaine had gone to bed. She glanced down at her watch again. It was only ten thirty. Not early but not late. She wondered if Kirk would still be awake, and leaned out over the balcony as far as she could, seeing a dim light glowing in the basement.

Great,
she thought, then looked up at the beautiful moon while listening for the slightest sound. A deep darkness, and heavy silence seemed to be overflowing the mansion.

Now was the time.

Should she, or shouldn’t she?

She paced while wringing her hands. Apparently it wasn’t as easy as it looked. She’d never engaged in a blatant seduction, and was unsure, nervous. She had only engaged in such things in her imagination. In her books she always knew the end from the beginning. But she wasn’t creating this scene, writing the dialogue, or thinking for a pair of paper characters that she had placed on a page. This was real life, not her brilliant orchestration of two people’s lives. What if she fell on her face? What if she made a fool of herself? Apparently Colandra Roswald, her most daring heroine, was more courageous than she. The woman had used the magic of an old witch to follow the man she loved into death, descending into the depths of hell to rescue him, and seducing a fallen angel into helping her. What a story that was. But it was Chyna’s own creation. There was no hell, no fire and brimstone, and no seduction in a lush, blazing red bed, except in Chyna’s fertile imagination. But to her readers it was real. It had sold millions,
Blazing Dawn
becoming another bestseller.

Now, Chyna felt like she was entering the depths of hell every time she went down into that dungeon. But she would do it again and again if it meant bringing Kirk out of that pit. A quivering rush of determination speared through her, whirling her around, and moving her feet over to her closet where she began wildly rummaging through her new things. When she saw it, she stopped. It was a beautiful little royal blue teddy covered with a matching lace robe, slightly see through and very short. She brought it out and looked at it. She put the outfit on and slowly stepped in front of the mirror. "Oh, my!" she cried. It had an empire waist with a little ribbon tie nestled just beneath her breasts, the rest billowing out around her.

Going back to the closet, she began rummaging through her shoes and found her matching four-inch, furry, step-in mules. Looking at them, she suddenly remembered what Venita said about Quinn liking his women barefoot.

Kirk was Quinn’s brother,
she thought, wondering if sexual appetites could be shared like—sure—like dimples in a chin. She smiled, leaving the mules where they were, and stepped back in front of the mirror.

The absence of shoes did do something,
she thought.
It made her appear more raw, uninhibited somehow.

Beginning to understand the look, she examined herself. The absence of shoes helped, but she still looked too made up somehow. Slowly she lifted her hands and messed up her hair. Then pulling one side forward, she obscured one eye, making her look wild, and untamed.

Yes,
Chyna thought,
even sexy
.

Finally having the look she wanted, she was hoping Kirk would find her irresistible. She quietly stepped into the hall, looking around guiltily. Seeing no one, she made her way through the dark maze down to the basement. With each step she took, the more nervous she became.

When she arrived, she looked in. The light was off now, but she could see Kirk in bed with the moonlight softly outlining the scarring on his face. She thought maybe the door was locked, but when she tried it, it opened easily. She took pains to move the door quietly, trying to keep from clanging the metal. After closing it behind her, she walked silently over to his bed and sat down very gently on the side of it.

As the bed gave under her weight, Kirk lifted his head. When he saw her, he didn’t speak for a moment, only noticed how the moonlight glistened on her skin, and how her tousled hair fell down around her shoulders. She looked as if she’d just crawled out of bed, and the idea aroused him. With her eyes half closed, she looked deliciously warm and inviting. He looked down and saw her bare feet and felt raw desire begin to build inside him. He raised himself up on one arm, his eyes drawn to her deep cleavage that was cupped sensuously by the lacy blue material.

"I'm sorry to wake you Kirk, but I had to see you. We need to talk."

“You wanted to talk? In that thing? Chyna, don’t you have any sense?"

She looked down at herself, innocently. "I’m sorry…I…"

"Haven't we been through this once?"

"I'm sorry, Kirk, but this is the only time I can come down without Quinn watching my every move." As she spoke, she watched his angry eyes as they caressed her rounded cleavage.

"All right," he said, combing his hair with his hand. "So what do you want?" He tried to keep his eyes off her breasts, but he couldn't help noticing that they were practically falling out of the deep plunge of her robe.

"I just wanted to explain about me and Quinn."

"There's nothing to talk about, so you might as well go back upstairs." He laid back down, shifting over on his side with his back to her.

"Please don't, Kirk," she said as she reached out to him. When he felt her hand he turned and saw her breasts so close to him they were almost touching his face. Suddenly he jumped up and grabbed her arm. "You must think I'm a damned idiot. I know what you're doing, but what I can't figure out is why. You've had your fun. You've already proven that you can drive the poor scarred up creature crazy haven't you? My God, is this an ego trip for you? Go back to Quinn, the bed must be getting cold by now."

"Kirk,” Chyna said with exasperation. “Why do you believe Quinn when you know what a liar he is? I haven't been to bed with him. That's what's eating him up, can't you see that? He was lying, Kirk, lying! He knows how I feel about you, and he's jealous." Chyna pulled her wrist out of his grasp. "Why in God's name is it so hard for you accept the simple fact that I want you and not Quinn?"

He turned quickly, violently grabbed up a flashlight and brightened his face in a monstrous, halloweenish way. “Because nobody could want this! Throwing the flashlight down in a clatter, he said, “Now go and leave me to my darkness, Chyna. I don't want to see you again."

They both jerked their heads around when they heard a loud noise coming from upstairs.

Kirk grabbed her upper arms and rasped loudly, "Chyna, get out of here, now. Before Quinn finds you here."

"He doesn't know I'm down here."

"Quinn knows every damn thing that goes on in this mansion, Chyna. That's how he caught us before. Now get out."

"Who cares if he finds me down here? It's none of his business, besides we're not doing anything wrong."

"Look at the way you’re dressed for God's sake. Do you think he's going to believe you just came down here to talk?"

"I don't care what he believes. I'm not going to let that tyrant scare me away from you again, Kirk."

Kirk sighed in defeat, knowing she wouldn’t leave until he agreed to talk to her. He raked through his hair with his fingers, trying to think of something. "All right, listen,” Kirk said, his thoughts tumbling about in his head. “Tomorrow…tomorrow at ten o'clock I'll meet you down at Kissing Rock."

"Kissing Rock? What is that?"

"It's just a lot of enormous rocks grouped together. You can't miss it. It's about a mile down the beach. I'll meet you there. Away from the mansion. Agreed?"

"Well…all right. You won't stand me up will you?"

"No, of course not. Now, just get out of here before Quinn comes banging on the door.

Longing filled Chyna’s eyes as she stroked the smooth side of his cheek, then turned and left. Once she got upstairs, she kept her eyes on the dark corners, leaning shadows, and silhouettes of monsters that during the day magically turned themselves into ordinary furniture. As she looked around, she felt extremely vulnerable. She was sure the walls had eyes, and it would be just her luck that Quinn's would be among them. Strangely enough, she finally made it to her room, filled with the excitement of her meeting with Kirk.

* * * *

The next day was cloudy and windy. After breakfast Chyna tried writing down some thoughts in her book, but she just couldn't concentrate. She kept looking at the clock, anxious for the hands to move faster. Finally, she decided to go ahead and take a leisurely walk along the beach to get the cobwebs out of her head. She put on a pair of leggings, a low-cut oversized sweater that dropped off one shoulder, then began her climb up Cat's Paw. Once there, she looked down at the choppy ocean, thinking of the many times she had watched the unhappy, tortured man she loved walking all alone along the beach. She wanted so much to help him, to bring him out of his misery, but he fought so against it. She hoped fervently that this little rendezvous with Kirk would make the difference.

Finding the heavily trodden path, she began carefully making her way down the slope that led to the sandy strip. Looking out onto the beautiful, vast, unsettled expanse of water, she could understand why Kirk walked along this stretch of beach so many times. At the edge of the grassy slope she took off her shoes and stepped down into the grainy sand. Leaving her shoes on the path, she turned her face toward the wind and felt the refreshing cool air as it worked to clear her head.

After walking a while, she turned and began walking backward, watching her feet make footsteps in the sand that the water immediately washed away. Lingering, she turned and looked at the ocean, listening to the pounding surf, wondering if there was such a thing as surf talk. If so, she sadly wondered what it was telling her. She loved the ocean. The feel, the sound, and the turbulence that seemed to reach into infinity.

Before she knew it, she saw a group of rocks ahead that reminded her of a large, monolithic beast. Their massive shape jutted out of the cliff behind, bringing the sandy strip to an end. The never-ending surf smashed against them constantly, sending a spray of water over the rocks, and making a deep pool around them. It seemed as if over the years they’d almost grown together—reaching out to each other—kissing. That must be why it was called Kissing Rock. It was a romantic idea that made Chyna smile. She let her hand slide along the surface as she walked around it. Although the rock was extremely craggy, there were no sharp edges, only a constant pounding of wind and surf.

Climbing upon it, she noticed a deep groove that had been smoothed away by the constant crashing of the ocean. She climbed into it and lay back, closing her eyes while she listened to the consistent moving of the tall restless waves, again trying to imagine what it was saying to her. As she lay there she enjoyed the privacy, and realized it would be easy to imagine herself suspended in time while she listened to each turbulent surge as one upon the other, they splashed against the rocks.

"Chyna." The voice was soft against the pounding surf. "Chyna."

She opened her eyes and saw a man's silhouette standing against the brightness of the sky. His long hair was blowing in the wind, and Chyna felt a stab of fear, thinking Quinn had found her. Then suddenly he turned, and she saw his face—the scars—revealed as she’d never seen them before.

Kirk saw the shock in Chyna’s eyes when she looked at him, but he didn’t turn away. He knew that if they were ever going to have something she would have to see what she was getting, so he stood there, not hiding, but letting her look at him.

After what seemed like an eternity, she lifted her hand, and he stepped into the wide, smooth groove beside her. The space was cramped, their bodies pressed together, and their eyes locked in a hot, magnetic gaze.