The Red Collection (44 page)

Later, in the coffee house, he’d been compelled to approach her, and expecting wariness and suspicion, he’d been greeted by a sweet open smile and an easy invitation to share her table. She’d welcomed him, a pale and probably rather odd looking total stranger, and generously engaged him in conversation.

Sympathy again. Sympathy, from beauty, for an outcast? Was that it? Was that what had made her the one to change his long cultivated habits?

You’re a good woman, Teresa, and you’re kind. But would you still have sympathy for me, if you knew what I am?

Would you give yourself as freely as you were about to if you knew that your hypochondriac housemate was really a bloodsucking fiend?

‘It’s a bit hot in here … OK if I wind down the window?’

Not only was it warm in Zack’s beautiful classic Mercedes, it was also getting difficult to sit still. Breathing in the scents of polished leather and Zack himself was making her crazy. She loved his old-fashioned floral cologne, but in a confined space it was acting like a drug. She kept drifting into a dreamy erotic fantasy.

Clenching her fingers on her bag with one hand, and a fold of her skirt with the other, she fought the pounding urge to slyly touch herself.

‘Of course … sorry. I always forget that other people are warmer-blooded than I am.’ Zack’s eyes were intent on the road. If she didn’t know better, Teresa would have said that he was avoiding looking at her. Maybe he was having wayward urges of his own?

But that was nonsense. Zack was always the perfect, controlled gentleman. Alas.

Reaching for the window winder, Teresa frowned. There was
something
up with Zack tonight. He was different. Odd. Not his usual still calm self at all. And his beautiful rosy mouth was twisted as if he were smiling at a particularly bitter joke. Teresa eyed his perfect profile, and suddenly, as if he sensed her puzzlement, he turned briefly towards her with a warmer, less ambiguous, smile.

A second later, he was all attention to the road again and it was Teresa’s turn to purse her lips, frustrated.

If you’re not interested that way, Zack, why have you made yourself look so sexy?

She’d never seen Zack look all grown up and groomed this way before. Instead of his usual dark jeans, and floppy shirts that looked as if they’d come out of a dressing up bag, he was wearing a proper suit and smart shirt for a change. They were both dark midnight blue, and looked stunning with his pale skin and black hair. The look was restrained and semi-formal, and made a naturally dramatic man look even more dramatic. He’d slicked back his wild curly hair too, and that only added to the effect of sombre gothic elegance.

A quip about Count Dracula rose to her lips but, before it could get there, her head swam strangely. Pressing a knuckle to her mouth, she held in another gasp, all the time grappling with the impression that she was floating upwards in the car as if it were a space capsule.

Frames from a movie flashed before her eyes. And she was the star, seeing it from the inside.

Zack was kissing her, touching her, and holding her against his rampant body. His mouth was at her throat. Pain spiked there, but it was a sweet pain that induced pleasure between her legs. And as the stinging ebbed, that pleasure grew, and Zack lifted his face to look at her.

His eyes weren’t periwinkle blue any more, but a wild and violent red – crimson to match the blood on his gleaming lips.

‘Are you all right, love?’

No, I’m all wrong.

That hadn’t been just a passing erotic fancy about Zack as a vampire. It had felt like a memory, not a fantasy. She could feel it in her sex.

She could feel it in her
neck
.

Her fingertips flew to the place where there had been a red mark. She’d dismissed it as a nervous blotch, but what if
it’d
been something else? And what if that slightly funny turn in the kitchen yesterday hadn’t been due to her just being hungry?

Get a grip, Teresa, she reprimanded herself. Zack is your friend, and your house buddy, and you fancy him, that’s all. There are no such things as vampires and you haven’t even kissed him, so how could he have given you a love-bite?

‘Teresa? Are you all right?’

His soft voice shocked her back into the real world of car journeys and impending weddings.

‘I’m fine, thanks … just woolgathering. Car trips get me that way.’

She glanced sideways again, and their glances clashed. Zack’s blue eyes looked cautious and wary in a way she’d never seen before.

‘We can stop for a while, if you like? There’s a service area coming up soon.’

He was trying to be kind, and the offer was tempting. The sudden change of atmosphere in the car – from dreamy sensuality to palpable tension – was uncomfortable. But they’d soon reach their destination anyway, and then they could both retreat to their separate rooms … and their own space again.

‘No. Thanks. Let’s push on, shall we?’

‘OK. Good idea.’ With a smooth change of gear, he put his foot down.

Teresa sucked in her breath again, and stole another sideways look. Zack seemed calm and unruffled again, totally focused on the road. If he’d sensed her inner madness he wasn’t showing it.

Turning to the window, and the darkness outside, Teresa squashed down her crazy notions – and thought of nothingness.

3

‘You’re kidding me … there’s only one bedroom? When I rang, you said there’d be two.’

‘I’m very sorry, Miss Johnson. I’m afraid there’s been an error. The hotel’s full for the wedding, and there’s only one room in your name.’

Teresa hardly heard the rest of the spiel about folding beds and extra bedding
and
a refund. Her attention was locked on Zack and the stormy expression in his eyes. She’d never, ever seen him look this troubled, and it didn’t surprise her when he took her by the arm and led her away from the reception desk.

‘Look … I don’t think it’s such a good idea that we share a room. Why don’t I leave you here and return again tomorrow night, in time for the wedding. It’ll be dusk again then … and, if I leave the car in the garage, I needn’t be out in daylight when I set off.’

For the first time ever since they’d met, Teresa felt annoyed with him. What on earth was the problem? They were friends. Surely even if they weren’t a couple they could manage to rub along together somehow in the same room for a couple of nights? For such an intelligent and normally equable man, he was being ridiculous.

‘Don’t be silly. We can manage. It’s not a problem.’ Suddenly, though, it did seem like a problem. Zack was as still and unmoving as ever, yet he was surrounded by a strange aura of energy. Anger? Apprehension? Something else entirely? Totally unnerved, she said the first thing that came into her head. ‘I won’t leap all over you, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’ll be strictly platonic’

Fingers like the prongs of an iron trap tightened on
her
arm. ‘It’s not you I’m worried about, Teresa.’ His voice was low, intense and unfamiliar. He released her arm, and automatically she rubbed it. ‘This just isn’t a good idea.’

‘Why not? You’re obviously not actually attracted to me or you’d love the idea of sharing a room!’

‘You are wrong there, Teresa … so very wrong.’

Zack pursed his lips, and looked as if he were about to elaborate, but from behind them the reception clerk asked, ‘Shall I call housekeeping about the extra bedding, Miss Johnson?’

Well?
Teresa didn’t articulate the word, but Zack seemed to hear it. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if he were weighing up a thousand what-ifs in the space of a split second, then opened them again and nodded infinitesimally.

Her mind whirling, Teresa turned away from him and returned to the desk.

Up in the room, they stared at each other across their heap of luggage.

Teresa attempted a smile and, for a moment, Zack’s face was inscrutable – a beautiful, blank, unwritten page.

Was he going to explain? Tell her what he’d meant, down there in the lobby?

‘Zack, what did you mean downstairs … about me being wrong?’

He looked away, towards the bed, and then his eyes nicked instantly away from it, as if it were the sun and the sight of it burnt him.

‘You are wrong. I
am
attracted to you but it’s just not a good idea for me to follow up on it.’

For a moment, Teresa wanted to cavort around the room and shout, You do like me. I knew you did. I just knew.

‘But
why
isn’t it a good idea? You must have realised that I’m attracted to you too.’ The urge to dance turned into a strong compulsion to shake him for his obtuseness.

‘It’s not something I can easily explain, Teresa.’ There was wistfulness in his voice. She sensed some huge obstacle standing between them. It was hurting him, and it made her want to hug him, not for sex, just to comfort. ‘Please trust me …’ His shoulders lifted in a heavy, resigned shrug. ‘But I still want to be friends … more than anything. If you can accept that?’

There was such yearning in his blue eyes that Teresa just melted.

‘Yes, of course.’ Still confused, but feeling better, she smiled. ‘We’re good, Zack, but don’t ever try to tell me that it’s us women who are the contrary ones. OK?’

Zack smiled back at her and the tension between them lifted.

‘OK. And don’t worry … I’m fine on the couch.’ He shrugged in the general direction of a rather inadequate-looking settee. ‘It looks perfectly comfortable.’

Teresa frowned. That was nonsense. The couch was a fussy, reproduction item, a triumph of style over practicality.

The bed, on the other hand, was deep, and well sprung and inviting – and it was more or less time to get into it. Zack’s photophobia had meant that they’d had to wait until dusk to set off and now it was past eleven. There was nothing Teresa wanted more than to just crawl under that duvet and sleep. She didn’t want to think about what amounted to their first ever argument. She just wanted to fall asleep, knowing that he really did care for her in his own weird way.

Then Zack shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over a chair back, and the sight of his lean body in that fine dark
shirt
woke her up again. All her good resolutions about boundaries and being ‘just friends’ melted like Scotch mist.

‘But … um … what about your bad circulation? Won’t you be cold just with blankets?’ She glanced at the undesirable sofa. ‘I could manage on the couch. I’m shorter. I’ll fit better.’

Zack’s whole demeanour seemed to lighten and he gave her an eloquently masculine look.

‘No way.’ He shook his dark head. ‘I’m an old-fashioned man, Teresa. A lady’s comfort must always come first.’

I’ll bet it does. The thought was involuntary. As was the image of Zack, kneeling between her outstretched thighs as she sat on that very sofa, his long red tongue licking, licking, licking.

The entire surface of her skin seemed to tremble. She felt out of control, yet suddenly energised. On impulse, she strode across the room, squeezed his hard muscular arm and kissed his cool cheek. ‘Thanks, Zack. You’re a very sweet man. I don’t deserve you.’ Right in his personal space, she felt bold and crazy. She sensed danger, but she hungered for the taste of it.

When she pulled back, Zack was staring at her, his eyes wide and strange. He had his full sensual lower lip snagged in his upper teeth, and in the low light they seemed to glint like polished porcelain, sharp and deadly.

Almost dazzled, Teresa felt giddiness whirl her feet out from under her, and without knowing quite how, she found herself sitting on the edge of the bed.

‘Wha–’

‘Come on, Teresa, you need rest. It’s late. Why don’t you slip into bed and get some sleep?’ Zack’s voice was matter of fact. He was sitting a decorous distance away from her, inches and inches of clear space between their bodies.

‘Er … um … yes, I suppose you’re right.’

The soft thick duvet was tempting. These funny turns she kept having were worrying, and Zack was right, she’d be better off getting some rest.

She glanced from the bed to the bathroom. The prospect of getting ready for bed made her feel more tired than ever.

Zack seemed to read her mind. ‘I think I’ll go for a stroll in the grounds. Give you chance to get settled in.’

‘But we’ve only just got here. And it’s nearly midnight.’

‘You know me and my nocturnal rambles. And I need to stretch my legs after the drive.’

Teresa’s heart sank.

She should have let him go home and stay in his comfort zone. When this stupid wedding was over, it might be best if she looked for her own place again. This situation of liking each other but not being able to do anything about it was bound to become intolerable eventually.

Unexpectedly, a strong arm came around her shoulders.

‘It’s just a walk, Teresa. We’re fine.’ The arm squeezed, the pressure reassuring, but also unnerving. There was so much leashed power in that lean and elegant body, and he was still wound up like steel wire no matter what he said. ‘I’m just giving you space to do your girl things.’

Emotion rolled over Teresa like a wave. This was all a mess but, even now, Zack was being wonderful.

‘Thanks.’ She flashed him a grateful smile as he released her and rose to his feet.

‘I’ll just put my bottles away, then I’ll leave you to it.’

Ah, the mysterious ‘iron shake’. Something picked at Teresa’s tired mind as she watched Zack unpack several bottles from a cool-pack and stow them in the mini-bar
fridge
. One of these days she was going to have to ask him what was in that peculiar unappetising drink.

‘I want you to be fast asleep when I get back,’ said Zack firmly a few moments later. Teresa looked longingly at him, clutching a pair of eggshell-blue satin pyjamas from her case. He looked more relaxed now that he was about to escape the room, and his expression was almost brotherly. At least it seemed to be.

‘OK, you’re the boss of this dormitory.’ She pinned on what she thought was a light-hearted, just-buddies smile.

But Zack was already out of the door and gone.

The night was beautiful, and the sky full of moon.