Night's Pleasure

Page 11

Being a gentleman, he asked Savanah if she wanted anything to eat or drink, relieved when all she asked for was a small Coke.
There were only a dozen or so people in the theater when they took their seats.
“Hardly seems worth running the film,” Savanah remarked, looking around.
Rane grunted softly. “I hope the small crowd is due to the late hour and not because the movie stinks.”
“Well, I heard it was good,” Savanah said, and then shrugged. “Of course, you never know about critics.”
“Yeah, I rarely agree with the reviews.”
“I know what you mean,” Savanah said, then sat back as the lights dimmed and the previews started.
Rane tried to concentrate on the trailers but it was difficult. He was all too aware of the people in the theater, and particularly aware of the woman beside him. Her scent filled his nostrils. Her nearness stirred his desire and his hunger. He could hear the steady beat of her heart, as well as the heartbeats of other people sitting nearby. It took a great deal of effort to shut out the siren call of all those beating hearts, to close his mind to the scent of prey. It was easier when he was performing on stage. His mind wasn’t on the hunt then, but now…he had an almost overpowering urge to unleash the beast within him. It would be so easy. He could take them all before they realized what was happening….
Taking a deep breath, he glanced at Savanah. Her scent wrapped around him—the fragrance of her skin, the soap she had bathed with, a hint of perfume. And overall, the heady, musky scent of the woman herself. Oblivious to his inner turmoil, she appeared lost in the love story unfolding on the screen. His gaze moved over her face, admiring the delicate curve of her cheek, the fine line of her jaw, the way her nose tilted up at the end just a tiny bit. Her hair fell over her shoulders in a sheen of pale silk.
Muttering an oath, he glanced at the screen, and swore again as the hero swept the heroine into his arms and carried her up a long, winding staircase. At the top of the stairs, he kicked open the first door he came to. Striding inside, he dropped the heroine on an enormous bed. Ignoring her outraged cry and her struggles, he sank down on the mattress beside her. With his hands holding hers captive over her head, he covered her body with his and kissed her, a long, passionate kiss that put an end to the heroine’s struggles and soon had her purring like a kitten.
The rapid beat of Savanah’s pulse and the quickening of her breath reached his ears. Was she imagining, as he was, that he was the hero and she was the heroine?
She looked at him and smiled when the movie ended and the lights went on. “Well, the critics were wrong that time,” she declared. “I loved it! What did you think?”
“Chick flick,” he said with a grin.
She stuck her tongue out at him. “Chauvinist.”
“Who, me?”
“I don’t see anybody else sitting there.”
“Okay, okay, I give up,” Rane said as they left the theater. “Where do you want to go now? That is, if you don’t mind being seen with a chauvinist pig.”
“I don’t mind, but I should probably go home. It’s late, and I have an early interview in the morning.”
With a nod, Rane took her hand and they walked toward the parking lot.
“So,” he asked, “who are you interviewing, or can’t you talk about it?”
“I have an appointment at the morgue.”
“Yeah, you wouldn’t want to be late for that,” Rane said dryly.
“Very funny.”
They were passing an alley when Rane’s senses went on alert. Before he had time to react, someone shoved a gun against his spine.
“Don’t turn around,” the assailant warned, his voice gruff. “Don’t even blink. Just give me your money. You, too, lady.”
Murmuring, “This can’t be real,” Savanah pulled her wallet from her handbag. She wouldn’t miss the money, but she hated to lose her driver’s license. The thought of waiting in line at the DMV was almost more frightening than being robbed at gunpoint.
Not daring to so much as look at Rane, who stood a little behind her, she thrust her hand behind her back, her wallet extended, and prayed the robber would be content to take their money and spare their lives.
A muffled thump, like a body hitting the pavement, sent her heart leaping into her throat. Had the robber killed Rane? Wouldn’t she have heard a gunshot? Unless, oh, Lord, unless the robber had a knife, too.
She almost jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Relax,” Rane said. “It’s over.”
Slowly, Savanah turned around, relieved to see that Rane was apparently unhurt. She started to ask where the robber had gone when she saw him lying face down on the pavement. Was he breathing? In the dark, she couldn’t be sure. “Is he…did you…?”
“He’s still alive,” Rane said curtly. The man would never know it, but if it hadn’t been for Savanah’s presence, he would have been dead.
“How did you overpower him?” she asked, stuffing her wallet back into her handbag. “I mean, you’re unarmed, and he had a gun.”
“This is hardly the time to discuss it.” And so saying, Rane grabbed the man by the ankles and dragged him into the alley.
“Shouldn’t we call the police?” Savanah asked when Rane returned.
“Probably, but we’re not going to.”
A dozen thoughts flitted through Savanah’s mind. She was a reporter. This was news. How could she let it go? A man had tried to rob them on a public street near the theater. He should be arrested and locked up.
As if he were reading her mind, Rane said, “I don’t need the publicity, if it’s all the same to you.” He also didn’t need to be interrogated by the law, or summoned to appear in court if the man went to trial.
Rane rocked back on his heels, prepared to erase the incident from Savanah’s mind if she insisted on doing the right thing.
“I can’t ignore it,” she said, reaching into her handbag for her cell phone. “Not just because it’s news, but because he might try something like this again and the next victim might not have you to protect her. You understand, don’t you?”
He nodded. “Savanah.”
She looked up at him; when her gaze met his, the phone in her hand was forgotten.
“You will not report this to anyone,” Rane said, his gaze holding hers. “You will forget that it happened. You will remember only that we went to the movies and then I drove you home. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
Taking the phone from her hand, he dropped it into her purse, then took her arm and began walking. “It was a good movie, wasn’t it?”
She looked up at him, her eyes slightly unfocused, and then she blinked. “Very good. I’ll have to tell Jolie.”
“Who’s Jolie?” he asked.
“One of the secretaries at work. We go to lunch together sometimes. I can’t wait to tell her about it.”
Smiling, Rane unlocked the car door. He waited for Savanah to get inside, then gently closed the door behind her. He hated to play tricks with her mind, but she really hadn’t given him any other choice.
Chapter Eight
The next two weeks seemed to fly by. Rane gave Savanah a pass to the theater and she went to see his act every chance she got. She never tired of watching him. Each time she saw him perform, she became more convinced that he really was a wizard beyond compare. Not every trick could be ascribed to the fact that he was a shape-shifter. On those nights when, for one reason or another, Savanah couldn’t make a performance, she met him in his dressing room after the show. She lost a lot of sleep, but she didn’t care.
Rane made her life fun, exciting. They went to the movies again. They took long walks in the moonlight, holding hands and talking about their favorite books and plays and movies. One night he took her sailing on the lake and there, under the stars, they kissed and cuddled like a couple of teenagers.
He filled her every waking thought and her dreams at night. In spite of all her doubts about having a relationship with a man who was not only a shape-shifter but who would be leaving town in a few days, Savanah knew she was falling for him, and falling hard.
She thought it odd that he didn’t take any nights off from the theater, but when she asked him about it, he just shrugged and said that, until he’d met her, he didn’t have anything else to do with his time, so why not work?
Tonight, they had gone to the mall so Savanah could find a present for her father. His birthday was only a few days away and, as always, she had no idea what to buy him, but then, he had always been a hard man to shop for. He didn’t have any hobbies, he rarely took the time to read for pleasure, and he wasn’t particularly handy around the house. So she usually bought him clothes. And he either returned them, or they sat on his shelf, untouched, for years. But maybe this year would be different. This year, she had let Rane decide what she should buy in hopes that her father would approve of something another man had picked out.
After they finished shopping for her father, Rane tried on a long black leather duster reminiscent of the coats cowboys had worn in the Old West. It was very flattering, and she told him so.
“If you like it, I’ll buy it,” he said, and headed for the customer service desk to pay for it.
“Don’t you want to see how it looks?” she asked, thinking it odd that he didn’t want to catch a glimpse of himself in a mirror before he shelled out four hundred and fifty dollars.
“It fits,” he said with a shrug. “You like it. I like it. That’s all I need to know.”
Rane had paid for the coat and they were about to leave the store when a young woman hurried by calling, “McKayla! McKayla!”
Moments later, the woman rushed past them a second time, her voice rising in panic as she called “McKayla!” again and again. Shortly after that, a Code Yellow came over the loudspeakers, alerting others in the store that there was a lost child. A description of the little girl quickly followed. She was two years old, with curly blond hair and blue eyes, and was wearing a pink-and-white skirt and a hot pink Winnie-the-Pooh T-shirt.