woman there who might help you move on. Shelley won’t wait for ever, you know. Not a girl who looks like she does.’
‘It’s not just the way she looks,’ he muttered. ‘She’s kind, honest, good. So much more than just beautiful.’
He decided to tell his mother about the new bed of roses Shelley had planted in honour of Lisa and Alice.
‘What an incredibly sensitive and inspired thing to do.’ His mother’s voice was choked and she paused to wipe tears from her eyes. ‘The tragedy of it comes rushing back. I wish they were both still with us. I loved Lisa like a daughter. But this Shelley, she’s a rare one, Declan. Don’t let her go. Trust me, it will be like another little death for you if you do.’
Declan thought about what she’d said long after his mother left to go home. All through the long, lonely evening as he worked on the background of the Estella portrait and waited for the sound of his car bringing Shelley back home.
SHELLEY RECKONED SHE could have gone home from Lynne’s party with the phone numbers of at least three good-looking, single—or so they said—eligible men. And that wasn’t counting the television producer—she’d actually given him her number after ascertaining he was the real deal.
There was something to be said about a backless dress. Or maybe it was the reckless confidence that came from being so thoroughly kissed by the man she wanted before she’d sashayed on to the party. The power of pulling up to a party in a sports car probably did something to enhance her desirability to the male population, too.
But she didn’t collect any phone numbers. There was only one man who interested her and she was on her way home to him. Well, not technically home to him. He lived in the mansion, she lived in the housekeeper’s apartment and she’d be wise to remember that.
It was well past midnight when she pulled into the garage—the party was still in full swing but she’d only stayed as late as she did for Lynne’s sake. Before she could think about texting Declan that she was back, the connecting door from the main house opened and he was there. He still wore the same jacket, but his hair was dishevelled as though he had been pushing through it with his fingers as she’d noticed he tended to do. Dark shadows under his eyes indicated he hadn’t slept. His face wore an expression of strained expectancy. Was that for her?
A surge of desire for him swept through her so powerfully she had to remain seated in the driver’s seat and grip the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles went white and press her knees together hard. Not just sexual desire—although there was certainly that in spades—but an intense yearning to be with him, to help ease his pain, to feel his arms around her, for him to be hers. Her heart seemed to physically turn over in her chest with longing for this darkly handsome man who had become so important, so quickly.
She took her time to gather her evening purse and shawl, slide out of the car, lock the door, to give herself a chance to collect her feelings before she faced him. Right now, a cheerful recounting of the assets of his superb car did not seem possible.
But words did not seem to be required as he strode towards her and opened his arms. ‘You’re home,’ he said. She went into them with a great, choking sigh of relief and shut her eyes in bliss as they closed around her and enveloped her in his strength and warmth.
He held her tight, his chin resting on the top of her head. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the thud of his heartbeat, strong, steady, reassuring and she let herself relax against him.
For a long, enchanted moment she stood there like that, unaware of her surroundings, the concrete walls and floor of the garage, the other cars shrouded in grey covers, the intermittent ping-ping-ping sounds the sports car made as its engine cooled down. She was aware only of Declan—and the joy that flooded her heart at being so close to him, the certainty that this was where she was meant to be. That everything that had come before in her life had led to this.
‘Declan,’ she finally murmured, loving the sound of his name in her voice.
He pulled her even closer. She could feel the strength of his thighs, rock hard with muscle. ‘I spent all evening wishing you were with me,’ she murmured, then pulled back in his arms, needing to see his face.
His arms dropped from around her, leaving her bereft. Then he cupped her face in his large hands, hands she noticed were stained with traces of paint—blue, green, white all mixed in together—and smelled vaguely of turpentine. He caressed the little hollows in front of her ears—such a simple gesture yet it sent shivers of pleasure to her deepest core.
‘I spent all evening regretting I wasn’t,’ he said hoarsely.
She met his gaze. ‘I’m glad. I mean, I’m glad I’m not imagining this...this thing between us. These...these feelings.’
Declan groaned and her heart gave a painful lurch. He was going to fight it all the way. ‘I...don’t know what to do about...about you. I wasn’t expecting, didn’t—’
‘Didn’t want...’ she supplied the words for him.
‘That’s right. I didn’t want the life I’d made for myself disturbed. Then you burst into it, flooding light into the shadows in which I existed.’
She swallowed hard against a sudden lump of tension in her throat. She didn’t know how to reply.
He looked deeper into her face. ‘But eyes that have become accustomed to the dark can...can be dazzled by too much light too quickly. They blink and wonder what hit them.’
‘Like a bat,’ she said.
Shelley stilled, mortified. Where had that idiotic comment come from?
Declan stilled too. His eyes widened as he stared at her. And then she realised he was shaking with laughter he was fighting a losing battle to suppress.
‘I... I’m sorry,’ she stuttered. ‘I can’t believe I just said that.’
‘First a vampire, now a bat. You really do see me as a creature of darkness, don’t you?’
He let go his laughter and she couldn’t help but laugh alongside him though it felt forced. But when the laughter spluttered to a halt, stopped, she berated herself. ‘Why do I say things like that? Why don’t I think before I speak? I’ve been told often enough.’
‘Because you’re you, delightful and unique and I wouldn’t have you any other way.’
She sniffed back threatening tears. ‘Really?’ A niggling voice deep down inside her prodded her—was that ill-timed comment her way of deflecting emotional confrontations she wasn’t at all sure she was equipped to handle?
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Really. I’ve laughed more since I’ve known you than I have since...since heaven knows when.’ He sobered. ‘Don’t change—promise me?’
She nodded. ‘I... I promise.’
‘Now how about we go inside out of this chilly garage?’ he said.
‘Yes,’ she said. She went to add: It’s hardly
