How To Marry A Millionaire Vampire (11 page)

Nothing. Shoot! Was she that easy to resist? Okay, she’d resort to torture. She bounced down to the end of the bed and pulled his shoes off. They landed on the floor with loud clunks. Still nothing. She stroked her fingers along his thick black socks, then tickled the soles of his feet. He didn’t budge.

She tugged on the big toe of his left foot. “This little piggy went to market.” She worked her way down to the little toe. “And this little piggy cried wee, wee, wee…” She let her fingers do the walking up his long leg. “All the way home.”

She stopped at his hip. His face remained calm, unmoved. Her gaze wandered to his zipper. Now, that would wake him up. If she dared.

She glanced at his face. “I know you’re faking it. No red-blooded male could sleep through this.”

No response. Damn him. He was waiting to see how far she would go. Okay. She’d give him a wake-up call he’d never forget.

She shoved his black sweater up to reveal the waistband of his jeans. The sight of skin quickened her pulse, and she lifted the sweater a little bit higher. “Don’t get out in the sun much, do you?”

His skin was pale, but his waist and stomach were nice and trim. A line of black hair descended from his chest, swirled around his belly button, then continued into the black jeans. Holy moly, he was so gorgeous. So masculine. So sexy.

So unconscious.

“Wake up, dammit!” She leaned over, planted her mouth over his navel, and blew a loud raspberry.

Nothing.

“Sheesh, you sleep like the dead!” She plopped down beside him. Then it struck her. Of course he wasn’t snoring. He wasn’t breathing. She reached out a shaky hand and touched his stomach. Cold.

She jerked her hand back. No, no, this wasn’t happening to her. The man had been perfectly healthy the night before.

But no one could sleep this soundly. She lifted his arm and let go. It fell down with a thud.

Oh God, it was true! She scrambled off the bed. Terror rose in her throat and erupted in a scream.

Roman Draganesti was dead.

She’d slept with a corpse. Granted, the few men she’d shared a bed with in the past hadn’t exactly set the world on fire. And after a while, they generally walked away, never to return. Shanna had never considered their mobility a plus before.

Even after her earth-shattering screech, Roman was still lying there, peaceful as ever. He had to be dead. No, dammit!

She screamed again.

The door slammed open. She jumped and turned all at once.

“What’s wrong?” The man she had seen earlier in the hallway was now standing outside the door, a pistol in his hand.

Shanna pointed at the bed. “Roman Draganesti is… dead.”

“What?” The man slid his gun back into its holster.

“He’s dead!” Shanna pointed once more at the bed. “I woke up and found him in my bed. Dead.”

With a worried look, the man approached the bed. “Oh.” His frown vanished. “No problem, miss. He’s not dead.”

“I’m sure he’s dead.”

“No, no. He’s just asleep.” The guard placed two fingers on Roman’s neck. “Pulse is fine. Not to worry. I’m a trained security specialist. I would know a dead person.”

“Well, I’m a trained medical professional, and I know a dead body when I see one.” And she’d seen way too many of them when Karen had died. Shanna’s knees trembled, and she looked around for a chair. None. There was only the bed. And poor Roman.

“He’s not dead,” the guard insisted. “He’s just sleeping.”

God, this man was dense. “Look—what’s your name?”

“Phil. I’m one of the daytime guards.”

“Phil.” Shanna leaned against one of the four posters for support. “I know you don’t want to admit this. After all, you’re a guard, and you’re supposed to keep people alive.”

“He is alive.”

“He is not!” Shanna’s voice rose higher and higher. “He’s dead! Deceased. Snuffed out. The Roman Empire has fallen!”

Phil’s eyes widened, and he stepped back. “Okay, okay. Calm down.” He tugged a walkie-talkie from his pocket. “I need help on the fourth floor. The guest is totally losing it.”

“I am not!” Shanna strode toward the window. “Maybe if we open these shutters, it’ll shed some light on the matter.”

“No!” Phil sounded so frantic, Shanna stopped.

Static cackled on the walkie-talkie, then a voice came through. “What’s the problem, Phil?” Beep.

“We have a situation here,” Phil answered. “Miss Whelan woke up to find Mr. Draganesti in her bed, and she thinks he’s dead.”

Laughter erupted on the other end of the walkie-talkie. Shanna’s mouth dropped open. Jeez, these people were cold. She headed back toward Phil and his communication device. “Could I speak with your supervisor, please?”

Phil gave her a sheepish look, “That was my supervisor.” He punched a button. “‘Howard, could you come up here, please?”

“Oh yeah,” Howard replied. “I wouldn’t miss this.” Beep.

Phil slipped the walkie-talkie into his pocket. “He’ll be right up.”

“Fine.” Shanna scanned the room, but couldn’t see a phone. “Would you please call 911?”

“I… I can’t. Mr. Draganesti wouldn’t like that at all.”

“Mr. Draganesti is beyond liking or disliking.”

“Please! Trust me, everything will be all right.” Phil glanced at his watch. “Just wait about two hours.”

Wait? Would he be any less dead in two hours? Shanna paced back and forth across the room. Dammit, how could Roman die like that? He looked so strong and healthy. It must have been a stroke or heart attack. “We need to notify the next of kin.”

“They’re all dead.”

No family? Shanna halted her pacing. Poor Roman. He had been all alone. Like her. A wave of grief poured over her—grief for what might have been. Now she would never look into his beautiful golden-brown eyes again. Or feel his arms around her. She leaned against a bedpost and gazed at his handsome face.

A knock sounded at the door, and a large, middle-aged man strode into the room. He wore khaki pants and a navy polo just like Phil. The utility belt around his waist held an assortment of goodies like a pistol and flashlight. He looked like an ex-football player, complete with a huge neck and a crooked, lumpy nose that had been broken too many times. He would have been quite forbidding if his comb-over didn’t look so obvious and his eyes weren’t twinkling with humor.

“Miss Whelan?” His voice was nasal, courtesy of his battered nose. He probably snored loud enough to be heard in Jersey. “I’m Howard Barr, head of daytime security. How are you?”

“Alive, which is more than I can say for your employer.”

“Hmmm.” Howard glanced toward the bed. “Is he dead, Phil?”

Phil’s eyes widened. “No. Of course not.”

“Good.” Howard slapped his hands together and rubbed them against each other. “That clears that up. Would you like to come down to the kitchen for a cup of coffee?”

Shanna blinked. “Excuse me? Are—aren’t you going to check the body?”

Howard adjusted his belt and marched over to the bed. “He looks fine to me, though it’s damned strange that he’d be sleeping here. I’ve never known Mr. Draganesti to sleep in someone else’s bed.”

Shanna gritted her teeth. “He’s not asleep.”

“I think I know what happened,” Phil said. “I saw him this morning, a little after six, coming down the stairs with Miss Whelan in his arms.”

Howard frowned. “After six? The sun was already rising.”

A terrible thought occurred to Shanna. “He was carrying me?”

“Yeah,” Phil replied. “It was a good thing I came along when I did, cause the guy was really struggling.”

Shanna caught her breath. Oh no.

Phil shrugged. “I guess he was too worn out to get back to his room.”

Shanna collapsed on the bed next to Roman’s feet. Oh God, she’d been too heavy for him to carry. She’d caused his heart attack. “This is terrible. I—I killed him.”

“Miss Whelan.” Howard gave her an exasperated look. “That is totally impossible. He’s not dead.”

“Of course he is.” She glanced at his body, only inches away. “I’ll never eat pizza again.”

Phil and Howard exchanged a worried look. Their walkie-talkies beeped.

Howard whipped his out first. “Yes?”

A scratchy voice came through. “Radinka Holstein just arrived from her shopping trip. She suggests Miss Whelan join her in the parlor.”

“Good idea.” Howard sighed, visibly relieved. “Phil, will you take Miss Whelan down to the parlor?”

“Sure.” Phil looked equally relieved. “This way, miss.”

Shanna hesitated, glancing at Roman. “What will you do with him?”

“Don’t worry.” Howard adjusted his utility belt. “We’ll move him to his own bedroom. And in a few hours, when he wakes up, you’ll both have a good laugh over this.”

“Yeah, right.” Shanna trudged down the hall alongside Phil.

Silently they descended the stairs. It was only last night when she had ascended these stairs with Roman. There was something about him—an aloof sadness—that had made her want to pester him and make him laugh. And when he did laugh, he seemed so surprised by it that she felt doubly rewarded.

Shoot, she hardly knew him, but she was going to miss him. He was strong, yet gentle. His intelligence was sharp and challenging. His insistence on protecting her was so macho. And he’d almost kissed her. Twice. Shanna sighed. Now she would never know what it was like to kiss Roman. She’d never get to see his lab or hear about his next brilliant achievement. She’d never get to talk to him again. By the time she reached the ground floor, she was thoroughly depressed. The sympathetic look on Radinka’s face was her undoing. Her eyes filled with tears.

“Radinka, I’m so sorry. He’s gone.”

“There, there.” Radinka hugged her and spoke in her deep, accented voice, “Do not worry, my dear. All will be fine.” She led Shanna to the room on the right of the foyer.

It was empty. Shanna had expected it to be filled with women, like the night before. Dominating the room were three maroon leather couches, set around three sides of a square coffee table. On the fourth side, the wall was covered with an enormous widescreen television.

Shanna collapsed on a couch. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”

Radinka placed her handbag on the coffee table and sat. “He will wake up, my dear.”

“I don’t think so.” A tear slid down her face.

“These men can be very sound sleepers. My son, Gregori, is the same way. Impossible to wake up once he’s asleep.”

Shanna wiped the tear away. “No, he’s dead.”

Radinka brushed imaginary lint off her designer suit. “Perhaps you would feel better if I explain. I was here early in the morning, and Gregori told me what was happening. Roman took you to a dental clinic, and you worked on his teeth.”

“That can’t be right.” Memory of a dental office hung precariously in her thoughts, just out of reach. “I… I thought it was a dream.”

“It was real. Roman used a form of hypnosis on you.”

“What?”

“Gregori assured me that you agreed to it.”

Shanna closed her eyes, trying to remember. Yes, she’d been resting on the chaise in Roman’s office when he’d suggested hypnosis. And she had agreed. She was desperate to save her career, desperate for a chance at that normal life she wanted so badly. “So he really did hypnotize me?”

“Yes. It was good for both of you. He needed help from a dentist, and you needed help getting over your fear of blood.”

“You… you know about my fear?”

“Yes. You told Roman all about the terrible incident at the restaurant. Gregori was there, so he heard. I hope you don’t mind that he told me.”

“No, I suppose it’s all right.” Shanna leaned back against the soft leather cushions and rested her head. “I really worked on Roman’s teeth last night?”

“Yes. No doubt your memory is somewhat vague, but it will come back to you, eventually.”

“I didn’t faint or freak out when I saw blood?”

“From what I understand, you did a marvelous job.”

Shanna snorted. “I don’t know how I managed to do anything if I was under some sort of spell. What exactly did I do?”

“You implanted a tooth he had lost.”

Shanna sat up with a jerk. “Not the wolf tooth! Don’t tell me I stuck an animal tooth in his mouth. Aw, gee.” She collapsed against the cushions. What did it matter? The poor guy was dead.

Radinka smiled. “It was an ordinary tooth.”

“Oh, good. I could just see the look on the coroner’s face when he examines the body and finds a wolf tooth.” Poor Roman. He was so young to die. And so gorgeous.

Radinka sighed. “I wish I could convince you that he’s still alive. Hmm.” She pressed a forefinger against her closed lips. The dark red nail polish was a perfect match to her lipstick. “Did you give him some sort of anesthesia to lessen the pain?”

“How do I know? I might have sung opera in my underwear. I have no idea what I did last night.” Shanna rubbed her forehead, trying to remember.

“I only mention it because it might explain why he is sleeping so soundly.”

Shanna gasped and scrambled to her feet. “Oh my God, what if I killed him with anesthesia?”

Radinka’s eyes widened. “That is not what I meant.”

Shanna grimaced. “I might have overdosed him. Or I was too heavy for him to carry. Either way, I think I killed him.”

“Don’t be silly, child. Why do you blame yourself?”

“I don’t know. It’s what I do, I guess.” Shanna’s eyes filled with tears once again. “I blame myself for what happened to Karen. I should have helped her somehow. She was still alive when I found her.”

“She was your young friend who died in the restaurant?”

Shanna sniffed and nodded her head.

“I am so sorry. I know this is hard for you to believe, but once the anesthesia wears off, Roman will wake up, and you will see for yourself that he is perfectly fine.”

With a groan, Shanna sprawled onto the couch.

“You like him very much, don’t you?”

Shanna sighed, staring at the ceiling. “Yes, I do, but I don’t have much hope for a lasting relationship with a dead guy”

“Mrs. Holstein?” a male voice spoke from the doorway.

Shanna looked over her shoulder and saw yet another guard dressed in khaki and navy blue. What had happened to all the kilts? She missed the Highlanders with their bright plaids and adorable accents.

“The packages have arrived from Bloomingdale’s,” the guard announced. “Where would you like us to put them?”

Radinka rose gracefully. “Bring a few boxes in here, and put the rest in Miss Whelan’s room.”

“In my room?” Shanna asked. “Why?”

Radinka smiled. “Because they are for you, my dear.”

“But—but I can’t accept anything. And you shouldn’t put anything in my room when there’s a dead body in there.”

The guard rolled his eyes. “We moved him to his bedroom.”

“Good. Then you may proceed.” Radinka sat back down. “I hope you like what I picked out for you.”

“I’m serious, Radinka. I can’t accept a bunch of presents. It’s enough that you gave me sanctuary for one night. I—I need to call the Justice Department and make other arrangements.”

“Roman wants you here. And he wants you to have these things.” Radinka turned to the guard as he entered, his arms piled high with boxes. “Put them on the table here, please.”

Shanna stared in dismay at the boxes. It was so tempting to take them. She didn’t dare go to her apartment now, so she had nothing but the clothes on her back. Still, she couldn’t accept all these presents. “I really appreciate your generosity, but—“

“Roman’s generosity.” Radinka set a package in her lap and opened it. “Ah, yes. These are lovely. Do you like them?” Nestled in white tissue paper was a red lace bra and panties.

“Wow.” Shanna picked up the bra. It was a lot fancier than what she usually wore. And a lot more expensive. She checked the tag. Thirty-six B. “It’s the right size.”

“Yes. Roman left me a note with your sizes.”

“What? How did he know my bra size?”

“I suppose you told him while you were hypnotized.”

Shanna gulped. Jeez, maybe she had sung opera in her underwear.

“Here.” Radinka fumbled through her handbag. “I believe I still have the note.” She passed the paper to Shanna.

“Oh, my.” It had to be the last thing he had written before his death. Shanna scanned the note. Size 12. 36B. Roman had indeed known her sizes. Had she told him under hypnosis? What else had she done? Get her some brownies. She caught her breath, and tears welled in her eyes.