How to Marry a Millionaire Vampire

CHAPTER 9

It was a shame mortals needed so much blasted light to see. Roman closed his eyes against the glare of the overhead lamp. He was stretched out flat on his back in the dental office with an infantile bib around his neck. At least, so far, the mind control was working. He could hear Shanna moving about with robotlike efficiency. As long as he kept everything calm and controlled, the procedure should be a success. Nothing could be allowed to jolt Shanna out of what she thought was a dream.

"Open." Her voice was quiet and monotone.

He felt a sharp prick in his gums. He opened his eyes. She was removing a syringe from his mouth.

"What was that?"

"A local anesthetic, so you won't feel any pain."

Too late. The shot itself had caused pain. But Roman had to admit that dentistry had come a long way since his last encounter with the profession. As a young child, he'd seen the village barber wrenching out people's rotten teeth with his rusty pliers. Roman had done his best to keep his teeth healthy, even though his toothbrush had consisted of a frayed twig. But he'd made it to the age of thirty with a full set of teeth.

That was when his new life, or death, began. After the transformation, his body remained unchanged for the next five hundred and fourteen years. Not that his life as a vampire had been peaceful, quite the contrary. He'd suffered cuts, slashes, broken bones, even an occasional gunshot, but nothing that he couldn't heal himself with a good day's sleep. Until now.

Now he was at the mercy of a female dentist, and the extent of his control over her was unknown.

Shanna snapped latex gloves onto her hands. "It will be a few minutes before the anesthetic takes effect."

Laszlo cleared his throat to get Roman's attention, then pointed at his watch. He was worried they'd run out of time.

"It's already dead." Roman pointed at his mouth. Hell, technically his whole body was dead. He'd certainly felt dead for a long time. But tonight it had hurt like the devil when she'd kneed him in the groin. And he'd almost blown a fuse in the car. Now that Shanna was in his life, he appeared to be coming back to life. Particularly below the belt. "Can we get started now?"

"Yes." She perched on a little chair with wheels and rolled over to him. As she leaned over him, her breasts pressed against his arm. He stifled a groan.

"Open." She stuck a finger in his mouth and probed along his upper gum line. "Do you feel anything?"

God, yes. He fought an urge to clamp his mouth around her and suck the damned latex off her finger. Take that glove off, sweetness, and I'll show you what I feel.

Frowning, she removed her finger from his mouth. She looked at her hand, then started to pull the glove off.

"No!" He touched her arm. Damn. She was more connected to him than he had thought. "I didn't feel anything. Let's continue with the procedure."

"All right." She tugged the glove back on.

God's blood, he couldn't believe it. Mind control with mortals was always a one-way street. He planted his instructions into their heads and read their minds. They couldn't read his. A mortal couldn't possibly read a vampire's mind. Roman watched Shanna warily. How much could she actually pick up from him?

He would have to be very careful with his thoughts. Only think about safe subjects. No more thoughts about his mouth and which of her body parts would fit inside. No. None of that. He'd think about something completely different. Like her mouth and which of his body parts would fit inside.

His groin stiffened. No! No sex. Not now. He needed his damned tooth fixed.

"Do you want me to implant your tooth now?" She tilted her head, frowning a bit. "Or shall we have oral sex?"

Roman stared at Shanna. Good God. Not only had she read him like a book, but she was apparently willing to have sex with him. Amazing.

Laszlo was gasping for air. "My God, how did she come up with such a—an outrageous—" He narrowed his eyes, switching his gaze to Roman. "Mr. Draganesti! How could you?"

How could he not, if Shanna was willing. Oral sex with a mortal? Interesting. Mortal sex in an examining chair. Very interesting.

"Sir!" Laszlo's voice rose an octave. He twirled a button with his fingers. "There isn't enough time for—for two treatments. You must decide between your—your tooth or your…" With a grimace, he glanced at Roman's swollen jeans.

My fang or my yang? The latter strained against his zipper, as if it wanted to leap out and shoot its mouth off. Pick me, pick me!

"Sir?" Laszlo's eyes were wide with panic.

"I'm thinking," Roman growled. Damn. He looked at Shanna. She was standing nearby, her eyes dull, her face deadpan, her body exuding all the vitality of a mannequin. Shit. This wasn't even real to her. It would be like having sex with VANNA. But even worse, for Shanna would hate him afterward. He couldn't do this. As much as he wanted Shanna, he would have to wait. And make certain that she came to him of her own free will.

He took a deep breath. "I want my tooth fixed. Will you do that for me, Shanna?"

She gazed at him, her eyes unfocused. "I am to implant a tooth. An ordinary tooth," she repeated his directions from earlier.

"Yes. Exactly."

"A good decision, sir, if I might say so, myself." Laszlo kept his eyes downcast, apparently embarrassed by the recently proposed change of plans. He inched toward Shanna and handed her ajar. "The tooth is inside."

She unscrewed the top and removed an inner sieve. In the sieve lay his fang. Roman held his breath as she removed the tooth. Would the sight of his fang snap her out of his control?

"It is in excellent condition," she announced.

Good. In her mind, it was an ordinary tooth.

Laszlo glanced at his watch. "Five-fifteen, sir." With a final tug, the button came off in his hand.

"Oh dear. We'll never make it."

"Call Gregori and find out the exact time of sunrise."

"All right." The chemist dropped the loose button in his coat pocket and removed a cell phone. He paced across the office as he dialed.

At least it gave Laszlo something to do. The man was out of coat buttons, and that left only his shirt or his pants. Roman shuddered at the thought.

Shanna leaned over him. Once again her breasts pressed against his arm. His pants grew tighter.

Don't think about it.

"Open."

If only she meant his fly. He opened his mouth. Her breasts were firm, but soft. What size bra? He wondered. Not too big, but not too small, either.

"Thirty-six B," she murmured as she selected an instrument off her tray.

God's blood, could she hear everything he thought? How much could he hear from her? Testing, testing. What size clothes do we need to buy for you?

"Ten. No." She grimaced. "Twelve." Too much pizza. And cheesecake. God, I hate gaining weight. I wish I had a brownie.

Roman felt like smiling, but his mouth was already stretched to the max. At least she was being painfully honest. So, what do you think of me?

Handsome… mysterious… strange. She went about her work. Intelligent… arrogant… strange. Her thoughts were distant and fuzzy, though she still managed to stay focused on her hands and what she was doing. Horny… hung like a horse…

That's enough, thank you. Hung like a horse? Did that mean she was disgusted or she approved?

Damn, he shouldn't have asked. Why should he care what a mortal thought of him, anyway? Just fix my damned tooth. And why did she think he was strange?

She sat back suddenly. "This is very strange."

Yeah, strange. That was him.

She peered closer at one of her instruments. It was a long chrome stick with a circular mirror on the end.

Oh no. "It must be broken," he suggested.

"But I can see myself." Frowning, she shook her head. 'This doesn't make sense. Why couldn't I see your mouth?"

"The mirror is broken. Proceed without it."

She continued to stare at the mirror. "It's not broken. I can see myself." She lifted a hand to her brow.

Dammit, she was about to snap out of the dream.

Laszlo returned with the cell phone pressed to his ear. He took in the scene. "Oh dear. Is there a problem?"

"Put the mirror down, Shanna," Roman ordered quietly.

"Why doesn't it show your mouth?" She gave Roman a worried look. "I couldn't see you at all."

Laszlo winced. "Oh dear." He whispered into the phone, "Gregori, we have a problem."

That was putting it mildly. If Shanna broke free of his control, Roman knew his fang would never get fixed. She would see the tooth as it really appeared and refuse to implant it. And that was only the beginning.

She might figure out why he had no reflection.

Roman focused on Shanna. "Look at me."

She turned toward him.

He trapped her in his gaze and tightened his grip on her mind. "You are to implant my tooth, remember? You wanted to do this. You wanted to conquer your fear of blood."

"My fear," she whispered. "Yes. I don't want to be afraid anymore. I want to save my career. I want a normal life." She set the mirrored instrument down on the tray and picked up his fang. "I will implant your tooth now."

Roman exhaled with relief. "Good."

"Oh God, that was close," Laszlo whispered into the phone. 'Too close."

Roman opened his mouth so Shanna could get back to work.

Laszlo cupped a hand around the phone, but he could still be heard. "I'll explain later, but for a while there, it looked like our dentist was going to turn into Dr. No" He moved closer so he could watch. "Now it's quiet again. Too quiet."

Not quiet enough. Roman groaned inwardly.

"Turn your head a little." Shanna nudged his chin to the left.

'The train is back on track, now," Laszlo whispered. "Full speed ahead."

Roman felt the fang being slipped back into the socket.

"The dentist has the item in her hand," Laszlo continued his play-by-play commentary over the phone. "She's returning the bird to the nest. I repeat, bird is in the nest." There was a pause. "I have to talk like this, Gregori. We have to keep the… the fox in the house, but the lights turned off. She came awfully close to flipping a switch a while back."

"Aaargh." Roman glared at Laszlo.

"Mr. Draganesti is unable to speak," Laszlo continued, "which is probably for the best. He was too tempted to abandon the plan when the dentist made an outrageous offer."

"Grrr!" Roman glared at the chemist.

"Oh." Laszlo winced. "I–I better not talk about it." He paused to listen.

A litany of curses careened through Roman's mind. No doubt, Gregori was drilling Laszlo for more information.

"I'll explain later," Laszlo whispered, then raised his voice. "I'll pass the information on to Mr.

Draganesti. Thank you." He slipped the phone into his pocket. "Gregori says dawn will break at precisely six-oh-six. He'll call at six o'clock, or we can call earlier if we're finished." Laszlo glanced at his watch. "It's twenty minutes till six now."

"Aaargh." Roman made a sound of acknowledgment. At least Laszlo was off the phone now.

Shanna lifted his upper lip to examine the replaced fang. "Your tooth is back in, but it will need a splint to hold it in place for two weeks." She kept working. It wasn't long before he tasted blood.

She gasped, her face growing pale.

Good God, don't faint now. He stared at her, channeling his strength into her mind. You will not flinch. You will not hesitate.

She inched closer to him. "O-open." She took a hoselike tool and sprayed water into his mouth.

Then she stuck another hose in his mouth. "Close."

The blood and water mixture was sucked out of his mouth.

This process was repeated several times, and each time Shanna saw blood, she reacted a little less.

Laszlo paced back and forth, constantly checking the time. "Ten minutes till six, sir."

"There," Shanna murmured. "Your tooth is wired into place. You'll need to return in two weeks so we can remove the splint and perform a root canal."

The wire splint felt huge in his mouth, but Roman knew it could be removed the following night.

His body would complete the healing process while he slept. "Then we're done?"

"Yes." She slowly stood.

"Yes!" Laszlo punched the air with his fist. "And we beat the deadline by nine minutes!"

Roman sat up. "You did it, Shanna. And you weren't afraid."

She peeled the gloves off her hands. "You should avoid hard, sticky, or crunchy food."

"Not a problem." Roman watched her expressionless face. What a shame she didn't realize this was cause to celebrate. He'd show her his tooth the next evening, and tell her how she'd braved her fear of blood. Then she'd want to celebrate. With him, he hoped. Even if he was strange.

She dropped the gloves on the tray, then closed her eyes. Slowly she swayed to the side.

"Shanna?" Roman stood. He caught her as her legs gave out.

"What's wrong?" Laszlo grabbed for a button, but there was none left. "It was all going so well."

"It's fine. She's sleeping." Roman laid her on the dental chair. He'd done this to her, telling her that once the job was finished, she would sleep soundly for ten hours.

"I'd better call Gregori." Laszlo withdrew his phone from his pocket and headed for the waiting room.

Roman leaned over Shanna. "I'm proud of you, sweetness." He brushed her hair back from her brow. "I shouldn't have told you to fall asleep afterward. What I really wanted was for you to throw your arms around me and give me a passionate kiss. That would have been so much better."

He ran a fingertip along her jaw. Ten hours she would sleep. That would make her wake up around four in the afternoon. No chance of his waking her with a kiss. The sun would still be up.

With a sigh, Roman stretched. What a long night it had been. It felt like a week. He examined the mirrored tool that had caused Shanna so much confusion. Damned mirrors. Even after five hundred and fourteen years, it still unnerved him to stand in front of a mirror and see everything reflected but himself. He'd had all the mirrors removed from his house. Why be reminded that he was long dead?

He watched Shanna sleep. Beautiful, brave Shanna. If he had any honor left in his wretched soul, he'd leave the poor girl alone. Put her somewhere safe and never see her again. But for now, he was almost out of nighttime. The best he could do, before the sun caused him to fall asleep, was to ensconce her safely in one of his guest rooms.

Laszlo rushed in from the waiting room, his cell phone pressed to his ear. "Yes, we're ready to go."

He glanced at Roman. "Would you like to go first?"

"No, you go." Roman reached for the phone. "I'm going to need that."

"Oh, right. Of course." Laszlo tilted his head toward the phone that Roman now held. He closed his eyes, concentrated on Gregori's voice, then slowly faded away.

"Gregori, hang on a minute." Roman set the phone down, then gathered Shanna in his arms. After a few seconds of shifting her limp body around, he managed to hold her while putting the phone to his ear. The position was awkward, causing him to slump over and press his face against hers.

Over the phone, he heard the sound of laughter. What the hell? "Gregori, is that you?"

"Oral sex? " Gregori burst into another round of laughter.

Roman gritted his newly fixed teeth. That damned Laszlo. It had taken him only a few seconds to squawk.

"Snap! What a hot babe! Wait till I tell the guys. Or maybe I should tell your harem. Meow!"

Gregori hissed in an imitation of a catright.

"Shut up, Gregori. I have to get back before sunrise."

"Well, you can't if I shut up. You need my voice." He laughed some more.

"You won't have a voice once I wring your neck."

"Oh, come on. Lighten up, bro. So, is it true? You were having trouble deciding which… treatment you wanted?" Gregori snickered. "I hear you were up for the second one."

"After I strangle you, I'm cutting Laszlo's tongue out and feeding it to a dog."

"You don't have a dog." Gregori's voice sounded fainter. "Can you believe it? He's threatening us with bodily harm."

That last sentence must have been aimed at Laszlo. Roman heard an alarmed squeak in the distance.

"Chicken!" Gregori yelled. "Well, Laszlo just ran off to a guest room. I guess he's heard those rumors about you being some kind of wild, murderous beast in the past."

They weren't rumors. Having been transformed only twelve years earlier, Gregori had no idea the magnitude of sins Roman had committed over the centuries.

"Then there are the other rumors, that you were once a priest or a monk." Gregori laughed. "But I know that one has to be bogus. I mean, really. Any guy who keeps a harem of ten hot Vamp chicks is not exactly…"

Roman let the words fade away as he concentrated on the location of Gregori's voice. The dental office wavered before his eyes, followed by blackness. Then he was home.

"'Oh, there you are." Gregori hung up the phone he'd been using. He leaned back in the chair at Roman's desk.

Roman scowled at him silently.

"So the dentist is asleep, huh?" Gregori propped his feet up on Roman's desk and grinned. "Did you wear her out?"

Roman dropped Laszlo's phone on the desk, then wandered over to the chaise. He lowered Shanna onto the blood-red velvet.

"I hear she did a good job on your fang," Gregori continued. "You know, I've been thinking about that exercise program you mentioned, the one where we make sure our fangs stay in good shape, and I had this great idea."

Roman turned toward the desk.

"We could do an exercise video and sell it on the Digital Vampire Network. I asked Simone, and she agreed to be the star of the show. What do you think?"

Roman approached the desk slowly.

Gregori's smile faded. "What's up, bro?"

Roman planted his palms on the desk and leaned forward.

Gregori swung his feet off the desk and gazed at him warily. "Something wrong, boss?"

"You will not repeat anything that happened tonight. Nothing about my fang, and especially nothing about Shanna. Do you understand?"

"Yeah." Gregori cleared his throat. "Nothing happened."

"Good. Now, go."

Gregori headed for the door, muttering beneath his breath. "Grumpy old man." He paused with one hand on the doorknob and glanced at Shanna. "It's none of my business, but I think you should keep her. She'll be good for you." He let himself out.

Maybe she would. But he was definitely not good for Shanna. Roman sat heavily at his desk. The sun must be touching the horizon, for he suddenly felt exhausted. It was a harsh truth that when darkness faded away, so did a vampire's strength. Soon he wouldn't have enough strength to even stay awake.

It was a vampire's greatest weakness, his time of greatest vulnerability, and it happened every damned day. How many times over the centuries had he fallen asleep, worried that his body would be discovered during the daylight hours? A mortal could drive a stake through his heart while he lay there helplessly asleep. It had almost happened in 1862, the last time he'd involved himself with a mortal female. Eliza.

He'd never forgotten the horror of waking after sunset to find his coffin wide open and a wooden stake resting across his chest. This accursed vulnerability had to end. He was working on it in his lab. A formula that would enable a vampire to stay awake and retain his strength during the day.

They would still need to avoid the burning rays of direct sunlight, but even so, it would be a momentous achievement. Roman was very close to a breakthrough. If he succeeded, he could change the vampire world forever.

He could almost pretend he was alive.

He looked at Shanna where she slumbered in sweet ignorance. How would she react if she learned the truth about him? Could she pretend he was alive, or would the fact that he was a dead demon drive a stake between them forever? He slumped at his desk, his energy draining away. It could be the sun causing this, but he suspected it was also depression. He dreaded the look of horror that would appear on Shanna's face if she learned the truth.

Shame. Guilt. Remorse. It sucked. He couldn't drag her into it. She deserved joy in her life.

He grabbed a pen and a blank piece of paper. Radinka, he wrote at the top. His secretary would see this on his desk when she checked for messages. Buy everything Shanna will need. Size 12. 36B. I want… His hand dragged slowly across the paper. His eyelids grew heavy… colors. No black. Not for Shanna. She was sunshine—sorely missed, but forever beyond his reach. She was like a rainbow, full of color and the sweet promise of hope. He blinked and squinted at the paper. Get her some brownies. He dropped the pen and heaved himself to his feet.

With a groan, he lifted Shanna in his arms. He trudged from the office to the top of the stairs.

Slowly, he made his way down, one step at a time. At the landing, he rested. His vision grew hazy, as if he were trying to look down a long tunnel.

Someone was coming up the stairs.

"Good morning, sir," a cheerful voice greeted him. It was Phil, one of the daytime mortal guards who worked for MacKay Security and Investigation. "You're not usually up this late."

Roman opened his mouth to answer, but it took every ounce of his remaining strength to keep from dropping Shanna.

The guard's eyes widened. "Is something wrong? Do you need help?" He ran up to the landing.

"Blue room, fourth floor," Roman gasped.

"Here, let me." Phil took Shanna in his arms and headed back down the stairs to the fourth floor.

Roman stumbled after him. Thank God, these daytime guards were trustworthy. Angus MacKay trained them well and paid them a small fortune to keep their mouths shut. They knew exactly what kind of creatures they were protecting. They didn't mind. According to Angus, some of them were creatures, too.

Phil stopped in front of a door on the fourth floor. "Is this the right room?" When Roman nodded, he turned the knob and pushed the door open with his foot.

Sunlight spilled through the open doorway.

Roman jolted to a stop. "The shutters," he whispered.

"I got it." Phil hurried into the room.

Roman waited. He leaned against a wall, out of reach of the strip of sunlight that stretched across the hall carpet. God's blood, he was tired enough to fall asleep standing up. Soon he heard a metallic click, and the strip of light disappeared. Phil had closed the thick aluminum shutters on the window.

Roman staggered forward till he reached the door. There he saw that Phil had deposited Shanna on top of the bed.

"Is there anything else I can do?" Phil headed for the door.

"No. Thank you." Roman lurched into the room and caught himself against an armoire.

"Good morning—or night, then." Phil gave him a doubtful look and closed the door behind him. Roman weaved toward the bed. He couldn't let Shanna sleep with her shoes on. He pulled the white Nikes off and dropped them on the floor. The stained lab coat needed to go, too. He leaned over and almost collapsed on top of her. He shook his head. Stay awake! Just a little bit longer. He unbuttoned the coat, tugged the sleeves down her arms, then rolled her onto her side so he could pull the coat out from beneath her. He dropped it onto the floor beside her shoes. He stumbled around the foot of the queen-sized bed, then pulled back the covers to reveal clean white sheets.

With effort, he rolled Shanna onto the exposed sheet. He stuffed her feet under the covers and raised the sheet and bedspread up to her chin. There, she was comfortable.

And he couldn't go any further.

Shanna woke up feeling wonderfully refreshed and happy. The feeling soon faded, though, when she realized she had no idea where she was. A dark room. A comfortable bed. Unfortunately, she had no memory of entering this room or climbing into this bed. In fact, the last thing she remembered was venturing inside Roman Draganesti's office. Because of a nasty headache, she'd rested on a velvet reclining chaise, and then—nothing.

She closed her eyes, struggling to remember. A dental office flitted through her mind, a strange one, not the place where she worked. Weird. She must have dreamed about working in a new job.

She pushed back the covers and sat up. Her stocking feet brushed against thick carpet. Where were her shoes? Red neon numbers glowed from a clock radio beside the bed. Six minutes after four.

Morning or afternoon? The room was so dark, it was hard to tell. She'd gone to Roman's office after four in the morning. So it must be afternoon.

She groped along the bedside table till she felt the base of a lamp. She clicked on the switch and caught her breath.

What a beautiful stained glass lamp. Shades of dusty blue and lavender shone in the dim light. She could see the room now. It was bigger than her entire apartment in SoHo. The carpet was gray, the walls a pale blue. Curtains in muted stripes of blue and lavender framed the window. The window itself was completely covered with shiny metal shutters, clamped shut. No wonder the room was so dark.

The bed was a canopy four-poster of pale white oak. Sheer voile in shades of blue and lavender were draped along the upper frame. A beautiful bed. Shanna looked over her shoulder.

An occupied bed.

With a strangled shriek, she leaped to her feet. Oh my God, Roman Draganesti was in her bed! How dare he sleep in her bed? Or, God help her, maybe she had slept in his bed. Maybe this was his room. How could she have no memory of this?

She checked her clothes. Her shoes and lab coat were gone, but otherwise, she appeared intact. And unmolested. He lay flat on his back on top of the bedspread, still fully clothed in his black sweater and jeans. Sheesh, the man's shoes were still on.

Why on earth would he sleep with her? Was he that committed to protecting her? Or did he have other motives? Her gaze gravitated toward his jeans. He hadn't kept his attraction to her a secret.

Darn, it would just be her luck if a gorgeous hunk tried to seduce her, and she couldn't even remember it.

She rounded the bed, studying him. He looked very peaceful, almost innocent, though she knew better. Why, it wouldn't surprise her if he was just pretending to be asleep.

On the floor, she spotted her lab coat and shoes. She had no memory of taking them off, so Roman must have done it. Then why didn't he take off his own shoes?

She stepped closer to him. "Hello? Good morning… or afternoon."

No response.

She chewed her lip, wondering what to do. He wasn't much of a protector if he slept this soundly.

She leaned close to his face. "The Russians are coming!"

His face remained immobile. Sheesh. A lot of help he would be. She scanned the room. Two doors.

She cracked the first one and saw a long hallway with many doors on each side. This had to be the fourth floor and a guest room. The fifth floor didn't have a hallway. Roman had that floor all to himself. She spotted a man close to the stairs with his back turned toward her. No kilt, but he wore a gun holster on his belt. A guard, she supposed, though definitely not a Highlander. His khaki pants and navy polo shirt were ordinary.

She closed the door and tried the next one. Great, a bathroom. Everything was there—toilet, bathtub, sink, towels, toothpaste, toothbrush—everything but a mirror. That was weird. She took care of business, then unlocked the door and peeked out. Roman was still asleep in her bed. She flicked the bathroom light switch on and off a few times, creating a strobe effect on his face. Still nothing. What a sound sleeper.

She washed her face and brushed her teeth. Now she felt better equipped for a showdown with the uninvited man in her bed.

She paced toward him, a smile pasted on her face, and in a loud voice, announced, "Good morning, Mr. Draganesti. Would it be too much of an imposition to expect you to sleep in your own bed from now on?"

No answer. Not even a snore. Didn't men snore? Hmm, not if he was pretending.

"It's not that I don't find your company stimulating. You're certainly a laugh a minute." She moved closer and poked him in the shoulder. "Come on, I know you're faking it."

Nothing.

She leaned over and whispered in his ear. "You realize this means war." Still no response. She examined the entire length of him. Long legs, trim waist, broad shoulders, strong jaw, a straight nose, though just a tad too long. It fit him, though, suited his arrogance. A strand of black hair lay across his cheekbone. She brushed the hair back. It was fine and soft.

No reaction whatsoever. He was certainly good at playing possum.

She perched beside him on the bed and placed her hands on his shoulders. "I have come to ravish your body. Resistance is futile."

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.