lair, his senses still filled with the sweet scent of her skin, the warmth of her cheek beneath his hand. With a sigh, he sank into the darkness of oblivion.
Chapter Seven
In the morning, after a quick breakfast of toast, juice and coffee, Shannah drove to her doctor’s office. She had a standing weekly appointment, and she had missed the last three. She wasn’t sure why she had decided to keep this appointment. What could the doctor tell her that she didn’t already know?
“I’ve been worried about you,” Doctor Harper said as he wrapped the blood pressure cuff around her arm. “I thought…well, no matter. You’re looking quite well today.”
“I feel wonderful.”
Nodding, he watched the gauge, then removed the cuff from her arm.
“How is it?” she asked.
“Normal.” He made a note on her chart. “I see you’ve even gained a little weight.”
“Really?”
“Yes. How’s your appetite been?”
“Better than usual. And I’ve been keeping everything down!”
“Indeed? Any headaches? Dizziness? Nausea?”
“No, no, and no.”
He made more notes on her chart, listened to her heart and lungs, jotted more notes on her chart. “I want you to go down to the lab so they can take some blood.”
“All right.” Needles, she thought. She hated them.
Leaving the lab twenty minutes later, she went to Baskin-Robbins and treated herself to a double hot fudge sundae with extra whipped crème, and then she went window shopping. She made one stop at the drug store where she bought a makeup mirror, a candy bar, and a pack of gum.
Walking back to her car, she thought again how amazing it was that she felt so well. She didn’t feel the least bit tired. Eating didn’t make her sick. She was sleeping better than ever. When she realized she was squinting, she put on her sunglasses, thinking how odd it was that the sun hurt her eyes when it never had before. Maybe it was just another symptom of her illness. She would have to ask the doctor about it next week.
Back at Ronan’s house, she watched TV for a little while, then switched it off.
Going out into the backyard, she pulled weeds from the garden until her back ached, noting that, once the weeds were gone, there was nothing left.
Returning to the house, she filled a glass with ice and water and then, hoping she wasn’t violating Ronan’s trust in any way, she went into his office and booted up his computer.
Unable to restrain her curiosity, she opened a file named Fan Mail—January 2008. She whistled softly. There were over a thousand emails. Sitting back in the chair, she began to read.
Dear Miss Black—I love your books. I have them all and I’ve read each one of them over and over again. I don’t know how you do it, but you always draw me into the story from page one. Your characters are so real, especially your vampires. If I didn’t know it was impossible, I’d think you were a vampire yourself. Just kidding. I can’t wait for your next book.
Your number one fan. Sandy.
The letters were all basically the same, praising Eva Black for her wonderful books, asking for autographs or bookmarks or signed photos, or all three. Several were from would-be writers asking for advice on how to get published. A couple were from women who said they had this really great idea for a book and if Miss Black would just write it, they would be happy to split the royalties with her. Shannah had to laugh out loud at their temerity. Ronan would do all the work and they would split the royalties with him! A number of the emails were from readers asking for free books for themselves or donations for fundraisers, or for a loved one who was sick or in prison.
Some of the readers thanked Eva profusely and sincerely, relating how her books had helped them get through a particularly rough time in their lives—the death of a parent or a child, a divorce, a serious illness. Shannah was moved by their gratitude. It must be humbling for an author to receive such
Chapter Seven
In the morning, after a quick breakfast of toast, juice and coffee, Shannah drove to her doctor’s office. She had a standing weekly appointment, and she had missed the last three. She wasn’t sure why she had decided to keep this appointment. What could the doctor tell her that she didn’t already know?
“I’ve been worried about you,” Doctor Harper said as he wrapped the blood pressure cuff around her arm. “I thought…well, no matter. You’re looking quite well today.”
“I feel wonderful.”
Nodding, he watched the gauge, then removed the cuff from her arm.
“How is it?” she asked.
“Normal.” He made a note on her chart. “I see you’ve even gained a little weight.”
“Really?”
“Yes. How’s your appetite been?”
“Better than usual. And I’ve been keeping everything down!”
“Indeed? Any headaches? Dizziness? Nausea?”
“No, no, and no.”
He made more notes on her chart, listened to her heart and lungs, jotted more notes on her chart. “I want you to go down to the lab so they can take some blood.”
“All right.” Needles, she thought. She hated them.
Leaving the lab twenty minutes later, she went to Baskin-Robbins and treated herself to a double hot fudge sundae with extra whipped crème, and then she went window shopping. She made one stop at the drug store where she bought a makeup mirror, a candy bar, and a pack of gum.
Walking back to her car, she thought again how amazing it was that she felt so well. She didn’t feel the least bit tired. Eating didn’t make her sick. She was sleeping better than ever. When she realized she was squinting, she put on her sunglasses, thinking how odd it was that the sun hurt her eyes when it never had before. Maybe it was just another symptom of her illness. She would have to ask the doctor about it next week.
Back at Ronan’s house, she watched TV for a little while, then switched it off.
Going out into the backyard, she pulled weeds from the garden until her back ached, noting that, once the weeds were gone, there was nothing left.
Returning to the house, she filled a glass with ice and water and then, hoping she wasn’t violating Ronan’s trust in any way, she went into his office and booted up his computer.
Unable to restrain her curiosity, she opened a file named Fan Mail—January 2008. She whistled softly. There were over a thousand emails. Sitting back in the chair, she began to read.
Dear Miss Black—I love your books. I have them all and I’ve read each one of them over and over again. I don’t know how you do it, but you always draw me into the story from page one. Your characters are so real, especially your vampires. If I didn’t know it was impossible, I’d think you were a vampire yourself. Just kidding. I can’t wait for your next book.
Your number one fan. Sandy.
The letters were all basically the same, praising Eva Black for her wonderful books, asking for autographs or bookmarks or signed photos, or all three. Several were from would-be writers asking for advice on how to get published. A couple were from women who said they had this really great idea for a book and if Miss Black would just write it, they would be happy to split the royalties with her. Shannah had to laugh out loud at their temerity. Ronan would do all the work and they would split the royalties with him! A number of the emails were from readers asking for free books for themselves or donations for fundraisers, or for a loved one who was sick or in prison.
Some of the readers thanked Eva profusely and sincerely, relating how her books had helped them get through a particularly rough time in their lives—the death of a parent or a child, a divorce, a serious illness. Shannah was moved by their gratitude. It must be humbling for an author to receive such
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