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Anya felt something inside her respond in spite of her rigid control.
    “I write poetry,” she said, her tone low.
    Zach climbed another step or two, drawing closer to the barrier of light. The wood creaked beneath his weight. Anya’s hand tightened against her throat as his eyes swept over her.
    She wasn’t glamorous-looking today, she knew. Gone was the red dress he’d seen last night and the luster of makeup. She wore only jeans, a simple white shirt and gold-beaded vest. Her feet were bare and her hair was caught back in a loose braid. She wondered suddenly if he was disappointed by her appearance, if he could see how false, how misleading the image of last night had been. She wondered if he, like all the others, was only interested in her beauty.
    “Are you published?” he asked.
    “Yes.”
    “I’m impressed.” But his voice sounded more annoyed than anything else. “And your modeling career? That’s merely a sideline?”
    “A way to survive,” she said without thinking, then bit her lip, aware that she was in danger of revealing too much.
    He studied her silently. Anya felt herself grow nervous under his steady regard. He seemed too sharp, too intuitive. He could so easily cast his own spell. Perhaps he already had, she thought fatalistically.
    “The proposition I have for you wouldn’t have to change your life-style that much.” His voice was slow, deliberate. Dangerously appealing. “An exclusive contract would only require you to work a few days a year at the most. It would be perfect—”
    “Would you expect personal appearances, publicity tours, television appearances?”
    “Well, of course, that would be included in the deal.”
    “Then you’re wasting your time. And mine,” Anya said abruptly. “I’m not interested.”
    She started to turn away, but Zach bolted up the stairs. He crossed the barrier of light without a second’s thought and stood in the shadows beside her. His hand lifted to touch her arm, but Anya drew away, her heart racing at his nearness.
    “Don’t dismiss me so easily,” he insisted, his green eyes deep and edged with impatience. “I have faith that we can work something out. You only want to work at night? That’s fine. You only model for limited sessions? Terrific. I can be as accommodating as the next guy. Just give me a chance.”
    Anya wavered, vacillating between the answer that had to be and the one she desperately wished to give. Zach seemed to sense her hesitation, and at once his hands came up and grasped her arms. A flicker of surprise passed through his eyes as his warm fingers touched her coolness, and then something deeper shone in his gaze. Something that looked very much like pleasure. And acceptance.
    His warm gaze swept over her, then returned to her eyes. His tone softened. “We can make it happen, you and I. My company needs you. I need you. You may be my last chance,” he said on a breath so low the words would have been inaudible to anyone else.
    But even had he not spoken at all, Anya would still have heard him because his every thought was so clear to her now. Zach Christopher was a desperate man. A lost soul who, in a way, was almost as tormented as she.
    In the face of his need, Anya found it hard to turn away from him, to send him away. She would have to in time. She knew that. But not yet. She couldn’t bear to hurt him because she could see years of self-inflicted pain lurking in the deep shadows of his eyes.
    His gaze grew even darker. “Have dinner with me tonight. Give me some time to convince you. That’s all I’m asking.”
    His words swirled around her, his voice, his tone, his meaning all indistinguishable from her own needs. Anya realized how desperately she wanted to see him tonight, how much she wanted to be with him when her senses were the most fully alive.
    And the most deadly.
    With all her willpower, she pulled herself from his grasp and took a step back, into the deeper shadows of the landing. “Not