Free Twilight Hunger by MAGGIE SHAYNE Page A

twisting from side to side as he held her. Morgan surrendered to the rush of darkness that swamped her brain and simply went limp in his arms.
    She was lying on the chaise when she opened her eyes again. David sat close to her, patting her hand. “There you are. It’s all right. I guess this meant more to you than I realized.”
    â€œIt’s not that…” she began. Then she recalled what had just happened.
    God, it was true. She was nominated for the top award in the film industry. For work that wasn’t even her own. She had never expected it to go this far. And yet, she had, in a way, known it would. It had to. The stories were too good not to be recognized as such. There was something…transcendent about them. Something that touched the audience on a level that was almost visceral in its intensity.
    â€œAre you all right?”
    She nodded but didn’t bother trying to sit up. This was very odd. She had expected to feel…jubilant at this moment. Wasn’t this beyond her dreams? Wasn’t this supposed to fix everything that had been missing from her life? Why did she still feel so empty inside?
    â€œYou’re going to have to come back to L.A. with me now,” David said. He pushed one hand through his thinning honey-blond hair, which was getting gray at the temples. “There are going to be parties. Receptions. Interviews. You should be seen.”
    The thought of leaving this place set her heart racing. She shook her head quickly, fighting back her panic. “I can’t leave now.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œThe new one is at too delicate a point right now, David. I can’t stop working on it without losing my momentum. And I can’t work anywhere else. So I have to stay right here.”
    He closed his eyes slowly, as if attempting to digest her words.
    â€œI should be finished with it by the time of the actual ceremony. I’ll be able to come out for that. I promise.”
    His eyes popped open. “But you need a dress. And hair and…honey, people plan for months to get ready for this one, special night. God, if this had happened to the girl I knew five years ago, she’d have insisted I fly her to Paris to shop for a gown. And probably would have bought three of them before making a final decision.”
    Sitting up, very slowly, so as not to induce the return of her familiar lightheadedness, she met his eyes. “I’m not that girl anymore.”
    â€œNo,” he said. “You’re not. You’ve changed, Morgan.And not for the better. You’ve practically become a recluse.”
    She banked her anger. He was right, and if she spoke her mind, she would tell him to go home, so she could get right back to her reclusiveness. Crawl back into the velvet darkness of Dante’s world. She hated not being enmeshed in it, missed him like a lover when she went a day without wading through his life, processing it through her own mind and soul, and onto her computer screen. Changing his memories, his deepest thoughts, into lines and stage directions, so that he could come to life on the screen. It was almost as if she were some how trying to resurrect him from death by giving life to his memories.
    Not enough. God, it was never enough.
    â€œI’ve made you angry,” David said.
    â€œNo. No, I’m just…overwhelmed.” She smiled up at him. “So are you taking me out for breakfast to celebrate or not?”
    Lifting his brows, he sighed. “Yes, of course I am. How soon can you be ready?”
    She forced herself to look happy. To play the role of the ex cited honoree, eager to celebrate the achievement of a lifetime.
    The truth was, she just wanted to get it over with and re turn to her house. His house. To be alone with the nonexistent man who haunted her, day and night. Heart and soul. Who possessed her mind. Dante.
    The man who had written volume upon volume inthe first person, and who had, she