Free Night's Pleasure by Amanda Ashley Page B

stage. His mind wasn’t on the hunt then, but now…he had an almost overpowering urge to unleash the beast within him. It would be so easy. He could take them all before they realized what was happening….
    Taking a deep breath, he glanced at Savanah. Her scent wrapped around him—the fragrance of her skin, the soap she had bathed with, a hint of perfume. And overall, the heady, musky scent of the woman herself. Oblivious to his inner turmoil, she appeared lost in the love story unfolding on the screen. His gaze moved over her face, admiring the delicate curve of her cheek, the fine line of her jaw, the way her nose tilted up at the end just a tiny bit. Her hair fell over her shoulders in a sheen of pale silk.
    Muttering an oath, he glanced at the screen, and swore again as the hero swept the heroine into his arms and carried her up a long, winding staircase. At the top of the stairs, he kicked open the first door he came to. Striding inside, he dropped the heroine on an enormous bed. Ignoring her outraged cry and her struggles, he sank down on the mattress beside her. With his hands holding hers captive over her head, he covered her body with his and kissed her, a long, passionate kiss that put an end to the heroine’s struggles and soon had her purring like a kitten.
    The rapid beat of Savanah’s pulse and the quickening of her breath reached his ears. Was she imagining, as he was, that he was the hero and she was the heroine?
    She looked at him and smiled when the movie ended and the lights went on. “Well, the critics were wrong that time,” she declared. “I loved it! What did you think?”
    â€œChick flick,” he said with a grin.
    She stuck her tongue out at him. “Chauvinist.”
    â€œWho, me?”
    â€œI don’t see anybody else sitting there.”
    â€œOkay, okay, I give up,” Rane said as they left the theater. “Where do you want to go now? That is, if you don’t mind being seen with a chauvinist pig.”
    â€œI don’t mind, but I should probably go home. It’s late, and I have an early interview in the morning.”
    With a nod, Rane took her hand and they walked toward the parking lot.
    â€œSo,” he asked, “who are you interviewing, or can’t you talk about it?”
    â€œI have an appointment at the morgue.”
    â€œYeah, you wouldn’t want to be late for that,” Rane said dryly.
    â€œVery funny.”
    They were passing an alley when Rane’s senses went on alert. Before he had time to react, someone shoved a gun against his spine.
    â€œDon’t turn around,” the assailant warned, his voice gruff. “Don’t even blink. Just give me your money. You, too, lady.”
    Murmuring, “This can’t be real,” Savanah pulled her wallet from her handbag. She wouldn’t miss the money, but she hated to lose her driver’s license. The thought of waiting in line at the DMV was almost more frightening than being robbed at gunpoint.
    Not daring to so much as look at Rane, who stood a little behind her, she thrust her hand behind her back, her wallet extended, and prayed the robber would be content to take their money and spare their lives.
    A muffled thump, like a body hitting the pavement, sent her heart leaping into her throat. Had the robber killed Rane? Wouldn’t she have heard a gunshot? Unless, oh, Lord, unless the robber had a knife, too.
    She almost jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand on her shoulder.
    â€œRelax,” Rane said. “It’s over.”
    Slowly, Savanah turned around, relieved to see that Rane was apparently unhurt. She started to ask where the robber had gone when she saw him lying facedown on the pavement. Was he breathing? In the dark, she couldn’t be sure. “Is he…did you…?”
    â€œHe’s still alive,” Rane said curtly. The man would never know it, but if it hadn’t been for Savanah’s