The Perfect Kiss Read Online Free Page B

considerably smoother. At least she wouldn’t be able to avoid him.
    And so he’d gone outside and waited in his car for her to leave Sindel’s studio. Zach had followed them for blocks as the car had woven an erratic trail to a section of Manhattan he was unfamiliar with. The neighborhood, near the Hudson River, was old and run-down, with boarded-up buildings and vacant lots that now carried only echoes of a once vibrant life.
    There!
    Through the misty rain, Zach caught a brief glimpse of their lights. They were turning left. He gave them their lead then followed, easing the Viper to the curb and killing the engine as the Mercedes swept into a driveway halfway down the block.
    Zach rolled down his window and listened to the night. He heard the unmistakable rumble of a garage door closing, then nothing. Silence.
    A chilly wind blew through the car, carrying the scent of the river, a dank, musty odor that was faintly unpleasant. At one time the neighborhood had probably been as posh and desirable as Park Avenue, but now the old brownstone mansions, with their ivy-covered walls and crumbling facades, wore the distinct look of time and decay.
    Zach studied Anya’s house, watching for the lights to come on, searching for some sign of life, but for whatever reason, the rooms remained cloaked in darkness.
    After a few moments, he got out of his car and slowly walked down the street. He stopped in front of her house and gazed up at it. The wind sifted through the dead leaves in the gutter, and a bare limb scraped across a window, thesound as spine-chilling as fingernails raking down a chalkboard. Somewhere down the street, a dog barked.
    But all else was silent. Eerily still as if the looming structures around him housed no life at all. The very air symbolized the ravaged street, with its pungent scent of decomposing leaves and rotting soil.
    Zach pulled the collar of his jacket closer around his neck against the chill of the wind and rain. Was it his imagination or had it suddenly gotten colder? Darker? Clouds obscured the full moon, and the streetlight in front of Anya’s house was out.
    He took an uneasy step toward the gate and placed a hand on one of the spiked rods. He shoved it open, and the rusty hinges whined and moaned like a woman in agony. Zach cast a wary glance over his shoulder, almost expecting to see lights flickering on and concerned neighbors peeking from their bedroom windows.
    But nothing disturbed the night.
    He had the uncanny notion that very little would bring these people from their homes once darkness descended.
    Pushing the gate open wider, he stepped through to the yard. This was going beyond business now, and he knew it. He was going beyond ethics, beyond common decency, but he felt compelled to explore Anya Valorian’s private space, to make her acknowledge the rest of the world—but mainly him. Her cool brush-off earlier still stung.
    With a muttered oath at his own stupidity, Zach rounded the corner and moved toward the back of the house. The bare limbs of trees and bushes guarded the rear courtyard like skeletal sentinels, and the odor of decay saturated the air. He stopped for a moment and scanned the back of the house. A balcony trimmed in lacy filigree overlooked the garden, and with a start, Zach saw a misty silhouette move along the railing.
    He took a quick step back into the shadows as he continued to gaze up at her. The moon cleared the low-lying clouds, and for a moment, she basked in the light.
    Zach caught his breath.
    She wore black, a filmy creation that floated around her as light and airy as the mist. Her silvery hair streamed down her back to her waist like gossamer silk, and in the sterling light, her skin glowed with a strange incandescence.
    Enthralled, he watched her.
    She lifted her face to the moon, letting it bathe her in cool light, much as one might do the sun.
    Except the moon suited her. Darkness became her. She seemed a thrilling part of the night, a compelling