Frankenstein In Love Read online

  “I’ve got an idea, and if it works…” She winked. “Just keep your fingers crossed.”

  In reply Elaine held up crossed fingers, her eager smile still lighting up her face.

  “Now, what were you asking me?”

  “Kirk’s tray. I was asking if you would take it down. I’m late and—”

  “Have you prepared it yet?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “That’s okay, I’ll do it.”

  But first, Tiffany thought, I have something of my own to do.

  While Elaine was heading for the front door, Tiffany turned and ran upstairs to her room. Barging through the door, she strode to her closet and rummaged through her clothes.

  Of course men like to be seduced, she thought. I write about it every day of my life, so why hadn’t I thought of it? The night I was down there, he kept looking at my body, or trying not to. I seduced him, that’s what did it. I seduced him, and I didn’t even know what I was doing. Fine romance novelist I am.

  She began pulling out every sexy outfit she had. The more low-cut, the tighter and more revealing they were, the better she liked it. Finally she found something, and tried it on. When she checked herself over in the mirror, she felt a blush color her face. Scanning her body, she knew it was just what she needed. The dress was short, form-fitting, and low-cut. She put on dark hose, four-inch heels, and loosened her long hair so that the curls billowed softly around her shoulders. Walking in front of the full-length mirror, she gave herself another good going over and cried, “Yes!” All at once a determination came into her face when she saw a new Tiffany Lovelace staring back at her. “Thank you, Venita, for reminding me that I’m a woman. I’m going to win back the man I love.”

  Tiffany hurriedly went down to the kitchen to fix Kirk’s tray, and was surprised when Quinn came in.

  When he saw Tiffany’s outfit, he let out a low whistle. “Where the hell do you think you’re going dressed like that?”

  “None of your damned business,” she spat, lifting the tray. “Now get out of my way.”

  Quinn didn’t move, instead his gaze lowered, raking over the tray. “Why isn’t Elaine doing this?”

  “She’s busy with something else,” she said, trying to get around him.

  He blocked her path.

  “Get out of my way, Quinn, I don’t have time for you this morning.”

  His hands lifted toward the tray. “If you’re so busy, I’ll take it down to him.”

  “Get lost,” she ordered.

  Something about the tone of her voice made Quinn’s hands hover in midair for a moment before he backed away. “I’ll be timing you.”

  “You’re pathetic,” she said, veering around him, and heading toward the door beneath the stairs.

  Her shoes scraped the concrete as she stepped down, meeting each step carefully. It was a precarious descent since there was no banister to hold onto and her hands were full, but she finally made it without any mishaps. Tiffany made her way toward the barred door and was met with the same darkness as always. While balancing the tray with one hand, she stepped up and rattled it. With slow movements, Kirk came out of the darkness, and stared at her curiously. “Where’s Elaine?”

  “She had something to do.”

  Kirk opened the door, and went back to his desk. He cut his gaze over to her as she set the tray down. “Why are you dressed like that?”

  “I’m going into Atlantic City.”

  “Dressed like that?”

  “Yes,” she said as she turned to him, and added softly, “Kirk, I’m sorry about what happened last night.”

  As Kirk’s gaze clouded over with pain, he rasped, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Sorry, I just thought I should apologize.” Watching him from the corner of her eye, she innocently lifted her leg, put her foot on a short stool and leaned over pretending to straighten her hose. “Is there anything I can get you while I’m there?”

  “No, I’m—” he began as he noticed her dark, silky leg, “—fine.” Kirk dropped his pen, and Tiffany rushed over to pick it up. As she bent down, her cleavage ballooned, straining against her dress. When she lifted her head, she was staring right into his eyes.

  Tiffany could have sworn she heard a sizzling sound when he reached for the pen, and their fingers touched. She could see him clenching his teeth as he fought against his arousal. He got up and turned his back on her. “You’d better go. It’s getting late.”

  “Kirk,” she whispered. “Before I go, would you help me with this chain?”

  Without saying anything, he stood, moved behind her, circled her with his arms, and maneuvered the chain around her until he finally laid it gently on her cleavage. She could feel the cold metal caressing her skin and felt him leaning his head down, looking closely at the clasp. With her hair nestling gently against his face he would have to be inhuman not to smell the enticing fragrance of her perfume. When she heard the tiny snap of the clasp, she moved her hand and her hair tumbled back down, but neither of them moved. His arms dropped to his side, and she leaned herself back against him as close as she dared.

  After a short pause he broke the silence with an emotional rasp, “All done.”

  Tiffany turned and smiled her thanks. “Well, I guess I’ll be going now. You’re sure you don’t want anything.”

  “No, nothing,” he said with a forced softness.

  Kirk had his back to her, and as Tiffany walked out, she smiled, hearing the faintest snap of the pen he’d been holding. She was sure it was being broken in two not only by the strength of his hands, but also by the strength of his sexual frustration.

  Tiffany ran up the dark stairs to her room to change clothes. When she’d pulled on her jeans, she picked up the phone and called Joni.

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Be ready, we’re going shopping.”

  When they got on the road, Joni was gulping down a fried egg sandwich and drinking black coffee. “What in hell is the rush? You didn’t even give me time to eat breakfast.”

  “I need your help, and there are places to go and people to see.”

  “Yeah? What are we shopping for?”

  “Sex!”

  Joni spewed her coffee all over the dashboard.

  “Joni, do you know what a makeover is?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, I’m going to give myself one.” She smiled. “It’s funny. I was just telling Elaine the other night that she needed to pay more attention to herself. Hell, I’m just as guilty as she is. Sure I fix myself up, wear makeup, but because there’s been no man in my life I’ve sort of let myself go, you know? Jeans, old clothes, sweats, that’s all I ever wear. The only thing I dress up for is book signings, autograph parties, or speaking engagements. I’ve got to get myself out of this slump. Get something sexy, hot.”

  Joni said simply, “You’re on the wrong track. Fat is beautiful.”

  They spent the day going from store to store buying the sexiest clothes they could find. Shorts, leggings and over-sized sweaters for daily wear, and for evening, teddies, thin, lacy, see-through lingerie, garter belts, and push-up bras. When she tried them all on she was so embarrassed she was forced to look at herself through her fingers. Finally, with her eyes closed, and love deeply imbedded in her heart, she added them to her growing collection. On her way out of the store, she picked up a book from a display next to the cash register—How to Play Sexual Hardball!

  Chapter 14

  LATE the next night while Tiffany was working on her book, she kept glancing down at her watch. Finally, she jumped up off the bed, opened her door and peered down the hall. She wasn’t sure about Quinn, but she knew Elaine had gone to bed. She glanced down at her watch again. It was only ten thirty. Not early but not late. She wondered if Kirk would still be awake, and leaned out over the balcony as far as she could, seeing a dim light glowing in the basement.

  Great, she thought, while listening for the
slightest sound. A deep darkness, and heavy silence seemed to overflow the mansion.

  Now was the time.

  Should she, or shouldn’t she?

  She paced while wringing her hands. Apparently it wasn’t as easy as it seemed. She’d never engaged in a blatant seduction, and was unsure, nervous. She had only engaged in such things in her imagination. In her books she always knew the end from the beginning. But she wasn’t creating this scene, writing the dialogue, or thinking for a pair of paper characters that she had placed on a page. This was real life, not her brilliant orchestration of two people’s lives. What if she fell flat on her face? What if she made a fool of herself? Apparently Colandra Roswald, her most daring heroine, was more courageous than she. The woman had used the magic of an old witch to follow the man she loved into death, descending into the depths of Hell to rescue him, and seducing a fallen angel into helping her. What a story that was. But it was Tiffany’s own creation. There was no Hell, no fire and brimstone, and no seduction in a lush, blazing red bed, except in Tiffany’s fertile imagination. But to her readers it was real. It had sold millions, Blazing Dawn becoming another bestseller.

  Now, Tiffany felt like she was entering the depths of hell every time she went down into that dungeon. But she would do it again and again if it meant bringing Kirk out of that pit. A quivering rush of determination speared through her, whirled around inside her, and moved her feet over to her closet where she began wildly rummaging through her new things. When she saw it, she stopped. It was a beautiful little royal blue teddy covered with a matching lace robe, slightly see-through and very short. She brought it out and put the outfit on before she stepped in front of the mirror while holding her breath. “Oh, my!” she cried. It had an empire waist with a little ribbon tie nestled just beneath her breasts, the rest billowing out around her.

  Going back to the closet, she began rummaging through her shoes and found her matching four-inch, furry, step-in mules. She was about to slip into them when she remembered what Venita said about Quinn liking his women barefoot.

  Kirk was Quinn’s brother, she thought, wondering if sexual appetites could be shared like—sure—like dimples in a chin. She smiled, leaving the mules where they were, and stepped back in front of the mirror.

  The absence of shoes did do something, she thought. It made her appear more raw, uninhibited somehow.

  Beginning to understand what she was going for, she examined herself. The absence of shoes helped, but she still seemed too made up somehow. Letting her newfound understanding guide her, she tried different things, the last when she pulled one side of her hair forward, and obscured one eye. She was pleased. It made her appear wild, and untamed.

  Yes, Tiffany thought, very sexy.

  Finally having what she wanted, she was sure Kirk would find her irresistible. She quietly stepped into the hall, and began creeping around guiltily, afraid of running into someone. When she saw and felt the vast emptiness, she hurriedly made her way through the dark maze down to the basement. With each step she took, the more nervous she became.

  When she arrived, she saw that the light was off now, but she could see Kirk in bed with the moonlight softly outlining the scarring on his face. She was sure the door was locked, but when she tried it, it opened easily. She took pains to move the door quietly, trying to keep from clanging the metal. After closing it behind her, she walked silently over to his bed and sat down very gently on the side of it.

  *

  As the bed gave under her weight, Kirk lifted his head. When he saw her, he didn’t speak for a moment, only noticed how the moonlight glistened on her skin, and how her tousled hair fell down around her shoulders. She appeared to have just crawled out of bed, and the idea aroused him. She seemed deliciously warm and inviting. When he saw her bare feet, he felt raw desire begin to build inside him. He raised himself up on one arm, his gaze drawn to her deep cleavage that was cupped sensuously by the lacy blue material.

  “I’m sorry to wake you, Kirk, but I had to see you. We need to talk.”

  “You wanted to talk? In that thing? Tiffany, don’t you have any sense?”

  She looked down at herself. “I’m sorry…I…”

  “Haven’t we been through this once?”

  “I’m sorry, Kirk, but this is the only time I can come down without Quinn watching my every move.”

  “All right,” he said, combing his hair with his hand. “So what do you want?” He tried to keep his eyes off her breasts, but he couldn’t help noticing that they were practically falling out of the deep plunge of her robe.

  “I just wanted to explain about me and Quinn.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about, so you might as well go back upstairs.” He laid back down, shifting over on his side with his back to her.

  “Please don’t, Kirk,” she said as she reached out to him. When he felt her hand he turned and saw her breasts so close to him they were almost touching his face. With a sudden movement, he jumped up and grabbed her arm. “You must think I’m a damned idiot. I know what you’re doing, but what I can’t figure out is why. You’ve had your fun. You’ve already proven that you can drive the poor scarred up creature crazy, haven’t you? My God, is this an ego trip for you? Go back to Quinn, the bed must be getting cold by now.”

  “Kirk,” Tiffany said with exasperation in her tone. “Why do you believe Quinn when you know what a liar he is? I haven’t been to bed with him. That’s what’s eating him up, can’t you see that? He was lying, Kirk, lying! He knows how I feel about you, and he’s jealous.” Tiffany pulled her wrist out of his grasp. “Why in God’s name is it so hard for you accept the simple fact that I want you and not Quinn?”

  He turned, grabbed up a flashlight and brightened his face in a monstrous, Halloween-ish way. “Because nobody could want this!” Throwing the flashlight down in a clatter, he said, “Now go and leave me to my darkness, Tiffany. I don’t want to see you again.”

  They both jerked their heads around when they heard a loud noise coming from upstairs.

  Kirk grabbed her upper arms and rasped loudly, “Tiffany, get out of here, now. Before Quinn finds you here.”

  “He doesn’t know I’m down here.”

  “Quinn knows every damn thing that goes on in this mansion, Tiffany. That’s how he caught us before. Now get out.”

  “Who cares if he finds me down here? It’s none of his business, besides we’re not doing anything wrong.”

  “Look at the way you’re dressed, for God’s sake. Do you think he’s going to believe you just came down here to talk?”

  “I don’t care what he believes. I’m not going to let that tyrant scare me away from you again, Kirk.”

  Kirk sighed in defeat, knowing she wouldn’t leave until he agreed to talk to her. He raked through his hair with his fingers, trying to think of something. “All right, listen,” he said, his thoughts tumbling about in his head. “Tomorrow…tomorrow at ten o’clock I’ll meet you down at Kissing Rock.”

  “Kissing Rock? What is that?”

  “It’s just a lot of enormous rocks grouped together. You can’t miss it. It’s about a mile down the beach. I’ll meet you there. Away from the mansion. Agreed?”

  “Well…all right. You won’t stand me up, will you?”

  “No, of course not. Now, just get out of here before Quinn comes banging on the door.”

  * * * *

  The next day was cloudy and windy. After breakfast Tiffany tried writing down some thoughts in her book, but she just couldn’t concentrate. She kept glancing at the clock, anxious for the hands to move faster. Finally, she decided to go ahead and take a leisurely walk along the beach to get the cobwebs out of her head. She put on a pair of leggings, a low-cut oversized sweater that dropped off one shoulder, and began her climb up Cat’s Paw. Once there, she gazed down at the choppy ocean, thinking of the many times she had watched the unhappy, tortured man she loved walking all alone along the beach. She wanted so
much to help him, to bring him out of his misery, but he fought so much against it. She hoped fervently that this little rendezvous with Kirk would make the difference.

  Finding the heavily trodden path, she began carefully making her way down the slope that led to the sandy strip. While gazing out onto the beautiful, vast, unsettled expanse of water, she could understand why Kirk walked along this stretch of beach so many times. At the edge of the grassy slope she took off her shoes and stepped down into the grainy sand. Leaving her shoes on the path, she turned her face toward the wind and felt the refreshing cool air as it worked to clear her head.

  After walking a while, she turned and began walking backward, watching her feet make footsteps in the sand that the water immediately washed away. Lingering, she turned and gazed out at the ocean, listening to the pounding surf, wondering if there was such a thing as surf talk. If so, she sadly wondered what it was telling her. She loved the ocean. The feel, the sound, and the turbulence that seemed to reach into infinity.

  Before she knew it, she saw a group of rocks ahead that reminded her of a large, monolithic beast. Their massive shapes jutted out of the cliff behind, bringing the sandy strip to an end. The never-ending surf smashed against them constantly, sending a spray of water over the rocks, and making a deep pool around them. It seemed as if over the years they’d almost grown together—reaching out to each other—kissing. That must be why it was called Kissing Rock. It was a romantic idea that made Tiffany smile. She let her hand slide along the surface as she walked around it. Although the rock was extremely craggy, there were no sharp edges, only a constant pounding of wind and surf.

  Climbing upon it, she noticed a deep groove that had been smoothed away by the constant crashing of the ocean. She climbed into it and lay back comfortably listening to the consistent moving of the tall restless waves, again trying to imagine what it was saying to her. As she lay there she enjoyed the privacy, and realized it would be easy to imagine herself suspended in time while she listened to each turbulent surge as one upon the other, they splashed against the rocks.