Drop Dead Gorgeous. Kimberly Raye

she swallowed “—sexy.”

      His mouth slanted into a grin. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

      “Not at all. It’s really good. Great, in fact.” She shook her head. “I just can’t figure out how you did it. I mean, obviously, you did the whole makeover thing—” she eyed his jeans “—with the exception of the clothes, but it’s more than that.” Her gaze met his. “I’ve read every self-help sex book known to man. I’ve taken tons of seminars at the junior college. I’ve completed several online courses. This is my eighth class with Winona since she took over for Cheryl Anne.” She shook her head. “And I’m still trying to get onto Tilly’s list.” She glanced through the handspan of window space at the beauty draped across the bed.

      He’d done it, all right. He’d finally uncovered the secret she’d been searching for all these years—he’d found a way to make himself ultra attractive to the opposite sex.

      Women ogled him. Fantasized about him. Stripped off their clothes and hopped into bed without a thought.

      Skull Creek’s biggest geek had become a bona fide sex object.

      To every other woman, that is, except Meg.

      She knew firsthand that people couldn’t just change. Not deep down inside. Not overnight. It had taken her years to complete the process. Therewas noway he’d managed it in a matter of months.

      No, he was still the same Dillon beneath the silky hair and toned muscles. Still the same guy who’d thrown up after Darla Sue Alcott had turned him down for the Homecoming dance.

      She knew that, even if it was getting more difficult with each passing second to remember it.

      A strange look crossed his face, as if he’d peeked into her head and glimpsed her thoughts. But then the expression faded into an easy grin and her heart gave a double thump.

      “Six months ago, you couldn’t even talk to a girl,” she pointed out, her own desperation getting the better of her. “And now you’ve got Susie Wilcox offering herself to you like some pagan sacrifice.”

      “Talking’s overrated,” he said, his deep voice rumbling through her. “There are much more interesting ways to communicate.”

      “And you learned this how? Book? Seminar? Gene therapy that replaces geek DNA with a hung-like-a-horse chromosome?” The last comment drew a full-blown smile from him. “Because whatever it is, I want some.”

      He arched an eyebrow. “You want to be hung like a horse?”

      “You know what I mean.” Her gaze locked with his. “I want the female equivalent. I want to know your secret.” A secret that would surely land her on Tilly’s newest Hot Chicks list. If Meg could make the list, she had no doubt that the men in town would view her differently.

       Bye, bye Manhandler Meg, hello irresistible sex object.

      “You owe me,” she told Dillon, “so pay up.” When he gave her a questioning look, she added, “For your half of the pizza, plus the tip. Add in pain and suffering because I had to sit there alone, and punitive damages to my hips because of all the extra calories I consumed since I don’t believe in wasting, and I’d say you owe me big-time.”

      His gaze dropped. “Your hips look pretty good to me.”

      The butterflies started again. An insane reaction because the old Dillon had never acknowledged anything about her. Not her hips. Or her trim waist. Or even the decent rack she’d been showing off with a Wonderbra since senior year.

      This Dillon seemed to notice everything.

      And made her want to offer herself up as the second willing sacrifice of the night.

      She shook away the sudden visual—Dillon naked and panting above her—that popped into her head and focused on her grumbling stomach. She hadn’t eaten yet, so it was no wonder she was feeling so deprived.

      She wanted food, not Dillon. Not really.

      She swallowed and did a mental recitation of the menu at her favorite restaurant. “Good try, but you’re not changing the subject. Give,” she persisted.

      “Since when did you get so bossy?”

      “Since birth. Seriously, I want to know.” Desperation bubbled inside of her, along with the deprivation niggling at her gut. “I need to know.”

      He eyed her for a long, drawn-out moment and she had the feeling that he faced some internal struggle.

      “You’re sure? You really want to know?” he finally asked.

      Excitement rushed through her and she nodded. “Tell me everything.”

      “I’ve got a better idea.” His gaze gleamed with a hidden knowledge. His fingers flexed on the glass next to her as he leaned forward. His stubbled jaw rasped her cheekbone. His lips grazed her ear. “Why don’t I show you instead?”

       4

       WHAT THE HELL WAS HE thinking?

      The thought pushed its way past the ferocious hunger that gripped Dillon’s insides and sent a burst of reality straight to his brain.

      This was Meg. His buddy. His pal. His friend.

      Meg was the one woman he could actually talk to.

      The only woman who’d ever cared what he had to say.

      No way was he thinking about pushing her up against the nearest wall, sinking himself into her hot body and soaking up her delicious energy while he pumped in and out and drove her to a screaming climax.

      And there was no way he was thinking about sinking his fangs into her sweet neck and drinking in her essence while he pumped in and out and drove her to a screaming climax.

      While he fed off blood and sex, he never indulged in both at the same time. That was the first rule Garret, his other vampire mentor, had taught him. The big no-no because it forged a bond that was unbreakable. Forever.

      The last thing Dillon wanted was to tie himself to one woman for the rest of eternity. Not when he was this close to breaking Bobby’s record.

      That’s what he told himself, but with Meg’s scent filling his nostrils and her frantic heartbeat echoing in his ears, forever didn’t seem like such a long time. His muscles tightened and his gut ached and he had the sudden thought that he wanted her more than he wanted to break Bobby’s record.

      And she wanted a double pepperoni pizza with extra cheese.

      The thought slid into his head and he pulled back. His gaze drilled into hers. Sure enough, he saw an image of Uncle Buck’s Pizza Joint, a table, an extra large pie, and Meg scarfing it down to her heart’s content.

      She didn’t want him.

      Or at least, she didn’t want to want him. She responded to him. All women did. But she wasn’t falling all over him like every other woman he’d come into contact with in the past few months—with the exception of Nikki, the owner of the local beauty salon.

      Nikki was totally enamored of Jake and so her lack of interest didn’t bother Dillon.

      But Meg…She was a single, red-blooded female. She should be out of her mind with lust.

      Or at least a little overwhelmed.

      He drank in the sight of her. No inviting smile. No come-and-get-me-now gaze. No pleading or begging.

      “Please.”

      All right, so she was begging. A little. But not in the way he’d become accustomed to since stepping over to the vamp side. She wanted his help. His guidance. His advice.

      What she didn’t want was to jump into the sack