She fumbled with the keys, almost dropping them, as she unlocked the door. It seemed to take forever, but finally she was inside. Her heart pounded a frantic rhythm in her chest as her mad dash up the stairs and her fear of a possible assailant caught up to her.
Katie’s knees buckled and she sat down hard on the floor, propping her back against the locked door. Her breath came in harsh gasps and she forced herself to take deep breaths to calm herself. She hadn’t been imagining things. Someone had followed her home.
Chapter Two
He hadn’t meant to scare her. He’d simply wanted to catch a glimpse of her now that he knew she was real and not some figment of the artist’s imagination. After his initial shock, Cain Benjamin had simply watched from the shadows as she talked to his dog. Gabriel had trotted happily at her side and Cain admitted to himself that he was jealous of his damned dog. He wanted to be the one walking beside her, sharing conversation and laughter. But that would probably never happen.
She’d known someone was watching her and that surprised him. Most people were very unaware of their surroundings. Maybe it was some intrinsic part of her personality that had been aware of him or at least sensed that someone was nearby.
He’d smelled her fear as she walked, but still, she hadn’t run from it. She’d drawn herself up and pulled out her keys as a weapon to defend herself. He’d felt pride in her at that moment and knew he’d been right in assuming that she was special.
It had taken all the self-control he possessed not to scoop her up like some Neanderthal caveman and drag her back to his lair. His entire body was pulsing with need, and he clenched his teeth as he adjusted his cock to ease the ache.
Cain turned down an alley, automatically choosing the darkest route. The night was his friend, the shadows his companion. He knew his way unerringly around the city through all the back alleys and unlit lanes.
Unzipping his jacket, he welcomed the cold air on his overheated body. It helped. Barely. He concentrated on his breathing, taking one deep cleansing breath after another, as he desperately tried to put her out of his thoughts.
Twenty minutes later, with his body back under control, he crossed a deserted street and entered the darkness of the park. Cain stayed off the well-lit walking trails, confining his rambles to the dark grassy paths between the tall, mature trees. Their height and their branches sheltered him, even at this time of year when most of them were bare of leaves. Gabriel, who had quietly walked at his side, now started to whine softly.
“All right, boy.” Cain’s voice was a low rumble. Reaching into the pocket of his leather jacket, he withdrew a large piece of braided rope and threw it with all his might. Gabriel disappeared into the dark, barking happily as he ran. Seconds later, he reappeared and dropped the rope at Cain’s feet.
Tug-of-war was next on Gabriel’s agenda. It was amusing to watch his large, usually aristocratic dog, rolling and romping like a puppy. Gabriel raced around the dark field, barking and chasing the rope toy. About forty minutes later, when he’d had enough, Gabriel plopped down by his master’s feet, puffing and panting with his exertions. Cain crouched down and absently rubbed the animal’s belly. He usually enjoyed Gabriel’s playtime, but tonight his mind was occupied. With her.
“Let’s go home.” Gabriel recognized the word “home” immediately and jumped to his feet, and trotted off down the path, rope toy dangling from his mouth, confident that Cain was behind him.
Cain stood more slowly, breathing in the crisp winter air as if it could somehow rejuvenate him. Rolling his shoulders to release some of the tension he felt, he ambled after Gabriel. His large boots crunched the snow beneath his feet as he wandered back onto the empty streets. He quickened his pace as Gabriel hurried on ahead of him.
Life was a predictable routine that had somehow felt restrictive ever since he’d bought that damn painting. For some unknown reason, he no longer seemed to fit in the life he’d created. Cain continued on, lost in his thoughts, mindlessly following the well-worn path that both man and dog trod nightly.
The world was truly a different place at night. It was harder to be alone in the summertime when more people were out enjoying the night air. In the winter, most people were tucked inside early and he could enjoy the solitude of the park. Tonight, thoughts of her filled his head.
It was one of those moments of fate that changed a person’s life forever. Just a week ago, he hadn’t known she existed. His life had been predictable. He had been content with things, if not particularly happy. On one of his nightly walks, he’d turned left instead of right and had been drawn to a painting in the window of a coffee shop. With both his large hands placed against the glass window, he’d stood transfixed by the sight. Never in his life had he wanted anything as badly as he’d wanted that painting or the woman in it.
Cain walked swiftly behind an impressive, stone six-story building. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his keys and unlocked the large steel door in front of him. Gabriel trotted ahead of him as he paused to lock the door behind him. Crossing the private parking garage, his footsteps echoed in the cavernous space. A few well-placed security lights, gave him more than enough light to see while keeping the area largely in shadows. An elevator waited at the other end of the garage. He pressed the button and stepped inside when the door slid open. In silence, he and Gabriel rode to the top floor.
The elevator opened to a small dimly lit lobby. There was one more door to open and Cain sighed in relief when he closed and locked it behind him. Gabriel, unaffected by his master’s pensive mood, abandoned his rope toy just inside the door, and headed to the kitchen for a snack. Cain dropped his keys on a small oak table just inside the door and hung his coat on the heavy mahogany coat rack next to it. The antique coat stand was almost as tall as he was and Cain had purchased it because he liked its smooth, simple lines and its heavy construction.
Cain ignored the living room that was straight ahead, turned to the right, and strode down the hallway towards his office. He dropped into his custom-made leather chair and pulled off his custom-made boots. At six foot eight and over two hundred fifty pounds, if he wanted anything to fit properly it had to be made especially for him. Fortunately, he had the money to afford it. But that hadn’t always been the case.
Sinking into the comfort of the chair, he closed his eyes. He could feel the muscles in his shoulders relaxing. It was only then he became conscious of how tightly wound he’d been since he’d laid his eyes on her. A sigh escaped him and he realized, almost surprisingly, that he was tired.
His eye opened to a mere slit, but he could see it there in the corner. The only light in the room was focused on the painting that was propped on a wooden stand. He could feel the sensual pull of her form from here. He didn’t even need to see it to be aware of it. Her image was burned into his brain.
There was an unselfconscious beauty about the woman in the picture. She was young, healthy and vibrant. Her hair was a study of brown and contained every shade from amber to almost blonde. She kept it cropped short, more for convenience, it seemed, than style. She was pictured in profile, but there was a hint of sky blue in the one eye you could see, and her flawless skin glowed in the golden morning light.
From the moment he’d seen the picture, Cain had wanted to possess this woman. He wanted to be the man who sat behind her on the stone steps. He wanted her to lean back into the shelter of his arms even as they shared the sunshine together. Cain wanted everything that the woman in the painting would give him. Her laughter, her companionship, her love.
He’d had to have the painting and had sent his trusted assistant, Martha Jones, to purchase it for him. Money was no object, but the owner had bargained hard. Cain could respect him for that. He’d also let it be known he was interested in other works by the artist, but so far he hadn’t been contacted.
It had been sheer curiosity that had led him back to Coffee Breaks tonight. He’d wondered if he might find another painting in the window. Instead, he’d b
een taken aback by the appearance of the woman herself, come to life instead of just paint on canvas.
She was even more enthralling in real life. Not beautiful in the classic sense of the word, but there was something about her that called to the male animal in him. “Mine!” he’d wanted to shout to the world. Even in the dark of the night, there was lightness about her. She radiated warmth and light that was compelling to one who lived in the shadows.
His body had reacted immediately to her and, for the first time in a long while, he wanted a woman. She was now real to him and no longer just a dream. His erection had been both painful and reassuring. Hot on its heels had come an emotion he’d never felt before. Jealousy. Anger grew deep inside him at the knowledge that some artist knew her well enough to paint the very essence of her.
It had taken all of his control to remain hidden from her sight. But still, she had sensed him there in the dark. He’d sent Gabriel to her, to reassure her. Her laughter had been music to his ears and he had found a strange sort of contentment in just watching her walk home.
Disgusted with himself, he heaved himself out of the chair and deliberately turned off the light over the painting. Leaving the room shrouded in darkness, he padded down the hallway and into the master bedroom.
The room and the furniture were large to accommodate him. The bed was king-size, and the headboard and footboard were constructed of heavy oak slats. A pair of bedside tables flanked the bed which was covered in a forest green comforter. A huge oak armoire nestled against one wall while a matching chest of drawers rested against another. The large windows were normally covered with heavy green curtains in the daytime, but at night they were wide open so he could watch the night. His stocking feet sank into the plush green rug that sat in the center of the gleaming hardwood floor.
He stripped off his shirt as he walked through the bedroom and into the master bathroom. The only light came from a small night-light that rested just above the counter. Cain ignored it as he pulled off the rest of his clothes and tossed them in the hamper beside the tub.
Turning the shower on full force, he stepped beneath the pulsing spray. His body was alive for the first time in several years, and there was no relief in sight. He knew of several women who would be more than happy to fill his bed, as he had a reputation of being generous with his women. But that kind of arrangement no longer held any appeal for him. He wanted only her.
He lathered his body, mostly ignoring the ridges that covered his left arm and chest. After rinsing himself, he turned off the shower and used one of the large dark blue towels that hung on a heating rack to dry himself.
Wrapping the towel around his lean waist, he propped his hands on the counter and stared into the only mirror in the house. With his long damp hair slicked back from his face, there was no hiding from his frightening visage. The light was muted, but he could make out his features. “You’re every woman’s nightmare,” he muttered to his reflection.
Turning slightly, the right side of his face appeared normal, not handsome, but not ugly. A twist in the other direction told a whole different story. His left eye was gone and his cheek still bore the scars from the fire. They continued down the left side of his neck to his chest and arm and stopped just above his leg. This was reality.
Stalking back to the bedroom, he dropped the towel over the bench seat that sat under the window and climbed into bed. Stacking his hands under his head, he contemplated the ceiling.
Every ounce of common sense was telling him to forget about her, but he knew that by this time tomorrow he would know everything there was to know about her. He drifted off to sleep with her still on his mind and his night was once again filled with erotic dreams where he indulged his every sexual whim. They were all of her.
Katie stared out the bedroom window at the street below. Most of the buildings were dark and traffic was practically nonexistent. The streetlights valiantly battled the darkness, waiting for the dawn. Nothing moved in the shadows. Not now, anyway.
There’d been someone there earlier. A man. She shivered at the thought. Should she tell Lucas? A woman who lived alone had to be careful, but Lucas worried enough about her as it was. Besides which, he’d had ample opportunity to hurt her this evening. Instead, he had sent his dog along to protect her.
But she wasn’t totally naïve. This could be a ploy to win her trust. The news was filled with reports of sick people who did unspeakable things to unsuspecting woman. Still, the dog was friendly, and that said a lot about the owner. Sighing, she turned away from the view and pulled the shade down so that most of the window was covered.
Knowing she wouldn’t sleep, she decided she could at least work. Her bare feet made no sound as she padded down the short hall and into the small living room. Turning on the lights, she placed a blank canvas on the waiting easel. Her plain white nightshirt was worn thin and the light shone straight through it, highlighting the shape of her body beneath. Katie was unaware of this as she stared at the waiting sheet of white.
Her mood was strange tonight. It happened so rarely that she didn’t recognize the sensation at first. She picked up a waiting brush and ran the soft bristles over her fingertips. She was lonely. Usually she was quite content in her own company and if she wanted to be with someone, she called Lucas for companionship.
How pathetic was that?
She’d worked her whole life. Part-time during school and full-time immediately after. Katie’s grandmother had not been a young woman when her mother had left her here. But she’d never had any doubt that her grandmother loved her. They’d lived as simply as possible on her grandmother’s pension and supplemented it with whatever work they could both find. It had been a godsend to them both when Lucas had hired her at fourteen to wash dishes. There’d been many nights that Lucas had sent “leftover” food home to her and her grandmother.
As a result, Katie had never had time to make close female friends. What few friends she had made had moved away to go to college and they’d lost touch. Since her grandmother died three years ago of a sudden heart attack, Katie had lived alone.
Well, almost. There’d been a brief six-month period where she’d had a live-in boyfriend. Kent. She rarely thought of him anymore. The only excuse she gave herself was that she was susceptible to his superficial good looks and charm so soon after her grandmother’s death.
Kent had swept her off her feet with his boyish charm and classic good looks. With his windswept brown hair and his blue eyes, he was model perfect, and in fact had worked occasionally as a model. Very occasionally. Usually, he was content to stay home and live off her paycheck. She couldn’t believe she’d let him sponge off her for six whole months. But with Kent, the big job was always just around the corner.
She really had Lucas to thank for opening her eyes. Lucas had walked her home late one evening from work. She hadn’t even been through the front door when Kent had started yelling at her for not being home on time. He was furious that she hadn’t been there to make his supper, and furthermore, he needed money to go out with his buddies. Didn’t she know that they were waiting for him down at Frank’s, his favorite sports bar?
Kent had reached out to grab her. Katie never knew if he’d intended to hit her or not. He never had a chance. One moment Kent was reaching for her, the next he found himself pinned against the living room wall.
In a low, menacing voice that Katie had never heard before, Lucas informed Kent that he was moving out. No, she laughed at the memory, what he’d really said was, “Get your stuff and get the fuck out.”
Lucas had watched Kent’s every move as he’d quickly collected his belongings. He might have been as tall as Lucas, but Lucas was massively built and Kent looked like a little boy next to him. Lucas’s reputation had also preceded him.
Kent handed over his apartment key when Lucas demanded it, but couldn’t resist a few parting comments as he hurried down the stairs. She could still hear him yelling, “You’re nothing but a frigid bitch and I only stayed o
ut of pity.” She shivered as she remembered his parting words and wrapped her arms around herself to try and shake off the chill.
The look on Lucas’s face had been the worst part. He looked so disappointed in her. Then he’d shaken his head and wrapped his arms around her and told her to cry. Surprisingly enough, she had done just that. After she’d cried herself out, he’d fed her soup and shooed her off to bed.
She’d awakened the next morning to the sound of an electric drill. When she’d peeked into the living room, Lucas was changing the lock on her front door. He calmly told her breakfast was in the oven and that was the end of it. Neither of them had ever mentioned Kent again.
No, she was better off alone. Work and art classes took up most of her time. Besides, she liked being able to get up in the middle of the night and paint. With that thought in mind, she turned her attention back to the waiting canvas. She saw the shadows forming in her mind and began to paint. For hours she stood there and mixed and painted. The picture in her head began to take solid shape in front of her. She painted until her fingers cramped and her back ached.
The first ray of sunshine hitting her face finally broke her concentration. The sun had obviously been up for a while. Groaning, she glanced at the clock on the VCR. “Omigod.” Katie dumped the brush in a waiting jar. She was going to be late. It was already six-thirty and she had to open the shop at seven.
She hobbled down the hallway like a drunken sailor the morning after a binge. Her muscles ached all over her body and her head was spinning. She’d been painting for seven hours straight and she hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours.
Hauling off her nightshirt, she stepped into the shower, turning it on as she went. When the first splash of cold hit her naked body, she gave a yelp and quickly adjusted the water temperature. There was no time to enjoy her shower this morning. Lather flew as she soaped her body and her hair and then stood beneath the spray. As soon as she was rinsed off, she turned off the taps and grabbed a towel. Her wet feet squished against the floor as she hurried to the bedroom.
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