Stab at Love

by Kristine Mason

  She slid her hands from his shoulders to cup his face. “Did I say too much?” she asked, and he hated the uncertainty in her eyes. Nothing would be too much with her, which meant he should probably make sure the attic had satellite television and plenty of books to entertain her.

  “You said everything just right. But you don’t have to say anything at all. Your kiss tells me what I need to know.” When the pink slashes returned, he kissed each of her cheeks. “Let’s go eat.”

  By the time they’d reached the dining area which had once been used as a ballroom, the line for the buffet had dwindled. After filling their plates, they occupied an empty table in the corner. Instead of sitting across from each other, he pulled his chair next to hers, boxing her against the corner wall and table. He wanted to be near her, to accidentally brush his arm or legs against hers and to let every person in the room know that she was off limits and his.

  As they ate, they did something he normally loathed…they played the getting-to-know you game. But instead of zoning out and pretending to care, he hung onto and memorized every one of her words. Because he did care. He cared about what made this woman complex and interesting. She told him about growing up in the suburbs with her brother, Reed, and how during her sophomore year of college she’d transferred from the University of Cincinnati to the University of Missouri, where she’d graduated with a degree in education.

  “After two years of teaching, I realized I didn’t really like kids, so I quit.” She set her fork aside to reach for her glass of water. “I was done living in the St. Louis area anyway and ready for a change.”

  “Is that when you moved to Atlanta?”

  “I went back to Dayton first. My grandma was very ill and I wanted to help my mom take care of her. After she passed away, I felt guilty for wanting to leave again, so I stuck around for my mom.”

  Guilt was a wasted emotion. He understood the concept but had no use for it. He couldn’t imagine worrying about his mother’s feelings. By the time he’d turned six, he thought of her as nothing more than one of those plaster mannequins he’d seen in a store window.

  “Where was your dad?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Dead, I suppose. When I was twelve, he and my grandpa left early one Saturday morning to go fishing. They never came back. Police found Dad’s car a week later. Someone had driven it into the lake where they’d been fishing. But they never found their bodies or any evidence of foul play. Five years later, both my mom and grandma filed a presumption of death claim and eventually Dad and Grandpa were legally declared dead. The whole thing was a mess, because then we had friends and extended family pushing Mom and Grandma into having a joint funeral. All that did was reopen old wounds.”

  “I’m sorry that happened to you.” He genuinely was, and it made some of the concrete around his heart crumble. “I imagine you often wonder what happened to your dad and grandpa.”

  She looked to the napkin in her lap. “I should have wondered, I still should wonder… God, this will make me sound really bad.”

  He touched her chin and forced her to look at him. “As long as you tell me the truth, I’ll never judge you. You can tell me anything, even your darkest secrets. We all have them.”

  “It’s a terrible secret.” Trust was back in her eyes as she searched his gaze. “I loved my dad and grandpa, but my mom was my world. The problem was she was so madly in love with my father, he always came first. Every time. Not me, not my younger brother. If Dad was around, it was as if we were suddenly invisible. I can remember my grandma yelling at her about it one day and saying that kind of love was unhealthy, and there was room in her heart to love other people. It wasn’t that Mom didn’t love us or Grandma, but the hold my dad had on her was so powerful, it nearly killed her after he went missing. She cried until her body couldn’t make any more tears. She roamed the house with this strange, haunted look in her eyes and didn’t talk for days. My grandma moved in with us, and as time went on, Mom shook off her grief and focused on me, Reed and Grandma, and everyone else became invisible.”

  He leaned close to her ear. “That’s not a terrible secret,” he whispered, and slid his hand along her denim-clad thigh. “Tell me the real dark secret.” Still hot and hard for her, more so knowing she trusted him, he pressed his fingers between her legs and nipped her earlobe. “Don’t hide from me.”

  Her breath quickened as she spread her legs just enough to give him better access. “I was glad Dad and Grandpa were gone because Mom finally had room in her heart for me, and I wanted Grandma to live with us. Instead of wondering what had happened to them, I would lie in bed and hope they were never found.” She rested her cheek against his and released a quiet, throaty moan when he pressed the denim against her sex. “Is that dark enough for you?”

  A chunk of concrete fell from his heart and hit him in the gut. As if he’d been sucker- punched, he saw stars. This woman did that to him. Although her secret wasn’t as dark as any of his, he loved it, and also knowing Ivy was flawed, selfish and jealous. He had the sudden urge to do something to make her jealous, so he could witness her reaction, then take her up to the room and let her know she had no reason to worry about another woman.

  “Do you want to love a man the way your mother loved your father?” he asked instead.

  “That’s a scary kind of love.”

  When his middle finger hit her clit, he applied more pressure. “Not an answer.”

  “I’m afraid to love someone that much,” she said, breathless. “Your turn. Do you want me to love you that much?”

  “I don’t know. No one has ever loved me.”

  She placed her hand over his, locking him between her legs. Her gaze held an odd mixture of empathy and desire. “No one has ever said, I love you?”

  Not his cold-hearted mother or grandmother, and not even his sweet nanny. He’d never had a girlfriend or any true friends. There were a few guys he’d partied with in college, but they’d been dispensable users who’d liked his money more than him. “No one.”

  “Have you ever told anyone you loved them?”

  “No.”

  “That makes me sad. Everyone deserves to have someone’s love.”

  He’d never thought much about love. Since he’d never been stirred by the emotion, it had never been a priority. “Even serial killers?” he asked.

  She grinned. “Sure, even serial killers.”

  When one of the bussers approached to clear their table, Ivy kept his hand in place. The worker was a young, attractive blonde, and her Colonial-era clothes revealed her ample cleavage and tiny waist. As the girl picked up the dishes, she darted her gaze to Ivy’s lap, then to him, before settling it on Ivy again. “Is there a problem?” Ivy asked when the blonde didn’t walk away quickly enough.

  The girl cleared her throat. “No, ma’am.”

  “She’s been checking you out since we stepped inside the ballroom,” Ivy said after the girl had left.

  “I caught Robert E. Lee staring at your ass when we were at the buffet table. Maybe I should’ve grabbed it to let him know it belongs to me.”

  She laughed and moved her hand from his. “And here I was trying to get Thomas Jefferson’s attention.”

  Jealousy came swift and furious. He adjusted his hand until he held her crotch in it. “Don’t even joke about other men.”

  Excitement brightened her eyes. “What if I wasn’t joking?”

  “Do you really want to know? Think long and hard about that. I met you yesterday, and today I’m palming your pussy as if I own it. I’ve made it clear what I want and that I don’t share or obey. So, if a man comes up to you, touches you or flirts, innocent or not, what do you think will happen?”

  “Do you own any weapons?”

  When he shook his head, she took his free hand and studied it. “How would you hurt him?”

  He wouldn’t hurt, he would kill. It intrigued him that she wanted to know and had him wondering if she had any other dark secrets, or dark layers, bene
ath her pretty smiles and blushing cheeks. But how much to tell her…

  He considered the hiker he’d killed two years ago. He’d been with Anna, a beautiful woman he had met during his travels to Ashville, North Carolina, where he’d been commissioned to photograph an elitist prick and his family. Afterward, and ready to fuck, kill and photograph Anna, he’d suggested they take a picnic lunch and explore the trails of the Blue Ridge Mountains. After he’d performed his three favorite passions, and Anna had lain dead on the grass, a hiker had surprised him. So, he’d been forced to surprise the hiker back by smashing his head against a boulder.

  “It doesn’t matter. Just know that I would,” he said, since there was no way in hell he’d reveal his dark secrets. The disappointment in her eyes intrigued him. Had she really wanted him to describe how he’d end a man’s life? If he were a moral man with a moral conscience, he’d reconsider the weekend with her. But he wasn’t. And if death was a turn-on for her, who was he to judge?

  “For those of you joining the ghost tour,” Martha Washington announced to the diners, “we’ll begin at nine o’clock. Be sure to be on the front porch then, or you’ll miss out on a spook-tacular time.”

  He checked his watch. “Looks like we have two and a half hours until the tour. What would you like to do between now and then?”

  The pink slashes returned as she looked at their joined hands. “Get to know more about you.” She stole a shy glance at him. “By that, I mean talking. As much as I enjoyed…the other things we’ve done, I don’t want our relationship to be based only on our physical attraction to each other.”

  He couldn’t agree more. Yes, he wanted to be with her in every way possible, kiss her, touch her, explore her body, but he also wanted to know what other secrets she kept hidden behind her pretty smile. “Talking is good. Since I don’t trust myself to be alone with you in one of our rooms, let’s go to the bar for a drink.”

  The blonde who’d cleared their table also worked behind the bar. An undercurrent of anticipation worked through him as he and Ivy sat on two of the stools. If the young woman flirted with him, maybe bent more than she needed to and gave him an eyeful of her cleavage, how would Ivy react? Unfortunately, the girl had an older woman wait on them, which made Ivy smile.

  “I think I scared her away,” she said, lifting her wine glass.

  “Would you do that all the time?” he asked, wondering if she could be one of those crazy, Fatal Attraction types. What woman would allow a man to say the things he had and to touch her intimately when he had no right? What woman would show her jealousy and her dark colors during a first date? What kind of woman would reveal an interest in violence?

  His match.

  Maybe.

  “Scare women away from you?” She ran her finger along the rim of her glass. “Just the ones who are too stupid to realize you belong to me.”

  Yes, she could definitely end up being a crazy, fatal attraction. The idea that she could, and that she just might, be his match aroused him. He hadn’t been lying last night when he’d told her he was looking for someone like-minded. There was no way he could get away with murdering a woman here at the manor, so he’d hoped to spend the weekend with someone who was intelligent, not hard on the eyes and into a little adventure. Then, once they returned to Norfolk, he’d planned to spend a week seducing her and waiting for the right moment to kill her.

  Now he was contemplating keeping her.

  “I probably should’ve kept that to myself,” she said. “But I’m tired of going on dates and having to worry about every little thing I say.”

  “Honesty can be freeing.”

  She grinned and snapped her fingers. “That’s it exactly. I kept trying to figure out what it is about you that has me feeling lighter.” Her grin broadened. “When we were by the pasture, I worried I’d have to tether myself to you to keep myself from floating away.”

  He leaned toward her ear. “I would love to see you with ropes around your wrists and ankles.”

  She chuckled. “That’s not what I meant, but it might be…interesting.” Her shy smile returned. “Should I assume that you’re not turned off by what I said? I sounded a little psycho.”

  “The insanity spectrum is huge.” He nodded to the middle age couple at the end of the bar. “That man has checked his reflection more than a dozen times since we’ve been here. A psychiatrist might say he’s narcissistic. Watch his wife with the hand sanitizer.”

  “I saw her earlier in the dining room. She must go through a bottle a day.” Ivy refocused on him. “You’re suggesting Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder?”

  “Possibly. My point is we all have a little crazy in us. And I happen to like a little crazy.”

  “Then you should like me,” she said with a teasing smile.

  He rested his hand on her thigh again. Although tempted to move it between her legs, he refrained. The bar area wasn’t as private as their table in the dining room had been. “I already do like you. You’ve talked a bit about your past, tell me about your future. What are your goals?”

  She cocked a brow. “Why do I feel like I’m being interviewed for a job?” After taking a sip of her wine, she said, “When I graduated from college I had a five-year plan. Save X amount of dollars, buy a home, get married, have children. You know, live the suburban dream. Like I told you, teaching made me realize I wasn’t a kid person, so children were crossed off the list. Then my grandma and mom died, leaving me to be able to afford to quit my job and buy a house if I wanted. I wasn’t ready to settle in one place yet, so that part of the plan was put on hold.”

  “And marriage? Does binding yourself to one person still appeal to you?”

  “It does. Since I’m not worried about a ticking biological clock, I’m also not desperate. But, I’ll admit I’ve been lonely lately. I still haven’t made any friends and I work from home, so I spend most of my days alone. Not having anyone to talk to or do things with gets to me now and then.”

  He understood all too well what that was like. “I feel the same way. Most people think that, because I’m wealthy and constantly travel, I live this lavish and exciting lifestyle. But wealth can isolate you. There are so many greedy and deceptive people out there, it’s hard to trust whether it’s you or the money they like. And, while I enjoy traveling the world, it’s sometimes tough. I have the good fortune to see and experience so many beautiful and amazing things, but no one by my side. I’ll never forget the time I was in New Zealand. My guide took me to a secluded waterfall, and it was probably one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. As I was taking pictures, I remember talking to the guide about the way the sunlight reflected off the cascading water, and how it looked as if someone had sprinkled diamonds into the pool below the falls.” He grinned as he thought about that day. “The guide grunted, spat tobacco, then drank from a flask, and it hit me that I’ve basically become a traveling recluse.”

  “Isn’t that an oxymoron?”

  “I suppose, but it’s also the truth. I’m constantly surrounded by people, yet I’m completely isolated. What I’m trying to say is that I understand what you meant about the loneliness getting to you.”

  “Are you always this open with women?”

  When it had come to the women he knew he would kill, he’d always been honest. And why not? The dead couldn’t speak, reveal his secrets. Except, he didn’t want Ivy to die. Not yet. Once again, she was draining him of something. Infecting him with a poison that had his thoughts churning in confusing directions, contaminating him with new emotions, ones he hadn’t known he possessed, and which were chiseling away at his concrete heart.

  “I told you, I don’t lie,” he said.

  “You know that’s not what I meant.”

  Since he’d been honest to this point, and he wanted her to keep draining and infecting him, he might as well tell her the truth. Besides, her reaction would be a good indicator as to whether she too liked a little crazy in her life.

  “If you’re askin
g have I told another woman this, the answer is no. I have yet to meet anyone worth trusting enough.”

  “And since I’m worthy enough to belong to you, you’ve decided to expose your deep inner thoughts.”

  “Am I detecting sarcasm?” he asked, turned on by the challenge in her eyes and tone. Women didn’t challenge him. They spread their legs simply because he ordered it. “Do you believe I’ve been judging you and trying to decide what you deserve to know about me?”

  “I don’t know what to think right now. About either one of us. I’ve been saying things I’d never say three months into a relationship, let alone on a first date. It’s weird. One look from you and I felt as if someone had slipped me the sweetest drug. Everything around me has fallen away, and I’m consumed by this strange urge to be reckless. I shouldn’t feel anything for you. We just met and I shouldn’t be saying the things I have, but I can’t control my mouth. I want you to know what I’m thinking and feeling. I want to shock you and see how far I can push until you run.”

  Considering the number of men and women he’d killed, there was nothing she could say or do to surprise him. “I want you to be reckless and never hold back with me.” Leaning closer, he brushed his lips along her cheek before moving them near her ear. “I want you to always tell me what you’re thinking and feeling. Try shocking me, if you want, but I won’t run. Neither will you. I’ll make sure of it.”

  Her breath quickened as he pressed his lips against her neck. “Are you telling me I can never leave you?”

  This was the point where he should fabricate a line to make himself sound less…possessive. Psychotic. But he’d told her he wouldn’t lie. “As far as I’m concerned, only death will separate us.”

  Chapter 5