Awakening Desires: Katie's Art of Seduction

by N. J. Walters

  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.

  Toweling off swiftly, she dropped the towel and pulled open her dresser drawer. Grabbing clean underwear, she tugged on her panties and then her bra. Socks, jeans and a long-sleeved blue cotton shirt followed. She snatched up the wet towel and hung it in the bathroom, while she paused long enough to throw her nightgown in the wicker hamper, brush her teeth and use the facilities.

  Katie glanced at the clock as she grabbed her boots by the front door and tugged them on. Ten minutes since she’d first looked. She still had twenty minutes until the shop opened. If she hurried, she could get to work in ten minutes and get the coffee started before the regular customers started to arrive. She grabbed her faithful purple jacket, which hung on a hook by the front door, slung her purse over her shoulder and grabbed the keys out of her coat pocket. The white envelope crinkled in her pocket. “Damn it,” she swore. She’d actually forgotten about the money. The bank would have to wait until later today as she had no time to stop this morning.

  Out of habit, she glanced around the apartment to make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. As she scanned the room, her eyes hit the painting on the easel. She froze. As if tugged by some invisible string, her body edged towards the picture until she was standing right in front of it. It was only then that she realized what she’d painted.

  The shadows and darkness of the night were illuminated with the faint light of the streetlamps. The figure of a man could be seen in the shadows. The man was huge and should have been menacing, but was somehow protective instead. The large, gray hound sat at his feet, waiting patiently for the man. Both man and dog were watching her from the darkness. Her hand reached out to touch him.

  Katie yanked her hand away when she realized what she was doing. Reluctantly, she pulled her gaze away from the dark, compelling stranger. Another quick glance at the clock informed her that she’d wasted three minutes she didn’t have to spare. “Katie, get moving,” she muttered to herself as she hurried out the door. She twisted the doorknob twice to make sure it was locked behind her and hurried down the three flights of stairs to the street below. The painting was almost forgotten as she raced down the street. But it was there in the apartment. Waiting for her return.

  Chapter Three

  “You’re the girl from the picture.”

  It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact. Katie smiled at the woman sitting at the small table by the window. A few people had recognized her from the painting that had hung in the window for several weeks, but not many. “Yes, I am.” Katie placed a small menu in front of the woman.

  “Do you know the artist?”

  Katie looked more closely at the older lady. Definitely in her fifties, but she was more chic than grandmotherly. Definitely a businesswoman. Her hair was pure white, but it was styled in classic chignon. Her makeup understated. A cream-colored turtleneck sweater offset the rich plum of her suit. Discrete gold hoops adorned her ears. She was a picture of elegance.

  “I know the artist,” Katie answered. “Would you like something to drink, or would you like to order?”

  The woman threw back her head and laughed. The unrestrained laughter made Katie smile in spite of herself.

  “My dear, I appreciate a woman who plays her cards close to her chest, but you have nothing to fear from me.” She was still chuckling when she reached into her slim, black leather bag, withdrew a vellum card with crisp black font, and handed it to Katie.

  The card listed her name as Martha Jones and gave phone, fax, and e-mail address. The name was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. “Do I know you?”

  “We’ve never met, but I purchased the painting from Mr. Squires.” She waited for a moment and then continued. “My employer is hoping to purchase more and would like to meet the artist.”

  “Miss. Can I get a café mocha to go?” The male voice startled Katie and she quickly glanced around. She was appalled to see the line up at the counter. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Katie scurried off before Ms. Jones could answer.

  “I’ll wait,” Martha spoke softly as she settled back to watch the young woman work.

  “I’m so sorry. What can I get you?” Katie’s full attention was on the customer waiting first in line at the counter. For the next fifteen minutes, Katie filled all the orders cheerfully and competently. She’d caught Judy’s eye and sent the young waitress to take Ms. Jones’s order.

  Katie was exhausted but she still summoned a smile as she bagged up two fudge brownies for a woman and her friend who’d just finished lunch. “Keep the change,” the woman said as she handed Katie four one-dollar bills to pay for her two-fifty order.

  “Thank you. Please come again.” The response was automatic.

  “We will. This place is great,” the other woman replied as she took the bag of brownies and headed for the door. Her friend hurried after her, arguing good-naturedly that she would carry the cookies.

  Katie pulled the tip jar from underneath the counter. It had been a good lunch crowd, and she and Judy would do well today. Lucas’s policy was that whatever waitresses worked the shift split the tips. This was done daily and usually amounted to an extra five to thirty dollars a day each, depending on the crowd.

  Shifting her weight to one side, Katie changed the money in the tip jar into bills and counted them into two piles. She managed a tired smile for Judy as she swung out of the kitchen with a tray of clean mugs and plates to be stored behind the counter. “Twelve bucks apiece. Not a bad day.”

  Judy tucked the money into her jeans pocket and tugged her crisp white apron with the store logo back into place. She gave her head a jerk towards the window making her short blonde ponytail bounce. “That woman is still waiting.”

  “I forgot all about her.” She glanced at the table and Ms. Jones smiled back at her. Knowing she had no choice, Katie piled two strawberry tarts, utensils, a fresh mug and the pot of coffee onto a tray and headed over to the table.

  “I haven’t had breakfast or lunch today.” Katie poured fresh coffee for Ms. Jones and placed one of the tarts in front of her. “These are the best, Ms. Jones,” she added as she handed her a fork.

  “Please, call me Martha. And by all means eat. After all, I’m interrupting your day.”

  Katie slid into the chair across from her and poured herself a cup of coffee. She took her time, added sugar and stirred slowly as she tried to gather her tired wits about her.

  Scooping up a bite of the strawberry tart, she savored the taste as she chewed. She was aware of Judy in the background, clearing dishes and cleaning tables, but she was too tired to feel guilty. Taking a fortifying sip of coffee she addressed the mysterious Martha.

  “What do you want to know about the artist?”

  Martha dabbed at her mouth with the napkin. Katie noted that the strawberry tart was almost gone. Martha noted her gaze and laughed. “It’s very good. I’m afraid I have a sweet tooth and couldn’t resist.” She leaned forward and stuck out her hand. “You know my name, but I’m afraid I don’t know yours.”

  Katie was startled
for a moment and then wiped her hand in her apron before shaking Martha’s hand. “Katie Wallace.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Katie. As I said, I recognized you from the painting immediately. It’s a wonderful likeness of you.”

  “Thank you,” Katie answered, as Martha seemed to be waiting for some response from her.

  “You must know that artist well?”

  “Yes.”

  Martha seemed impatient for the first time. “Is the identity of the artist such a big secret? My employer paid good money for that painting and is prepared to pay well if the artist has more that appeal to him.”

  “Then why doesn’t your employer come himself?” Katie was surprised by her own audacity.

  A reluctant smile crossed Martha’s lips. “Touché, my dear.”

  Katie rubbed her hand across her forehead. The strains of the light pop music in the background only added to her already pounding headache. Usually, she enjoyed the radio, but after working all day on no sleep, it was more irritating than soothing. She was in no mood to banter with the stranger sitting across from her.

  “Look, that painting was sold without the artist’s consent or knowledge.” Katie held up her hand to stop Martha from speaking.

  “The artist won’t make any trouble, but look at it this way. You have an artist who has never shown any work professionally, doesn’t know if they’re ready to do so yet, and suddenly has an anonymous man with lots of money interested in the work. In this day and age, it’s not smart to give away too much information to someone you don’t know. This wasn’t a professionally brokered deal from a gallery.” Katie took another sip of coffee to help steady herself. “If he wants to meet the artist he’ll have to come here.”

  “That’s impossible.” Martha sat up straight, all signs of her smile gone. She was all business now.

  “Why?” Katie was just as blunt.

  “Mr. Benjamin rarely sees anyone.”

  “He’ll see me if he wants to learn who the artist is.” Katie rose from the table and piled the empty dishes and coffeepot back onto the tray. “Lunch is on me,” Katie added as she picked up the tray. “I’m sorry you wasted your time.”

  “It was no waste at all.” Martha stood and picked up her coat and purse. “I suspect we’ll meet again.”

  Katie watched the older woman leave. Unable to stop herself, she yawned. She tightened her grip on the tray to keep from dropping it. Praying for some extra energy, she hauled the tray into the kitchen.

  For the last year, Lucas had allowed her to work from seven in the morning until six closing, four days a week. That gave her a full week’s pay, but allowed her to have three days to paint or to take weekend art seminars. Since their customers were mainly from the surrounding business district, they were busier during the week than on Saturday. Lucas closed the shop on Sundays.

  Today was Wednesday and she still had one day until the end of her workweek. Depositing her tray on the counter, she closed her eyes and allowed her fatigue to wash over her. She was no good to anyone feeling as she did. The lunch rush was over for today. It was time to go home. She made a mental note to stop at the bank on the way home and deposit the large wad of cash still sitting in her coat pocket. Lucas would let her go early just this once.

  Katie stifled a yawn as she tugged on her coat, glad that it was finally Thursday evening. Lucas had left at three for a dentist’s appointment, so she didn’t have to deal with his scolding for working late. She’d felt guilty over leaving early yesterday, so she’d stuck around after closing and done some extra work.

  Taking one last glance around the shop, she set the security lights and locked the door behind her, tugging on it twice to make sure it was secure. She’d left a note on the counter in the kitchen, letting Lucas know she’d cleaned the refrigerators and the ovens. Katie figured by the time she came back to work on Monday, he’d no longer be in the mood to scold her.

  Hoisting her bag higher on her shoulder, she started for home. She pulled her purple leather gloves out of her pockets, and tugged them onto her hands. She loved the color, but never would have spent the money on something so impractical. Lucas had given them to her for Christmas, and wearing them always made her smile.

  She took a deep breath. The night air was crisp and clear, but tainted by the unmistakable odors of the city. Underlying smells of exhaust fumes and garbage were still there, but the winter wind beat them back until they were only a hint in the air. It was much better than the stifling heat of the summer when the less-than-pleasant smells seemed to stick to every breath you took. It had been a long, strange week and Katie was actually looking forward to doing normal things this weekend, like laundry and housecleaning.

  Mentally organizing her to-do-list in her head, Katie was absorbed in her thoughts and not paying her usual attention to her surroundings. Something struck her hand, jolting her out of her reverie.

  Startled, she jumped back and swung hard. She spun around, meeting nothing but air. Taking a quick survey of her surroundings, she noticed the dog from the night before sitting calmly in front of her looking bemused at her paranoid actions.

  Katie’s heart was pounding in her chest, but her relief was so great that she started to laugh. Her laughter had a hysterical edge to it that she was unable to suppress. The dog casually licked his front paw and glanced at her as if to ask her what was so funny.

  Leaning down she confronted her new friend. “You scared me,” she admonished even as she reached out her hand to scratch the dog under the chin.

  “We didn’t mean to scare you.” The voice was low and deep and came from the shadows to the right of the building. “We hope you’ll accept our apology.” Katie backed towards the streetlight and glanced around for help.

  “You wanted to meet me,” he added quickly. “My name is Cain Benjamin.”

  Katie racked her brain, trying to remember why that name was familiar. Just as she made the connection a low, rough laugh came from the waiting man. “Obviously, I overestimated your eagerness to meet me.”

  Katie felt herself blush, flustered by his sudden appearance. Not wanting to appear rude, she stuck out her hand. “Please to meet you. I’m Katie Wallace.”

  The man in the shadows hesitated. Katie waited until the moment stretched past what was socially acceptable. Feeling awkward, she dropped her hand back to her side and stuffed it in her pocket. The dog beside her started to whine and shuffle back and forth from her to the man in the shadow as if sensing their agitation.

  A deep sigh came from the shadows. “I’m not pleasant to look at, Ms. Wallace.” As he spoke, he moved from the shelter of the building.

  Katie looked up. Way up. She stood frozen to the spot by the sheer size of him. He was dressed normally enough in boots, jeans and a leather jacket, but there was nothing else normal about him. She’d never seen a man as tall or as massively built as the one standing in front of her. The collar was turned up on his coat and his long black hair hung over the left side of his face, partially shielding it from view. A black patch covered his left eye, its thin strap bisecting his forehead before disappearing into his hair.

  He moved forwardly slowly as if trying not to scare her. She assured herself that any sane woman would be terrified of this tall stranger. Yet, for some unknown reason, she was not. What that said about her, she didn’t want to speculate. Her usual common sense had disappeared, replaced with a growing fascination about the man in front of her.

  He came to a stop a few paces from her, allowing her space. Not crowding her. She appreciated that small kindness. This was a man who knew he was intimidating and was trying his best to make her comfortable with his presence. She could have told him that he was wasting his time.

  Katie didn’t think anyone could ever be comfortable in this man’s company. He radiated such a powerful magnetism that attracted her even as it warned that this was a man who would not be controlled. His right eye, the one she could see, was pale green and had a steady patient look in
it.

  Gathering her courage, Katie swallowed the lump in her throat and stuck out her hand once again. “It’s good to meet you, Mr. Benjamin.”

  His large hand closed carefully around hers. It disappeared for a moment, engulfed by the sheer size of his. He held her hand so long that she began to get nervous and tugged on his grip. Her hand was immediately released. “Call me Cain. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Katie. Martha told me that I’d like you.”

  The wolfhound bumped impatiently against Cain and then sat in front of Katie. “And you’ve already met Gabriel.”

  “You followed me home the other night.” Katie glared at Cain. “You had no right to scare me like that.”

  Cain stuck his hands in his jacket pockets, but the move made him only slightly less threatening. “I didn’t mean to follow you. I was walking by Coffee Breaks to see if there was another painting in the window. Instead, I saw you.” He gave a small self-deprecating laugh. “I will admit that I bought the painting as much for the subject as the artist’s skill. You’re beautiful.”

  Katie was speechless. She’d never thought of herself as beautiful before. That someone would spend that much money on a picture because she was the subject was mind-boggling. And scary.

  As if reading her mind, he continued to speak. “I’m not a stalker, Katie. Just a man who appreciates beauty in all forms. I would never harm you.”

  Strangely enough, Katie believed him, despite every instinct she had developed after years of city living. The steady look in his eye and the way he held himself away from her told her that she had nothing to fear from him.

  She noticed the way that he kept his right side towards her and his left side angled away as if it was his natural way of standing. The left side of his face was in shadows so she studied the other side, which was the epitome of strength. His cheekbone was high and his square chin looked like it was chiseled from stone. His lips were full and his eyebrow a slash of black against his pale complexion.