Fatigue washed through her. She did not have the energy for yet another fight this evening.
There was time enough tomorrow. When the sun was up and their stomachs were full of her special blueberry buttermilk pancakes, the events of today could be discussed with calmness. Maybe she’d even joke about it with Nick to take the sting away.
Her fingers slid from the doorknob and she walked slowly to her own room.
She shed her clothes and threw on a light cotton nightgown in white with pale blue trim. Her breasts swayed heavily under the gown as she carried her overnight bag into the bathroom.
It took only minutes to get ready for bed. Most of her eye makeup had come off as a result of her weeping. She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her blond hair, always wavy and full, was tangled around her face. Her eyes, puffy. Her skin, drawn.
This was not the way she wanted to live her life.
She took out her contacts, tossing them in the garbage, and caught her reflection in the mirror again.
Her face was satisfyingly blurred.
10
Friday, 10:35 p.m.
The light breeze stirred the tendrils by Kate’s ears, tickling her neck. She stood on the curb outside the Shoe, waiting to flag a cab. It wasn’t cold, but she shivered. Every nerve was on edge, her body suffused with the heat of her reaction to Curtis. Now, away from him, the breeze played with her nerve endings.
A cab cruised down the street. She raised her hand, then lowered it. The cab’s light was off. She exhaled in frustration. All the taxis were full by the time they reached her; she’d need to go back to the corner where she’d been dropped off.
She walked down the sidewalk, eager to get home and see Alaska. At least she had one male who was always happy to see her, always waiting for her.
“Let me see you home,” Curtis said, placing a hand on her arm. She jumped. And cursed herself.
“Sorry, did I startle you?”
Kate shook her head, flashing him a quick smile. “No. I’m fine.” But she shivered again.
He slid his hand up to her elbow. His grip was sure, his palm warm. She allowed her body to lean toward his. Her skin buzzed. Kind of like her head. She’d drunk a lot of wine tonight. Too much. “Feel better?”
“Yes.” The word breathed between her lips.
He didn’t say anything else, but his fingers danced down to her wrist, caressing the delicate skin that was screaming in a very indelicate way under his touch.
Curtis waved at an empty taxi. He held the door open for her, letting her slide in, then eased his long frame right next to hers. His arm stretched along the back of the seat. Kate gave her address to the cabbie.
They drove in silence, but Kate’s body was talking to her the whole while.
Please. Please let me do this.
Please let me forget.
The cab pulled into her driveway. Curtis paid the driver, and followed Kate up her darkened walkway.
Her breath paused in her throat.
The next move was up to her.
Her body screamed, do it.
Her mind said, you’re a fool.
Did she dare?
Curtis stopped on the porch. Waiting.
She turned. “I had a lot of fun.”
He smiled. The dimple. Oh, the dimple.
“Me, too.” His fingers brushed a wisp of hair from her face. The gesture reminded her of Randall and her heart froze.
She raised her chin. Not anymore, Randall Barrett. Not after the way you’ve avoided me. Not after the way you walked out of that elevator.
She swayed toward Curtis. His hand cupped her cheek. Her eyes drifted shut and she waited for sensation to fill all the empty spaces. All the spaces Ethan had stormed out of, all the spaces Craig Peters had torn open, all the spaces her own loneliness had left destitute for too long.
It had been too long.
Much, much too long.
Her lips parted, ready for the taste of this man who now pulled her tighter against him.
His lips found hers. They were warm, searching, hungry.
Her hand crept up his neck, savoring the hard columns of muscle and tendon. His stubble was soft and yet bristly at the same time.
He was man.
Boy, he was man.
And right now, all she wanted was a man to fill her up from the inside out and make her forget.
What was so wrong with that?
She ran her hands over his shoulders. Muscle, taut with need, tensed at her caress. She enjoyed her power over Curtis. She smoothed her palms down his chest. His skin burned through the cotton of his shirt, his heart thudding under her hand.
He buried his face in her neck. “May I come in?” he breathed. His teeth caught her earlobe. “I promise I won’t snore.” His heart pounded, strong, urgent. Alive under her hand.
There was nothing she wanted more than to feel his body in hers. To feel his rhythm in her blood. To have him take over her body and leave no room for anyone else.
She would not think about Tuesday morning.
She would live the moment.
And goddamn it, she would enjoy it.
She took his hand and curved it around her hips while she fumbled open her purse. Her fingers shook, then clasped the cool metal of her key.
Alaska padded to the door. He eyed Curtis, sniffing the proffered hand. Curtis gave him a scratch on the ears.
The normalcy of the gesture snapped Kate out of her passion-induced fog. She took a step away, heart thudding, mind veering between desire and fear.
Curtis grasped her hips. “Kate, don’t change your mind now.” How did he know what she was thinking? She stared into his eyes. Gray, like the fog that swept over the water. But clear. Strange. Randall Barrett’s eyes were so sharp you’d think you could see straight through them, but they deflected any attempts to see beneath the brilliant surface.
Curtis’ mouth swept the curve of her jaw. “It’ll be good. I promise.” He caught her lips with his and kissed her.
Desire burned deep in her. But it wasn’t the promise of what she would enjoy that made her kiss him back. It was the knowledge of what she wouldn’t have to endure—another night of facing her bed. Alone.
She caught his lower lip in her teeth, running her hands over his chest. He groaned. Her fingers tugged his shirt loose from his waistband. With a swiftness that left her gasping, he scooped her up in his arms.
“Lead the way, my lady,” he whispered. It could have been a corny line, but it wasn’t. Kate wrapped her arms around his neck and let him carry her upstairs. He held her tight against his body, each step jostling her breast against his chest.
When they reached her bedroom, he lowered her onto the bed. Shadows hung from the corners. Kate closed her eyes. She would not think of the room. She would not think of the doors. She would not think of the secret staircase with the exit right next to her bedroom.
She inched her dress with great deliberation up her legs. Curtis’ eyes raked her body. When the hem reached her upper thighs, he leaned down and ran his hand over her leg.
“You are so hot.” He grasped the strap of her dress and tugged it over her shoulder.
Kate watched him, mesmerized by the intensity of his eyes as they swept over the swell of cleavage he had just exposed.
A loud, insistent scratching on her bedroom door made Curtis groan. “Your dog has impeccable timing.”
“Alaska, go away!” She caressed Curtis’ arm. “Sorry, he always sleeps with me.”
“He’s obviously a very intelligent dog.”
Alaska scratched again. “No, Alaska,” Kate called.
They waited, like two guilty teenagers caught in the act, only relaxing when they heard Alaska pad back downstairs. It was funny, but Kate also felt a bit sad. Alaska had been the only male sleeping with her since she ended things with Ethan.
“Now, where were we?” Curtis smiled down at her.
She exhaled slowly.
Alaska would just ha
ve to get used to sleeping in his crate. She couldn’t become a nun to please her dog.
She tossed her dress on the floor.
Curtis’ eyes traced every swell, every curve, every dip of her body, taking in the lacy bra. The sliver of panties. He planted his arms on either side of her. She gave him a playful push. “Not so fast. Your turn.”
He smiled. A slow smile that teased the dimple in his cheek. His shirt was unbuttoned and thrown on the floor in a matter of seconds, revealing a torso that could grace Men’s Health.
Kate stared. He was so strong. So muscular. She knew exactly how much pressure she would need to drive a scalpel between the muscle and bone of his chest.
The memory had slipped into her mind on stealth feet and sliced through her desire. She had killed a man. Roughly the same age, roughly the same build as the man before her. She swallowed.
Curtis disposed of his pants just as quickly and lay down next to her in his boxers. The fine fabric did nothing to disguise his arousal.
His fingers traced the lace edging her bra. “So pretty. I knew there was a sexy woman under that suit,” he murmured. His hand curved over the swell of her breast. Kate tried to relax.
But his hands, so close to her exposed throat, reminded her of someone else’s hands. Gripping her throat with a ferocity that was fueled by madness and bloodlust.
She flattened her palms on Curtis’ back, focusing on the heat of his skin, the smooth hardness of muscles rippling under her touch. His mouth found hers.
She tensed. He buried his face in her neck. His breath was moist on her skin. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She pulled his face up to hers. Her lips grazed his jaw. “Keep going.”
“Your wish is my command.” He grinned and lowered his head to her chest, his stubble softly scratching. His mouth traced a path down her abdomen, down to the warmth between her thighs.
Kate closed her eyes and tried to focus on the pleasure he was giving her. But despite his skill and obvious desire to please her, her mind refused to engage in what her body urged her to do.
Not for the first time in her life, she faked it. In fact, she’d pretty well faked it all through university. Ethan had been the first to dig deep enough through her barriers to reveal the pleasures of passion. And look where that got her…
Now, as she lay under Curtis, she wondered if she’d ever experience it again. She closed her eyes and let Curtis satisfy his own need. He’d certainly earned it. Within minutes, he rolled off her, sated and gasping for breath.
“That was amazing,” he murmured. He pulled Kate into the crook of his arm. His skin was slightly damp, with a not unpleasant tang.
Kate listened to his heartbeat under her ear. She was a fraud in more ways than one. She’d just pretended to enjoy sex. And with a man she barely knew.
How in the world had her love life come to this?
She stared at the darkness beyond Curtis’ shoulder.
She knew how.
Craig Peters had boxed her into a corner of shadows and fear. She’d won the battle in May when she killed him. But he was winning the war on her mind. After months of nightmares pounding at her reserves, she was ready to do pretty well anything to keep Craig Peters out of her bedroom.
And really, she could do worse. Curtis was an attractive man and a considerate lover.
His breathing slowed. Soft snores filled her ear.
She lay in the dark, her hand spread on his chest. She’d achieved what she set out to do—she had a warm body to keep her safe tonight.
But although her flesh was hot against his, the warmth did not go any deeper.
She couldn’t wait for morning to come.
She couldn’t wait to say goodbye to her lover.
Her shoulder became cramped. She eased herself out of bed and tiptoed to the bathroom. When she returned, she hesitated by her bed.
A headache had formed in her right temple. It throbbed a beat of recrimination. Man, she was so screwed up. She wanted to be happy. She wanted to enjoy all the good things that were coming her way.
Curtis Carey had been wrapped up in a very nice package. And had had an unexpectedly soft center.
And she was unable to enjoy it.
Familiar footsteps padded down the hall. Alaska nosed her knee. She wished she could just curl up on the bed with him and send Curtis home.
How perverse could she be?
A loud shout of laughter followed by excited yelling jarred the silence. A whiff of marijuana drifted in through her window. The student flat two doors over. Kate glanced at the neon dial of her alarm clock. It was 11:58. She prayed the party would head downtown to the bars.
Her mind jumped ahead to Tuesday morning, when she would be facing Curtis Carey and his client at a second discovery hearing.
How could she sit there and pretend nothing had happened? He had stroked her body, felt her desire. Would he exchange secret smiles with her? Would she be seduced by his dimple and regret it yet again? She had an awful feeling Curtis would demand more than she was willing to give.
Music throbbed through her walls.
Curtis snored softly. Alaska jumped onto the bed, sniffing the alien human that sprawled amongst her sheets. He gave her a look that clearly suggested she’d made a big mistake.
It was no use. She would not be able to sleep tonight.
Another hoot of laughter mocked her.
Giving Alaska a dirty look, she stalked to the bathroom and yanked open the medicine cabinet.
There was an assortment of pills, offered like party favors when she was discharged from the hospital in April. Some of the medications had been prescribed for pain, some prescribed to manage the infection of her leg wound. And one bottle had been prescribed for the final trauma that had not healed itself.
That had, in fact, worsened as the months went on.
She grabbed the bottle, twisted open the cap, and swallowed the little blue pill before she could second-guess herself.
The doctor had told her it was okay to use the sleeping pills occasionally.
And if this wasn’t an occasion to put her mind to sleep, she didn’t know what was.
She returned to her bed, her body an inch from the edge, every nerve vibrating, every muscle on alert, waiting for sleep to dull the pictures in her head.
11
Friday, 11:59 p.m.
As the clock neared midnight, Elise buried her face in her pillow.
The sleeping pill was calling her now. She cursed Jamie for tempting her. Just for tonight, Elise thought. If I could get just one good night’s sleep, I’d be able to handle everything tomorrow.
Just tonight.
She’d really been trying to stop taking them. The last sleepwalking episode had freaked her out. But then Randall came in June and it tipped her over the edge. The anxiety from the pregnancy, the stress from the abortion, the trauma afterward—her body refused to give her rest.
And the past two nights had been worse than usual. She’d lain awake in roadside hotels, worrying about Nick, stressing about Randall’s reaction to Nick’s decision not to go on the trip, and dreading the moment she’d see her ex-husband face-to-face again.
It had been as bad as she feared.
No, it had been worse.
The scorn, the contempt, the pure anger that had been directed at her.
She needed sleep to deal with this. And the way her brain was wound up right now, she doubted she’d get any tonight.
She threw back the covers and strode into the bathroom, swallowing a pill before she could change her mind.
It wouldn’t take long for it to work. She lay down on the mattress. The pillow cushioned her head. Which was already feeling calmer. Lighter. Nicely blurring all the unpleasantness that lurked behind her eyes.
She’d made the right decision.
She exhaled softly, curling her palm into her cheek.
Tomorrow would be a better day, she thought.
Sleep claimed her.
&
nbsp; An hour later, so would death.
12
Saturday, 1:15 a.m.
The night was black. Cold and wintry. Yet a chill dampness in the air foretold spring.
She shivered and slid another foot forward, testing the ice.
It was thick. Black as the night that surrounded her. And mushy on the surface. That’s what scared her.
Spring was coming. Warmer water ran under the ice, eroding it from the inside out. She knew that, but she couldn’t make anyone understand.
They told her to keep going.
She looked around, panicked.
She couldn’t see the edges of the lake. From every direction, black ice stretched into the darkness.
The group she’d followed was barely visible. The others were all ahead of her. She was the last one.
No one waited for her.
“It’s not safe!” she called into the night. “Come back!”
No one replied.
She needed to catch up.
She did not want to be left alone.
She put another foot forward. Her boot sank into the mush.
She peered down at it. Was it cracking?
She looked ahead to the others, about to call one more time. But her voice stopped in her throat.
Moonlight shone on a long pool of black water. It stretched in the distance. She craned her head. Was it just a layer of water skimming the ice?
Or was it open water?
She threw a desperate look behind her.
Blackness stretched into infinity. No shoreline visible. She could no longer sense the thick trees that had been an ominous, dark presence at her back. When had they disappeared?
She needed to retrace her steps.
But to where? It had all gone.
There was just her and the dark and the ice.
And under it, cold, black water.
It hunkered under her feet, still, expectant.
Panic erupted in a torrent of cold chills.
Stop shaking. Stand still.
She hugged her arms.
A low, primeval groan vibrated through the soles of her boots, echoing across the lake.
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