Clutching it like a lifeline, she dialed the number quickly before she talked herself out of it. She hoped he’d meant what he’d said.

“Quentin.” The voice was clipped.

Katie swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. “James…”

“Katie, is that you?” The voice was more concerned now. Warm and caring.

Tears flowed freely down her face. “I’m sorry to bother you.” She sniffed and scrubbed at her tears.

“Where are you?” She could hear the rustling sound of clothes being pulled on as he spoke.

“I’m at a diner just down the road from Cain’s. I left my purse at his place and I’m so cold, James.”

She could hear the worry in his voice as he spoke. “Give me the number of the phone you’re calling from.” He wrote down the number as she read it off the phone. “Hang up and I’ll call you back on my cell phone.”

Reluctantly, she replaced the receiver and a few seconds later it rang and she grabbed it on the first ring. Quentin kept her on the line talking until he pulled up in front of the diner. Hurrying inside, he pried the phone from her hand and hung it up. Bustling her into the car, he drove her home, watching her worriedly, but not asking any questions.

He helped Katie out of the car when they reached her apartment and he walked her up the stairs. Katie was grateful that she carried her keys in her coat pocket and not her purse, or she would have had no choice but to call Lucas to get his spare one. When she unlocked the door she turned to face James.

“Thank you.” She didn’t know what else to say. She really looked at him for the first time since he’d picked her up at the diner and realized that his coat wasn’t buttoned properly and his hair was all standing on end. He’d literally hauled himself out of bed and ran to help her.

He just gave her a sad smile and patted her on the arm. “Anything I can do to help…” He trailed off. “If you want to talk any time, I’m a good listener.”

Katie stood on her toes and kissed his cheek and was surprised when he colored. “You’re a good friend.” She turned and entered her apartment. Giving him one last wave as she closed the door, she stopped when he started to speak again.

“Don’t give up on him, Katie.” There was a plea in his voice.

“It’s the other way around. He’s given up on me.” With that, she closed the door and locked it. Leaning against it, she waited until his footsteps faded and she knew she was alone.

Stumbling down the hall, she pulled off her clothes and pulled on her warmest nightgown and a thick pair of socks before falling into bed. Pulling all the blankets over her, and tucking them in tight, she longed for the forgetfulness of sleep.

The phone rang shrilly next to the bed and she stared at it, afraid to move. It continued to ring and she counted them all the way to fifteen before they finally stopped. Reaching over she pulled the plug out of the phone and let it drop to the floor. Tunneling under the covers once again, she reached for, and finally found, peace as sleep overtook her.

Chapter Twelve

Katie lay in bed and stared at the wall. It seemed wrong somehow that the sun was shining bright outside. She could hear the sounds of traffic as people started their day. The truth of the matter was that, even when your heart was broken, life did indeed go on whether you wanted it to or not. Katie wanted to stay in bed, but she really needed to go to the bathroom.

Throwing back the covers, she stumbled across the hall and made quick use of the facilities. After washing her hands, she scrubbed her face with cold water and brushed her teeth. Feeling marginally better, she ran a brush through her hair and sized herself up in the mirror over the sink. Her eyes were bloodshot and she looked a little pale, but other than that, she looked normal. Somehow, she’d expected her inner turmoil to be reflected on her face, but surprisingly enough, she looked the same as she always did.

Back in her bedroom, she pulled off her sleepwear and dressed in a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a favorite pullover. Comfort was the order of the day. She tossed the covers over the bed, but didn’t bother to make it properly. There was no point, as she’d probably be crawling back into it later for a nap.

She wasn’t hungry, but she was incredibly thirsty. A glass of cold orange juice was exactly what she needed. Padding to the kitchen on stocking feet, she poured herself a glass of juice and drank it down in one long gulp. Filling the glass again, she tossed the empty container in her recycle bin, picked up her glass, and shuffled into the living room and plopped down on the sofa.

Katie knew she was purposely avoiding all thought of Cain. The last few days had been an emotional roller coaster and right now all she wanted was peace. Tipping her head back to rest on the back of the sofa, she closed her eyes and held the glass in her two hands.

She tried to relax, but she remained tense. The paintings lined up against the wall were haunting her with their images of Cain. Cain as an illusive shadow, an image in the dark, and finally, in the last one, reaching into the light. The empty canvas on her easel was calling to her for completion.

Opening her eyes, she allowed them to gently graze over the finished paintings. Cain’s aloneness was evident in the pictures. He was like some wild animal that longed for comfort, but snapped and snarled at anyone who dared to approach. She swallowed the lump in her throat. Somehow, in spite of his secretive ways, he had slipped past her defenses and into her heart. She sensed that here was a kindred spirit with even more barriers than herself. But it was now obvious that she wasn’t the right woman to break down his walls, to reach the man beneath.

Katie took another sip of juice and enjoyed the sensation as the cold, tangy liquid glided down her throat. Resolutely, she plunked the glass on the coffee table, came to her feet, and approached the blank canvas.

Readjusting the easel to catch the best light, she picked up a pencil and began to sketch. As she worked, she got faster and faster until she had the basic shape of the picture she wanted to paint. Standing back, she looked it over carefully. Satisfied, she began to pick and choose colors, squirting them onto her palate. Then, selecting a brush, she began to paint.

As it always did, time lost all meaning as she painted. Her art had always been her way of expressing herself and now she needed that release more than she ever had in her entire life. Every emotion, every feeling, every tear shed, was poured into the creation of her latest work.

She was placing the final brushstrokes when a pounding disturbed her on her front door. Startled, her hand jerked and she stared critically at her work to make sure that she hadn’t smeared any paint. Ignoring the continued pounding on the front door, she laid down her brush and stepped back from the easel to get a better perspective on the canvas. It was all there in front of her. She felt open and vulnerable, but in some way she felt a little bit better. The painting had been cathartic, a way of purging the worst of the pain and sorrow.

The sound of a key turning in her lock finally broke the spell the picture had cast upon her. She hurried to the door and reached it just as it swung open. Lucas stepped inside, his face set in hard, angry lines. Closing the door behind him, he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her.

“Where the hell have you been?” He stood there as unmoving as a mountain, and his solid presence reassured her as nothing else could.

Katie leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

“Worry.” Lucas unlocked his arms and ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath. “Katie, I’ve been calling all day long. It’s almost dinnertime and you promised you’d call me. Why didn’t you answer your damn phone?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I unplugged it last night after I got home and I was working today and forgot to plug it back in…” she trailed off as his attention was drawn from her to the easel in the corner.

Slowly, he walked to the other side of the room. He stood there with his hands on his hips and just stared at her painting. Then he looked at the other three finished works and then back to her latest one. He said nothing for the longest time and she began to fidget.

“You love him, don’t you?” It was more a statement than a question, but she answered him anyway.

“Yes, I do.” Going over to join him, she wrapped one arm around his waist and he automatically adjusted his body so that she was sheltered under his arm. “But he’s not ready to love anyone. He may never be ready.”

“I’m sorry, Katie.” His voice was low, the sentiment heartfelt.

“Me too.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “But life goes on and I don’t regret one minute I spent with him. He brought me back to life when I hadn’t even realized I’d been sleepwalking through my own life. For that fact alone, I’ll always love him.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Katie looked at the four paintings and came to a decision. “I left my purse at Cain’s home last night when I… left. Would you go and get it for me? I’m not ready to see him right now.”

Lucas gave her a reassuring squeeze before releasing her. “Sure, honey, I’ll go right now. What’s the address?” He was already starting for the door as he spoke.

“Lucas.” The soft plea in her voice stopped him. “Will you do something else for me?”

He braced himself as if he knew her request was something he wasn’t particularly going to enjoy. “Yeah.”

“Will you take these paintings to him?” Katie licked her dry lips. “Tell him… tell him that they’re a gift from me.”