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 been 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.