As a result, Katie had never had time to make close female friends. What few friends she had made had moved away to go to college and they’d lost touch. Since her grandmother died three years ago of a sudden heart attack, Katie had lived alone.

Well, almost. There’d been a brief six-month period where she’d had a live-in boyfriend. Kent. She rarely thought of him anymore. The only excuse she gave herself was that she was susceptible to his superficial good looks and charm so soon after her grandmother’s death.

Kent had swept her off her feet with his boyish charm and classic good looks. With his windswept brown hair and his blue eyes, he was model perfect, and in fact had worked occasionally as a model. Very occasionally. Usually, he was content to stay home and live off her paycheck. She couldn’t believe she’d let him sponge off her for six whole months. But with Kent, the big job was always just around the corner.

She really had Lucas to thank for opening her eyes. Lucas had walked her home late one evening from work. She hadn’t even been through the front door when Kent had started yelling at her for not being home on time. He was furious that she hadn’t been there to make his supper, and furthermore, he needed money to go out with his buddies. Didn’t she know that they were waiting for him down at Frank’s, his favorite sports bar?

Kent had reached out to grab her. Katie never knew if he’d intended to hit her or not. He never had a chance. One moment Kent was reaching for her, the next he found himself pinned against the living room wall.

In a low, menacing voice that Katie had never heard before, Lucas informed Kent that he was moving out. No, she laughed at the memory, what he’d really said was, “Get your stuff and get the fuck out.”

Lucas had watched Kent’s every move as he’d quickly collected his belongings. He might have been as tall as Lucas, but Lucas was massively built and Kent looked like a little boy next to him. Lucas’s reputation had also preceded him.

Kent handed over his apartment key when Lucas demanded it, but couldn’t resist a few parting comments as he hurried down the stairs. She could still hear him yelling, “You’re nothing but a frigid bitch and I only stayed out of pity.” She shivered as she remembered his parting words and wrapped her arms around herself to try and shake off the chill.

The look on Lucas’s face had been the worst part. He looked so disappointed in her. Then he’d shaken his head and wrapped his arms around her and told her to cry. Surprisingly enough, she had done just that. After she’d cried herself out, he’d fed her soup and shooed her off to bed.

She’d awakened the next morning to the sound of an electric drill. When she’d peeked into the living room, Lucas was changing the lock on her front door. He calmly told her breakfast was in the oven and that was the end of it. Neither of them had ever mentioned Kent again.

No, she was better off alone. Work and art classes took up most of her time. Besides, she liked being able to get up in the middle of the night and paint. With that thought in mind, she turned her attention back to the waiting canvas. She saw the shadows forming in her mind and began to paint. For hours she stood there and mixed and painted. The picture in her head began to take solid shape in front of her. She painted until her fingers cramped and her back ached.

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.