“It ought to be,” Erik said. “I’m paying through the nose for it.”
He unlocked his door and stood aside. She entered the foyer of the contemporary structure. Their footsteps made hollow echoes as they went through the empty rooms while Erik pointed out features. He whispered, as one is wont to do in an empty house.
The condo was a study in glass and wood. One wall of the living room was redwood, while a stone fireplace was set between two floor-to-ceiling windows on another. The kitchen had every conceivable built-in appliance, but still retained an inviting coziness.
“Upstairs are two bedrooms and a bath for each. I’m not going to do anything to them just now. And I can’t spend a lot of money, Kathleen. I’m not as rich as your husband.” His tone was snide and she walked away in anger, instantly wishing that she had paid more attention to where she was going.
She found herself in a large master bedroom, dominated by a king-sized bed, by the look of the mussed covers, recently slept in. That was all that was in the room.
“It’s rather austere at this point,” Erik said from close behind her. She moved away, ostensibly to look out the wide, drapeless window, but actually to put distance between herself and his overwhelming male magnetism.
Kathleen gave careful attention to the skylighted high ceiling, the louvered doors that opened into a huge walk-in closet with a built-in chest of drawers. He was close behind her again, and she retreated through another set of louvered doors.
The master bathroom was sumptuous. There was a shower with a clear glass door, two basins, a private commode and a bathtub. Kathleen was intrigued by the bottles of shaving lotion, a bar of woodsy-smelling soap, an old-fashioned shaving mug and brush, and a mustache comb. A blue toothbrush hung on a brass rack. His hairbrush was tortoise shell. The grooming items were intensely personal. She quickly averted her eyes from them, though she would have loved to handle each article.
A redwood hot tub situated beside a picture window afforded an unrestricted view of a private patio, landscaped with evergreen plants and seasonal flowers, now blooming in fall colors.
“Wow.”
He chuckled. “This room was almost worth the price of the house.”
The sensuality and intimacy of the room, added to the predatory gait with which he stalked her, set her nerves on edge, and she went back into the bedroom, where she automatically looked at the bed. Had Erik slept there alone? Yes. There was only one pillow. Still, hadn’t they shared the same pillow?
“Kathleen.” She felt his hands on her arms, turning her around. He lifted her chin with his finger and looked deeply into her eyes. “How is it that you thought I was married?” His voice was gentle. He could have been speaking to a bewildered and confused child for all the tenderness in his tone.
Tears flooded her eyes. She gulped her words. “I… I saw her. I had waited all day, knowing you were hu—hurt… in pain. They wouldn’t let… tell me… I was so scared. Then she came in and said she was Mrs… Mrs. Gudjonsen. They took her right in to you… and I… I… She was tiny, and blonde, and pretty, and she…”
“Sally.”
Kathleen blinked back tears as she looked up at him. “Sally?”
“My sister-in-law. My brother Bob’s wife.”
Kathleen’s knees finally succumbed to the weakness that invaded her body with a debilitating effect and she slumped against him. He gathered her to him tightly, almost blocking off her breath with the ferocity of his possessive embrace.
“God, Kathleen, what did we do to deserve this?”
Their bodies swayed together, each giving comfort to the other. They stayed locked in that wordless, communicating embrace for long minutes while Erik whispered incoherent messages to her hair.
He kissed her. His mouth encompassed hers. His hands rubbed her back as though she were a healing lotion that he wanted to be absorbed into his skin.
Then, with a supreme act of will, he pushed her away from him. He sat down on the corner of the bed, spreading his knees wide, clasping his hands between them and staring down at his rigid white knuckles.
“How could you possibly have construed that I was married after…” Sh
e heard a touch of irritation in his voice. “Did you think no more of me than that? Dammit, Kathleen, how could you?”
“I don’t know,” she wailed. “I was overwrought, sick with worry for you and afraid, so afraid that you’d… afraid of everything.” There was no explanation. There was no remedy.
Erik knew it, too. When he spoke again, the anger was gone. “I was a raving maniac when no one could find you. I thought something terrible had happened to you, that you’d been kidnapped or something. Then, when it was finally evident that you’d left on purpose and with the deliberate intention of covering your tracks, I went through a period of rage that is probably unequaled in human history. I couldn’t figure out why…”
His voice trailed off as he stared forlornly at the tight fists his hands had formed. Kathleen was leaning against the windowsill, staring bleakly into space, seeing nothing, hearing only the desolation in Erik’s voice, which matched that in her heart.
“When I saw you the other night, I wanted to kill you.” He laughed mirthlessly. “No. I wanted to make love to you first and then I wanted to kill you.”
They were silent for a while, lost in their own thoughts. Erik was the one to break the stillness. “Why did you marry him, Kathleen?”
She took a deep breath. She could feel his eyes stabbing into her back, but she refused to look at him. If she did…