Now You See Her Read online

  * * *

  It was almost two A.M. when Sweeney stirred slightly in her sleep, a frown puckering her brow. A barely audible whimper sounded in her throat, a quiet protest from her subconscious. A few moments later she slipped out of bed, her movements so calm the covers were scarcely disturbed; one second she had been lying beneath them, the next she wasn’t. She stood beside the bed for some time, her head cocked as if she were listening to something. Then she sighed, and walked silently through the dark apartment to her studio.

  She had stood the canvas with two shoes painted on it against the right wall, where it was out of the way but she could still look at it. The shoes had puzzled her. Why had she painted shoes? After her initial relief that she hadn’t done another portrait of death, she had gotten more uneasy as the day had gone on. The shoes weren’t finished; they needed more work. Knowing that had made her dread the night, for the first time in her life.

  Now she went straight to the shoe canvas and placed it on an easel. Her expression was smooth and blank as she selected her tubes of paint and began to work. Her brushstrokes were fast and precise, the narrow, tapered bristles adding detail.

  She didn’t work for long, no more than an hour. Suddenly she shuddered, her entire body drooping as if overwhelmed with fatigue. She capped the tubes of paint and dropped the brush in a jar of turpentine, and silently returned to bed.

  * * *

  She slept late again, until almost eight, but knew as soon as she woke that she had done it again. She was cold, the heat from the electric blanket somehow not transferring to her flesh, even though she knew it should. When she had gone to bed the night before, the bed had been toasty warm, such a delicious sensation she had almost purred as she crawled between the sheets. It would still be toasty warm, she knew, to anyone else, but she couldn’t feel it.

  Not being an idiot who couldn’t face reality, she hurriedly dressed and went into the living room, where she had left the pad with Richard’s number on it. As she picked up the cordless phone and punched numbers, she noticed that her hands were colorless except for her fingernails, which had an interesting bluish tint to them.

  Richard answered the phone himself, and something tense inside her relaxed a little at the sound of that deep, calm voice. “This is Sweeney,” she said, trying to sound cheerful, but at that moment a violent shiver seized her and her voice shook. “It happened again.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Just like that, she marveled as he hung up. No questions, no “I’m tied up right now, but I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She needed him, and he was dropping everything else to be there with her. The sheer wonder of it made her chest feel tight, as if she were catching a cold. Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them back, determined not to be such a sissy again.

  She went into the kitchen. The coffee was made and already cold. She poured a cup and put it in the microwave to heat, waiting impatiently for the ding. Chills raced down her spine, roughened her skin. She felt her muscles tensing with another shudder.

  She gulped down the first cup of coffee and heated another one. She had to hold it with both hands to keep the coffee from sloshing out, but still she was shaking so hard she risked scalding herself.

  The attacks were getting worse, she realized; she was getting colder, faster. Maybe she should move the coffeemaker into the bedroom, put it right there on the nightstand so she wouldn’t even have to get out of bed. Not that the coffee seemed to be helping much; nothing helped, except for Richard.

  Just the thought of him caused a small spurt of warmth deep inside. That’s the ticket, she thought. Just think of Richard. She had thought about him incessantly the day before, constantly replaying those remarkably carnal moments in his arms. The fact that they hadn’t had sex was a tribute to his self-control, not hers, and she was still astounded at herself, astounded at the heat that had poured through her, the blind physical drive for fulfillment. She had never experienced that before, and now that she had, she was no longer so certain of her ability to keep their relationship platonic.

  She snorted into the cup of coffee. Who was she kidding? They hadn’t consummated their relationship, but it was far from platonic. All these years she had felt so smug about her imperviousness to sexual temptation, but with one look Richard could get inside her defenses and have her insides jumping around. Face it, she thought. With Richard, she was a pushover.

  Shivering, she looked at the clock. How much longer would he be? He should be here any time.

  Her shoulders were hunched against the cold, but abruptly she straightened, her eyes going wide. She shot out of the kitchen chair and raced for the bathroom. Hastily she rinsed her mouth with mouth-wash, then grabbed a comb and attacked her hair, which stood out from her head like a bush. Her efforts only made it wilder. She threw down the comb, squirted a dab of something that was supposed to control the frizzies into her hand, and rubbed it over the worst spots. Makeup? Should she put on lipstick? She stared at herself in the mirror, wondering what shade looked best on blue lips. Perfume, maybe. Damn it, she didn’t have any.

  “Oh, I’ve got it bad,” she whispered. Here she stood, shivering so hard she was beginning to hurt, worrying about makeup and perfume. In horror, she realized she was prettying up.

  The doorbell rang. Hurriedly she wiped her hands and ran to the door. Her teeth were chattering as she jerked it open. “I’ve lost my mind,” she told him grimly, walking into his arms. “I’m freezing to death, and I was worrying about lipstick. Then I opened the door without checking first. This is all your fault.”

  “I know,” he murmured, lifting her off her feet and stepping inside. He hugged her tight, helping her brace against the shudders that wracked her. She buried her face against his neck, seeking to breathe in his warmth, and her nose was so cold he jumped. An exuberant curl tickled his lips as he turned and locked the door.

  “It isn’t as bad today. I c-c-called you as soon as I got up.” Since she’d lost control of her teeth in the middle of the sentence and they’d done their castanet imitation again, her statement wasn’t as believable as it could have been.

  “Good.” He carried her to the couch. “Where’s the blanket?”

  “On the ch-chair in my bedroom.”

  He set her down. “I’ll get it.”

  He was back in seconds, guiding her to lie down on the couch and lying down beside her, then gathering her full length against him and covering them both with the blanket. Then he sat up again and shucked his lightweight crewneck off over his head, carelessly dropping it to the floor; then he lay down beside her and tucked her hands between them, warming them on his torso.

  His skin felt hot against her cold fingers. He put his hands on her back and pressed them against her spine, and she shuddered with relief as his heat began sinking into her. “It’s already easing,” she said against his throat, feeling her tight muscles slowly relax as a sense of profound well-being spread through her. She breathed in slowly, deeply, filling her lungs with the scent of him. He smelled warm and musky, undeniably male. The aroma of testosterone, she thought, and smiled to herself.

  “Better?” he asked. His voice was low, deeper than usual. The bass notes reverberated under her ear.

  “Mmm. This wasn’t bad at all.”

  “Because you didn’t wait.” His lips brushed her ear, moved over her temple. His hand slowly stroked down her back, urging her even closer. Their legs tangled, and one hard-muscled thigh slid between hers.

  Her breath caught as she felt his erection. “I can’t keep calling you over to get me warm,” she murmured. “This is too tempting.”

  “You’re telling me,” he said ruefully. She felt his lips curve against her temple as he smiled, then he pressed another kiss there. He smoothed her curls back, gently traced a fingertip around the sworl of her ear. “I couldn’t take a repeat of yesterday. If I’d had to take your clothes off today, I’d be fucking you right now.”

  His voice was low and intimate,