Second Chances (23 page)

Karina recovered before Brian did. She could feel his chest heaving against her back. It was such a perfect moment to tease him, she couldn't resist.

"Welcome home, dear. Did you have a nice day? Would you like a cup of tea, honey? Are you tired? Maybe you'd like to go to bed for a while." She giggled as he squeezed his arms around her in retaliation.

"Witch." Brian loosened his arms, but only to adjust himself and close his pants. With her still chortling at him, he grabbed her and tossed her over his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Karina was laughing so hard she hardly felt the light slap he delivered to her bottom.

"You just said you needed a nap, I'll help you get one." With that, he hauled her up the stairs, whistling with very step.

Around ten o'clock, they finally managed soup and toast. Karina wouldn't have changed anything about the evening one bit.

On Wednesday morning, she decided that she wanted to experiment with something playful. She considered a seduction scene, complete with a negligee she'd been hiding for years. It had flowers in all the right places and not much else. Yes, Brian would like that. Chances are she wouldn't be wearing it for long anyway. She set the date for the upcoming erotic Friday night.

For the rest of the week Karina kept her plans close, telling no one—except Cat and Serena, who'd quickly become her co-conspirators. Before long, she had an entire evening of fun planned.

She considered the fact that she and Brian had spent the weekend loving, but not telling each other of their love. She was just as much to blame as he was. Too overwhelmed before the weekend to mention how she felt, she didn't want the words just to be connected with sex. Their relationship was so much more than that.

The other thing that still bothered Karina was the fact that she had a few items left at Sandra's that she wanted to collect. Straddling two places made staying with Brian feel too temporary. She didn't want that any longer. So along with her other plans, she wanted to be completely 'moved in' before he got home from work that night.

Most importantly, this Friday night was to be the setting for telling Brian how she really felt. To that end, she'd written an erotic letter titled, 'Fantasy Man.' It was essentially her story about how and why she'd come looking for him this time. And how he'd always been her Fantasy Man—right from their university days to now.

Friday morning she fairly tingled with excitement. Mentally, she ticked off the items on her list for the evening. She had strawberries, wine, steak and chocolate. The strawberries had been Cat's idea. Sandra was going to pick up Karina and drop her and the last of her belongings off at Brian's house. She'd had to have some way to get out of having Brian come and pick her up, so she'd told him that Sandra needed her help for a short while after work. Even better, he was going to Mark's for the afternoon to work, so he wouldn't be anywhere near home.

Karina left the store immediately once Sandra arrived. It took a half hour to get her belongings unloaded and safely stowed out of sight. The cats were in hiding again, likely thanks to all the commotion of moving in bags and boxes. She called them several times but they refused to come out.

Typical.

Another half hour later, Karina was soaking in hot scented bathwater. Multiple candles burned in the steamy room, contributing their delicious scent. Afterwards, she smoothed on body lotion, adding a tiny dab of perfume to several erotic places. She finished with a special conditioning treatment for her curls. There was still work to do in the kitchen, so she dressed casually, leaving the intensive conditioner in to tame the curls.

Brian said he wouldn't be home for an hour yet, but she'd soaked most of that hour away. Efficiently, she pulled out the marinating steaks and chopped, diced and tossed a fresh green salad together. All she had left to do now was the garlic bread and the strawberries.

The strawberries were luscious. Red, plump and uniformly sized, she laid them, freshly washed, on a towel to dry. The chocolate was almost ready for dipping. Now, was there anything else?

Oh, the letter! She must have rewritten it a dozen times. Based on her own sensual longings, it came from the deepest part of her heart. Just the thought of giving it to him made her stomach curl with nerves. She took another sip of wine. The letter was explicit and would add a definite erotic touch to the evening. Would it offend him? Excite him? Would he even understand what she was trying to say?

Everything was ready now—except for her. Now she needed another ten minutes to get dressed and do her makeup. She ran a hand over her hair. The curls had almost completely dried into manageable ringlets. Just a quick combing and they'd be fine.

The doorbell rang.

Damn it, whoever it was had lousy timing.

Karina raced down to answer the door. She just needed another couple of minutes.

There was no one there. How odd. She walked out onto the front porch and looked around. There was no vehicle in the yard, nor any sign that there had been one. Had she imagined it? No, the multiple bells playing a musical chord would be hard to mistake.

Sudden shivers raced up and down her spine. This didn't feel right.

She hurried inside. The click of the door shutting behind her echoed loudly in the high vaulted hallway. It was a hollow sound that emphasized the emptiness of the house. Maybe what she needed was a soothing cup of tea.

The colorful kitchen was bright and welcoming, and took the edge off her nerves. Some of her houseplants that she'd moved over from Sandra's would look good in here. She headed over to the counter where the kettle sat and plugged it in. A sudden chill filled the air. Something was wrong.

She turned.

The glass doors were wide open, the ocean breeze blowing fear and a dark, cold ugliness through the kitchen. Frantically, her gaze spanned the rest of the room.

Ian sat at the kitchen table, staring at her. In front of him, lay the knife that she'd used to chop the salad vegetables.

"O
h, God," she whispered, her heart sinking. She needed Brian. The one time she was actually alone here in the house and Ian happened to appear. That couldn't be a coincidence. He had to have been watching…and waiting. Just the thought of Ian having kept such a close watch on her to time this so perfectly was bringing her close to the edge of panic.

"Hello, Karina. Did you ever wonder why a criminal would bother to bring weapons of his own?" His smile was slow, cold and…empty. "When there are always so many available, no matter where you go?"

"No, I can't say that I ever thought about it. What are you doing here, Ian? It's been years." She kept her voice cool and unconcerned. But her gaze shifted constantly between the knife and his face before zipping to the open glass doors behind him. Could she make it?

"I didn't get a chance to say hi on Thursday night. Too bad. However, I did get to have a nice chat with the police instead."

He looked anything but happy at that reminder. Mark was right—Ian
was
pissed. A menacing, dark evil lived in those eyes, a malevolent essence that had been growing inside for who knows how long. Ian had crossed over the fine line of sanity into madness.

And she had no idea what to do.

The teakettle whistled sharply behind Karina. Shaking inside, she forced herself to make a pot of tea in as relaxed a manner possible. As if finding a crazy man inside her house was an everyday occurrence. So what if her hand shook so badly that she spilt most of the water. Not knowing what else to do, she carried the pot over to the table before going back to the cupboard and pulling out two cups.

Through every movement she felt the intensity of his gaze burning into her, but he never said a word.

The open glass doors represented freedom. What would he do if she made a run for it? His eyes stalked her, like a tiger crouched and waiting for her to make a move. Feeling very much like prey, she wasn't sure where her best chance lay. Bolt or stay? Therefore, she did nothing.

"Do you want milk and sugar in your tea?" She carried on treating him like a visiting neighbor. Operating on nerves alone, she opened the fridge and automatically brought out milk for her own tea. Not that she'd be able to get a sip of it down her throat.

"I don't want any tea." There was no inflection in his voice. There was no hint of the bright anger burning in his eyes. Unfortunately, there was also no sign of sanity, either.

"I'll call Brian and see when he'll be home." She grabbed up the phone. She punched one number. Two. Three. Four—

"Put down the phone." His voice—so low, so deadly—stalled her hand in midair.

He didn't touch her. He didn't have to. He'd picked up the knife instead.

The receiver dropped from her numb fingers. Karina closed her eyes, fighting the overwhelming urge to run. Run where? He was a big, fit man. He'd overtake her in no time. If she went down to the beach, there was a chance that she might find someone to help her. However, there was just as good a chance that she wouldn't make it that far.

The front door was too far away to reach. It also wouldn't help much. There were no neighbors close enough to hear her scream. The house no longer provided any protection. There was no place to hide and no way to fight him off.

So what was she going to do? She turned to face him.

"What do you want from me?" Surely, that wasn't her voice that sounded so calm, so normal.

"I want my life back."

"And you expect me to give it back to you?" she questioned him. Disbelief at his words shocked her fear to a halt.

"You and Brian. Yes." He nodded agreeably.

She lifted her hands toward him "How?"

"That's for you to figure out." He leaned back comfortably in the kitchen chair. His hand continued to play with the knife handle, belying his apparent lack of interest.

"What you really want is your wife back, isn't it?" Karina could understand that. He'd lost something important to him.

"I want my old life back—the way it was before my wife went to Brian's seminar."

"And what if she doesn't want you back? Then what?" Karina was starting to get irritated. Okay, it wasn't the most sensible way to deal with someone so obviously out of control. Then again, she wasn't feeling very sensible at this exact moment. Fury over the fact that he'd threatened and terrified her over the last few months burned away some of the fear that had lodged in her belly.

She couldn't possibly help him. He was marching to a tune that only he could hear and follow.

"You're nuts," she sputtered. Nope, definitely not a well-thought-out response.

"I'm not fucking crazy!" As though a switch had been flipped, fury roared in, instantly replacing Ian's apparent complacency. He jumped up from his chair, knocking it over in the process. His wrath spurred him into action and he kicked the hapless chair across the room. "Don't call me crazy!" He grabbed up the knife and stabbed it into the table beside her hand.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please, calm down. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it." She cringed at the hell she'd unleashed.
Oh, please, Brian, where are you?
Tears flooded her eyes. What could she do? Ian
was
crazy. She sat motionless in her chair, desperately trying to hold back her sobs.

"Just shut the fuck up. God, I hate crying women." He paced the kitchen. "Don't you have anything to eat here? Wussy strawberries with chocolate. Namby-pamby salad. Is that the kind of shit you feed your man? How long do you expect him to be happy with that gourmet healthy crap? Where's the fucking meat? Cheese! Peanut butter! Where are the goddamned basics?"

He slammed the cupboards closed, storming through the kitchen like a tornado. Anything that was in his way, he dumped. Anything he didn't like he threw to the floor in disgust. Items he wanted he tossed onto the table.

With every loud bang and crash, Karina jumped. Ian terrified her. His large, burly, unkempt frame rambled through her kitchen, leaving a path of destruction as he went.

By accident, he happened upon the breadbox. Until now, she'd thought the red toadstool was a cute, whimsical addition to Brian's kitchen.

Ian ripped open the bread bag and dumped out the contents. He reached for the knife and casually made himself a sandwich.

Karina just stared at him in horror. This relaxed, calm manner frightened her even more than the violent outburst. The uncertainty of not knowing what would set him off next terrified her. A creeping numbness was slowly overtaking her muscles. How could she reach Brian? How could she reach anyone? There was no way to make a phone call, and she didn't dare try to run—although that option kept nagging at her.

If Ian would ever get away from the door long enough for her to make a break for it.

What if she made her move when she heard Brian's car? Could she get to him before he exited, allowing them both to get away? Brian would have his cell phone, which would allow them to immediately call for help.