Knock, knock... (18 page)

"Energy you are seeing?"

"No. I'm not seeing. I'm not looking. I'm enjoying the show."

"Good. And in this case, you are right. It is a male artist."

She laughed. "Is there a difference between the sexes in the way an artist draws?"

"Definitely, but that doesn't mean that we can't be fooled."

They continued to stroll through the area, discussing the various poses, strokes, looks. Several times they exchanged their empty glasses for full. It occurred to Shay that this was the first calm, enjoyable evening in weeks, other than her time with Roman. "Thank you, Stefan. I'm so happy you dragged me here."

"Good." He patted her hand. "Shall we meet the artist?"

"Sure." Shay looked around. "Who is it?"

"You know him. That's one of the reasons I wanted to bring you here."

She turned to face him, surprise making her smile bright. "Really. Who is it?"

"Hello, Shay." The deep voice interrupted their conversation.

Shay looked up to see Roman standing at their side, a fluted glass in his hand. Her smile flashed. Damn, he looked good. She responded, "Hi. I'm surprised to see you here."

He laughed, a hint of mockery in his voice. "Why, don't I look like the artsy type?"

His tone of voice had her backing up slightly. "Not at all. I just didn't expect to turn around and see you standing there."

His smile turned rueful as he nodded toward Stefan. "Sorry. Introduce me to your friend."

Shay made the introductions, her gaze on Roman as she said Stefan's name. His eyes widened. His eyebrows shot up.

"Are you enjoying the show, Shay?" he asked.

She smiled warmly. "Absolutely. It's stunning work."

She smiled at him and then looked over at Stefan. It was Stefan's smile that made her wary. And that hidden laughter in his gaze. She eyed him suspiciously.
What?

He stayed quiet, but his laughter was almost to the point of spilling over.

She glanced over at Roman.

Roman smiled at her. "Thank you. These are some of my favorite pieces. I’ve done several more but I believe these are my best."

Oh crap.
Her gaze widened and her mouth dropped open. From the grin on Roman’s face, he was enjoying her shock.

Damn Stefan for not warning her this was an art show of Roman’s work.

On cue, Stefan's chuckles rolled through her mind. She shot him a dirty look and turned her attention to Roman.

"At least you know I was being honest, because I had no idea," she said, chagrin in her voice.

"I do appreciate the honesty. Not everyone is the same."

She turned to study his paintings, her mind now connecting the passion she'd seen from the artist to the model. The artist being Roman.

Oh shit. He had loved his model.
Did he still care about the woman or was he over her? Could it be his ex-wife? He'd mention a divorce, in passing, a long time ago. Surely he didn't still carry the torch for her. Shay's mind twisted over the implications of her relationship with him. She could hardly ask him, especially here and now.

But the one thing that played over and over again... Roman, the painter, loved this woman.

So who was she? And was she still in the picture? Figuratively speaking.

***

Roman had been deep in conversation with several clients when he glanced up and saw Shay enter the gallery. With a man. And damn if jealousy hadn't taken over. Her distinguished looking partner stayed close and was attentive the whole time. With their heads bent together, they walked the gallery, discussing his paintings.

Then he'd realized the danger.
Would she know? Did she see herself as he saw her?
In his paintings?

Having her here was incredibly personal, and invasive to his peace of mind. And it had the potential to be incredibly embarrassing, even catastrophic, if she recognized herself as his inspiration.

He hated the nervous energy that filled him. He kept up an ongoing conversation with many people as he kept a quiet watch on Shay's progress and body language. Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore. She'd tortured him enough. He had to find out.

He walked over and found out who her companion was.

Stefan.
Jesus. He'd heard so much about this man. Talented artist, tortured psychic. Shay's friend. Dr. Maddy's friend. But not until now had he understood just how good a friend he was to Shay. He studied the two of them, reading the caring, friendliness, even the loving, but...not – and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief – he somehow knew Stefan was not her lover.

Just then Roman caught Stefan's gaze. Heat rose on his neck. Damn it felt like Stefan knew what he was thinking. Amusement simmered deep in Stefan's gaze and he just sat back as the scene played out. Roman shifted his gaze from the painting in front of him to the woman with the same jaw line. The same curve to her shoulder.

How could she not know?

He shifted his gaze quickly to Stefan.

And there it was. It was in the knowing look in his eyes, the knowing curve of his lips. Damn. There was no fooling the man.

Stefan knew.

***

When they’d seen enough, she took a moment to say good-bye to the gallery hosts. Then, with Stefan at her side, she slowly did one more stroll past the paintings. Roman had returned to speak with his other guests and she was left alone to dwell on this sudden shift in her world.

A nice shift, though.

She'd gotten over the shock of discovering Roman was the artist. If she understood one thing, it was that seeing this amazing work made Roman even more attractive.

How did that work?
Was it that she appreciated the man's talents? That he had a softer side? That there was an honesty to his work, to him? She already knew that from their years of correspondence. Could it be that he reminded her of Stefan? She adored Stefan. They had a bond unlike anything else she'd experienced. But the bond with Stefan wasn't a lover-like connection.

"Are you ready to go home?" Stefan asked gently.

She smiled. "Yes. Thank you for bringing me. I don't know how long it would have taken before I found out about his art another way."

"I thought this might be good for you." He nudged her toward the last painting and the large glass window. Shay stopped for one last look at the stunning woman.

"She's very beautiful."

"Yes, she is."

"There's no way he could create these...gorgeous paintings, if he didn't love her," she murmured, casting a final long look at the picture.

"No. Not likely."

"I wonder if he knows," she mused.

"I wonder." Stefan's voice was noncommittal, as if the answer was of no interest to him. And true enough, it probably wasn't.

"Maybe a better question is this: Does
she
know how he feels? It would be terrible to love someone to that extent but for them to be oblivious."

"True."

At the large window, she stopped. She could see the huge painting behind her in the reflection.

There was something familiar about the line of the woman's jaw, her neck. Shay couldn't place her. Recognition sat just outside her consciousness. Inside, she understood one thing – the woman was someone she'd met.

Somewhere.

But who?

"Ready?"

Turning back to Stefan, she smiled and nodded. On his arm, she walked out of the gallery without a backward glance.

***

Shay crawled into bed that night in a smooth, happy state. She'd enjoyed the evening. Any time spent with Stefan was special and this had been no exception.

Not to mention that their energies, when combined, always went to new heights. She'd often wondered what it would be like to have a lover that had psychic abilities like his, even if he only understood the way energy worked. And how combined energies changed, grew and melded.

It could be incredibly special.

And something she really wanted to experience in her life.

And that was not likely to happen. Not with her trust issues preventing any real connection with someone.

She pulled the bedding up to her chin and turned off the light. Peaceful, she dropped into a sound sleep.

And woke up some time later, her heart pounding, her breath rasping as it fought its way up her throat.

Shit.
Something is wrong.

What?
She hopped out of her bed and ran to her living room and felt like she was once again caught in the panic she’d felt that night, a year ago, when Darren had broken into her place.

The living room was empty. She ran to the front door. It was still locked. The bolt in place. She spun around and leaned back against the door, her body shaking with emotion.

It was just a nightmare.

Just a nightmare.

Please, let this be just a nightmare.

With a semblance of calm restored, she walked the apartment and searched, unconsciously imitating Roman's movements from the other night. As she finished, she realized what she'd done. She'd taken almost the same route that he had. Laying down another path of energy over his.

And why was that significant?

She didn't know, but patterns were just as significant in energy work as mathematics. She took a deep breath as she walked into the kitchen. A cup of tea. She needed a cup of tea. And some time to think this through. And as she walked from the kitchen to the living room and back to her bedroom, she saw the different energy field.

She came to a dead stop. And crouched low.

The energy was thin and low. Older. And covered in a soft black. Hidden in the shadows of her dark room. It was the oozing blackness of it that made her skin crawl. The only time she’d seen that same black was with Darren’s energy. True, she'd seen a few things that came close – after all black was a common enough color in energy, but never did anything else have the same oozing blackness. Not before Darren, and never since.

Thank God.

She studied the pattern of the dark energy in her apartment. It centered in her living room. She twisted and bent up and down, trying to see the path, to find the person behind it. But that was impossible. There were just wisps of something there. Not enough to read. Just enough to make her nervous...
Very
nervous.

From all of this she knew one thing. Someone had been in her apartment.
Again.

And that someone had the same energy signature as her last intruder. How? Tonight. They’d probably entered as soon as she'd left… Yet the door had been locked when she came home. And there'd been no sign of any disturbance.

Surely that meant her visitor had come in astral form. She knew she could walk through the memory of her apartment, in the time before she left for the evening and check.

Moving back to her bed, she sat down, her tea long forgotten. Closing her eyes, she turned back the clock in her head and stepped out of her body – and into the vision.

Giving herself a moment to adjust, she followed herself as she went through the preparations of getting ready for the evening. The room looked normal.

This was her space. She knew this energy. Everything was as it should be. She went through the same clothes change and then watered the plants, picked up of her purse and phone, turning her head as the doorbell rang. She walked to the door. She watched herself greet Stefan and Stefan greet her. Normal.

Everything was the way it was supposed to be. So now she was sure the visitor had come in after she'd left for the gallery.

She stepped out of the vision and back into her own time in her own bedroom. She knew what she had to do, but could she do it? Now that was something else. She walked into the living room and stood over the energy wisps that littered the room.

Then she picked one and jumped inside.

I
mmediately, Shay was tossed into the turbulent emotional storm. Anger was the dominant sentiment. Whoever this person was, revenge powered all his actions. There were even threads of hate spinning through the wisps.

For her.

She shuddered at the completely unexpected emotional maelstrom.

She hadn't thought this trip would bring any results at the beginning. Instead she'd been sucked in and washed away in the emotions left behind. Since it was energy, she could see the approximate time it arrived and anything that happened while the energy was active. But it didn't allow her to see the person. She could see and feel some of what the person felt, but since she was inside the energy, she saw nothing to identify the person.