FOUR

She tugged the headset off when a knock at her door caught her by surprise. She didn’t have visitors. Well other than Mara, and occasional visits from people she had met at the School. And they never came without calling first. Mara wouldn’t come while Kat was working.

With a soft whistle, she called Zeb to her side before she walked over to the door. Kat wrapped her fingers around the cane that rested by the door, sliding her wrist through the strap before pushing the button on the speaker. “Yes?” she asked quietly.

The voice that came through the speaker was unlike any she had ever heard. Deep, hypnotic, faintly accented…sexy. It stroked over her skin like a warm hand and it took a moment for her to assimilate what he had said. “Hello…I’ve moved into the condo across from you. Just wanted to introduce myself.”

Gnawing on her lip, she sank the fingers of her free hand into the soft, thick fur of Zeb’s crown. Well, how did you answer that without being totally rude? Finally, she said, “It’s nice to know the place finally sold. It’s lovely. But I’m working—now isn’t a good time for me. Sorry.”

Then she moved away before she could give in to the temptation to open the door, just to hear that amazing voice in real life, instead of through an electronic speaker. The telephone rang, the different tone signifying that it was the work phone and she went back to her desk. Sliding into the chair, she reached out until her fingers brushed the headset. Sliding it on, she hit the line and said, “This is Kat.”

Tam scowled as she dismissed him. Completely and totally. This wasn’t something he’d planned on.

Tam had planned on knocking, charming her a little, introducing himself, at least making alittle headway.

But she hadn’t even opened the damned door.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, he started to turn away but then he reached out, resting a hand on the door.

Inside, he could feel her. Focusing his refined senses, he could feel her as she moved away from the door, those pretty almond-shaped eyes staring sightlessly in front of her.

They were gray. Deep, storm cloud gray. Almost pewter in color. He had slid inside her condo last night, unable to resist looking at her again. From the shadows of the room, he had stared at her—silent, unmoving—just watching her as she ran her long agile fingers over the book in her lap.

Nerves had jangled inside her. Nerves, fear, hesitation…fear…

Narrowing his eyes, he let his hand fall from the door as he backed away. All right. He had not been prepared for that.

And now he felt more the fool. Why wouldn’t he have been prepared for it? The woman was blind. How frightening must it be not to be able to see what stood right before you? Not to be able to face anything that came at you? Even the simplest of things?

No wonder she hadn’t opened the door.

Damn it. Tam felt the disappointment well inside him as he turned away, his mouth tightening in a scowl. Okay, so he wouldn’t be meeting her right now, wouldn’t see that sweet face up close, wouldn’t stare into her stormy eyes or try to uncover the secrets that made her so sad.

At least, not today.

Stalking back to the condo he had purchased just that morning, he slammed the door and flopped onto the couch. “I’ll just try again.”

And he did. The next day, and the next. Same answer—Now isn’t a good time for me.

Finally he just settled by the door in the hall, unseen. Sooner or later, she would come outside. And he could go for days—weeks—without food, water, or sleep. So that was what he would do. But he only had to wait until late that third afternoon.

A long, sleekly built blonde stepped off the elevator, strolling toward him with a brown paper bag in hand and a determined glint in her eyes. As she knocked purposefully on the door, Tam smiled slowly, rising and moving through the wall into his own temporary home, waiting until the count of five to open the door. He conjured up a black jacket that he threw over his shoulder just as he was stepping out, and the look on his face would have done the finest actor in the world quite proud.

The blonde glanced at him but she finished talking into the small speaker before she turned to look at him, a curious expression on her face.

“Hello,” he said. “I hope you have better luck than me. I’ve tried several times to introduce myself but it’s always a bad time.”

The blonde arched a brow at him just as the door swung open. With a slow smile, she said, “Well, that’s normal for Kat, isn’t it?”

“Ummm… What?” his shy neighbor asked, touching her tongue to her lips. A tan and black dog with big intelligent eyes, poked his head around his mistress, and stared at Tam curiously.

He watched as her hand landed on the dog’s head, trailed down his neck in an automatic gesture, her fingers closing around the odd handle on his harness. The dog yipped softly and Tam held out his hand, letting the dog sniff at it as he raised his gaze to the lady he had been trying to meet for three days now.

Stepping forward, making sure his boot heels sounded on the floor, he cleared his throat gently, and spoke quietly, “I was just telling your friend that I hadn’t had much luck meeting you.” A soft pink flush stained her cheeks.

Her fingers clutched the cane so tightly he could see her knuckles turning white. The small notch in her throat bobbed as she swallowed, then forced a tight smile. She reached out, and Tam saw the familiarity between the two women as the blonde stepped forward, catching the hand her friend had stuck out. “Sorry. You kept catching me while I was working,” she said, her voice quiet, hesitant. A blush rose over her cheeks and he had the feeling that she felt rather sheepish.

“I’m Katlin,” she said, holding her hand out. The dog remained at her side, sitting on his haunches politely, never once taking his attention from his mistress.

Her eyes stared straight ahead, which was about in the center of his chest. She was delicately made—this close it was impossible not to notice. Her fragile appearance, with her slender arms, swanlike neck, and subtle curves, all contributed to her fey appearance.

“Tam, Tam Jones,” he said, folding his hand around hers, holding it for a minute as he stared at her.

“Glad I finally got to meet you.”

“Kat Dixon,” she said faintly. A pink tongue slid out to wet her lips as she shrugged nervously. “I… I don’t get much in the way of company—not very good at playing the hostess.”

Her friend chided softly, “You are a fine hostess, Kat.” Her penetrating hazel eyes met Tam’s and she stuck her hand out. “I’m Mara. Kat’s best friend. I’m usually here three or four times a week.”

He shook her hand but his eyes were drawn back to Kat. She was so damned pretty. “I was just going to go try and find someplace to eat,” he said softly. “I don’t suppose I could talk you two ladies into joining me, could I? I’m new here—up until early this week, I’ve never stepped foot in Gatlinburg and every time I go out, I get caught in tourist traffic.”

Kat’s mouth turned down and he saw the refusal in those pretty blank eyes.

Apparently so did her friend but she didn’t let that stop her. “Sure, we’d love to. Come on in while I put this stuff away for Kat. Kat, why don’t we take him to the steakhouse at the end of the parkway? We can take the bypass and miss most of the traffic.”

“Mara—”

He watched as her friend cheerfully ran right over her, ushering her back into the house. He followed slowly, eying the large German shepherd as he trotted back inside, his eyes lingering on his mistress for a moment.

Tam scowled as that canine gaze swung back to him, those deep eyes watching, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

Tam watched, listening as Mara dragged Kat down the hall. Though they spoke in low whispers, he had no problem hearing as Mara said, “Come on! Get dressed.”

“Why? I’m not going anywhere,” Katlin said, and he could hear the scowl in her voice.

“Yes, you are. That guy is gorgeous, and he’s staring at you like you are the hottest thing he’s ever seen,” Mara said.

He grinned as Kat gave an indelicate snort. “Yes, I’m sure he’d love to go out with a blind woman,” she said dryly.

Now it was his turn to scowl. So she couldn’t see? He’d met plenty of women who were incapable of thought . So what if her eyes didn’t work? Her mind obviously did. Turning away, he started to pace the rather sparsely decorated apartment, his eyes flickering past the mirror that was now hanging by the door, forcing himself not to go and stare at it obsessively.

Hewanted his mirror back. With a passion that robbed him of all thought, he wanted it back. Wanted that total freedom that came with it. Scowling with frustration, he turned away from it, trying to focus his attention on something else.

If stealing it would have worked then he would have done so ages ago. Anything to get his mirror back.

His hands closed into fists as he shoved his greed back inside.Soon. Soon, he told himself.

At the far end of the living room, he saw a pair of French doors, both pushed open so that he could glimpse a large, nearly vacant room just beyond them. Beyond that, he could see the parkway and the many shops, all still decorated with greenery and Christmas lights.

Fat snowflakes fell from the sky, already piling up in little drifts against the window. The sky was a leaden gray and Tam could hear the wind as it whipped through the town.

Something caught his eye and he cocked his head, moving forward to study it closer. It was a painting. His expert eye moved over it, studying the unusual swirls of color with a thoughtful frown.

He knew art. A love of art had kept him company through the centuries as he’d watched civilizations rise and fall. But art remained. Something of it always survived, whether in drawings on a cave wall, the decaying statuary and architecture in Rome, or the masterpieces you could view only from behind a velvet rope at museums throughout the world.

Art survived.

Even when the artists faded away.

He knew this artist. She had been a gem—young, American, versatile, with a unique vision that was revealed in her work. Then, just years after appearing on the scene, she had disappeared, and nobody ever spoke of her now.

Kat…Katlin! Katlin Dixon.Bleeding hell!Damn it. He stared in blind shock at the unfinished picture, his throat going tight. He’d seen her art in a museum in France, in art shops all over the world as her popularity had grown and her paintings were reproduced for those who couldn’t afford the originals or the limited editions.

The faint echo of footsteps touched his ears and he whirled around, retreating from the empty studio before Kat or Mara realized that he had left the living room. That empty studio stung his heart, images of her work flashing through his mind. What must it be like? To have such talent, such a driving need, those images burning in her mind, and then the outlet for them destroyed?

As she came walking back into the room, a grim look in her sightless eyes, Tam suspected he knew, exactly, what she would wish for, if she had the chance. Scowling, he shoved it out of his mind. This was his best chance…the best chance he’d had in hundreds of years, and he’d be damned if he’d blow it.