Chosen.

by Barbara Elsborg.

Chapter One.

Kate stomped barefoot to the intercom. If whoever had their finger on her buzzer didn't take it off in the next two seconds, she'd grab a knife and remove the finger herself. Kids fooling around. Someone who'd forgotten their key.

Always a guy. Always her buzzer.

"What?" she snapped.

"Kate Evans? I got a flower delivery."

Regret for her abrupt tone tempered her disbelief. "For me?"

"If you're Kate Evans."

"Who are they from?"

A heavy sigh preceded a rustling noise. "It says, for Kate from a secret admirer'."

Her lungs locked.

"Going to let me up?"

She pressed the release switch and leaned against the wall, excitement bubbling until she convinced herself it was a sick joke.

But the doorbell rang and through the peephole, Kate saw a fair-haired guy holding a large bouquet of flowers.

She checked the chain was secure and cracked the door. "Could you leave them on the floor, please?"

Once he'd walked away, Kate removed the chain. Before she'd finished turning the handle, the door slammed open and sent her crashing to the floor, flowers raining over her. The door closed and the blond guy dropped to his knees at her side. Kate opened her mouth to scream, and he smiled.

"Marry me, Kate."

Shock killed the scream in her throat. "What? Who are you?"

"Your future husband."

His smug look gave her the kick-start she needed. Kate screamed and lashed out. But he slapped a palm over her mouth and nose and sat on her legs. Latex gloves. Kate's cantering heart broke into a gallop as she struggled to breathe. His hand slid from her mouth to squeeze her neck. What did he want? She had nothing. No jewelry. Less than thirty dollars in her wallet.

"Not a word, Kate."

He showed her the knife in his other hand, released her mouth and she drew in a noisy gulp of air. An arm around her neck, he dragged her across the floor and tugged the telephone cord from the wall. When he picked petals from her long brown hair and pushed her glasses back in place on her nose, Kate shuddered. Oh God, please let him be a thief.

"Don't hurt me," she choked out.

He gave a slow smile.

The loud bang at the door startled them both. His hold on her neck tightened, and she grabbed at his arm.

"Kate? It's Jeannie. Are you all right?"

He yanked Kate back against his chest, put his hand over her mouth and pressed the knife against her throat. Kate moved beyond fear into paralyzed terror.

"Get rid of her," he whispered.

The hand came off. The knife stayed.

It was a moment before Kate could speak. "I'm fine."

"I heard a bang and your phone's out."

The knife pressed harder and something slithered down her skin. Oh God.

Blood.

"Don't try it," he whispered. "A little old lady with arthritis could never be fast enough."

Kate inhaled a shaky breath. How did he know about Jeannie?

He nipped her ear and she winced. "Talk to her."

"Someone sent me flowers. I tripped over the telephone cable and dropped them. I must have disconnected the phone."

"Oh dear. Sure you're okay?" Jeannie asked.

The blade tickled Kate's chin, forcing her head to his shoulder. His breath brushed her cheek. The odor of beer made her shake.

"I'm going to have an early night," Kate called. "I'll see you in the morning for coffee."

She sent a silent prayer for Jeannie not to react, for the guy not to know her neighbor hated coffee.

"All right. Goodnight."

"Night."

Kate sensed Jeannie still there, listening. When the knife pressed a little harder, she guessed the man had made the same assumption. A moment later came the sound of shuffling and a door closed. He moved the knife from her throat, but kept her in his arms. Had she made a mistake, lost her chance?

Should she grab the knife? Scream?

He rubbed his face across her head. "You have such beautiful hair, sweetheart, and great legs. Why do you always keep them covered?" Kate's nightshirt had ridden to the top of her thighs. Thank God she wore panties. She struggled for something to say. "My boyfriend will be here soon."

"Elegant toes. No cheap polish."

Had he heard her? "Better go before he gets here."

"What's his name?"

"Drew Harrison. He's a policeman."

"Not the Drew Harrison that works with you at the library?" Her heart thumped. He knew Drew and where she worked.

"There's no boyfriend, darlin'. But then you rarely allow the men of San Antonio a glimpse of your beautiful legs." Kate's stomach roiled. He'd been following her. A whimper slipped out. She'd been so careful. Four long years she'd done all she could not to draw the wrong sort of attention-never walked alone on dark streets, never wore provocative clothes. This wasn't her fault.

He pinched her chin and turned her face to his. "Why don't you wear short skirts at the library?"

"Mrs. Hartford says it attracts perverts." He sniggered. "Where's your remote?"

Kate glanced at the couch. He dragged her over.

"What would you like, Kate? A comedy?" He flicked through the channels and clicked up the volume.

"My father's calling in tonight." She had to keep trying.

"Don't lie, sweetheart. You were having a quiet night in. Alone. Like every other night. I bet you were reading. Will I find a book on your bed?" Yes. Books were all she had, her safe passport to a more interesting life, one in which she could eavesdrop on the conversations of others and share thrills she'd never bring herself to experience for real.

He brushed her nipples with gloved fingers, and Kate bit her lip.

"Books are your world. They make you cry, make you laugh and I bet they make you come, but they can't beat the real thing. You're about to have the biggest adventure of your life. Don't waste it waiting for a knight to rescue you.

I'm your knight and I'm already here."

He gave her a broad grin.

Oh God, he's insane.

"I'm going to let you up. Don't try anything stupid." He pulled her to her feet but Kate could hardly stand. Her knees shook, her body ached.

"I want you to pack."

"Pack?"

"We're going away and you'll need clothes." He sounded so calm and sensible as though this was something normal. When he guided her toward the bedroom, Kate stumbled. What the hell was she doing?

She wrenched out of his grasp and fled, managing to wrap her fingers around the door handle before he reached her. Kate fought but he was so much stronger. He knocked her to the floor, pinned her down with his body and clamped his hand over her mouth. Only when she stopped struggling did he move it.

"Please...don't...hurt...me." She could barely speak.

He yanked her up, dragged her into her bedroom and closed the door.

"Pack," he said and let her go.

Kate scrambled to the other side of the room and pressed her back to the wall.

He sighed. "Find a bag or I'll fuck you, tie you up, go fuck your neighbor and then you'll pack."

Kate grabbed a green sports bag from the bottom of her closet and put it on the bed.

"Show me your clothes. I'll tell you what to put in." He tossed items to the floor or bed. Most hit the floor. Maybe this was a TV stunt, Kate thought, showing how people react to incredible situations. The knife could be fake, though a glance in the mirror showed a streak of blood on her neck. He tipped out her purse. The cash and cards went in his wallet with her driver's license. Kate's heart skipped when she realized he hadn't noticed the zipped pocket.

He held up a condom. "Always prepared, Kate? Ribbed. Extra sensitive. You like to give your partner pleasure?"

Oh God. She stuffed clothes in the bag. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him studying a framed photograph. Her and her parents. None of them looked happy. He laughed and put it back on the shelf before picking out a short denim skirt, a gray jacket and a T-shirt from the pile of clothes on the floor. He threw them at her. "Get dressed."

Kate decided to co-operate. Maybe if he'd been going to rape her, he'd have done it by now. He wanted something else.

"Could you turn your back?" she asked.

"Hell, no."

He helped himself to a handful of M&Ms from the packet next to her book, letting the brightly colored candy fall into his mouth in a rainbow stream.

She put the skirt on under the nightshirt and managed to get her bra and Tshirt on without showing an inch more flesh than necessary. She tugged on the jacket and slipped her favorite sandals on her feet.

"Toiletries," he said.

He followed her to the bathroom and leaned against the doorframe. When Kate reached for a bag from the cupboard under the wash basin, she had an idea.

"Could I use the toilet on my own?"

He stared at her. "Exit via a fourth floor window not something I'd advise."

She exhaled when he left. Kate picked up a strawberry flavored lip balm and wrote HELP across the top of the toilet seat. A noise at the door stopped her writing more. Her heart pounding, she gave the toilet an unnecessary flush, washed her hands and returned to the bedroom. He snagged her wrist and pulled her back. Kate kept her eyes down as he looked around.

"What have you done, sweetheart? Lipstick on the mirror? Soap on the shower door?"

He checked everywhere except the toilet lid and surge of triumph rushed through her. He picked up her bag and dragged her into the living room.

"I want your social security number, birth certificate and details of your bank account."

"That box."

He let her take a blue carton from the top of her bookshelf and she removed the paperwork. Maybe he didn't want her, but her identity.

"Put them in the side pocket of your bag."

"Where are you taking me?"

"It's a surprise."

He guided her around the couch by the elbow. Kate's eyes lingered on the card lying with the flowers.