Turning Point (The Kathleen Turner Series) (11 page)

Blane reappeared with a makeshift ice pack, a dish towel wrapped around some ice cubes.

“Here,” he said, sinking onto the bed beside me. “Hold this to your jaw. It’ll keep the swelling down.”

I did as he said and watched as he pulled on his pants, then went into the bathroom. This time he came back with a glass of water and two painkillers.

“Take these,” he said. I traded him the ice pack. “How do you feel?”

“I’ll be fine,” I said once I’d swallowed the pills. “Just took me off guard. I wasn’t expecting…” I waved my hand vaguely to indicate… whatever had just happened.

Blane heaved a sigh, shoving a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I should have told you before.”

“Told me what?”

“It hasn’t happened in a long time,” he replied. “But sometimes I get nightmares, the kind I had all the time when I first got back from being deployed. And it’s best to not touch me in order to wake me. Better to just call my name.”

“But why now?” I asked. “We’ve slept together before and this hasn’t happened.”

Blane looked at me, and I knew I wasn’t going to like what he had to say.

“The position they offered me, Kat,” he said. “It’s an opportunity unlike anything else. I could make a difference, really help other SEALs. It just has me thinking. Considering. Remembering.”

“You’d have to be deployed again,” I said.

He nodded. “But only for six months.”

Six months. It sounded like a long time when someone you loved would be in harm’s way. I reached for the ice pack and held it against my jaw so I wouldn’t have to look at Blane.

“I haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet,” he said quietly.

“Why not?”

He didn’t answer, so I glanced at him. Our eyes caught and held. He reached out, brushing his fingers through my hair.

“Because of you.”

Blane’s answer, so simply and honestly given, made relief swell inside me. So I was a consideration in his decision after all. I leaned against his chest. His arms wrapped around me, his chin resting on top of my head.

When I knew I could speak without my voice breaking, I asked, “So when do you have to decide?”

His shoulders lifted slightly in a small shrug. “A few weeks. I have to get through this case first.”

I stiffened, drawing back out of his arms. “This guy you’re defending. He’s innocent, right?”

Something shifted in Blane’s eyes as I looked at him, waiting for my answer. Finally, he shook his head. “No. He’s not.”

Appalled, I pulled myself out of his grasp. “You’ve got to be joking! Why would you defend a rapist? I get that you’re a defense attorney, but to defend the guy when you know he’s guilty?”

Blane’s jaw tightened. “Sometimes I have to do things I don’t necessarily want, or like, to do. That includes defending people who are guilty, and this is one of those times.”

I jumped to my feet, putting some distance between us. “Why this guy?” I rounded on him. “Is it because of his uncle? That rich guy with all the political connections?”

Blane hesitated. “Partly,” he admitted.

“You’d defend a rapist just to further your political career?” My anger waned in the face of my dismay.

Blane stood, approaching me. “I didn’t say it was to help my career,” he said carefully.

“Then why?” I hoped his explanation would make all the difference.

The words seemed hard for Blane to get out, but finally he said, “I… can’t tell you.”

My jaw dropped in surprise before anger and frustration surged. “What do you mean, you can’t tell me? Can’t or won’t?”

“Won’t. You just have to trust me, Kat.”

“That’s rich,” I said. “You’re telling me that I just have to trust you with something you won’t even tell me? Trust is a two-way street.”

“So you’re telling me that you don’t trust me?” he bit out.

“I’m only dishing back what you’re handing out, Blane,” I shot back. “In case you’ve forgotten, we broke up because of something you didn’t tell me, and now you’re doing it again!”

“This isn’t the same thing at all,” he denied angrily. He turned away, stalking to the window and looking outside, his arms crossed over his chest.

I had the feeling he was trying to take a break, to ratchet down the escalating tension between us. It worked. I took a breath, then another. Going over to him, I slid my arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to his back and leaning into him.

“I don’t want to fight,” I said quietly.

Blane turned, settling his hands on my waist. The lines of strain I’d seen around his eyes while he was sleeping were even more pronounced now that he was awake. My stomach
clenched with worry. It was obvious Blane was going through something, and arguing with me could only make things harder for him. I decided to bide my time, approach him again after we’d both cooled off.

Our eyes met and his hand moved up to cup my jaw. I tilted my head into his touch, the rough pads of his fingers skimming my cheek. He looked down at me, to the open neckline of the shirt I wore, and he grasped the gold locket resting between my breasts.

Kade had given me the locket for Christmas. It contained a tiny picture of my parents. I’d been overwhelmed with the gift, and rarely took it off. Blane had asked me where I’d gotten it, and hadn’t made any comment when I’d told him.

“I’m not going to ask you,” he began carefully, still looking at the locket, “what happened in Denver. Whatever his faults, I trust Kade to keep you safe. I always have. But I wonder about this job he’s given you, if it’s really something you want to do.” His gaze finally rose to meet mine.

I hesitated before answering. “I’m not sure,” I said honestly. “Before, it felt like my life was happening to me, rather than the other way around. Now it feels like I have a chance to fix that.”

“There are other things you could do, Kat.”

“Like what?” I asked, wondering what he would say.

“I think you should consider what you want,” Blane said. “What do you want to be when you grow up, Kat?” He smiled softly and dropped the necklace, returning his hand to my waist and pulling me closer.

I gave a small huff of laughter. “Once upon a time, I wanted to be you,” I said, resting my palms against his chest.

“Me?” Blane asked, his brows knitting in confusion.

“A lawyer,” I explained. “But after seeing you, watching how it works, I don’t think I’d want to do that.” I thought for a minute. “I guess when I pictured it, my life, I always assumed I’d have a job of some sort, but I mostly looked forward to the day when—”

I stopped, realizing what I’d been about to say. Heat rose in my cheeks and I looked away.

“When what?” Blane asked.

I shook my head. It would sound really pathetic to say it aloud.

“Come on, tell me,” he gently persisted. “Please, Kat,” he said when I still remained silent.

“The day when I wouldn’t be alone,” I blurted. “Visions of my future always seemed to revolve around having a family, not so much a job. I never had brothers or sisters, so I dreamed of a big family, lot of kids, laughter and a messy house and people to love.” I felt stripped bare in front of him, having confessed thoughts I tried not to dwell on.

“Why wouldn’t you want to tell me that?” he asked gently, tipping my chin up so I was forced to look at him.

“Because it’s embarrassing,” I explained. “So trite and cliché. That’s not the kind of thing liberated, independent women are supposed to think. I’m supposed to want a career and climb the corporate ladder and bust through the glass ceiling and all that. Not dream of soccer games and tea parties, piano lessons and PTA meetings, peanut-butter sandwiches and training wheels.”

Blane leaned down, pressing a hard kiss to my mouth. When he raised his head, he said, “Thank you for telling me that. And for the record, you’re one of the strongest, most
independent women I know. It’s not a crime to want a family of your own.”

My embarrassment faded in the face of his sincerity, and I reached up to pull him down for another kiss.

It was getting late and we both had to be at work, so we took turns in the shower (despite the fact that Blane argued we would save time by showering together). I did my hair and makeup while Blane shaved. It was a novel experience, getting ready side by side. We hadn’t been this physically intimate in weeks, this much in each other’s space, and I found it made me happy.

I was pouring another cup of coffee for myself when Blane emerged from the bedroom, shrugging on his suit jacket.

“How do I look?” he teased, stepping into my personal space.

Amazing, that’s how he looked. He wore a black single-breasted soft wool suit, a crisp white shirt, and a sharp-looking silver-gray silk tie in a black paisley print. His dark-blond hair was still slightly damp from his shower, and I caught a whiff of his cologne mixed with the scent of his aftershave.

I made a small noise of appreciation, then reached up to twine my arms around his neck, standing on my toes to kiss him. Blane tasted of mint, and the feel of his freshly shaven skin was like an aphrodisiac. I loved him like this. He looked powerful, gorgeous, and masculine. A dangerous man under the cool veneer of civility. I couldn’t get enough.

While I may have entertained the thought that I was in control of our kiss, he quickly disabused me of the notion, and soon I was gasping for air, my pulse racing.

“You make me not care that I’m going to be late,” Blane muttered against the skin of my neck. His hands had moved to cup my rear, holding me against his body. I could feel the effects of our impromptu make-out session pressing hard against my abdomen.

Reluctantly, I stepped out of his grasp. His eyes glittered with a predatory light, and I shivered.

“Save it for later, counselor,” I said breathlessly, yearning to rip his clothes off and have my wicked way with him.

“Promise?” he teased.

“Absolutely.” I’d be counting the hours.

He glanced at his watch, frowning. “We have a new lawyer starting today,” he said, putting his cell phone and wallet in his pockets.

“Really?” I asked, only sort of interested. While Derrick Trent and Blane were the partners, they also employed about a dozen other lawyers in the firm. I’d once rarely interacted with them, but lately a few had asked me to do some investigating for them.

“Yes. They’ll be helping me with this case.”

Blane dug out a hard case from his luggage, unlocking it to reveal the gun he always carried. Indiana was a conceal state and Blane had a license to carry. I thought he was never fully comfortable until his Glock was wedged comfortably in the holster he wore at his hip.

The Matt Summers case was what Blane meant. I bit my tongue against what I wanted to say. Our argument hadn’t really been resolved, just postponed. I didn’t want to end our time together on a negative note, so I remained silent.

“Dinner tonight?” Blane asked, grabbing his coat, briefcase, and keys.

I nodded. “Sure.”

“Okay. I’ll call you later.” One more quick kiss and he was out the door.

He jogged down the stairs to his black Range Rover—the Jaguar remained in the garage for the winter months. He drove out of the lot before I closed the door on the frigid February morning air.

I had to get moving or I’d be late, too. Dumping my coffee into my travel mug, I fed Tigger, grabbed my coat and purse, and headed to work.

The law firm of Kirk and Trent wasn’t in downtown Indy proper, but nestled in a suburb on the north side of the city. It was about thirty minutes from my apartment, if you counted traffic, but I didn’t mind the drive. Since I now drove a company-owned Lexus SUV, I enjoyed the time spent commuting. Kade had gotten it for me after my car had been blown up—nearly with me inside.

I was humming softly to myself as I walked into the firm. Although the argument with Blane and my qualms about his case still lingered, I thought we’d taken a huge step in our relationship last night. And this morning, when I’d told him I wanted a family and kids, he hadn’t run for the hills like so many men would have.

Putting my purse in the drawer of my desk and shedding my coat, I thought with a snort of what Kade’s reaction would have been if I’d said the same thing to him.

Kade.

Oh no. I’d completely forgotten to remind Blane to call him back. With everything that had happened this morning between us and everything else Blane had going on today, he might not remember to call Kade.

Taking the elevator to the top floor, I stepped out into the foyer. A large grandfather clock ticked away the minutes. I could see Clarice, Blane’s secretary, working at her desk.

“Good morning,” I said brightly.

“Same to you,” Clarice said with a smile. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you in a few days.”

Quick images of the building exploding in Denver, sliding down the fire escape, Parker and the guy Kade had killed with his bare hands went through my mind.

“Busy,” I replied. “You?”

“Fantastic!” She beamed at me, then held up her left hand. A diamond sparkled on her ring finger.

“You got engaged! Clarice, that’s wonderful!” I rounded the desk to give her a hug. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Me, too,” she said, gazing at her ring. “It was sweet. Jack was so nervous.”

“Tell me all about it,” I said, pulling up a chair.

“Well,” she began, obviously delighted to share her story. “He took me to the Eagle’s Nest at the Hyatt. I wasn’t expecting it at all. But he’d made reservations ahead of time and there was a beautiful bouquet of flowers on the table. I thought it was an early Valentine’s Day dinner or something. Then the waiter brought out champagne, and there it was. The ring was inside the glass.”

I grinned as she got all teary-eyed.

“And then he got down on one knee and asked me.”

“That’s a great story, Clarice,” I said. “Have you told the kids yet?”

She nodded, pressing a tissue delicately to her eyes. “They’re so excited.”

“I bet. Jack is a really great guy. He’s going to make a fantastic stepdad.”

We chatted a little bit longer and I admired her ring again. They hadn’t set a date yet, but were thinking perhaps July.

“Would you be my bridesmaid?” she asked tentatively.