Turn On A Dime - Blane's Turn (The Kathleen Turner Series) Page 13

  “ . . . worried about you,” Kandi was saying to Blane. “You barely even know this kid. And you’re telling me he grew up on the streets? You have to be careful, Blane. For all you know, he could steal from you, or get his friends to come rob you one night. You could get hurt.”

  “That’s enough,” Blane said, his voice stiff. “Kade’s not like that. He’s my brother, and he’s here to stay.”

  “I’m just trying to warn you—” Kandi continued, but Blane cut her off.

  “I don’t need a warning,” he said. “And if that’s how you’re going to view Kade, treating him like a criminal, then maybe we shouldn’t hang out anymore.”

  Kade’s eyebrows climbed. He was defending Kade to the Barbie doll?

  “Blane, listen to me—”

  “It’s time for you to go, Kandi. We’ll talk some other time.”

  Kade waited where he was and in a moment, Kandi came stomping out of the den. When she spotted Kade, she marched over to him.

  “You may think you’ve really pulled one off,” she hissed, “but Blane isn’t stupid. He’ll see you for the conniving piece of trash you really are.”

  Kade’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t seem so pretty anymore. “Ditto,” he said.

  Kandi flounced past him to the door, slamming it on her way out. When Kade turned back around, Blane had emerged from the den.

  “Sorry about that,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Kandi had to leave suddenly. She said to say bye to you.”

  “Sure she did,” Kade replied, his gaze steady on Blane’s.

  Blane sighed and pushed his fingers through his hair. “She’ll come around,” he said. “She’s just a little protective . . .”

  Possessive, Kade thought.

  “ . . . but it’ll be fine,” Blane continued. “And if it’s not . . .” He shrugged. “Hey, I’m hungry. You want ice cream?”

  The worry that had churned in Kade’s stomach all day, the anxiety he hadn’t even acknowledged, eased. Blane had stood up for him, taken his side. Emotion clawed at his throat and he couldn’t speak, so just nodded.

  “Awesome,” Blane said, flashing another blinding smile. This time, his eyes smiled, too. “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Blane was up before the sun, carefully knotting his tie and checking his cufflinks before heading downstairs. Mona was waiting with fresh coffee and a bagel for him.

  “Do you have that spare quilt that matches the one in the Garden Room?” he asked.

  “Of course,” she said, her brow furrowing. “Why?”

  “I thought Kathleen would like it.” He took a sip of the scalding coffee. “I’ll drop it by her apartment. Did you get those things I asked for?”

  “I did,” Mona said. “Poor thing. She hardly had anything in that refrigerator of hers.”

  “Thanks for doing that,” Blane said. Gerard was sitting at the kitchen table finishing his breakfast and reading the sports section of the newspaper. Blane grabbed the front page from his discarded stack and skimmed it while he ate.

  “Gerard, could you ride with me to work?” he said once the older man had finished the last of his bacon. “I need you to bring Kathleen’s car back to her this morning. I don’t want her to feel like she’s a prisoner here.” Though Blane would have very much liked her to be, at least until he knew for certain she was safe.

  Gerard readily agreed. “Let me get my jacket,” he said. He pushed himself back from the table and headed down the hallway.

  “Kathleen will be so excited to see all you did in her apartment, Blane,” Mona said, picking up Gerard’s empty plate. “You’re a good man.”

  Blane felt a twinge of guilt that must have shown on his face. Or maybe it didn’t and it was just a testament to how well Mona knew him that her smile faded.

  “She does know, doesn’t she?” Mona asked.

  Blane glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to go. I have court this morning.” He tossed down the paper and stood.

  “Blane Kirk, what are you doing?” Mona’s no-nonsense voice made Blane wince, but he just gave her a tight smile and she sighed. He didn’t want a lecture from Mona. Not today. What was he supposed to do? Just send Kathleen back to her trashed apartment? He knew she didn’t have the money to replace what had been damaged and the thought of her having to live with broken things and ripped furniture was untenable.

  “Make sure Kathleen wears a coat when she leaves today,” he said. “It’s going to be cold out there.”

  Mona nodded, her expression still disgruntled as Blane gave her a swift kiss on the cheek. He followed Gerard down the hallway and out to his car. Soon they were on their way to the firm, the early morning gray and misty as the sun’s rays peeked over the horizon.

  Blane had swiped Kat’s keys from her purse and handed them over to Gerard so he could drive her car back to his place.

  “This girl,” Gerard said as he was getting out of the car. “I’ve never seen you quite so worked up before.” His eyes held a question.

  “She’s in trouble,” Blane explained. “And she has no one else.”

  Gerard nodded, seeming to take Blane at his word. He shut the door behind him and Blane headed to Kathleen’s apartment. He hadn’t been completely honest with Gerard. Yes, Kathleen was alone with seemingly no one to notice or care what became of her. But Blane wasn’t just being a Good Samaritan, and he knew it. It had occurred to him this morning that perhaps Kathleen hadn’t told him everything. Maybe whoever had searched her apartment knew something he didn’t.

  It was an unsettling thought. Was he wrong about her? Was the innocence an act?

  Blane reached Kathleen’s apartment at the same time the furniture guys arrived. He let them in and they began clearing out all the damaged furniture. Heading for Kathleen’s bedroom, he spread the quilt Mona had given him over the crisp sheets. It suited Kathleen and was a silent message from him to her. He wasn’t going anywhere and if she was hiding something from him, he’d find out what it was. A subtle warning wrapped in flowers and cotton.

  Once he was finished, Blane called a locksmith who agreed to come and replace her locks as well as drop him a copy of the key. A quick glance at the furniture the men were moving in to make sure it was what he’d ordered and Blane had to leave. The sun was shining bright as he got in his car and headed downtown.

  Blane had two hearings and it wasn’t until late morning that he got back to the firm. Immediately upon entering, he knew something was up. A cluster of three women stood by a desk, their heads close together as they talked. A twinge of curiosity stirred, but having been the topic of gossip often enough, Blane didn’t pay much heed. Until he heard Kathleen’s name.

  Freezing in place, Blane turned from his path to the elevators and headed directly for the women. One of them saw him, her eyes widening into saucers as she nudged those with her. They all fell silent as Blane stepped up to them.

  “What’s going on?” His expression was carefully blank, his tone one that demanded an immediate answer.

  They all looked like proverbial deer in headlights and no one answered. He fixed one of them with a look and raised an eyebrow expectantly. That seemed to nudge her tongue loose.

  “Um, yeah, Diane fired someone,” she said.

  Blane frowned. People were occasionally let go, this was a business after all, but it usually wasn’t cause for water cooler gossip.

  “Who?” he asked.

  “The new runner,” another girl answered. “Kathleen.”

  “Diane called her white trash,” the third said in a scandalized whisper.

  Fury consumed Blane so fast, he thought his head might explode. His anger must have shown because all three women seemed to cringe.

  “Take this upstairs,” he ordered, handing his briefcase to one of them. He didn’t wait to see if she obeyed, she would, before turning and heading directly for Diane’s office.

  Diane Greene was an efficient office manager. Personally, Blane didn’t car
e for her, but she’d been at the firm for a long time and things seemed to run relatively smoothly under her. This was the first time he’d ever heard of Diane making such a vitriolic and inflammatory remark to an employee.

  And she’d said it to Kathleen.

  Blane didn’t knock before entering Diane’s office, though she was talking to someone who sat in the chair opposite her desk. Blane didn’t spare a glance for that person, merely fixing his gaze on Diane.

  “Out,” he barked. Whoever it was scrambled up and hurried out, closing the door behind them.

  Diane looked too in shock at his abrupt arrival to say anything.

  “Am I to understand that you fired Kathleen Turner this morning?” Blane asked, his voice deceptively calm. “And that you proceeded to call her, and I quote, ‘white trash’?”

  Diane’s face grew mottled as she stammered a reply. “Yes, Mr. Kirk, but she’s been on my warning list for a while now. She was over two hours late this morning, with no word or anything. And she left early yesterday, again without permission or warning.”

  “Both instances were because she was assisting me,” Blane retorted. “Am I to check with you first before availing myself of our employees?”

  “Of course not—”

  “And then you made it personal by calling her a name,” Blane continued, “thereby subjecting this firm to the possibility of a discrimination lawsuit.”

  Diane looked stunned at that.

  Blane leaned over her desk, planting his palms flat on the surface. “Do you have any idea what it would look like?” he said softly. “Miss Turner on one side of the courtroom, you on the other? We’d have to settle in a heartbeat. I don’t think I need to tell you what the status of your job here would be if those circumstances came about.”

  “N-no, sir.”

  Blane stood upright and adjusted his cufflinks. “You’ll reinstate Miss Turner to her former position,” he said, “starting Monday morning.”

  “But, sir, James Gage was the one who told me to fire her!”

  Blane’s gaze jerked back to Diane’s. His lips pressed in a thin line and when he spoke, leashed anger coated his words. “James is not a senior partner of this firm. Therefore, my decision overrules his. Is that clear?”

  Diane nodded.

  “Excellent. Let’s not have this problem again, shall we?” His dry statement was greeted with a faint “No, sir” that Blane barely heard since he was already out the door and striding down the hall.

  When he reached his office, he still hadn’t calmed down.

  “Get James Gage down here,” he called out to Clarice. He heard her on the phone, then she hurried into his office.

  “What happened?” she asked. Clarice was tuned to his moods, though right now it wouldn’t have taken a psychic to see he was royally pissed.

  “James had Diane fire Kathleen,” he said.

  Clarice’s eyes widened. “Why?”

  “Because he’s a jealous fuck,” Blane bit out. The ding of the elevator distracted him and Clarice left just as James walked into his office.

  “You wanted to see me?” James asked, irritation evident in his tone. Although he was William Gage’s son, he was still beholden to the senior partners and he knew it.

  “Since when did you decide that firing the office runner was under your discretion?” Blane asked.

  “She was shitty at her job and since when do you care?” James insolent tone sent Blane’s fury to a new level.

  “You’re a lying prick,” Blane spat. “Let me guess, you went out with her the other night and when you couldn’t fuck her, you decided to fire her.”

  James blanched, unable to conceal his surprise that Blane knew about his date with Kathleen, but he recovered quickly.

  “You’re getting awfully worked up over a bitch in heels,” James sneered. “Did you have your eye on her already? Or were you afraid you’d get my leftovers for once?”

  Blane had James by the throat and shoved against the wall before he could take another breath.

  “Listen, you sonofabitch,” Blane hissed. “Even on my worst day, I’m a thousand times better than you in every way. You know it. I know it. Fuck, everybody knows it. And you may think because you’re daddy’s little boy that you have some pull around here, but you don’t. So keep your tiny dick in your pants and keep far away from Kathleen, or so help me God, you’ll live to regret it.”

  James was clawing at Blane’s hand around his throat, his eyes bulging, and Blane shook him one more time, just to make sure he got the message before he let him go.

  James retched, gasping for air. “You’re fucking insane,” he rasped, hurriedly backing toward the door.

  “And don’t you forget it.”

  James rushed out of the office and past Clarice’s desk. She stared wide-eyed after him as he pushed open the stairwell door and disappeared. She turned to Blane, who stood at the edge of her desk.

  “Wow.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Happy Halloween.”

  To make Blane’s day just about fucking perfect, Kandi called.

  “Kandi, we broke up,” Blane said, striving for patience. “No, I don’t want to go to a party tonight with you.”

  “It’s a friend of my father’s,” Kandi persisted. “He’s quite well connected in Washington, knows all the names to contact for donors. You should come. It would be beneficial to your career.”

  And hazardous to his mental health, Blane thought. Kandi and he went way back. He didn’t want to hurt her, but neither did he want to encourage her. Their most recent breakup might very well be their last. At one point, he’d thought he’d marry her when the time was right. It would be advantageous and she’d make a good politician’s wife.

  But perhaps not a good wife for him.

  “I can’t,” he said, trying a different tack. “I have plans.”

  “Oh? What kind of plans?”

  Kandi’s tone was different now, not pleading but edged with jealousy. Blane rubbed his tired eyes. He thought he felt another headache coming on.

  “Just going with some buddies to a bar,” Blane said. It wasn’t a lie. He was going to a bar and with a couple of phone calls, he was sure he could have a few buddies who’d love to come along.

  “I bought a special costume,” Kandi pouted.

  “Listen, I have to go,” Blane said. “I’ll call you.” He hung up before she could say anything else. To his relief, she didn’t call back.

  Meetings sucked up his afternoon and lasted into the evening. He told Clarice to go ahead and leave early. There was no sense her sticking around when she had kids who probably wanted to go trick-or-treating.

  Blane went to work out first before going to The Drop. He needed to take his frustration out on something, and a punching bag took the brunt of it for a while. Alone in the steaming shower, he thought of Kathleen and wondered if she’d even speak to him when he saw her. After last night, she was probably pissed. Not that he blamed her. Then she’d been fired this morning. He hoped she’d just chilled out in her apartment today and enjoyed her new things.

  Was she glad he’d done what he had? Did she like it? Maybe it would salve the hurt feelings from last night. Blane hadn’t met a woman yet who couldn’t be soothed with a few new, preferably expensive, possessions.

  Speaking of last night . . .

  It wasn’t hard to conjure the memory of Kathleen, her naked body pinned beneath him. Blane’s eyes slipped shut and his hand skated down his stomach to curl around his dick. He was already hard just thinking about the way she’d looked, her breasts full and ripe, the rosy tips puckered and beckoning him. He imagined what it would have been like, the taste and texture of her nipples on his tongue, the noises she would have made when he sucked.

  Blane could pretend the hot water sluicing over his chest was her hands, touching him, exploring. His hand tightened on himself, stroking as he played out in his mind what he hadn’t allowed himself to do last night.

  The fabric of h
er panties would have been so easy to tear, revealing her dripping pussy that just begged for his tongue, his cock, sliding inside her wet heat, stretching her, filling her. She would be tight, her body gripping his as he pumped inside her. He’d make her moan and gasp as he brought her to the edge. Her cries would echo in his ears as he made her come and she’d say his name in that breathy way . . .

  His balls tightened, his hips thrusting his cock in his fist as Blane’s orgasm crashed over him. Warm semen coated his hand before it was washed away by the water and Blane had to brace a hand against the wall to remain standing.

  If he thought fantasizing about her would ease his craving, he’d been mistaken. After dressing in jeans and a shirt, he still wanted Kathleen with the same intensity as before, perhaps more. And he honestly didn’t know what he’d do when he saw her again. He felt out of control when it came to her and it scared the shit out of him.

  The Drop was wall to wall people, many in costumes. Blane spotted Kathleen immediately and froze.

  He knew she’d look good in that costume, but damn. He hadn’t counted on how good.

  Kathleen’s midriff was left exposed by the shirt she wore, or rather, barely wore. Tied between her breasts, the fabric exposed more than it hid, despite the black sports bra she had on underneath. A miniskirt that barely covered her ass, socks that came to the tops of her knees and showed too many inches of naked thigh, and braided pigtails made her every schoolboy’s wicked fantasy in the flesh.

  And judging by the crowd of men surrounding the bar in front of her, Blane wasn’t the only one who thought so.

  “I thought you’d show up tonight.”

  Blane’s attention was forced from Kathleen as another woman stepped in front of him. She was dressed as a glittering fairy, her sleek blonde hair falling in a straight waterfall down her back. Her arms, dusted with a shimmering powder, twined around his neck.

  “Kandi,” Blane said, though his greeting was perfunctory at best. “You look lovely, as always.” How the hell had she known he’d be here?