Turn on a Dime - Blane's Turn (6 page)

Blane opened the car door for her and she slid inside. When he got behind the wheel, he asked, “Where to?” She gave him an address and he headed that way. He was as excited as a kid at Christmas that he finally got to see where she lived.

Unfortunately, his excitement waned as he neared the address Kathleen had told him. The area of town was one often reported on the news, and not in a good way. Did she live alone? She said she could shoot, but did she own a gun? Maybe she had a live-in boyfriend who kept her safe. That thought made Blane’s hands tighten their grip on the steering wheel.

He opened his mouth to ask her, but noticed she’d fallen asleep. The streetlights cast an orange fluorescent glow on her face every few seconds.

A warmth spread from Blane’s stomach outward. She trusted him enough to sleep, knowing he’d get her home safe and sound. Even when he pulled into her parking lot and turned off the car, she still slept.

The opportunity to observe her undetected was irresistible to Blane. He moved close to her, studying her in the faint light.

She was beautiful, in a classic, elegant way. He took in the arch of her brows, the delicate tilt of her nose and full lips, parted a fraction in sleep. Her hair tumbled in waves over her shoulders and Blane’s fingers itched to touch it. This close, he could smell her perfume again.

Blane hadn’t ever felt drawn to a woman, not like this. Appreciating the shape of a woman enough to take her on a date or two and fuck her was different. This was deeper, like something inside recognized a kindred spirit and wanted to latch on.

Before he realized what he was doing, his palm was cupping the velvety softness of her face, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone.

This was bad. Very, very bad.

Her bleary eyes fluttered open while he was touching her, and he froze.

Awareness struck and she jerked upright. Blane’s hand fell away.

“Sorry I fell asleep,” she said breathlessly. “Thanks for the ride.” She practically fell out of the car in her haste to get away.

“I’ll walk you,” Blane offered, though he didn’t consider it optional.

Watching her hips gently sway as she walked up the stairs made Blane feel like a horny teenager, but he couldn’t help it. His eyes were riveted to her ass until they reached the top floor of her two-story building. She walked toward the door on the left which was also the closest to the street.

Blane glanced around, taking in the scene. His arousal was forgotten as he assessed her apartment’s location and probability of being breached. The second floor was better than the first, but there were bushes and trees planted next to the building and stairs, giving a possible haven to criminals out to do her harm.

He didn’t like that. Not a bit.

She unlocked the door and turned to face him. Obviously an invite to come inside would not be forthcoming. Blane looked over her head into the darkened apartment, wishing there was a light on so he could see inside.

“Do you live alone?” he asked. He was worried about her safety, that was all.

Right.

“Yes.”

She’d begun nervously fiddling with her keys, the metal jangling loud in the night.

“What are you going to do about your car?” Blane asked. She might not remember, but she had no transportation.

“I guess I’ll call a tow truck,” she replied with a shrug.

“Do you have any family here?” Maybe she had a brother who looked after her, kept her car running, and made sure men like Blane didn’t get too close. But she shook her head.

“Boyfriend?”

Negative, Ghostrider.

This was going from bad to worse. She had no one to take care of her, and no one to protect her from . . . him.

Blane moved closer, forcing Kathleen to tip her head back to look at him. Her eyes widened and her keys jangled faster. Blane hid a smile. Closing his hand over hers, he stilled the keys. The pulse at the base of her throat was beating wildly. Blane reached up, doing what he’d wanted to do in the car, and traced a long lock of her hair, curling its soft wave around his finger. He could swear she stopped breathing for a moment.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said.

“Take care of what?” she breathed, her gaze dropping to Blane’s mouth.

He nearly groaned. The urge to kiss her, back her into her apartment and show her how very, very well he could take care of her, was nearly overpowering.

But instead, he smiled. She was his employee. She was off-limits. He could no more sleep with her than he could sleep with his sister, if he had one. Blane reached for his sadly-lacking control.

“Your car,” he said. “I’ll take care of your car.”

Her eyes jerked back up to his and Blane could see her blush in even this faint light.

“You don’t have to do that,” she weakly protested.

“It would be my pleasure,” Blane said, wishing he was just talking about the damn car. His gaze dropped unwillingly to her mouth. She licked her lips and he nearly forgot his resolve not to touch her.

Time to go.

“I’ll need these,” he said, slipping the key ring from her fingers. “Good night, Kathleen.”

She seemed too dumbfounded to say anything, though her throat worked as she swallowed. Blane stepped away, reluctant to leave. But if he stayed, he knew what would happen. He’d have her naked and in bed before she could slip off her shoes. But he’d regret it tomorrow, and likely she would, too.

He felt her eyes on him as he walked down the stairs.

It was the matter of a phone call to get someone out to tow Kathleen’s car and replace the battery. The cost wasn’t much, a couple hundred dollars, but Blane thought that might not have been a paltry sum to Kathleen and he was glad he’d happened to be around when her car broke down.

Blane agreed to meet the towing company at the firm, which was fine with him because although it was a Saturday, he still had work to do in the office.

He didn’t know why he suddenly swung into the hardware store as he drove by, having them make an extra set of keys from the set he’d taken from Kathleen. It was early, the store had just opened, and Blane was the only one there. He stood by, impatiently waiting, wondering what the hell he was doing.

Blane was briefly tempted to take the car by himself once it was fixed, but he had work to do and really needed to stay away from Kathleen for his own peace of mind. His dreams last night had showcased a woman with blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair, and he’d been doing things to her that he was pretty sure were illegal in at least a dozen states.

With that decision made, Blane got to work, losing himself in his cases until his stomach growled, reminding him it was time for lunch.

He was eating a sandwich one-handed from a local shop that delivered while he flipped through files with his other hand when his cell rang.

He glanced at the caller ID before answering.

“Kirk,” he mumbled, swallowing down a mouthful of turkey and swiss on rye.

“Yo, Cap’n, how’s it hangin’?”

Blane snorted at his friend Todd’s idea of urban slang. “What are you? Fucking fifteen? Talk like a man, for chrissake.”

Todd just laughed. “I figured with all the lowlifes you hang with, that’d make you feel more comfortable and shit.”

“Fuck off,” Blane said without heat, taking a swig of the Coke he’d gotten from the vending machine downstairs.

“What’ve you got planned for tonight?” Todd asked.

Blane thought a moment. For once, nothing, which sounded just fine to him. God, was he getting old when staying at home on a Saturday night was something to look forward to?

“Nothing,” he answered. “I’m at work now. I might stay late.”

“You broke up with Queen Bitch, right?”

“Kandi,” Blane corrected, not bothering to reprimand Todd’s pet name for her. None of his buddies liked her and he didn’t see that changing anytime soon. Not that it mattered anymore, he supposed.

“Whatever. She’s out of the picture, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I need a favor man.”

Blane’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What kind of favor?”

And that’s how Blane found himself on a blind date with Todd, some girl named Jenny, and her best friend Tory. Todd had met Jenny at the grocery store and they’d supposedly hit it off. However, Todd didn’t want to do the first date alone in case she was psycho or had their children’s names picked out by dessert.

Tory was easy on the eyes with curves in all the right places, shown off to best advantage in a dress that fit her like it was painted on. Her makeup was bold and thick, her eyes outlined in black while her lips were outlined in red. Tory said she was an “aesthetician” which seemed to mean she did manicures and pedicures all day with an occasional massage thrown in.

When he’d heard that, Blane had shot Todd a look as they let the girls precede them into the restaurant.

“You should be thanking me,” Todd hissed, clapping him on the shoulder. “She was a gymnast in high school.”

“And when was that?” Blane hissed back. “Six months ago?”

But Todd ignored him, hurrying after Jenny and sliding into the chair beside her.

Conversation with Tory was mind-numbing, Blane feigning interest in something she was saying about a reality TV show she was obsessed over. He took another sip of his drink, eyeing Todd and Jenny. Todd was feeding her a bite of his pasta, then leaned forward to kiss her.

Blane signaled the waitress for another drink, cataloguing how much Todd was going to owe him for this. Tory had now slipped off her shoe and was trying to see how far up Blane’s pants leg she could creep her perfectly polished toes.

Blane breathed a sigh of relief when the interminable dinner finally came to an end, only to hear Jenny say, “Hey, I know this great bar we can go to!”

Tory quickly agreed and Todd, well, Blane figured Todd was good with whatever gave him better odds of ending the evening in Jenny’s bed. Blane thought that was already a done deal, judging by the way the two of them made out in the back of Blane’s car while he drove.

The bar was called The Drop and Blane had never been there before, though he’d driven by a few times. A younger crowd filled the place and it was busy at this hour on a Saturday night. Todd spotted a group leaving and snagged their spot in a booth.

The waitress came by and Blane ordered a round of drinks. It took patience he didn’t have to smile down at the woman next to him, who seemed determined to rub every inch of her barely clad breasts against him.

Blane glanced up and time seemed to stutter to a halt.

It was her. Kathleen. Only she wasn’t a customer, she was the bartender.

Her gaze was locked on his, their blue depths clear even from this distance, sucking him in as he immediately forgot the brunette squeezed against him.

Then the moment was over, Kathleen turning away as though she hadn’t even recognized him, or if she had, then she certainly hadn’t cared enough to acknowledge him.

Their drinks were delivered by the waitress and Blane’s mind spun as though new life had been breathed into him, the cobwebs of being up since before five am wiped away. Had she gotten her car without any problems? Was she glad to see him? Had she even noticed him?

The answer to the last question seemed to be no as he didn’t see her looking his way again. However, she seemed pretty busy. Blane faked a laugh at something Jenny had said, he had no clue what, but which had the rest of them in gales of laughter.

He kept casting surreptitious glances Kathleen’s direction as she worked, her movements practiced and efficient. She laughed and joked with the customers and the other bartender, some guy who looked about her age.

Blane frowned at that. Kathleen seemed really comfortable with him. Maybe more than a work friend? But she’d said she didn’t have a boyfriend.

Which didn’t mean she wasn’t sleeping with someone.

That thought had him downing his drink. “I’m going to get us another round,” he said. Tory moved and he slid out of the booth. Ingrained manners made him ask, “Anyone want anything?”

“I’m getting a little tipsy,” Tory said with a flirtatious grin, “but I’d love an appletini.”

Blane wanted to roll his eyes at the not-so-subtle hint, but just nodded and smiled at her before heading for the bar. He had to work to keep his steps even and slow. It would not be cool for Kathleen to see how much he wanted to talk to her.

He slid onto an empty bar stool and waited, taking the time to appreciate how cute Kathleen looked in her ponytail. It took a minute or two, but she finally turned to him with a smile on her face—which immediately faded when she saw who was sitting at the bar.

That took Blane aback. He’d thought after last night, the moment at her door, she’d thawed toward him a bit. It seemed he was mistaken.

“So you work here, too,” he said, scrambling for something to say in light of her frosty demeanor.

“A few nights a week,” she replied. “Can I get you something? Dewars and water?”

Blane smiled a little. She’d remembered what he drank. He liked that. For a fraction of a moment, the ghost of a smile hovered over her lips.