No Turning Back (18 page)

"You're beautiful, Kat, perfect," he said. I focused on the fact he'd said I was beautiful and barely registered the nickname, my mind preoccupied with the journey his hands were taking to my hips. "And I thought I could but I can't. You're too young and innocent and I'm not going to do that to you."

I felt my face heat as I realized Blane must think I was a virgin. Apparently, I'd been wrong in assuming seduction was instinctual if my woeful lack of experience was so readily apparent to him. Images of the many beautiful, sophisticated women I'd seen with him flashed through my mind and I wanted to cringe. I almost blurted out that I wasn't innocent, but sensed this was going nowhere fast. If I wanted to salvage any of my self-respect, I had to end this quickly. My resolve didn't make it to my mouth though because I heard myself say, "You're Blane Kirk. Since when do you care?" I could hear the bitterness, and to my humiliation, jealousy in my voice.

"Usually, I don't," he replied in the cold, hard voice. His fingers bit into my waist and my breath froze in my chest as I felt his fingers hook the thin straps across my hips and pull them taut. For a moment, I rejoiced, thinking I had won after all. It would only take a sharp tug from him and the fragile fabric would tear.

"I doubt you're on any sort of birth control either, are you?" he asked, in the same hard tone. His cold practicality was like slap in the face and I felt my own naiveté as a physical pain. I couldn't speak.

He cursed viciously and sat abruptly back, releasing me. Before I could do or say anything, he'd grabbed his shirt and tucked it across me, covering my bare chest and stomach. His mouth was again on mine, brutal in his intensity, and I tasted the sharp tang of blood as my teeth cut the inside of my lip. Then he was gone, slamming the door shut behind him.

I didn't think I'd ever been so humiliated in my life. I didn't sleep around so putting myself in this vulnerable position with Blane was a first for me. And considering how I'd been rejected, I doubted I'd be repeating the experience anytime soon.

Too stricken to put my clothes back on, I crawled back under the covers, clutching Blane's shirt to me. I refused to cry over Blane, my pride wouldn't let me, and eventually I fell into a fitful sleep. My dreams were filled with images of Blane, always just out of my reach, a stony expression on his face, devoid of emotion.

I was awakened by the sunlight streaming through the windows and realized someone was in the room, opening the blinds. Sitting up abruptly, I realized I was still naked and clutched the quilt to my chest. Mona was in the room and she turned at my movement, a warm smile on her face.

"Good morning, dear," she said. If she was surprised to see me half-naked in bed, Blane's shirt peeking out of the covers beside me, she didn't show it. "Blane has left for work, but he had Gerard bring your car by this morning for you. I brought some breakfast," she gestured to a tray on the nearby bureau. "I wasn't sure what you preferred so I hope you don't mind I brought a bit of everything."

I finally found my tongue. "Thank you," I said, shoving a hand roughly through my tangled hair, pushing it away from my face. "I appreciate that." I really did. I couldn't remember the last time someone had fixed me breakfast. It had been years. Mona moved to the door, and before she could close it, I asked, "Wait, can you tell me what time it is?"

"Of course, dear," she said. "It's a bit after 9 o'clock." The door closed. Dismay filled me and I leapt out of bed. I was so late for work. Diane was going to have my head on a platter.

I showered and dried my hair in record time. Scrambling through the closet, I found a pair of sleek black pants that fit me perfectly and a teal sweater that I was afraid might be real cashmere. I had no choice, really, since my clothes were nowhere to be found.

No makeup was in the bathroom and I grimaced at my reflection. My lower lip was a bit swollen from where it had been cut when Blane kissed me. The memory of last night simultaneously made me shiver with longing and blush in embarrassment. I was grateful to whatever gods there were that Blane was gone this morning and I could put off having to face him.

I regretted not being able to enjoy a real breakfast in bed. Mona had made eggs and bacon and I looked longingly at them. There was also a basket of muffins, Danish and bagels. Juice and coffee sat next to the tray and I gulped down a cup of coffee, not taking time to put cream or sugar in it, and grabbed half a bagel. Then I was out the door and downstairs.

Mona met me at the bottom of the stairs, carrying a long black coat and my purse. "Here you are," she said, handing them to me.

"That's not my coat," I said, taking my purse from her.

"Oh yes, I know," she said, laying it across my shoulders and holding it expectantly.

"Blane mentioned you didn't have your coat with you yesterday so you can wear this," she explained. "It's much too cold to be without a coat today." Not knowing how to refuse her without looking churlish, I pushed my arms into the sleeves.

My lips thinned. Blane's whispered words came back to me from last night. "I'll take care of you." This had to stop. I couldn't get more attached, or more dependent, on Blane. I had to get out of here. "Thank you so much, Mona," I said. "Will you keep Tigger a little longer for me until I can get my apartment sorted out?" I didn't want to leave Tigger in my apartment alone during the day. He'd been lucky yesterday and I didn't want to chance something happening to him, even though it seemed he really did have nine lives.

"We'll be glad to," Mona said. "Don't worry about him. He's settled in nicely."

With a last smile at her, I headed for the door. She followed me, saying just before I walked out, "Did you like your room?" Bemused, I stopped. The way she'd said it was strange, like my answer was portentous or something.

"It's lovely," I said truthfully. "I've never seen anything like it."

She smiled even wider. "It is, isn't it? It's a shame so few people are allowed to see it. That room was such a particular favorite of his mother's. And Blane's." Our eyes met briefly before I looked away. I didn't want to hear any more. Scrambling for the keys in my purse, I walked down the path to my car, waiting in the circle drive. I climbed in, and with one last look at the beautiful home, even more breathtaking in the morning sunshine, drove away.

It was after ten when I finally made it to the office. I glanced around nervously as I hurried inside, hoping to avoid Diane. It might just be possible to sneak to my cube without being seen.

My plan seemed to be working when I scuttled past Diane's empty office and I breathed a sigh of relief. That relief turned to dismay when I rounded the corner into my cube and nearly ran into her. She took in my appearance in a quick glance, her eyes lingering on the expensive sweater and my swollen lips.

"Diane," I began, "I'm really sorry I'm late-" but she cut me off.

"I was just cleaning out your things," she said frostily, shoving a small box into my arms. It held my coffee cup, a framed picture of my parents, and a few odds and ends. I stared at her, mouth agape.

"Wh...what do you mean?" I stammered as my heart sank. I thought I knew what she meant.

"You're fired, Kathleen," she said simply. "Don't make me call security."

"But I was just late this once!" I protested. And it was true. Mostly. I didn't really count the occasional five or ten minutes, especially when I worked past closing so often.

"It's not just that," she hissed. "You're white trash and have no business being here." Her eyes looked over me again and her lip curled in distaste. "God knows what he sees in you." I felt myself pale under her haughty inspection.

Drawing myself up, I refused to be cowed by her. "I don't know what you're talking about," I said stiffly. Then I remembered – James! Surely he would take my side and help me keep my job. I couldn't bring myself to even think of Blane. Somehow, invoking Blane when Diane thought I was sleeping with him felt beneath me, even if I wasn't actually sleeping with him.

"James may have something to say about this," I threatened, hoping it was true.

"James is the one who told me to do it," she said, smiling thinly now. "After I told him I'd seen you leaving with Blane yesterday in the middle of the afternoon, he agreed with me that we don't need...distractions...like you around here." She managed to convey a world of loathing into her words.

Inside, I was dismayed. I couldn't believe James could be so vindictive. We'd only had one date. Then I remembered how he'd reacted when he'd thought Blane and I were together and my hopes crumbled.

We'd gathered an audience by now and I refused to show how shaken I was. With as much dignity as I could muster, I turned and walked away and out the doors. It wasn't until I reached the safety of my car that I allowed myself to succumb to fear of what I was going to do now, embarrassment at the scene with Diane and anger over the unfairness of it all. Somehow I managed to get the key in the ignition, and drove away from the firm.

I reached my apartment and turned off the car, struck by what I saw. A huge truck had backed up to my building and two men were carrying my ruined sofa down the stairs. Jumping out of the car, I ran over to them.

"Hey, what are you doing?" I asked in alarm. "What's going on?" They ignored me as a third man came up, clipboard in hand.

"Are you Kathleen Turner?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered. "Why are those men taking my sofa?" By now they'd shoved it in the back of their truck. Peering in, I could see the rest of my ruined furniture as well.

"We were told to take the old things when we delivered the new," the man with the clipboard said.

"That's all of it," one of the guys called out to him, and he nodded.

"We'll be going then," he said, turning back to me. "The locksmith is still upstairs. He'll give you the new key. Have a good day." He was already climbing in the truck's cab.

"Wait!" I called out to him, but he either ignored me or couldn't hear me over the truck's engine rumbling to life. In a few moments, they were gone, my furniture with them.

Aghast, I ran up the stairs, and sure enough, there was another stranger working on the locks on my door. The back of his shirt said "Ted's Lock and Key."

"What are you doing?" I asked, panic now wearing on my nerves at the strangers invading my apartment. He glanced over his shoulder at me.

"Just installing a new deadbolt," he said. "You the resident?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm almost done and I'll be out of your way."

"But," I stammered, "who told you to do this?" He shrugged.

"Don't know. Call comes in, I get sent out. Didn't take the order. Just told to install a new lock." With that, he put his tools away, closed and reopened the door to check the fitting, and stood.

"Here's the new key," he said, dropping a pair of keys in my hand. "Have a good day now." I watched him walk down the stairs, still in shock. A noise made me turn my head as CJ opened her door and leaned against the jamb. She was wearing all black again and I could see she had an eyebrow pierced with a silver hoop.

"They gone?" she asked.

"Yeah." I assumed she meant the truck guys.

"Finally," she said, heaving a sigh. "I couldn't sleep with all the noise they were making."

"When did they come?" I asked, and she glanced at a watch on her wrist.

"About an hour ago, but people have been coming and going since you left last night."

"What?!" I was alarmed. I hadn't told anyone what had happened to my place. "Who came and went?"

"I don't know who they were," she said, shrugging. "I thought you'd gotten someone to come clean the place up." She paused. "Your boyfriend was here this morning. I assumed you knew."

My mind was reeling. "What boyfriend?" I asked, though I could guess what she was going to say before she said it.

"That guy you were with last night," she answered. "Isn't he your boyfriend?"

Blane.

I closed my eyes, shaking my head. "No. He's not my boyfriend." I had a sinking feeling I knew what he'd done. With hands that shook slightly, I eased open my apartment door. Stepping inside, I froze in astonishment.

You would never have guessed what had happened here the day before judging by how it looked now. The apartment had been completely cleaned up. The food on the floor, broken glass, dirt from the plants, everything was spotless. My torn furniture had not only been removed, it had been replaced. A matching leather sofa and loveseat filled the living room, both a deep burgundy. A new flat screen television hung on the wall. The carpet was pristine, as if it had been steam cleaned.

I walked through to the kitchen almost as if I were in a trance. Opening the cabinets, I saw the dishes had been replaced as well. And not by the cheap stuff I'd gotten at Wal-Mart. Nice, heavy dishes with a pretty pattern on them were neatly stacked on the shelves. Opening the refrigerator, I saw it had been restocked with more food than I think I'd ever had in it.

Not even the bathroom had been neglected. What had remained of my torn shower curtain had been replaced with a different one. Matching towels hung on the rack, even new shampoo and conditioner bottles sat on a shelf in the shower.

My bedroom was what finally broke me. The ruined quilt on the bed had been replaced with one nearly identical to the one on the bed in which I'd slept last night, shattering all doubt about who had orchestrated this. The empty rods from which my curtains had been torn had been refitted by matching drapes. Opening my closet, I saw an entire new wardrobe had been purchased and was hanging up, carefully sorted into pants, skirts, blouses, casual and formal.

Sinking down to the floor, I curled my arms around my legs and laid my head on my knees. It was too much. Overwhelming. I couldn't begin to process what I was feeling. Blane had taken out of my hands the choice of either accepting or rejecting his assistance. His assumptions and high-handedness angered me. I'd been taking care of myself for years. I didn't suddenly need him to do it for me.