Turning Point (The Kathleen Turner Series) (2 page)

“I should go back home,” I blurted.

Blane’s entire body went still. I could feel his heartbeat racing as he pressed against me. Or maybe that was mine. He raised his head, his green eyes glittering in the semidarkness of the bedroom.

“You want to go back to your apartment.” It didn’t come out as a question, but rather a statement.

Nervous butterflies danced in my stomach. “It’s not that I want to,” I stammered. “But maybe it would be for the best.”

Blane didn’t say anything for a moment, and the silence seemed oppressive. I couldn’t hold his penetrating gaze, so I stared at the white linen of his shirt.

“I’ll take you home in the morning,” he finally said.

When I looked back up, I couldn’t read anything from his face. Before I’d even realized what was happening, he’d placed a kiss on my forehead and disappeared out the door.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling for a long time. I didn’t know what had happened, what Blane wanted from me. Had he expected that I’d just continue living with him?

That just wasn’t me.

Then I heard the sound of the piano downstairs.

Glancing at the clock, I pulled on a matching white robe to cover my nightgown. It was after one. Padding downstairs on bare feet, I followed the sound to the library. Inside, there wasn’t a single lamp burning. The only light was filtering through the windows from the streetlamps outside.

Blane sat at the piano with his back to me, his hands moving furiously over the keys. Music filled the room as though it were a living thing. I watched in silent awe. I’d never seen him play like this before. His careful control was gone; only passion remained.

I don’t know how much time passed before he suddenly stopped and turned around, startling me. I’d moved closer without even realizing, so engrossed in the music had I been. Now I stood mere feet from him.

He was disheveled, his dark-blond hair tousled, the neck of his shirt open, and his sleeves carelessly pushed up. Blane was almost always impeccably dressed, every inch of him screaming “powerful attorney.” Seeing him with his armor off and guard down was a rare thing.

The overwhelming silence in the library and Blane’s seemingly accusing look made me feel as though I’d rudely intruded on a private moment.

“I’m so sorry,” I said softly, taking a step back. “I heard music…”

“That’s all right,” he replied, his voice a soft rasp. “I didn’t mean to keep you up.”

Since he didn’t seem angry, I halted my retreat. Cautiously, I asked, “What were you playing?”

“Rachmaninoff.”

I nodded as if that meant something to me, though I would have been hard-pressed to even repeat the name he’d just said.

“It was beautiful,” I said sincerely. “But why are you playing at this time of night, Blane? What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer for several moments and I held my breath. Finally, he glanced away. “Nothing’s wrong, Kat. Let me help you back upstairs.”

My breath came out in a huff as frustration reared inside me. I pressed my lips firmly together to keep from saying the words on the tip of my tongue. It seemed a recurring theme: Just when I thought Blane might open up to me, really open up, he pushed me away.

The next morning, he took me home.

For all that we’d been through together, Blane kept an emotional distance from me. He’d done so much—even put himself in mortal danger for me—but I didn’t know if it was because of me, or simply because that’s who he was. And he’d never said.

Since I’d moved out, we’d been dating. It was a combination of nice, sweet, and frustrating all at the same time. We were getting to know each other better, but it still seemed like Blane kept me at arm’s length. Except when he was kissing me.

I fell asleep thinking about him and wondering where he’d gone, what he hadn’t told me, and when he’d call.

The covers were ripped from my body and I jerked upright, barely stifling a shriek. Kade was standing in my bedroom, the corner of my blanket in his hand.

“You’re late,” he said.

I flopped back onto the mattress with a groan, turning so my back was to him, and buried my head in the pillow. “Go away,” I mumbled. “It’s still dark outside.”

He didn’t respond, and for a blessed moment, I thought perhaps he’d heeded me.

“Black’s my favorite color. How’d you know?”

It took a moment for my sleep-fogged brain to process what he had just said. The cold air brushing my backside brought things abruptly into focus.

“Kade!”

I shot up and yanked down the T-shirt that had ridden up to my waist overnight, exposing the black lace of my underwear.

His eyes drifted slowly over me, from my sleep-tousled hair, down my chest to my bare thighs.

“Five minutes,” he said, abruptly turning and leaving the room. The door shut behind him.

I blew out a breath and pushed a hand through my hair, calming my suddenly pounding heart. Kade and I hadn’t spoken of what lay between us, not since he’d told me that he cared about me. I’d hurt him that night. Not that I’d wanted to, but there’d been nothing I could say that wouldn’t drive a wedge between him and Blane—his half brother.

I just knew I liked seeing him turn up on my doorstep, even if that meant getting up at the crack of dawn to go running through the streets of downtown Indianapolis.

Dragging myself from the warm confines of the bed, I hurried into the bathroom. Ten minutes later I was dressed in layers, with my hair pulled back in a ponytail.

“Ready,” I said as I laced up my shoes. Kade was waiting impatiently with arms crossed in my living room.

“It’s about time,” he grumbled, heading for the door. I stuck my tongue out at his back.

“I saw that,” he said warningly, his back still turned. He held the door open for me.

“You did not,” I said with a laugh, smacking him on the arm as I passed by.

“Ah, so you did mock me,” he said, following me down the stairs. “You should practice lying, princess. You don’t have a deceitful bone in your body.”

Kade started running as soon as we hit the pavement. He went at a pace I could keep up with, at least for a little while.

“I can lie,” I protested, my breath coming out in puffs of cold as we ran.

“Please.” Kade rolled his eyes. He wasn’t even breathing hard. “I don’t think I’ll be taking you to Vegas anytime soon.”

“Why do I have to lie anyway?”

“It comes in handy,” he said. “Being able to make someone believe a lie can save your life.”

I was turning this over in my mind when he added with a wicked grin, “And get you laid.”

I went to smack him on the arm again, but he moved out of my reach.

“I’m the bad guy, princess. Catch me.”

And just like that, he took off.

“Shit,” I muttered miserably before putting on a burst of speed myself.

I ran as fast as I could through the streets, now starting to glow with the light of dawn. I knew I was never going to catch him, his legs were too long and he was just too fast. He rounded a corner up ahead and I abruptly changed direction, heading off to my right.

I ran harder, cutting through empty yards and a parking lot. Tearing around the edge of a building, I raced down an alleyway, only to find a chain-link fence blocking the end.

I quickly spotted a Dumpster shoved into the corner. Wrinkling my nose in distaste, I climbed up on top of it, hunched down, and waited.

Sure enough, about five seconds later, Kade came running down the street. He had slowed down quite a bit and was looking over his shoulder, no doubt wondering where I’d gone. I waited…

Now!

I jumped, hurtling through the air. He looked up, but not in time to get out of the way. The breath rushed out of his lungs when I tackled him, and we both went crashing to the ground.

Pressing my advantage of surprise, I climbed on top of him, grinning in glee at my victory.

“Caught you!” I said. “Betcha thought I couldn’t do it, right?”

In a flash, Kade had flipped me over onto my back, straddling me and holding my wrists prisoner above my head.

“And what exactly were you planning to do with me once you’d caught me?” he asked, his voice a sibilant whisper in my ear.

I heard the words but couldn’t concentrate enough to reply. I could smell the musky aroma of his sweat and feel the press of his thighs against my hips. His face was inches away, his blue eyes locked on mine. My breath was coming in pants, my chest heaving, and time seemed to stand still. His gaze drifted down to my mouth.

“What the hell? What’s going on here? Get off her!”

The shouting broke my trance and I jerked my head around to see a heavyset middle-aged man hurrying toward us. He was carrying a bat. I squirmed frantically and Kade leisurely got to his feet.

“I’m okay.” I forestalled the would-be rescuer, jumping up. “I’m fine.”

The man halted. “Are you sure?”

I nodded. “Absolutely. I just… fell… and he was helping me.”

The man snorted in disbelief, but turned and walked back in the direction he’d come from.

I could feel Kade’s eyes on me, but I avoided looking at him. I nervously readjusted my ponytail, which had come loose in our tussle.

“Let’s go,” Kade said, and he broke into an easy jog.

I hurried to catch up to him and we ran back to my apartment in silence.

“Meet me at the gym at six o’clock tonight,” Kade said, glancing at his watch. His breathing was deep and controlled, whereas the sound of my sucking air into my lungs would have embarrassed me if I hadn’t felt like I was going to throw up any minute. I clutched at a stitch in my side.

Kade lifted an eyebrow, his mouth twisting in amusement. My eyes narrowed, daring him to say a word.

“Six o’clock,” he said again.

I nodded to show I’d gotten the message and watched as he slid into his black Mercedes. In a few moments, he was gone.

Lugging my aching body back into my apartment, I collapsed flat out on the floor and groaned. Tigger seemed to think that was an invitation to cuddle. He was stretched out next to me in short order, his loud purr vibrating against my side. I halfheartedly patted his marmalade fur, too exhausted to raise my arm for a proper petting.

The only thing that got me off the floor was the thought of a hot shower and coffee.

I whiled away the afternoon doing laundry, making lunch, and trying to pick a practice lock Kade had given me. It was a difficult task and I grew frustrated quickly. When the lock finally tumbled and opened, I crowed with delight.

“Only took”—I glanced at the clock above my television—“an hour and a half.”

I sighed. Well, Kade had never said this would be an easy job.

Speaking of which, it was time to go to the gym. When I’d imagined a gym before, it was with vague thoughts of a place filled with exercise machines, maybe a pool, weights, stuff like that. That wasn’t the kind of gym Kade sent me to.

This dingy place wasn’t in a great part of town, and considering where I lived, that was saying something. The fading sign over the door outside read Danny’s Gym. Inside, the usual smell of sweat and linoleum hit me, though it wasn’t entirely unpleasant; the gym was kept immaculately clean. There were free weights and weight sets over in one corner, and heavy punching bags along the wall. The center of the room was dominated by a large boxing ring.

Today, the gym was nearly empty save for the owner, Danny, the Marine who had been training me. A head taller than me and sporting a crew cut, he stood with his arms crossed over his massive T-shirt-clad chest, watching two people in the ring.

I frowned as I got closer, studying the figures. Then my eyes flew open wide in surprise.

Kade and Branna were sparring.

They circled each other, Kade barefoot and dressed only in gray sweatpants that clung to his hips and thighs. His hands were taped as though he’d been boxing.

Branna was wearing formfitting black yoga pants and a black tank top. Her long, nearly black hair was tied back in a French braid. I felt dowdy in my shorts and T-shirt, my hair in a ponytail.

I hadn’t seen Branna since Chicago, when Kade and I had infiltrated a data center and she had hacked into the security cameras. Kade had told me that he and Branna had shared a foster home, that she had been abused as a child and he had done what he could to stop it.

I didn’t want to feel anything for her—she barely tolerated me. I’d known the moment she first looked at Kade in Chicago that she was in love with him. But the knowledge of her past raised a reluctant sympathy in me, though she would hate me even more if she knew those thoughts were going through my head.

Kade made his move. He was fast and I held my breath. Branna was a small, delicate-looking woman, but she dodged him, pivoting on her toes. He snagged her arm, but she easily twisted away, doing something to his hand that made him wince. They moved again, grappling, and I was sure he was
going to hurt her. Then suddenly Branna grasped his arm, used his momentum to twist him… and a moment later, Kade was flat on his back. My jaw dropped in astonishment.

Beside me, Danny clapped. “Nice one,” he said.

Kade groaned, accepting Branna’s outstretched hand as he got to his feet. “I’m getting too old for this,” he groused.