“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.
I hugged her again. “Absolutely. I’m so thrilled for you.”
I glanced at Blane’s closed door. “Is Blane in his office?”
She nodded. “Yes, he’s meeting with that new lawyer he and Derrick just hired.”
“Do you think he’d mind if I popped in real quick?”
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “You’re probably the one person he wishes would interrupt him more.” She winked.
Clarice had been privy to many of Blane’s dating escapades. The duty of a farewell gift usually fell to her. But she was a die-hard romantic, and I thought she was hoping Blane and I were going to be a long-term thing.
So was I.
I tapped lightly on the door to Blane’s office. When he called out to come in, I pushed open the heavy wooden door.
Blane sat behind his paper-str
ewn desk talking to the new hire. What I hadn’t even considered was that the lawyer sitting opposite him would be a woman. I didn’t know why I had assumed it would be a man, I just had. They both turned to look at me.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” I said, recovering from my surprise.
“It’s fine,” Blane said. “I’m glad you stopped by. Kathleen, this is our newest attorney, Charlotte Page.” He motioned to the woman. “Charlotte, this is Kathleen Turner, one of the firm’s investigators.”
Charlotte stood, stretching her hand toward me with a smile. I shook it, forcing my lips into an answering smile.
She was really pretty. Not that pretty was the best way to describe her. More like striking. She had jet-black hair and olive skin, deep-brown eyes, and full, inviting lips. Clad in a navy pinstripe suit and skirt with a white silk blouse and heels, she topped me by several inches. Her figure made my stomach sink. Perfectly hourglass, her narrow waist rounded into hips that tapered to sculpted legs.
Well, at least I was better endowed, I thought snottily.
Then she spoke.
“Kathleen, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She had an accent—Spanish maybe. Combined with her exotic looks, it was the proverbial icing.
“Nice to meet you, too,” I lied. My self-esteem wasn’t such that I could gladly welcome her working side by side with Blane.
“Charlotte graduated top of her class at Columbia,” Blane elaborated. “She clerked for Justice Thomas.”
“That’s really great,” I said. She was the personification of everything I’d wanted to be when I was eighteen.
“Mr. Kirk exaggerates my accomplishments,” Charlotte said modestly.
“It’s Blane, not Mr. Kirk, and I’m not. If anything, I’m underrepresenting your outstanding record, Charlotte.” He gave her a genuine smile.
If people actually turned green with jealousy, I knew I had to be rivaling the Hulk in skin tone. While my logical side knew I was being irrational, it was pointless to try to tell that to my emotional side.
“Well, I’ll just leave you two alone, shall I?” I tried hard for a pleasant tone but must not have wholly succeeded. Blane gave me a slightly quizzical look.
“Did you need anything else?” he asked me as Charlotte resumed her seat.
“Oh, yes.” I’d nearly forgotten Kade. Again. I directed my words at Blane. “I wanted to remind you to call Kade.”
Blane’s expression shuttered. “Of course. Thank you.” He looked back down at his desk, effectively dismissing me.
Wondering what that was about, and with a last nod to Charlotte, I left the room. I stood outside the door, lost in thought, and more than a little depressed.
“What’s wrong?” Clarice asked.
I flopped down in the chair by her desk. “Why didn’t you tell me he’d hired Penélope Cruz?”
She grinned. “You mean Charlotte?”
I rolled my eyes.
“She’s really nice,” Clarice said, “and has excellent qualifications.”
“And she’s drop-dead gorgeous,” I said sourly.
“Kathleen, you have to stop this.” Clarice sounded exasperated. “Blane loves you. I’m sure of it. You can’t go thinking that every woman that walks by is going to be the one to take your place.”
I thought about what she said. She was right. Blane did love me. My initial reaction to Charlotte wasn’t something I could control, but I didn’t have to let her presence throw me into a tailspin.
“You’re right,” I said with a sigh. “It’s just sometimes I realize how mismatched we are, and I wonder when Blane’s going to realize it, too”
“Mismatched how?”
“Well, let’s see. Blane is successful, rich, gorgeous, smart.” I ticked the accolades off on my fingers. “Whereas I’m…” My voice trailed off.
“You are the one he’s chosen,” Clarice said firmly. “Everything else is just stuff that doesn’t really matter. It’s how you feel about each other that counts.”
I could hear in her voice the hope and joy of someone in the throes of love, still on the high of her engagement. I certainly didn’t want to burst her bubble.
“Forget I said anything, Clarice,” I said with a wave of my hand. “I’m probably just PMSing or something. So are the kids going to be in the wedding? And what colors have you chosen, because I look awful in yellow.”
I distracted her with wedding talk for a while before heading back to my cube. I had a stack of files waiting for background checks and two requests to follow a supposedly cheating spouse to catch him in the act. With a sigh, I got to work.
It wasn’t until late afternoon that something out of the ordinary happened. I got a phone call from Charlotte’s secretary requesting my presence.
I went up to the third floor, where half the firm’s lawyers had their offices. Every two lawyers shared a secretary, but I was unfamiliar with Charlotte’s. Maybe she was new as well. She was young, with oversized glasses that made her eyes seem quite large for her thin and narrow face.
“Hi,” I said to her. “I’m Kathleen.”
“Oh, hi,” she replied, shuffling a stack of papers into a pile. “I’m Jessie. You can go on in.”
I approached Charlotte’s open office door, hesitantly poking my head in. It was a bit of a shambles, and I could tell she hadn’t fully moved in. Stacks of file boxes stood in the corner, and she’d discarded her jacket on an elegant Princess Anne chair.
“You called for me?” I said by way of greeting.
Charlotte looked up from where she’d been bent over a box. Her shirt was sleeveless, showcasing her toned arms, and her hair was pulled up into the kind of messy bun I could never master.
“Thank you for coming so quickly,” she said, again with the friendly smile. Standing, she put some of the books she’d unearthed from the box onto a nearby bookshelf. They looked like weighty tomes of knowledge. I wondered if she’d actually read them.
“Sure,” I replied. “What can I do for you?”
With a small sigh, she moved to sit behind her desk and motioned me to the chair opposite her. “Have a seat. Please.”
Obediently I perched on the edge of the chair and waited for her to speak. She eyed me for a moment.
“Blane mentioned you might have some suggestions on apartments, places I might be able to rent for a while, until I get settled,” she said. “I’m living in a rent-by-the-week hotel at the moment, and am anxious to get a place of my own.”
Good Lord, why in the world would Blane have her ask me, of all people? The thought of Charlotte living in an apartment complex like mine was laughable. Kade’s upper-class loft apartment came to mind, then I immediately dismissed the thought. I didn’t want her anywhere near Kade.
“Um, I’m probably not the best person to ask,” I finally said. “I live in a small place close to downtown. Not the greatest of neighborhoods. There are lots of nice places close to here, though. Maybe you should look in Carmel.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll do that. Thank you.”
“No problem.” I forced a stiff smile and made to rise.
“Wait. One more thing.”
I sank back into my chair, looking expectantly at her.
“I have the feeling,” she began, “that you don’t like me much.” A small smile played about her lips, but her eyes were serious.
“That’s not true,” I said, though I was taken aback at her insight. “I don’t even know you. How could I possibly know whether or not I like you?”
“Exactly.”
I pressed my lips together tightly, waiting for her to make the next move. I grudgingly admitted to myself that she’d made her point.
“I don’t have many female friends,” Charlotte said. “Women tend to find me… threatening.”
Really? I couldn’t imagine why.
“I’d really like it if you and I could be friends,” she continued.
I had no idea what to say. Now I felt all kinds of b
ad for immediately hating her. She’d been nothing but nice to me so far and I hadn’t really given her a chance.
“Um… yeah… sure… okay,” I stammered.
She beamed a dazzling smile at me. Being with Blane had done wonders for my self-esteem. I knew I was pretty, even really pretty given the right clothes and makeup, but Charlotte was simply stunning. The kind of woman who could wear overalls and no makeup, and men would still stop to stare.
I returned her smile with a weak one of my own.
“If you don’t mind”—she grabbed a folder from one of the piles on her desk—“since you’re one of the investigators for the firm, I’d like you to look through this.”
I flipped open the folder and gasped, not expecting the lurid photos inside.
Charlotte grimaced. “I know. Those are the photos of the victim. Her name is Julie Vale.”
I slowly paged through the photos. The girl was lovely. Long blonde hair. Petite with a curvy figure. I looked closer. A figure marred and disfigured with bruises and lacerations.
“Are these rope burns?” I asked, pointing to her wrists and ankles.
Charlotte nodded. “It’s not a pretty sight. Whoever raped her was a sadistic bastard.”
I swallowed, closing the folder and looking up at Charlotte. “So what do you want me to do?”
“As ugly as it is,” she said with a sigh, “we need to know more about her. I thought you could look into it, maybe go by her work, talk to people. See what you can find out.”
“And this is to help get Matt Summers off,” I retorted. “The bastard deserves to go to jail.”
“It’s our job to defend, not play judge and jury,” Charlotte replied evenly.
I nodded, getting to my feet. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Charlotte thanked me and I left her office, taking the folder to my desk and studying the girl who’d done nothing to deserve what had happened to her.
That night, Blane took me to dinner at the restaurant we’d come to view as our usual place. It was where he’d taken me the night my car had broken down. The first time there I’d just had soup, but tonight Blane ordered the shrimp cocktail for us to share, then ordered me the special.
“So,” I said once the waiter had cleared our plates. “Charlotte seems very… capable.”
Turning Point (The Kathleen Turner Series) Page 9