by Linda Warren
He picked up one of the fragile blue-and-white cups and stared at it. “I can’t drink out of this dainty thing.”
She bit her tongue. “It’s all I have.”
“Women,” he complained, filling the cup to the rim. “They have to have everything just so. Miranda’s the same way. With five kids, you’d think she’d learn.”
Blair reached for a cup and wondered who Miranda was. The mother of the children she’d seen on Lucas’s wall? It was none of her business, she told herself firmly as she poured a cup of coffee. But she was curious—very curious.
Lucas finished one cup and glanced at her. “Do you know how many times I’ll have to fill this thing?”
She added milk and sugar to her coffee. “I’m not counting.”
“Why do you do that?”
She glanced up. “What?”
“Ruin your coffee like that. You can get the same sweetness from a soda pop.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Do you know you’re a grouch first thing in the morning?”
He grinned and she could see the charming Lucas emerging. “So I’ve been told,” he remarked, and headed for the living room.
Told by whom?
She picked up her cup and followed. He started putting on his shoes while she sat at the end of the sofa, sipping her coffee.
“I’m not human until I have my first cup of coffee,” he was saying. “I guess that’s why I’m still single. No woman wants to put up with a bad-tempered man that early in the morning.”
That wasn’t the reason he was single, she thought. A lot of women—a lot—would put up with Lucas any time, day or night and especially mornings. Including herself. She brought her thoughts to a screeching halt. She was getting in over her head.
As Lucas bent down for his shirt, he caught the look on Blair’s face. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips were wet with coffee. Her tongue touched her bottom lip and it triggered something in his head—something pleasurable. He felt as if he’d kissed those lips and felt her tongue against his, which was absurd. He had never kissed Blair like that.
“Sorry about last night,” he said, buttoning his shirt. “I came over here to tell you about Raye, but I don’t remember much after that.”
She’d suspected that. He didn’t remember a thing about kissing and holding her. But she did and she would for a very long time.
“You were wiped out from lack of sleep,” she replied.
“Normally I need very little sleep. I must be getting older.”
“Ancient,” she murmured.
“You’re not supposed to agree with me.”
“I’m afraid not to.” She smiled. “You might turn back into Mr. Grouch.”
“Naw,” he said, smiling back. “Once I’ve had my coffee, I’m as sweet as a teddy bear for the rest of the day…and night.”
She carefully placed her cup on the end table. “I don’t believe I thanked you for taking Blake’s case.”
“Sure you did,” he remarked absently. “Where the hell did I put my car keys?”
“Still, I want you to know how much I appreciate it.”
Lucas was shoving his hand into various pockets. “Better save those thank yous until the end of the trial. Because it isn’t going to be easy. Now, I have a mound of work to sort through today and I need to get going. Ah,” he said with a sigh, pulling keys from his pants pocket. “Thanks for letting me crash on your couch,” he added as he hurried to the door.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He turned to her. “Could you have Blake at my office by ten o’clock? I need to talk to him about the DNA.”
“Sure, no problem,” she replied, then added, “I asked Evan about the DNA and he wouldn’t tell me, but he said it was all legal.”
“We’ll see about that,” he said, checking the gold watch on his wrist. “I have to run. Be careful, and keep an eye over your shoulder.”
“I will,” she promised as fear skittered along her nerves.
Lucas noticed the change in her expression and mistook it for something else. “Blair, I didn’t do anything stupid last night, did I?”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Like what?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, but every time I look at you there’s something on the edge of my memory.”
“Maybe it’ll come to you,” she said, not wanting to tell him what had happened. She wanted him to remember on his own.
“Maybe,” he muttered, wondering why he had the strong urge to kiss her and feeling as if he’d already done that and enjoyed every minute of it.
He shook off the odd sensation. “Keep the door locked,” he ordered as he left.
She bolted the door and leaned against it. She let the warmth wash over her—a sense of new discoveries and tantalizing moments. She allowed herself that brief time, then dashed into the living room and folded the blanket. She had to shower and dress and go to her parents’ place. Her mind focused once again on what was important—Blake’s trial.
LUCAS WAS in his office by seven. He wanted to be prepared for whatever Evan and Carl threw at him. Since Blake was a minor at the time of the murder, he figured Carl would file a motion to have Blake certified as an adult. He didn’t have a problem with that. He just needed to go through the evidence to find out where he stood and what kind of chance Blake had.
Derek was handling the new evidence and Frank the old. Theo had volunteered to go to London to get information on Blake’s life. Lucas wanted to know all about him, from people he came in contact with every day. He felt the facts would be positive, but he had to be sure.
The DNA match still bothered him and he wanted to talk to Blake. He glanced at the clock, hoping Blair would get him here soon.
BLAIR ENTERED her parents’ home through the kitchen, as always. Her mother was at the stove, wearing a long pink robe.
“Hi, Mom,” she said, hugging her.
Her mother enveloped her in a tight hold. “Oh, darling, I’m so afraid.”
“Lucas will handle everything,” she replied in a reassuring voice.
“I suppose,” Ava mumbled.
“Where are Dad, Blake and Uncle Howard?”
“Your father’s in his study, Howard left early to see some friends and Blake’s upstairs.”
As Blair moved toward the door, her mother said, “Tell Blake his breakfast is ready. I made his favorite—cheese omelette, biscuits and maple syrup. And tell him not to be long or it’ll get cold.”
A smile touched Blair’s face as she ran upstairs. Her mother was spoiling Blake, but then she’d always done that. Ava had been the buffer between Sam and Blake during those terrible years. Blair had to admit she had, too. She and her mother had lied for her brother and hidden things from Sam so Blake wouldn’t get into trouble. They’d been wrong to do that. They should’ve made Blake face the consequences of his actions. Now she feared that he would—consequences that might be far graver than his actions deserved.
She opened his door and saw him sitting on the window seat, staring off into space.
“Hi,” she said and sat beside him. He was neatly dressed in khaki slacks and a blue shirt that matched his eyes. The expression on his face was solemn and brooding.
“Did Mom send you?” he asked quietly.
“Yes, your breakfast’s ready.”
“I’m not hungry,” he said gloomily.
“Blake, it’s not—”
He broke in. “Stop it,” he shouted, jumping to his feet. “I can’t take all this love and support. It’s getting to me. I don’t deserve it.”
She frowned. “What do you mean you don’t deserve it?”
He whirled to face her, his eyes filled with pain. “Bonnie Davis died because I was a weak, sniveling coward.”
“That’s not true!”
“It is,” he insisted.
She got up and put her arm around him. She didn’t want to say the next words, but she had to.
“You said yo
u didn’t kill Bonnie Davis and I believe you, but you’re acting guilty.”
“I didn’t kill her, but her death is always with me and I can’t live like this anymore.”
“Oh, Blake,” she cried, feeling his hurt and pain.
“I have to make this right.”
“What are you talking about?”
Blake started for the door. “I have to talk to Mr. Culver.”
“Oh.” Blair ran after him. “Lucas wants to see you before ten o’clock. He wants to talk to you about the DNA evidence.”
“Good, because I have to tell him something.”
Blair didn’t know what that meant, but it didn’t sound good and she was going to make sure she was there for the meeting.
LUCAS’S MIND was reeling from so much information that he was ready for a break when Blair, Blake and Sam entered his office. He noticed that Blair was wearing her stern business apparel—a hunter-green pants suit that covered every inch of her body. So different from the feminine woman he had seen last night.
“Good morning, Mr. Culver,” Blake said politely.
“Call me Lucas,” he invited, eyeing the three solemn faces. Blake looked dejected and Blair seemed tense. Lucas knew something was up.
As they took their seats, Blake said, “I need to talk to you.”
Lucas nodded. “I need to talk to you, too.”
“What about?”
“The DNA evidence.”
Blake’s face colored slightly. “What about it?”
“I asked you once before if you had any idea how the district attorney got your DNA.” Lucas paused. “I’m asking again.”
Blake glanced nervously at Sam, then back at Lucas. “I gave it to them.”
“What?” Sam leaped out of his chair. “Are you stupid?”
Lucas could see Blake cringing. Blair got up and touched Sam’s arm. “Daddy, please.”
“No,” he shook off her hand and addressed Blake. “Tell me you didn’t do something that stupid?”
“Yes, I did,” Blake flared in a spurt of anger. “Your stupid, ignorant son screwed up again, but this time I did it because I wanted to. That’s the reason I came home. Mr. Ramsey, the private investigator who found me in London, asked if I’d give a DNA sample and I said yes. I came back to the States and went to the lab Mr. Ramsey told me about. I had some blood taken, and then he informed the D.A.” Blake paused, shaking his head. “I knew what was going to happen. I knew my DNA would match. I can’t live with the guilt anymore. I wish you’d try and understand that.”
That was it, Blair thought. That was what Blake had to tell Lucas. He had voluntarily provided his DNA and had come home to accept his punishment, but now he had to face the rage of his father—once again.
Lucas recognized that he was rapidly losing control of the situation. “Sam, I need to talk to Blake alone.”
“What the hell for?” he roared. “He just handed Holt the case on a platter and he doesn’t even realize what he’s done. Out of some obscure sense of guilt, he’s willing to sacrifice both our lives.”
Lucas motioned for Blair to get Sam out of the room. This open hostility wasn’t helping anyone, especially Blake.
Blair caught Lucas’s eye and led her father from the room. He didn’t object. “What’s wrong with him, Blair? What’s wrong with him?” Sam kept saying.
That scene gave Lucas a view into Blake Logan’s life and it wasn’t pretty. As much as Lucas hated what his father had done to his mother, he had to admit that his father had never called him stupid. He’d always called him his brilliant son and Jacob his dependable, responsible son. He’d brag about his fine boys. Funny how he’d suddenly remembered that. It had somehow slipped his mind.
Blake was noticeably shaken and Lucas walked into the small kitchen attached to his office and poured a glass of water. He handed it to Blake, who grabbed it like a lifeline.
Lucas leaned back against his desk, allowing Blake a few minutes to recover. He thought about Sam’s behavior. Yesterday he’d been heartbroken, unable to tolerate the thought of his son in jail. Today he was like a madman—berating and belittling his son in front of others. This must have been a pattern all of Blake’s life and probably the reason for many of his problems.
He wondered if Sam treated Blair the same way. If so, she’d handled it better than Blake. She was fiercely independent and had a strong sense of self. She was coping with a lot—her brother’s trial, the loss of her job, anonymous threats—and he wondered how much more she could stand.
“I wanted to tell you when you came to see me in jail, but I lost my courage,” Blake finally said.
“You can’t keep things from me. You have to be honest with me,” Lucas said.
“I know and I’m sorry, but I knew how Dad would react.” He shrugged. “I didn’t mean for him to get caught in the middle. I just want this to be over.”
Lucas folded his arms across his chest. “You were saying similar things the other night. It’s very clear that guilt is what’s driving you. So you have to make a decision right here, right now. Do you want to fight this thing or do you want to go to prison?”
“God.” He shakily put the glass on a table. “One night in jail’s more than I can bear. I don’t know how I’d survive prison, but…”
His voice trailed off and Lucas watched him. “Okay, Blake, talk to me. Tell me what you’re feeling.”
“If I hadn’t been so high on drugs and booze that it made me physically ill, I might’ve been able to stop Todd. And later, I should’ve told the police the truth, but I was scared—scared for my own stinking life. If I hadn’t been such a coward, Todd wouldn’t have beaten Blair practically to death. And now her life is messed up. She has a hard time with intimacy, avoids any kind of serious relationship. And it’s all my fault.”
Blake’s words triggered something in Lucas’s head. He could feel Blair’s tender, yielding lips under his. Last night came back to him in a rush. He tried to remember if Blair had resisted his kiss. If she was repulsed. But, no, she was soft, pliable and— Oh, God. He straightened and walked around his desk. Had he done such a male, selfish thing? Oh, God, he had.
He’d have to think about it later. First he had to deal with Blake. “Listen to me, Blake. You couldn’t have stopped Todd. He probably would’ve killed you, too. And you couldn’t help what happened to Blair. She’s not blaming you, so stop blaming yourself. She’s fighting for your freedom—your life. Quit wallowing in self-pity and show me some backbone. I can’t win this case without your help. If you can’t do it for yourself, then do it for Blair. She deserves that much.”
Blake buried his face in his hands. “I’d do anything for her.”
Lucas gave him a moment. “I know you’re filled with guilt, remorse and so many other feelings I can barely imagine. You’ve been punishing yourself for sixteen years. You said Blair didn’t have much of a life. I’m guessing you don’t, either.”
He looked up. “How can I? Every time I get close to someone, I remember my past and I put an end to the relationship. I just can’t hurt anyone else.”
Such a nightmare, Lucas thought, and he wondered if his skills were equal to the task. He could only try because he knew that Blake needed someone, besides his sister, to believe in him. And he also knew the only way to reach Blake was through Blair.
“A minute ago you said you’d do anything for Blair,” Lucas reminded him.
“Yes, and I meant it.”
“You and Blair have been living in your own self-imposed prisons. It’s time to set both of you free.”
Blake frowned uncertainly. “How?”
“By not letting guilt overshadow the fact that you were an innocent bystander.”
Blake didn’t say anything, just stared at him as if he couldn’t comprehend the statement.
Lucas continued. “And by keeping a picture of Blair in your head—the way she used to be and will be again. A happy, smiling Blair.”
“And dancing?” Blake added
with a touch of excitement.
Lucas’s eyes widened. “Dancing?” He remembered Blair dancing in her office. Did she do that often?
“Yeah. When we were small, Blair took ballet lessons. She was very good at it. Sometimes she’d line up her dolls on the sofa in the living room and she’d dance for them. I caught her one day and I laughed and she chased me around the sofa. We tumbled on the floor, laughing and laughing. After that, she danced all over the house. Whenever she was happy, she’d dance. God, I wish I could see her like that again.”
Lucas felt a lump in his throat. He’d seen Blair like that and it was definitely something to behold. He felt a twinge of jealousy that someone else had witnessed the transformation, which was ridiculous. He was becoming too involved with thoughts of Blair.
Lucas walked around and leaned against the desk again. “Well, Blake, let’s make that our goal.”
“What?” Blake looked confused.
“That at the end of this trial Blair will be happy and dancing again.”
“You think it can happen?” Blake seemed more confused than ever.
“I’m going to put everything I’ve got into getting you out of this mess,” Lucas promised.
A tiny smile lifted his lips. “I don’t know why Blair disliked you so much. You’re really very nice.”
“Blair and I have a bit of…history.”
“Defense attorney history?”
“Yeah.” Lucas sighed regretfully.
“That’s all because of the attack,” Blake said. “Nothing against you personally.”
Lucas cocked his head to one side. “Maybe, but I think she and I are on the same wavelength now.”
Blake looked down at his hands. “Because of me, Blair has done a ninety-degree turn.”
“Yes, she’s looking at things differently and personally, I don’t think that’s all bad.”
Blake glanced up, that tiny smile returning to his face. “I think you could be good for her.”
Lucas imagined Blair’s lips against his and for a moment he was completely lost in the feeling. He quickly jolted himself back to reality. “Maybe,” he said again, and pushed a button on his desk. “Now I want you to go with one of my assistants. I want you to tell him everything that happened on May tenth—from the moment you woke up to the time you went to bed. Then I want you to do the same thing tomorrow and the day after, and once I get all the evidence, we’ll go over it again and again until I’m clear about every single detail.”