No Turning Back (17 page)

The house was like a well-oiled machine – no doors squeaked when opened and no floorboards creaked under my footsteps. It was dark but there was enough ambient light for me to see. I crept down the stairs and through the dining room to where I thought the kitchen might be. Jackpot! And, like every other kitchen I'd ever been in, a small light had been left on.

A huge, stainless steel refrigerator stood in the corner and I went right to it, stomach grumbling along the way, as if sensing food was near. I pulled open the door to survey the contents and was somewhat disappointed with what I saw. It was a very healthy refrigerator with lots of vegetables, cheese, yogurt and eggs. I wondered if I should dare to try and make eggs, but then decided that would be too much trouble.

I opened the freezer and peered inside, grinning in delight at what I saw. As luck would have it, and I'd had precious little luck lately, a pint of Ben & Jerry's Rocky Road sat on the shelf just waiting for me. Without thinking twice, I grabbed it, fished a spoon out of a nearby drawer, plunked myself down in a chair at the small kitchen table and dug in.

My eyes closed in pleasure as the first bite of chocolaty gooeyness hit my tongue and I sighed. I ate slowly, savoring each spoonful. This was turning out to be the best part of my rotten day. My thoughts turned to Mark and I felt embarrassed and guilty at my own self-pity. He'd certainly had a much worse day than me.

I thought about the things he had told me yesterday. Something kept niggling at the back of my mind, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Trying to focus on what was bothering me made it more elusive and finally I gave up. With a jolt, I remembered that he'd given me his backpack. I'd forgotten about it after everything that had happened today. Now I was thankful that I'd left it in the trunk of my car and not in my apartment. My car was still at the firm so it should be safe.

"I see you woke up," Blane said, and I nearly choked on my ice cream.

Blane moved into my field of vision and leaned against the granite counter in his favorite pose, arms and ankles crossed as he surveyed me. My hand automatically reached up to smooth my hair and then I self-consciously jerked it back down. The last thing I wanted was him thinking I was preening for him, though I knew his eyes had missed nothing.

"Ice cream?" he asked, gesturing to the now nearly empty container.

"Sorry," I said sheepishly, "I've eaten nearly all of it." I'd considered getting a bowl, but realistically had known I would probably finish the whole pint. It was dark but I thought I saw his lips twitch slightly. "It was Rocky Road," I elaborated, as if that explained everything.

"Rocky Road," he repeated. I took another mouthful, swallowing before I spoke again.

"Chocolate covered nuts wrapped in marshmallowy goodness in chocolate ice cream, what's not to love?"

"Indeed."

I ate in silence for a few minutes. He surprised me by pulling out a chair and sitting opposite me. The loaded spoonful I'd taken stuck in my throat and I swallowed heavily. Feeling the need to fill the silence, I started talking.

"You have a really beautiful home," I said. "Do you live alone?" I wondered where his parents were or if they were no longer around.

"Thank you," he replied. "And yes, I live alone." I scooped up some more ice cream.

"Your brother?" I asked, but he shook his head. "Your...parents?" I said hesitantly, and left the rest of the question unasked. He shook his head again.

"They're no longer with me." I felt a twinge of sympathy for Blane and thought, ruefully, that we finally had something in common. I, too, was without my parents.

"Do you know why anyone would have done that to your apartment?" Blane asked. I ignored the emotion that surged inside me at the mention of my apartment and tried to think. It occurred to me then that the only new thing in my possession was Mark's backpack, but considering how easily Blane had taken Sheila's phone from me, I wasn't about to tell him about it.

"No, I don't," I answered. "I don't really have any enemies here and I don't own anything of any real value." I thought of Diane but dismissed her. She wasn't the type to do something like that, even disliking me as much as she did.

"Maybe someone with a vendetta," Blane persisted. "A jilted lover?" My cheeks flamed in the dark and it seemed the tension in the room notched upwards at his words. I cleared my throat before answering.

"Um, no, that couldn't be, I mean, there's not...just...no." I winced at my stammering explanation, really not wanting to go into details that my last "lover," if you could even call him that, had been years ago and I was quite sure was not carrying a torch for me. Blane didn't say anything to that and I busied myself licking the spoon clean.

Blane took the empty carton and spoon from me, tossing the carton away before putting my spoon in the sink. I faced Blane awkwardly, unsure of what to do next. He didn't help matters, merely watching me as I made to move past him.

"Well, good night," I said, but his hand closed on my arm.

"I'll walk you back upstairs," he said. "It's dark and I don't want you to trip and fall."

I could feel my skin tingling from where his fingers touched me. I swallowed and allowed him to lead me from the kitchen.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep and missed dinner," I said as we walked. "That was rude of me."

"You were tired," he responded in an emotionless voice. I couldn't tell if he was upset or could care less. He was so difficult to read, it was frustrating. His thoughts and emotions always seemed to be kept very carefully under wraps. Whereas I felt like I was an open book.

The house seemed darker now, perhaps because I'd been in the brighter kitchen, and I was glad Blane was guiding me. We walked up the stairs and to my bedroom door.

"Mona put some clothes for you in the bureau and closet," Blane said. "They should fit well enough until your apartment is back together."

At his words, I felt my eyes sting with tears and this time I didn't have the strength to fight it. I'd been unwilling to deal with the feelings of violation and fear that filled me when I thought about what had happened. Now that came rushing in and I fought to maintain control. I didn't want to cry in front of Blane. He'd leave in a minute and I could have my emotional breakdown in privacy.

"Thank you," I squeezed past my throat thickened with tears, blinking my eyes rapidly to press them back.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, sensing my distress. His hand came up to cup my cheek, his thumb lightly brushing my skin.

"It's all right," I managed, fighting the urge to tilt my head towards his hand and the comfort he offered.

"It's not all right," he said fiercely, and my eyes widened in surprise at his tone. "You need someone to take care of you."

Those words shocked the hell out of me and also ignited my independent streak. I drew back from him and his arm fell to his side.

"I don't need anyone to take care of me," I said stiffly. "I can take care of myself." Blane's eyes narrowed and I instinctively stepped back further.

"Because you're doing such a great job?" he said wryly. I ignored his words. A small, frightened part of me thought he might be right, but I refused to acknowledge it. It wasn't like he was volunteering for the job. That thought took the heat from my anger and depressed me. I was alone, whether I liked it or not.

I didn't have anything more to say and didn't want to hear anything he might say, so I warily slipped past him into the room. He allowed me to pass, his eyes intent on mine as I closed the door. After a moment, I heard his footsteps moving down the hall and I breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

I decided I would feel and sleep better if I showered, so after a quick examination of the drawers and closets, I turned up a few under things and a t-shirt that would work for me. The choice of panties made me blush. I didn't want to think about whose they were or why Blane had them in his house when he'd said he lived alone. I grabbed the one plain white satin pair I found and headed into the bathroom.

I took my time in the shower, enjoying the fantastic water pressure, and felt a bit better when I was through. I managed to find a brush and brushed the tangles from my wet hair. Pulling on the t-shirt and underwear, I slipped under the covers and pulled the quilt up to my chin.

However, I couldn't sleep. The long nap assured that my mind was now running in circles, refusing to let me sink into peaceful oblivion. I thought about Mark and Sheila and the horrible ways in which each had died. I thought of the things Mark had told me and I wondered if I was the next target. I had no doubt that the murders were linked. It was too much of a coincidence for them not to be. I thought about my apartment, all my possessions in the world, now broken or destroyed. This time I didn't bother trying to stop the tears from sliding down my cheeks. It surprised me that I felt not only fear, but also an overwhelming anger.

Allowing myself to wallow a bit in self-pity, I turned my face into the pillow to muffle my sobs. I had no idea how I was going to recover from what had been done to my things. I didn't have enough savings to replace everything.

I suddenly felt arms slide underneath me and I was lifted upward. I didn't resist. I knew who it was and I couldn't make myself deny him. Blane lifted me onto his lap, just as he had the night Sheila died. I curled into him, burying my face against his shoulder as I cried. His arms wrapped around me, his hand stroking my damp hair.

We stayed like that for a long while and I could hear him speaking quietly as he tried to soothe me. Over my ragged breathing, I could barely make out his words.

"Shh, it's all right," he was murmuring. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you."

I couldn't say precisely what effect those words had on me, but the tightness in my chest eased somewhat, my earlier bravado gone. My tears were waning now and Blane's fingers lifted my chin so I was looking at him. I knew I must look horrible after the crying jag and I was glad for the room's darkness. His eyes glittered and I found myself unable to look away. A thumb brushed my cheek as he wiped the tracks of my tears away and I felt my resolve crumble.

Stretching upward, I settled my lips on his and wrapped my arms around his neck. He momentarily stiffened in surprise and I wondered if I'd presumed too much. That thought was driven from my mind when he clutched me to him, his mouth greedily devouring mine. His desire for me was a heady thing and I reveled in it, opening my lips so he could deepen our kiss. Throwing caution and inhibitions to the wind, I shifted, wrapping my legs around him and resettling myself on his lap. His erection pressed against me and he groaned as his fingers tangled in my hair.

My hands worked feverishly at the buttons on his shirt and I sighed in pleasure when I finally reached the warm skin of his chest. I pushed it over his shoulders and down his arms and he jerked his hands free. His hands slipped under my shirt to settle on my waist, digging into my skin as he gripped me tightly.

My brain turned off as my hormones kicked into high gear. It had been a long time since the back seat of Donny Lester's car. I had never felt as much charged sexual tension as I did with Blane. I couldn't stop touching him. My fingers traced the contours of his chest and shoulders. Blane was warm and gloriously hard all over. His hand came up to cradle the curve of my cheek as he kissed me.

Pressing closer to him, I ached for him to touch me. His hand returned to grip my waist and I whimpered, hoping he'd move his hands upward. Finally, impatient and wanting more, I reached for the hem of my shirt and dragged it up over my head. Barely had the fabric fallen from my fingers than Blane's hands were on my breasts. I gasped at the sensation, my head falling backward as my body seemed to hum with pleasure and anticipation. I wanted Blane with a desperation that would have frightened me if I'd been in any condition to think clearly. Blindly, I reached downward, finding Blane's belt and tugging on its fastenings.

I suddenly found my wrist caught in an iron grip. Blane's other hand gripped my waist, pushing slightly and putting a few inches of space between our skin. Confused, I looked up at him. He was breathing as heavily as I was, his lips glistening in the dark from our kisses. The look in his eyes made the throbbing between my legs intensify and I settled myself more firmly against the hard length of him beneath me.

"Stop," he bit out through clenched teeth, his fingers almost painful against my skin. I froze, uncomprehending. Why would he want me to stop? Unsure what to do, I leaned forward, my breasts resting against his chest as I pressed my lips against his jaw.

"I said stop," he commanded, putting both hands on my waist and pushing me backward onto the bed and off his lap entirely. Following me, he pinned my arms above my head, immobilizing me. My legs instinctively parted as he crouched between them. I was completely confused, and yet acutely aware of him. Everywhere his skin touched mine, I burned.

"Make love to me," I begged, unable to stop the words tumbling from my mouth, a thread of need in the dark night. All the defenses I'd put in place against Blane, all the warnings about getting involved with him, were tossed aside. Suddenly, I needed nothing as urgently and as desperately as I needed him.

His eyes were locked with mine and I couldn't fathom their depths. The clenching of his jaw and the tightening of his fingers around my wrists were his only reaction. I was about to repeat myself, shamelessly beg him again, when he spoke.

"I...can't," he finally said. "I won't." Shock and dismay warred in me. I didn't know what to do or say. Although I'd never baldly asked a man to make love to me before, the idea of Blane turning me down would never have crossed my mind. But it seemed he was.

"What? Why?" I managed to gasp. His hands moved down my arms from my wrists and I bit back a moan as the calluses on his fingers brushed my skin. Although his mouth was telling me no, his hands seemed to have trouble obeying the command and I felt flames lick at me again as he caressed me.