Out of Turn

CHAPTER EIGHT

I didn’t know what else to do or say. What do you say in times like this? I remembered when my dad and mom had died. Multitudes of people had shaken my hand, told me how sorry they were, and I’d tried to be strong—first for my mom, then for myself. I had seen the pity in their eyes, but I’d made it through the funerals, waiting until I was alone to fall apart.

Chance had been with me then and I was reminded of that now. He was the only family I had left. It had felt so good to have someone to lean on, someone who I knew wouldn’t pity me, but just loved me and would let me be vulnerable to my sorrow. Blane needed that kind of someone right now, and maybe he could allow himself to do the same with me.

We stood like that for a long time, in silence, wrapped in each other’s arms. I closed my eyes and breathed in Blane’s scent. I didn’t allow myself to think of anything. I just savored this moment and being in his arms, a place I’d thought I’d never be again. Only when his grip finally loosened did I let go, too. My mom had always said to never be the first one to stop hugging.

Blane took my hand and tucked my arm under his, drawing me over to the sofa. We sat, him so close his thigh pressed against mine. He cradled my hand in his, intently studying my palm. But I had the feeling he was really gazing inward, which was confirmed when he began talking.

“They called me this morning,” he said. “I have a few friends on the force. One of them was there and knew of our… relationship.”

I pressed my lips firmly together to keep from asking if that was a past or present-tense form of “relationship.” That was none of my business. Not anymore.

“When I got there, her body was still where they’d found it—” His voice cracked and he broke off. He cradled my hand now in both of his, hunching over to rest his elbows on his knees. After a moment, he seemed to regain control. “She wasn’t always the way you knew her,” Blane said. “She used to be sweet. Selfish and spoiled, yes, but not bitter. That came later. And I keep thinking that it’s my fault. She was unhappy because I let her down.”

His words tore at me. The blame game? Yes, I was familiar with that one. “Blane, no,” I said. “You weren’t responsible for Kandi’s happiness. She was. She made her own decisions. And I know she thought you and her were supposed to be together, but it’s not your fault that it didn’t work out that way.” I gave a small shrug. “People grow. People change. And what may have made sense when you were fifteen isn’t the same when you’re older and life has changed both of you.”

Blane looked at me, his eyes wet and filled with pain and grief. My own eyes stung in sympathy.

“I haven’t told you the worst part,” he said, his voice thick. “When they called, told me my ex had been found murdered—at first I thought it was you.” He swallowed, then seemed to have to force the next words out. “And when they told me it was Kandi, I was… relieved.”

It seemed like he couldn’t look me in the eye any longer and bowed his head again, bringing my hand to his forehead as though in prayer. I felt the wet streaks on his face against my skin.

My vision blurred with tears at Blane’s confession, a confession of something he deemed reprehensible but was really just… human. But rarely did Blane get to be just human. Too many people counted on him and too much was expected of him by others as well as himself. Now he was punishing himself for feeling an emotion—relief—something he had no control over.

“Blane, please,” I said, “don’t do this to yourself. You can’t control what you feel. It doesn’t mean you loved Kandi any less. Please don’t punish yourself.” I wrapped my free arm around him the best I could, leaning into him as though I could convince him by my sheer physical presence.

He looked up at me, his eyes red and swollen, and my heart nearly broke. I swiped gently at his wet cheeks and leaned forward, pressing my lips to his forehead and pulling his head to rest on my shoulder. He wrapped his arms around my waist and leaned on me. It was the first time that Blane had ever shown that he needed me in this way or that he was anything less than in complete control.

After a few minutes, Blane lifted his head. I gave him a small smile. His hair was in disarray and I couldn’t resist the temptation to push my fingers lightly through it, rearranging the blond locks into their usual place as if I could rearrange his emotions.

Blane lifted a hand to my cheek and I stilled. He was so close and now the air between us changed, making me acutely aware of him. The rustle of his clothes when he moved, the way his eyes stared intently into mine, the saline making their usually gray depths a clear, brilliant green.

His head lowered and I knew what was coming, but I didn’t move away. I couldn’t. And in another moment, he was kissing me, his lips moving gently over mine in the lightest of caresses.

Tears clogged my throat and I held in a sob. Kissing him again, being in his arms, just being near him, was so bittersweet it made my chest hurt. The familiar feel and taste of him was like finally being given a sweet after being denied for a long, long while.

When he lifted his head, I was flustered, unsure what had just happened, why he’d done that, what it meant… A thousand questions ran through my mind and I couldn’t meet his eyes. Nervously, I pushed my hair behind my ear.

Blane’s hold on me suddenly tightened and I glanced up at him. He was frowning, and as he looked at me, his expression changed to disbelief. I was about to ask what was wrong when he took my chin in his hand and turned my face toward the light. He sucked in a sharp breath. That’s when I remembered the bruises.

Shit.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice rife with fury.

I tried to turn away, but his grip tightened on my face, preventing me.

“Did Kade do this to you?”

“You’re. Hurting. Me,” I gritted out. Blane immediately released me. “No,” I said. “Of course Kade didn’t do this. How could you think that? It just… happened. How does any of the crap that happens to me happen? It just… does.”

“It’s precisely for that reason that you shouldn’t be around either of us,” Blane said.

“That’s your opinion,” I retorted.

“It’s a fact,” he shot back.

I bit back what I was going to say, the stark paleness of Blane’s face reminding me that this wasn’t about me, not really. He was bound to overreact, given what had happened to Kandi and the guilt he felt.

“When did you last eat?” I asked.

Blane just looked at me, no doubt knowing full well that I was changing the subject.

“Weren’t you just chewing my ass out a few days ago for not eating?” I asked. “Come on. I’m hungry and I’m sure Mona has something in the kitchen.” I got to my feet and tugged on his arm.

“I’m not hungry,” Blane said, resisting my attempts to pry him off the couch.

“If you don’t eat, I don’t eat.”

Blane glowered at me, but I stood my ground. Finally, the corners of his mouth tipped up slightly.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he murmured.

I couldn’t go there, not if I wanted to maintain my composure. Yet I found myself saying quietly, “Yeah, me, too.” I glanced away, my cheeks burning with the admission. I released his arm, but Blane stood and caught my hand in his.

We went to the kitchen, and I could hear Mona’s and Kade’s voices as we approached. The moment we stepped into the room, Kade’s eyes zeroed in on Blane’s and my joined hands. I tried to ease mine from Blane’s without making a big deal of it, but he kept a firm hold.

We sat at the small table, me between Blane and Kade, who sat opposite each other. I managed to free my hand from Blane’s when Mona set a plate in front of me.

“I made sandwiches,” she said. “But I can make something more substantial if you want.”

“Sandwiches are great,” I said quickly, my smile forced. Most of my attention was directed to how Kade and Blane were eyeing each other.

“Mona,” I called as she was about to leave the room, “won’t you sit and visit for a few minutes? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Mona beamed at me and sat down at the table. “Gerard took your car to get it filled up,” she told Kade.

“That’s nice of him,” I said. I wished I had a Gerard.

“He likes to do stuff for the boys,” Mona said with a wave of her hand and an indulgent smile.

I took a bite of my sandwich to hide my own smile. It was just so funny to hear her refer to Blane and Kade, two dangerous men, as “boys.”

“So what have you been up to, Kathleen?” Mona asked.

I swallowed and took a drink of the water she’d set in front of me, noticing that both Kade and Blane were now looking at me and waiting for my answer. “I decided to go back to school,” I said.

“That’s wonderful!” Mona said. “What are you studying, dear?”

I took a deep breath before answering. “Criminal justice.”

“Why?” Blane asked.

I looked at him, surprised. “Why what?”

“Why would you pick criminal justice?” he clarified. “I thought you didn’t want to become a lawyer anymore.”

“A scum-sucking, bottom-feeding lawyer isn’t the only career you can pick with a criminal justice degree,” Kade interrupted. My eyes widened at his deliberate insult and Blane stiffened. “She can go into law enforcement, private investigation, the FBI—any number of fields.”

“You mean, so she can know exactly how to evade and bend, if not outright break, the law? Just like you, right, Kade?”

“Looks like she won’t have much choice, seeing as how you threw her out of your life and, just to add insult to injury, took her main source of income with you,” Kade shot back.

“What, you didn’t swoop in and save the day?” Blane sneered, leaning slightly over the table. “Didn’t buy her another expensive car or leave twenty grand on her table again?”

Okay, news flash—I didn’t realize Blane knew about that.

Kade leaned forward, too. “At least I did something about it,” he said, his voice rife with anger and contempt. “Unless she dances to your tune and obeys your every whim, you could give a shit what becomes of her.”

“Listen, you sonofabitch—” Blane began.

“Boys!”

Mona’s sharp interjection cut through what Blane had been about to say, making me start in my seat at the tone of her voice. Both Blane and Kade shut up, but their eyes were glued to each other’s and their body language screamed that they were a hair trigger from coming to blows.

Again.

Because of me.

“First of all,” Mona said, her voice quieter but still edged with steel, “language. You know I won’t tolerate language of that sort in this house.”

Kade broke the staring contest with Blane first, glancing guiltily at Mona. Blane sat back in his chair and stared glumly down at the table.

“Second,” Mona continued, “may I remind you that a dear friend of this family has died. I don’t think I need to point out that your behavior is disrespectful to her memory. And last, I was having a pleasant conversation with Kathleen, which you rudely interrupted, and now your bickering has upset her.” She gestured toward me.

The distress I felt at their fighting must have shown on my face, because Blane and Kade both looked at me, their expressions changing to an identical one of chagrin.

I cleared my throat and scooted back my chair from the table. “Um, I think it’s best if I leave. Mona, can Gerard give me a lift home?”

“Of course, dear,” she said a little sadly.

I stood but was stopped by Blane’s hand on my arm.

“Please don’t leave,” he said.

I looked at him, surprised.

“We won’t fight—I swear it,” he continued. “Just… stay. Please.”

It was a bad idea, I could feel it in my bones. But his eyes were pleading with me, saying things his mouth couldn’t, and in the end I couldn’t tell him no. Then again, when had I ever been able to tell Blane no?

“You promise not to fight?” I asked, looking to Kade as well. “Both of you?”

“Oh, am I invited to the sleepover, too?” Kade said, his tone laden with sarcasm and his eyes on Blane.

“Kade,” Mona admonished.

“Of course,” Blane said. He had his lawyer face back on and I couldn’t read anything from his tone or expression.

“Blane,” Mona said, “I would think, given his training, that Kade would be a big help to you in finding out who did those awful things to Kandi.”

“We can talk about that later,” Blane hedged.

“I’ll just call it a night then,” I said. “It’s been a long day.” I was desperate to get away, my nerves shot from too much happening too fast.

“I’ll walk you up,” Blane said.

I caught Kade’s eye but didn’t know what to say or do, if anything. His gaze was cold and nothing at all like the way he’d looked at me last night.

A flicker of the memories I’d been avoiding all day flashed through my mind and I felt my cheeks burn. Kade’s brows drew together and he frowned before I hastily turned away. I felt Blane’s hand settle on the small of my back as we walked toward the stairs.

“I know the way,” I said quietly as we started upstairs. “You don’t have to come with me.”

“I know” was all he said.

It was silent between us the rest of the way to “my” room, but not uncomfortable. When we paused at the doorway, I turned to face Blane, suddenly reminded of the first time I’d stood outside this door with him looming over me.

He stood close, close enough for me to breathe in the scent of his cologne. Close enough that if I made the slightest move toward him, I knew he’d have his arms around me in the blink of an eye. I stayed very still, though the temptation to inch closer was strong. I remembered the kiss from earlier. I was confused and uncertain. What did he want from me? Hadn’t I already given him everything? In spite of that, I was worried about him. Would I ever learn self-preservation when it came to Blane?

“Are you going to be okay tonight?” I asked.

Blane gave a bitter huff of laughter.

I stiffened. “What’s so funny?”

“Even after everything I’ve done, how I’ve treated you, you’re still worried about me,” he said.

I frowned. “And that’s funny?”

Blane shook his head, his expression turning grave. “Not a bit. It’s tragic. For me. For you. For what we had. I knew you… know you… and I let myself believe…” He glanced away for a moment, then back. Our eyes met.

“I’ve wasted so much time,” he said baldly, “made so many mistakes. I’m damn lucky you’re even here at all, that you still care. But then again, that’s the kind of person you are.”

I was also the kind of person who had slept with his brother less than twenty-four hours ago and was desperately trying to pretend it hadn’t happened. I decided not to mention that, but my silence didn’t stop the guilt from rising like nausea in my stomach.

“I’m not a saint, Blane,” I said, looking at the floor because my guilt made it impossible for me to look him in the eye any longer. “I just care about you—that’s all. I don’t like to see you hurting.”

Reaching out, he fingers brushed my uninjured check and I reluctantly lifted my eyes. “You were always too good for me, Kat,” he said. “It just took me too long to see it.” There was the lightest touch of his thumb to my lips, then he was heading back downstairs.

But I wasn’t too good for him. I was a horrible person keeping a painful secret.

My lips seemed to tingle from his touch and I just stood there, rooted to the spot, and berated myself for being too weak. Too weak with Kade, and too weak with Blane.

I took a shower and found the white nightgown I always wore when I stayed. My suitcase was sitting on my bed when I came out of the bathroom. I loved Gerard. I dug through it for my brush, pausing when I came across Kade’s shirt, the one he’d ripped off me last night. I pulled it out. Almost all the buttons were missing, torn off by Kade. I brought it to my nose and inhaled. Kade’s scent lingered on the fabric.

This was the first chance I’d had to be alone since realizing Kade remembered nothing about last night. Now I allowed myself the full range of my emotions. I didn’t know what I’d been thinking, why I’d done what I’d done. Had I thought that just because Kade had said he loved me, that made all the difference? That my life would take a different turn, or that Blane would ever allow it? If so, I’d been very much mistaken, not to mention stupid. And it didn’t really matter what I’d thought last night—all of it was gone, fizzled like morning mist in the unrelenting Nevada sunshine.

A shudder went through me when I imagined what Blane would do if he ever found out.

I refused to cry. It was my own fault for letting it happen. Regret played second fiddle only to the guilt, and on top of that was an overwhelming and unexpected sadness.

And I could never tell Kade. How would I even begin that conversation?

I know you don’t remember any of it, but we made love last night, and it was amazing. Wonderful. A night I’ll never forget. You said you loved me.

I wondered when Kade had last told a woman he loved her.

I should get rid of the shirt, I knew—it was evidence of a night best forgotten. Instead, I found myself carefully folding it, then putting it in my suitcase before setting the whole thing in the back of the closet and crawling into bed. I was lucky Kade didn’t remember anything, I told myself. Seeing Blane and Kade still at such odds because of me was physically painful. Neither of them needed to know about my selfishness last night.

I’d stay here for a few days, do what I could to help Blane through this, then go home. Kade would leave, Blane would go back to campaigning, and I’d… be alone.

The pillow under my cheek grew wet, my self-pity all the worse in light of what had happened to Kandi. A good person? I felt like the good had been rubbed out by all the bad now inside me.

I didn’t go downstairs the next morning until I had on my full armor: makeup, hair washed and blow-dried, clothes. I’d found a little white denim skirt in the closet and a navy-and-white polka-dot blouse with little straps, both in my size. When Blane and I had dated, he’d been adamant about buying clothes for me to keep at his house, hiring the same man who did his suits to stock my closet. I was glad of it now, as the clothes I’d bought in Vegas were woefully inappropriate for here.

The skirt was maybe a bit too big, given that I’d lost some weight, but I also found a belt to cinch it with. The shirt was made of a sheer, lightweight material, so I wore a thin cami underneath. A pair of strappy white, wedge-heeled sandals fit me perfectly.

My bruises looked better. The ones on my ribs were still dark, but the one on my cheek could be covered with enough makeup and my curtain of hair to hide it.

I didn’t know who I’d find in the kitchen. It was Thursday and Blane should have already been at work, but I had a feeling he’d be taking a few days off to deal with Kandi’s murder and funeral. I heard voices as I approached and when I stepped into the sunny, cheerful room, I saw that Mona and Kade were the sole occupants. The aroma of coffee and bacon permeated the air and I sniffed appreciatively.

“Good morning,” Mona said with a smile. “Hungry?”

My stomach growled. “Starving,” I said.

“Well, sit down. I’ll get you some breakfast. Blane left for work earlier but said he’d be back after lunch.”

While she busied herself at the stove, I poured myself a cup of coffee, catching Kade staring at my legs as I walked over to the table where he sat. His gaze moved to meet mine, but I had a hard time looking him in the eye. I gazed at my coffee instead.

He was wearing jeans, boots, and a T-shirt. His only concession to the heat outside seemed to be that the shirt was short-sleeved, which I could appreciate. Seeing Kade’s arms on display was never a bad thing, and I eyed them covertly from under my lashes.

“Good morning, princess,” he said, giving me a half smile. “Sleep well?”

My dreams had started with a replay of the night in Vegas, which wasn’t bad at all, but ended with Blane and Kade beating each other to a pulp, which was. I’d shouted at them and cried. Gee, I wondered if I could get someone to interpret that one for me.

I forced a fake smile. “Like a baby,” I said.

He rolled his eyes. “You are such a shitty liar.”

Mona set a plate of food in front of me, distracting me immediately. I loved breakfast food and didn’t give another thought to Kade’s comment as I dug in to the eggs, bacon, and toast. After a few minutes, I glanced over at Kade, who was sipping his coffee and watching me.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” I asked around a mouthful of food.

“Already did.”

“Mona, this is amazing,” I said to her. “Thank you so much.” It was such a treat to have someone cook for me. It never got old, and since my mom had died, I’d never again taken it for granted.

“You’re welcome, dear,” she said with a soft smile, giving me a little hug around my shoulders before leaving the room.

My nerves returned with a vengeance without Mona nearby as a buffer, and I didn’t try to talk to Kade anymore while I ate.

“I have class this morning,” I said after I’d cleaned my plate, getting up to put it in the dishwasher. “Can I borrow your car? Or can you drive me to mine?” A reprieve from both Blane and Kade would significantly decrease my stress level.

“I’ll take you to class,” Kade said.

I frowned as I turned back to him. “What? Why?”

“Blane can’t say for certain if the Gage situation is resolved,” he replied, his tone conveying exactly how he felt about that. “He delivered a warning, but neither of us is willing to risk it.”

“I don’t want a bodyguard,” I objected.

“Too bad.”

I glared at him, crossing my arms over my chest. “So you’re just going to tag along with my every move?” I didn’t know if I could handle that. Not now. Not with the weight of my secret pressing so heavily against my chest that it took effort to just draw breath.

“That’s the plan.”

“I don’t like that plan,” I retorted, echoing his words in Vegas.

He smirked appreciatively. “Consider me your private tutor,” he said.

I thought of the other girls in my class and how quickly they’d decide they needed “tutoring” once they got an eyeful of Kade.

Kade found a place to park on campus, then walked me to class. I caught more than one pretty passerby taking a second look at Kade and wondered if he was checking them out, too. Not that I cared if he were.

Right.

“You can’t bring your guns in here,” I said in an undertone as we stepped inside the air-conditioned building. A sign was plastered to the door about no firearms allowed.

Kade raised his hands. “I don’t see a gun. Do you see a gun?”

His innocent act didn’t fool me for a second, but he just gave me his telltale smirk and followed me to class.

The summer session was nearly over, so the class wasn’t as full as it would have been during a fall or spring term. Kade and I found seats in the back of the small auditorium. Since I’d missed class on Tuesday and the final was next week, I asked a student nearby if I could copy her notes. She and I had spoken a few times before and she readily agreed. I began writing while waiting for the class to begin. Kade slouched in the seat next to me, his long legs splayed in front of him and his sunglasses hooked on his shirt.

His pose got me thinking and I asked, “So what kind of person were you in high school?” I glanced at him before resuming my copying. “I’m imagining you to be the guy in the back of class who was always smarting off to the teacher.”

Kade raised an eyebrow. “I’m hurt,” he said, pretending to take offense. “I was a model student.”

I stopped copying and just looked at him until he cracked.

“Okay, that might not be precisely true,” he amended.

“Shocker,” I teased. “You were that guy the girls whispered about, the one who never followed the rules, which only made you more exciting and dangerous. How many teenage hearts did you break, Kade?”

He laughed lightly. “I think your imagination of me is much more interesting than reality.”

Somehow I doubted it.

“And you were the good, quiet, shy girl,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he studied me. “Always sat in the second row. Not the front—that would attract too much attention. Made good grades, but not like the cutthroat genius types who loaded up on honors classes. Went to the homecoming football game, but not the dance. Never had a curfew because you didn’t need one, because you weren’t the rebellious kind.”

I smiled a little at his perceptiveness. Spot-on so far.

“Your mom was your best friend,” he continued, leaning over his desk toward me as his voice grew quieter. “And you couldn’t stand to be in the same house, the same town, all alone without your parents, which is why you did something so utterly out of character as to sell the house you grew up in and move away from the only home you’d ever known.”

I wasn’t smiling now. It was no secret to me why I’d left home the way I had, but it was jarring to hear Kade spell it out like that and to realize… he knew. He knew exactly how it felt to be alone and lose everything that meant anything to you.

My wide eyes were locked on his and he frowned at whatever he saw in mine. His next words were barely more than a murmur.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

My breath froze in my chest and I felt the blood leave my face in a rush. How? How could he possibly know?

I was saved by the professor entering the room to start class. I could barely concentrate on what was said, though—Kade’s too-close-to-home psychoanalysis had me rattled. Not to mention his comment about what I wasn’t telling him. Kade had always been able to see through my lies. How was I going to keep the secret?

“What class is this again?” Kade whispered in my ear. His warm breath fanned across my skin and I instinctively jerked away, his proximity reminding me too much of when he’d been even closer in Vegas.

He gave me a what-the-hell-is-the-matter-with-you look as I stammered back, “Um… Criminal psychology.”

“This guy is full of shit,” Kade snorted.

The girl I’d borrowed the notes from glanced back at us with a frown.

“Keep your voice down,” I hissed at Kade.

“Are you listening to this guy?” Kade asked, making somewhat of an effort to be quieter.

I hadn’t really, no. My mind was occupied with other things. But apparently the question was rhetorical because Kade kept talking.

“All this crap about why criminals do what they do—it’s all bullshit. The whole my-daddy-hit-me-therefore-it’s-okay-if-I-abuse-little-kids or I-get-depressed-sometimes-so-let’s-kill-some-people.”

“Then how do you explain it?” I asked. If Kade had personal insight as to why people did bad things, I certainly wanted to know.

Kade looked at me. “Some people are born bad, and that’s just the way it is.”

I remembered what he’d said about himself while he was drunk in Vegas. We weren’t talking about your average bad guy. We were talking about Kade.

“Or maybe,” I said, “some people just think they’re born bad, but that’s not who they are. Not really.”

“And you think you can tell the difference?”

The way Kade had touched me, made love to me, told me he loved me—all of it went through my mind. “Yes,” I replied with absolute certainty.

Kade’s eyes studied mine before he at last looked back toward the still-speaking professor. “You’re delusional,” he muttered.

I hid a smile at his disgruntlement. I didn’t care what he persisted in believing about himself, I just wanted to make sure he knew I refused to think that of him.

Kade refrained from making any further comments on the course material and soon we were heading back to his car. He slipped his sunglasses on and I caught myself taking way too many covert glances at him as we walked.

It was so strange—the intimacy we’d shared made me want to walk closer to him, touch his arm or shoulder, but I couldn’t. It started to hurt when I thought about it too much, so I made a conscious effort to push the memory aside, forcing myself to put a little more space between us and to stop looking at him. As far as he knew, yes, we’d had a brief interlude in Vegas, but he’d decided to end things between us permanently, even our friendship.

I had to remember that part and forget the rest.

He held the car door for me and I slid inside. When he got in the driver’s side, I said, “I need to go by the bridal shop. My fitting for Clarice’s wedding is today.”

He winced as though I’d asked him to donate a kidney. “How long will that take?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe an hour? You can drop me off and come back if you want.”

“Like that’s not a recipe for disaster,” he quipped.

“So how long are you going to be on bodyguard duty?” How much longer did I have with him before he was gone for good?

“Until there’s no longer a threat,” he replied. “I’ll check around, see if there’s a contract out on you.”

“Contract?” I squeaked. That sounded very… Godfather. It wasn’t like I was a mob boss or something.

Kade’s mouth twitched into a sly smile. “Relax. If there is, I’ll find out about it.”

And I believed him. I knew, without a doubt, that Kade would find a way to keep me safe.

I gave him directions to the little bridal boutique where Clarice had bought her gown and ordered the bridesmaid dresses. He parked and followed me to the door.

I stiffened my spine and took a deep breath before entering the store. I hadn’t gotten a chance to shop for my wedding gown before Blane had broken the engagement. In retrospect, I was glad. A nonrefundable deposit would have been wasted if I’d found the dress I wanted, not to mention that I hadn’t particularly wanted to have the image of my wedding gown in my head when it turned out I wasn’t getting married.

The boutique wasn’t busy this afternoon. Kade and I were the only customers, and I gave the saleslady my name and Clarice’s. She went in the back to get the dress and seamstress.

Kade looked decidedly uncomfortable, and I couldn’t help a little smile. He was most certainly out of his element, surrounded by mannequins dressed in billowing clouds of white satin and lace. The boutique had plush rose-colored carpet and flower arrangements advertising the florist next door were displayed throughout the shop, perfuming the air with their delicate scent.

“You really don’t have to stay,” I offered again, taking pity on him.

He was looking around, eyeing the wedding gowns as though they were going to gang up and attack him, and his gaze swung to meet mine. He cleared this throat. “I go where you go,” he said simply.

I gave a little sigh, then the saleslady returned and we followed her to the dressing rooms. Kade perched carefully on a delicate-looking chair upholstered in pink velvet. I hid a grin and disappeared into a changing room to try on the dress.

Clarice had great taste and I loved the dress she’d chosen. It was strapless, the hem ending a couple of inches above my knees, and was the palest of pinks. A delicate ruffle ran from the neckline to the hem on one side, and a filmy length of sheer black organza tied around my waist and hung down the other. It was beautiful and very feminine.

I walked out to stand on the dais in front of a three-way mirror so the seamstress could check the alterations she’d made. I’d had to go up a size to accommodate my chest, which had made the rest of the dress too big. Now it fit perfectly and the seamstress agreed. She and I had a quick discussion about when they would steam the dress for pickup, then she was called to the front of the store.

I turned toward Kade. “So?” I prompted. “What do you think?” He hadn’t said anything or even seemed to move much during my discussion with the seamstress, though I’d felt his eyes on me.

“It looks expensive,” he said.

Not the words I’d been hoping to hear. I shrugged, hiding my disappointment. I wasn’t searching for compliments, but a girl liked to hear she looked nice in a dress like this.

“It was, but they have a payment plan here, so…” I turned back to the mirror, admiring the dress. I thought it suited me and, thankfully, I had a tan. If it had been a winter wedding, the color would have washed me out completely. Idly, I twisted my hair into a makeshift updo, turning my face this way and that to see if my hair should be up or down for the wedding. Clarice had said she didn’t have a preference.

In the mirror’s reflection, I saw Kade stand. His expression was somewhat pained and I wondered if he’d had enough and was going to tell me he’d wait outside. To my surprise, he approached, not stopping until he stood behind me on the dais. His hands moved to rest gently on my shoulders, the touch sparking underneath my skin like electricity. I dropped my hair, my arms falling to my sides.

“What I meant to say,” he said in my ear, “is that you’re beautiful, no matter what you’re wearing, and that dress makes me wish I had another man’s soul.”

My eyes widened as I stared in the mirror, our gazes locked. His thumbs brushed my skin as he held me, and my breath caught.

Kade bowed his head, his eyes closing as he pressed his lips to my bare shoulder. My pulse quickened as I watched our reflection, the contrast of Kade all in black stark against my strawberry-blonde hair and fair skin. He was a good head taller than me, maybe more, and broader. I ached to ease into him and have his arms envelop me, but I stayed rooted to the spot.

He brushed my hair to the side, his mouth trailing a heated path toward my neck, and my eyes slipped shut. I tilted my head to give him better access, reaching up to push my fingers into his hair. A shiver ran across my skin under his touch.

“Ahem.”

The sound of someone clearing her throat shattered the spell and I jumped, startled. In the mirror, I could see the seamstress standing behind us, an indulgent smile on her face.

“Pardon me,” she said, “I’m sorry for interrupting, but are you pleased with the alterations?”

“Oh, um, yeah,” I stammered, moving away from Kade. And the Excellence in Bad Timing Award goes to…

Kade stepped off the dais. “I’ll wait outside,” he said, his expression unreadable. Before I could protest, he was gone. I stared after him in dismay.

“Don’t worry,” the seamstress said with a twinkle in her eye as she untied the fabric from around my waist and started the zipper for me. “He’s probably just embarrassed. I’m sure you’ll get him to the altar soon. The way he looked at you, I’m guessing before the year is out.”

I didn’t bother correcting her that, first of all, Kade was impossible to embarrass and, second, he had absolutely no plans to marry me.

When I emerged from the boutique, Kade was leaning against his Mercedes, his ankles crossed and hands casually tucked into the back pockets of his jeans. Shades once again shielded his eyes. I stopped in front of him.

“Any other errands?” he asked, pushing himself off the car and digging the keys out of his pocket.

So we weren’t going to talk about what had happened. Again. I got that he’d changed his mind, that the offer to be with him had been rescinded, but I couldn’t take this. It was bad enough to carry around the secret of what had really happened between us in Vegas, I couldn’t handle his two-steps-forward, three-steps-back behavior any longer.

“You’ve got to stop, Kade,” I said.

He frowned. “Stop what?”

My eyes stung behind my sunglasses but my temper was in my voice. “Stop kissing me. Stop touching me. In short, stop leading me on when your only intention is to leave—” I choked back the me that wanted to end that sentence.

“I’m surprised you noticed,” Kade shot back with unusual venom. “You think I didn’t see what was going on last night? That I don’t know you’re going to go back to Blane? It’s just a matter of time.”

“Isn’t that what you want?” I asked, exasperated.

“It’s for the best,” he said, his voice cold. He turned away from me to open the car door.

Fury and hurt hit in equal measure and I reached out and grabbed a fistful of his T-shirt. He stopped and glanced down at me.

“I’m so sick of everyone thinking they know what’s best for me,” I fumed. “And I’m sick of you playing this game with me. How dare you? You’ve been throwing me at Blane one second and the next you’re kissing me or telling me you—”

I stopped. I’d been about to blurt out that he’d said he loved me. That would be a disaster. I pressed my lips tightly closed.

“Telling you I what?” Kade asked, his tone dangerous. Of course he’d latch on to the one thing I wished he hadn’t heard.

“Nothing,” I said quickly with a wave of my hand. “Forget it. My point is I can’t do this anymore! I don’t know what to think, or feel, or who to trust. And every time you do or say something that makes me think you feel more for me, you take it back!” Exasperated, I turned away, trying to regain my composure. I swiped angrily at my wet cheeks and when Kade didn’t say anything else, I rounded the car and got in.

Kade got in the car after me, slamming his door so hard I jumped. He started the engine, jabbing his finger at the button, while the silence between us grew thick and oppressive. He put the car into gear but then hesitated before slamming it back into park.

I looked at him. Was he going to talk to me? But he just stared straight ahead, his jaw locked tight. I squirmed nervously, plucking imaginary lint from my skirt and smoothing the fabric down my thighs.

“Stop fidgeting,” he said.

I stilled, glancing uneasily his way, but he still stared out the windshield, his hands clenched in fists on the steering wheel.

“You’re not the only one who can’t do this anymore,” he finally said, turning to look at me.

I swallowed, ignoring the knot of nausea in my stomach his statement had produced. “What do you want from me, Kade?” I asked.

He shrugged and gave a long sigh, his gaze returning to the windshield. “I don’t know. I want you to be happy. I don’t want you to worry about money anymore. I want you to be safe. I want your dreams to come true.”

It took me a moment before I could speak. “I want the same for you.”

Kade reached over and took my hand, threading our fingers together and giving it a squeeze. He didn’t say anything more, just pulled out into traffic.

I cleared my throat. “Can you run me by my apartment, please?” I asked. “I need to get my mail and work uniform.” And pay some overdue bills so they wouldn’t shut off my water.

A short while later, Kade was parking in the lot. I got out and so did he.

“You can wait here if you want,” I said. “I won’t be long.”

Kade shook his head. “I’ll come with.”

He followed me up the stairs and I tried not to think about his presence behind me as I unlocked my door. I twisted the knob.

Kade’s hand suddenly caught my wrist in a painful grasp. “No—!”

But it was too late.