No Turning Back Part 8

"James!" Frank exclaimed, his thick lips widening in a smile. "I thought that was you. So good to see you."

"Hi, Frank," James said conversationally. "How are you?"

"I am very well, thank you for asking," Frank replied, his eyes moving to me. "And I see you are doing very well this evening too, judging by the lovely woman at your side." The alcohol was making my brain fuzzy, but I tried to look sober.

"Yes, isn't she," James said, smiling at me. "This is Kathleen Turner. Kathleen, this is Frank Santini. He has been a long time client of my father's and the firm's." My lips pulled back from my teeth in a fake smile.

"We have met, Kathleen and I," Frank said. "Though I believe you were with Blane the last time." I felt James stiffen slightly beside me. Frank turned his attention back to James.

"Have you considered our proposition?" he asked. "You would do very well, you know, and we would support you."

"I am considering it, Frank," James said, his tone somewhat irritated, "and I told you I'd let you know." The smile disappeared from Frank's face and his eyes narrowed at James. Then he seemed to recollect himself and smiled affably again.

"You two have a good evening," he said. "We'll talk later." He walked away. James took a drink of his wine, saying nothing. I broke the silence.

"What did he mean by a 'proposition?'" I asked.

"My dad wants me to run for District Attorney," James answered. "He's been pressuring me for a while. Frank has promised the union's support if I do."

"Do you want to?"

"I don't know," he said vaguely. "Maybe."

Frank's visit had put a damper on the evening. James seemed sullen which made me uncomfortable.

We didn't speak much as James paid the check and we rose to leave. I found myself still too tipsy for my liking and was grateful for James' arm to steady me. After handing me into the car and sliding behind the wheel, he turned to me.

"I need to run by the office for a moment," he said. "Do you mind?"

"Of course not," I answered. "That's fine."

After a few miles, James spoke again. "I didn't realize you were seeing Blane." There was a deceptive offhandedness to his voice that made me wary.

"I'm not seeing Blane," I said firmly. "My car broke down last week and Blane gave me a ride to drop off some papers at Frank's office. That's all." The ghost of a memory, Blane's lips on mine, flitted through my mind. I was not lying. Kissing did not equate to seeing someone, not in the sense James meant.

"Oh," he said, "well, that's good." I saw the flash of his smile in the ambient light from the dash and his hand reached across the seat to grasp mine in my lap. I smiled feebly and allowed him to hold my hand. Surely he hadn't been jealous?

It was after ten when we pulled into the firm's parking lot. Parking close to the building, he turned toward me.

"You can stay here, if you'd like," he said. "I'll just be a few minutes." I agreed and he got out, closing the door behind him.

A good fifteen minutes pa.s.sed with no sign of James returning. The cold had seeped into the car and I s.h.i.+vered. I didn't know what was taking him so long, but I decided I could wait just as well inside where it was warm as opposed to here in the car where it was not.

Scurrying inside, I sighed with relief as the warm air of the lobby enveloped me. James was an a.s.sociate in the firm, not a partner, even though his father was the senior partner. His office was on the third floor and I decided to go on up and see if everything was okay.

Stepping out of the elevator into the darkened hallway, I glanced around. James' office was at the far end and I could see a light coming from the door. Heading that way, I stopped short when I heard angry voices coming from the room.

"I told you, I don't like the timing," James was saying. Another voice answered his but I couldn't make out the words.

That was interesting. I'd had enough booze to make eavesdropping sound like a good idea. Straining to hear, I moved a little closer. What was he talking about? The timing of what? Pondering this, I stepped in front of a darkened office.

A hand shot out of the open doorway and pulled me inside. I drew a breath to scream as I came up forcefully against a hard chest. I struggled in his grip and my head tilted back to look at my a.s.sailant. My scream froze in my throat just as his hand clapped down over my mouth.

It was the man from the courthouse - the tall, dark and handsome stranger that had asked if I was all right after the crazy nut job had tried to slice my throat open. I stopped struggling. Faint light from outside filtered through the window, giving him an ethereal quality. My memory of him had not done him justice.

"James is not going to appreciate you spying on him," he whispered, his blue eyes intently locked on mine. "Stay here until he leaves." Unsure what to do, I hesitantly nodded my head. Although I no longer fought him, his arm remained wrapped around me and his hand stayed over my mouth.

"I would let you go but I very much don't want you running in there telling Junior about me." I could feel every inch of him against me and an unwelcome heat flared in my body. My mind seemed to be working in slow motion, though my hormones were quite pleased to be in this situation. He wore a leather jacket and I could feel its b.u.t.tery softness against my fingers. The scent of the leather combined with the slightly musky aroma of his skin as he pressed his hand over my mouth made my head swim. I was really regretting the wine.

The sudden click of a door being shut caused us both to go still and silent. He pulled me closer to him and melted further back into the shadows of the office. I couldn't see behind me but I could hear someone walk past. A few moments later, another set of footsteps followed the first. I couldn't see anything except the man, my eyes focusing now on his square, stubble-roughened jaw as he watched behind me.

My captor's attention returned to me and I felt his hand loosen across my mouth. Instead of dropping his hand, it moved slightly, his fingers splayed across my cheek as his thumb lightly touched my lips. His eyes had been on mine, but now they dropped to my mouth. Nervously, I licked my lips and tried to focus on anything but the growing tension between us.

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice coming out as a whisper. "What are you doing here?" Both were very valid questions and I was proud to have been able to form coherent thoughts, especially with him touching me. I felt a s.h.i.+ver run down my spine and I knew he felt it, too, when the corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk.

"Ah, an inquisitive female," he said sardonically, his blue eyes intent on mine. "How original." His dry, patronizing tone caused my temper to flare.

"You have no right to be here," I hissed, embarra.s.sed now and trying to ignore the way we were still pressed together. I squirmed, but his arms were like iron bands around me.

"How do you know?" he said, and I was chagrined to see that I was making no progress in breaking his grip on me.

"You were spying on James!"

"So were you."

Well, I couldn't really argue with that.

"Let me go," I demanded though my voice wasn't nearly as strong as I would have liked. My stomach was rolling uneasily and the room had begun to spin.

"No need to rush away," he said, still not releasing me. I started wriggling in earnest.

"I think I'm going to be sick," I said frantically.

"On your way then," he quipped, abruptly releasing me. I stumbled for a moment, then turned and ran out the door and down the hall. I didn't stop until I was in the restroom heaving up the best dinner I'd had in ages.

When I was through, I leaned against the wall, trying to get my breath back. My head was pounding and the room was still spinning. I washed out my mouth in the sink and found some mints in my purse to chew. Suddenly, I remembered James was going to be looking for me since I was supposed to wait in the car.

"c.r.a.p!" Standing fully upright on shaky legs, I walked as quickly as possible in my heels back to the elevator and down. The man in black was nowhere in sight.

The brisk autumn air hit me as I exited the building and I sucked in a breath as the cold went right through my dress to my overheated skin. Wrapping my arms around myself and keeping my head down, I walked toward James' car and abruptly ran into someone.

Stifling a shriek, I jerked my head up to see James standing there. He'd grabbed my upper arms to stop me and was looking at me with an expression of irritation.

"Where were you?" he demanded. Taken aback by his hostility, it took a moment for me to respond.

"I got cold," I replied. "You were gone for a while so I went inside. I used the ladies' room then tried to find you." My voice was curt even as I lied. Who the h.e.l.l was he to interrogate me like I was a misbehaving child? "I didn't realize I was supposed to wait dutifully for you in the cold car?" My sarcasm was thick and he immediately backtracked.

"I'm sorry, Kathleen," he said in a much more agreeable tone, "I was just worried when I got back and you were gone." This mollified me somewhat, though I was still leery. James seemed to vacillate wildly between moods.

"Well, I'm all right, just freezing."

"Of course," he said quickly, "let's get you home." With a hand on my back, he guided me to the car and handed me inside. In a relatively short time, we were pulling up to my apartment. Getting out, he walked around to my side and opened the car door for me.

"Thank you for a nice evening," I said as we climbed the stairs. I wasn't sure if he was expecting me to invite him in, but I really didn't want to. Perhaps if I headed James off, he would take the hint.

"You're very welcome," he said politely, and the affable gentleman was back. We'd reached my door by this time and I had my keys in my hand. I unlocked the door but didn't step inside.

"May I ask you out again?" he asked, and I couldn't help smiling at his manners. I wasn't feeling fireworks with James, but then again, fireworks can burn you. James was nice, comfortable and safe. I should want that and forget about womanizing Lotharios.

"I would like that," I said, and when he bent to kiss me lightly on the lips, I didn't resist. I didn't encourage him, either. In the back of my mind, I had the sneaking suspicion that perhaps kissing two men in one day was bordering on s.l.u.t territory. Technically, I hadn't kissed Blane but I thought that might be splitting hairs. Regardless, with James, I didn't feel the spark and energy as I did with Blane. It was nice...and that was all.

With a parting smile, I stepped into my apartment and watched as he went back down the stairs. Closing and locking the door, I turned and leaned against it, sighing.

Well, that had been interesting. James was such a nice guy, I really couldn't fathom that he had any deep, dark secrets he was hiding, no matter what Mr. Tall Dark and Mysterious had said. What had he been doing at the firm anyway? I would have been upset as well to find someone spying on me as James had nearly caught me doing. Honestly, I thought the deepest secret James had was that he probably needed a prescription for Prozac.

I headed to the bedroom to change and noticed my ancient answering machine was flas.h.i.+ng that I had a message. Pus.h.i.+ng the b.u.t.ton, I waited and heard...nothing. It must have been a sales call and they'd hung up when the machine had answered. Except there were four messages, all silent. That was really strange and it kind of gave me a creepy feeling. I ignored it and changed into my warmest flannel pants that had seen better days and a long-sleeved t-s.h.i.+rt. After was.h.i.+ng my face and brus.h.i.+ng my teeth, I hit the sack.

The jangling of the telephone roused me and I blearily looked at my clock. I'd only been asleep an hour. Stumbling to my feet, I grabbed the phone.

"h.e.l.lo?" I mumbled, still half asleep. There was silence for a minute and I almost hung up.

"Kathleen?" A man spoke hesitantly. I frowned.

"Yeah?" I answered. "Who is this?"

"Kathleen, it's Mark." That woke me up.

"Mark, are you all right?" I had no idea why he'd be calling me, especially this late at night.

"Um, no, actually, I don't think so," he said haltingly. His voice was anxious.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't talk about it over the phone. But I need to see you, Kathleen," he said. "Can I meet you somewhere tomorrow?"

"Of course," I said, and thought for a moment. "I'll probably be at the courthouse tomorrow around eleven. Can you meet me there?"

"Yeah, that'll work. I'll find you." And with barely more than an a.s.sent from me, he hung up.

I chewed my lip in worry. Mark hadn't sounded like himself at all. If I didn't know better, I'd say he'd sounded scared. But that didn't make any sense. And neither did him calling me. Mark and I were merely pa.s.sing acquaintances. Why he would come to me if he was in trouble, I had no idea. Although I suppose technically he was a murder suspect, I couldn't believe he'd killed Sheila.

Shrugging off the disturbing conversation, I replayed the events of tonight. I wondered who the man in the dark had been. Blue eyes with long, lush black lashes and a smirk that took my breath away flashed through my mind. I groaned and buried my suddenly flushed face in my hands. I was never drinking again.

The run-ins I'd had with Blane had no doubt influenced my libido and not in a good way. I was simultaneously embarra.s.sed and frustrated. Embarra.s.sed that I'd nearly thrown up on a man whose name I didn't even know. A very attractive man at that, and one who practically oozed s.e.x. And I was frustrated because Blane's cat and mouse game with me had left my hormones working overtime tonight, which James' light kiss hadn't come close to sating.

I was too tired to think and I didn't like where my thoughts were leading me, which was basically around in circles with nibbles of worry at the edges when I thought of Mark. I went back to bed, hoping everything would look slightly better in the light of day.

It didn't, but I decided not to think about the man-in-black (original, I know) anymore and to just focus on my work and meeting with Mark.

I was gathering up the doc.u.ments and files I needed to take to the courthouse when a delivery man stepped into my cube. He was holding a vase of flowers.

"Kathleen Turner?" he asked, to my surprise.

"Yes," I answered, and he held the flowers out to me.

"Delivery for you," he said, and was gone before I could open my mouth to ask who had sent them. It was a beautiful arrangement and quite large. Not just roses, but a few white and pink roses mixed in with snapdragons, eucalyptus, forget-me-nots and lilies. The effect was very lovely and smelled divine. It had been so long since someone had sent me flowers that I took a moment to bask in the pleasure. I thought, a little smugly, that James was really laying it on thick. I dug for the card. Pulling it open, I read the printed words.

I can be nice.

My eyes widened. No. It couldn't be. But I couldn't help remembering what Blane had said yesterday, right before I'd beat a hasty retreat from his office.

"I'm not a nice man."

Lori's head poked around the corner. "Wow," she said, her eyes alight with curiosity. "Who sent those?"

I crumpled the card in my fist. There's no way I could tell anyone that one of the partners had sent me flowers. Especially not that it had been Blane. Everyone would immediately a.s.sume I was sleeping with him.

"No idea," I lied. "Strange, huh?" Before she could question me further, I jumped up and grabbed my purse and papers.

"Gotta get to the courthouse," I said. "See you later." I heard her call a goodbye to me as I headed out the doors and I breathed a sigh of relief. I really did not want anyone to know about Blane. Not that there was anything to know, I thought irritably. He was bored and playing a game with me and it needed to stop. I'd deal with him after I met with Mark.

"Kathleen!" Hank said jovially as I stepped through the courthouse metal detector. "Ain't seen you in a few days. You doin' all right?" Beneath his grin was real concern and I knew he probably still felt guilty about the incident last Friday. I smiled at him. I couldn't be angry. If someone was determined to get something into the courthouse, I didn't believe there was much that could be done to stop them.

"I'm fine, Hank," I said. "No worries." Relief washed across his face as he handed my things back to me.

By the time I finished my deliveries, it was nearing eleven and I was glad I'd timed that well. Now I had to find Mark and maybe we could grab some lunch. The problem was, he hadn't stayed on the phone long enough last night for us to set up a specific meeting place.

I wandered around the courthouse for a while, but it was crowded and difficult to pick one person out of the many. Glancing at my watch nervously, I saw that it was fifteen minutes past the time I was supposed to meet Mark. I stepped outside and shaded my eyes from the glaring suns.h.i.+ne.

Suddenly, a hand closed over my wrist and pulled. Whirling, I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw it was Mark. Then my eyes widened as I took in his appearance.

Mark had always been meticulous in his personal grooming and I had often teased Sheila about the sharp creases on his pressed s.h.i.+rts and pants. That was nowhere in evidence today. He was wearing clothes that were so wrinkled they looked like they'd been slept in, and he was sporting several days' growth of beard. His eyes were darting around us and his grip tightened on my arm as he tugged.

"C'mon," he said urgently. "We need to get out of the open."

"What?" I asked, confused. "Why?"

"Too many eyes and ears," he said, which only increased my bewilderment, but I allowed him to lead me. He took us away from the courthouse and down a side street, moving so quickly I had to half jog to keep up. Glancing behind us every few steps, he seemed to expect someone to be following us. It unnerved me until I, too, was turning to look when he did.

Mark stopped in front of a small diner, peering through the window, then he pulled me inside. He sat at a small table facing the door and I sat across from him. Mark was carrying a backpack that he left hooked over his arm rather than laying it down on an extra chair.

"Mark," I said once I sat down. "What is going on? Are you all right?" My first thought in taking a good look at him was that Sheila's death had hit him hard. I felt bad for him. I knew what it was like to lose someone in a sudden and violent way. Thoughts of my dad flashed through my mind.

"No, I am most definitely not all right," he said, sparing a glance at me before his eyes again moved to the windows. "I wanted to tell you, warn you, I think you might be in danger." His eyes were on me again, intent and serious. I might have laughed at the melodrama, his words were right out of a movie script, but I could see he believed them.

"What are you talking about?" I asked. "Why would I be in danger?"

"It's the people I work for," he said, "or really, the people they work for. I think..." he faltered for a moment and had to clear his throat before he continued, speaking quietly. "I think they might have been the ones who killed Sheila." The shock must have shown on my face.