Turn To Me by Tiffany A. Snow Read Free Book Online

my retina.  Now that the reporter gave more information about the Waters' trial, I realized I had peripherally heard about this on the news the past few weeks.  I hadn't paid much attention.  Terms like “Rules of Engagement” and “Enemy Combatants” sounded as foreign as the cities they spoke of in Iraq, but now I realized this was a big deal.  Huge.  And Blane hadn't breathed a word.  Had he expected me to know?  No doubt everyone else at the firm probably knew about this case.  Did he think I was an idiot blonde by not realizing the significance?
    I watched the clock, my heart sinking a little more with each passing hour.  What was taking him so long?  A tiny part of me wondered if he was with Kandi.  She'd certainly seemed eager to resume their relationship.
    Finally, a little after one, I gave up on Blane and climbed off the couch.  My side ached where the mugger had kicked me so I grabbed an ice pack out of the freezer, tossing the melted mess Frankie had sweetly made for me into the trash.  I wondered if I should use a heating pad instead – I could never remember when I was supposed to use heat and when to use cold.
    I curled up in bed, pulling the covers to my chin, and wondered how a day that had started so promising had turned to crap so quickly.  My mind was filled with things I didn't know about Blane, things he hadn't told me - the important case he was working on, his plans to run for Governor, his relation to Senator Keaston and his history with Kandi. 
    I fell asleep with all these things spinning through my mind.
    I woke suddenly, not knowing why.  It was the dead of night and I lay still in my bed, listening.  I went to sit up then fell back down, moaning as the aches and bruises in my stomach and back made themselves forcefully known.
    “Don't get up.  I didn't mean to wake you.”
    I jerked upright, ignoring the sharp stab of pain, before realizing it was Blane sitting down next to me on the bed.  The familiar feel of him, smell of him, surrounded me.  I breathed easier, just now realizing how on edge I'd been, even asleep, without him here.  I made myself be still and not throw myself into his arms, though, not knowing how he was feeling. 
    “What time is it?” I whispered, unwilling to disturb the quiet in the warm silence of the night.
    “A little after three,” he said, his voice low as well.  “I'm sorry it took so long.  I didn't mean to wake you.”
    “It's been a hell of a night,” I said dryly.  “You could've gone home.  I wouldn't have minded.”  He'd beat the snot out of a mugger and had taken a few hits himself.  He had to be tired.
    He didn't answer immediately.  The light from the streetlamp outside filtered through the window, casting his face into light and shadow as he studied me.  Fingers lightly traced my scraped cheek.  I shivered, unable to look away from his gaze which seemed to see through me.
    “I had to see you.  Touch you.  Know you were all right,” he finally rasped.
    I swallowed.  “I am.  Thanks to you.”
    His brow creased slightly, almost as if what I'd said pained him, then he kissed me.  It was the lightest of touches, tender and sweet.  His hand threaded through my hair to cradle the back of my head.  I tentatively brought my hands to his shoulders and leaned into him.
    When he broke off the kiss, I expected him to pull away.  Instead, he drew me close and wrapped his arms around me.  I rested my head against his chest with a sigh.
    “Saw you on the news,” I mumbled.
    “Did you?” he asked, but he didn't sound surprised.
    “Yeah.”  I didn't stop to think before I blurted, “You didn’t tell them I was your girlfriend.” 
    “Of course I didn't,” he said dryly.  “I don't want reporters camped outside your door.”
    “Oh.”  I hadn't thought of that.  “How'd they find you anyway?” I asked.  “And the cops?”
    “Someone heard you scream,” he explained.  “They called the cops.  The