"Nice," I retorted. "I'll have you know I make a d.a.m.n fine Britney Spears. And I can hold my liquor just fine, thank you very much. I've just had a long night."

"I bet," CJ said, walking me out. A few moments later, I was locking my door, closing my eyes and leaning against it gratefully. I hadn't been exaggerating. It seemed like forever since I'd woken up this morning in Blane's house. Bitterly, I wondered if the fairy girl was there with him now.

Hands closed over my upper arms. "Where the h.e.l.l have you been?"

I started violently, my eyes flying open. Blane stood in front of me, his eyes blazing with fury.

"You should have been home an hour ago," he bit out. "Where were you? With that pretty boy bartender who had his hands all over you?"

My shock gave way to anger. "What is it to you?" I spat at him. "Shouldn't you be f.u.c.king your fairy about now?"

"Don't talk like that," he gritted out. "I didn't know Kandi was going to be there tonight." So that was her, the Kandi-with-an-i girl. Yeah, that fit the sn.o.bby b.i.t.c.h, I thought, not caring if I was being petty.

"That didn't stop her from telling me exactly what she thought of me," I said bitterly. "As if I haven't had enough of that today." That seemed to take the heat from his anger and I felt his grip on my arms loosen.

"So I heard," he said grimly. "You shouldn't have lost your job," he said more gently, and now his hands moved slowly up and down my arms in a soothing way. "I've taken care of things. You can come back to work on Monday." The part of me that had been worried about what I was going to do without that job sighed in relief. But the part of me that knew you couldn't get something for nothing raised its head suspiciously.

"Why?" I asked him. Blane looked momentarily confused. "Why?" I repeated. I stepped away, feeling the need to put some s.p.a.ce between him and me and his arms fell to his sides as he watched me. "Why are you doing this?"

The questions that had hammered at the back of my mind all day now tumbled from my mouth in a torrent. "Why the apartment makeover? The new clothes? New furniture? Why are you even here?" Blane's posture stiffened as I spoke, his eyes narrowing at me. Normally, that would have warned me, but I was too confused and angry to stop.

"Am I some sort of project?" I continued. "A charity case for you? Just tell me because I don't know what you want from me." I crossed my arms over my chest and waited for an answer, bracing myself for words I probably didn't want to hear.

"I don't want anything from you," he said stiffly. "I told you last night that I would take care of you and that's what I'm doing."

I hated being reminded of last night and I felt my cheeks heat in remembrance, but I ignored it. "But why?" I persisted, exasperated that he kept dodging my question. "It doesn't make any sense. I'm nothing, no one to you, so why would you care what happens to me?"

"Because I like you," he finally said, and he sounded almost surprised at the admission. "And because you needed help and I'm in a position to offer it."

"And you want nothing in return?" I asked skeptically.

"Nothing."

"Right," I scoffed. "Because life really works like that." I knew better. I didn't know what Blane wanted, but I wasn't naive enough to believe that, eventually, he wouldn't expect me to pay up.

The stinging in my hands recaptured my attention and I decided I was done with Blane, whether or not he was done with me. I hadn't invited him here and didn't even know how he'd gotten in, but I was ready for him to leave. Hoping he'd catch the hint, I turned my back on him to go into the kitchen. The room spun and I stumbled, my arm flying out to catch myself so I wouldn't fall and be humiliated even further.

Blane had his arm around me, steadying me, before I even had time to blink. "You're drunk," he said, a slight accusation in his tone that made me bristle.

"I've had a really bad day," I shot back defensively. "I thought I deserved a drink." Or two. Maybe five. Whatever. Blane's hand moved up to my shoulder and he squeezed. I thought it was probably meant to be comforting, but he had hit upon the spot where James had pushed me against the door and I yelped in pain.

"What?" he said in alarm. "What's wrong?" I just shook my head.

"It's nothing. Just a bruise." Reaching over, Blane flicked on the kitchen light and I blinked in the sudden brightness, raising my hand up to shield my eyes.

"What happened to you?" I winced at the tightly leashed fury in Blane's voice. c.r.a.p. He'd seen my face, and since I'd washed off my makeup in CJ's apartment, I knew my bruised cheek now showed up in the stark kitchen light. It didn't help that I had such fair skin anyway.

"It looks worse than it feels," I said quickly, turning away. I had reached the sink and started peeling the limp band-aids from my hands. Blane's hands settled on my waist and I could feel him behind me. His arms reached around to grasp my hands so he could turn them palm up. He didn't move for a moment and I closed my hands over the myriad small, angry red cuts.

"You went to Mark's," he observed in a flat voice.

I caught my breath. "How did you-" but he interrupted me.

"I saw his message to you on the DVD," he said simply, as if it was of no consequence that he'd come uninvited into my apartment and then gone through my things. Turning so my back was to the sink, I faced him.

"That was a private message," I hissed angrily. "You have no right to go through my things!"

"Don't I?" he said, and his eyes moved to my cheek. His hand came up, the fingers touching the bruised skin so gently it felt like the wings of a moth. My breath caught in my throat and our eyes locked.

"Tell me what happened today," he coaxed, and suddenly the urge to lay my burdens on him was overwhelming. I argued with myself that I wasn't supposed to trust him. Yet, he said he wanted to help me, and looking around my apartment, he already had helped me, much more than I could ever repay. So, with a sigh, I told him the story.

His hands returned to my waist and we stood there, bodies inches apart, as I told him about Diane firing me at James' behest, then about James showing up here. As dispa.s.sionately as I could, I stumbled over how he had attacked me and how CJ had scared him off. Blane's face gradually turned stony during this and I nervously looked away as I talked.

Since he'd seen Mark's message and already knew I'd gone to his house, I told him about finding the hard drive and nearly getting caught by Jimmy. His fingers bit into my hips when I got to that part. I finally finished the story with seeing the dead guy and having to escape the burning house from the second floor window.

"What did you do with the drive?" he asked. I hesitated. I didn't want to involve CJ's ident.i.ty into this.

"I hid it somewhere safe," I hedged.

"You should give it to me," he said, and I rolled my eyes.

"You'll have to get in line," I said grimly. "Kade's already said I have to give it to him tomorrow."

"Kade?" Surprise edged Blane's voice and I remembered that I hadn't told him about Kade. "Kade Dennon?"

"Yeah," I said, "you know him?"

His lips thinned and he gave a curt nod.

"We've met." He didn't elaborate. Grasping my hands, he looked at them, then turned me toward the faucet again, running warm water over the cuts. It felt good and soothed the burning.

Gently toweling my hands dry, he asked, "Were your hands all that got cut?" I hesitated for an instant before nodding my head. It was an instant too long.

"Where else?" Blane asked in a tone that brooked no disobedience.

"My...legs," I said halfheartedly. "But it's fine, not a big deal. I'll just take a shower and they'll be fine." This wasn't quite true. I'd checked the bandages on my thighs tonight when I'd gone to the employees' restroom and several of them had been bright red from blood seeping through. I just wanted to clean up and put new bandages on. They'd be fine in a couple of days.

"You're not showering in this condition," Blane said.

"And what condition is that?" I retorted.

"Drunk," he said flatly. "You're liable to fall and break your neck. Go sit down," he ordered, pushing me toward a chair at the table.

"I'll be fine," I insisted, but he shot me a look that had me scooting hurriedly toward a chair.

Blane filled up a bowl with warm water and grabbed a kitchen towel. Crouching down in front of me, he quickly removed my heeled Mary Janes. With business-like efficiency, he peeled the tall socks over my knee and down my leg. The room was really spinning now and I didn't think it was all due to the alcohol I'd drank. His fingers were warm and rough against my legs as he searched for the elusive cuts.

"Where?" he asked.

"Hmm?" I had lost track of the conversation, my senses going into overload with him so near and touching me. Glancing up at me, whatever he saw in my face must have clued him in as to the directions my thoughts were taking because his jaw clenched tightly.

"Where are the other cuts?" he asked again, speaking slowly. The words penetrated my numbed brain and I felt blood heat my cheeks.

"Um...higher," I muttered, unable to look him in the eye.

His hands moved hesitantly upward, as if waiting for me to protest, but I kept my lips pressed firmly closed. It wasn't my fault. He had been the one who wanted to play doctor.

Slowly brushing my miniskirt up my thighs, his fingers touched the bandages. His hands closed over my knees, pushing them apart, and I felt a flash of desire arc through me. But judging by what he said next, he wasn't feeling the same.

"Do you have any idea," he ground out as he pulled off the reddened gauze, "how close you came to cutting your femoral artery?" Well, that was a bucket of cold water if I'd ever felt one. I sighed and rubbed my tired eyes.

"Biology wasn't really my strongest subject," I said dryly, then hissed in pain as the water touched the open cuts. "c.r.a.p that hurts!"

To his credit, Blane was quick and efficient. He had the cuts cleaned, medicated and bandaged more quickly than if I had done it myself. Getting to his feet, he pulled me upward as well, sending the room into a tilt-a-whirl once again.

"Let's get you to bed," he said, and to my addled brain, it sounded like an invitation.

"Only if you're joining me," I said, hooking my fingers into his belt and tugging. In the part of my brain that still retained a semblance of common sense in spite of the alcohol, I was shocked at my propositioning of him. It appeared he felt the same for his lips pressed together in a look I was starting to know well.

"Fine," I retorted, spinning away from his grip and stomping into my bedroom. He followed me, more to make sure I didn't fall on my face, I think, than anything else. I decided since he had no interest in having s.e.x with me, then it wouldn't bother him if I changed my clothes. I peeled off my sweater and shirt, dropping them carelessly on the floor. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw he'd paused right inside the doorway, his eyes riveted on me.

Conscious of the lack of my usual inhibitions, I flashed him a smirk. Keeping my back to him, I crossed my arms over my chest, pulling the black sports bra over my head. My braided pigtails brushed the bare skin of my back, but I didn't look at Blane. Instead, I slowly slid down the zipper on the back of my miniskirt. Hooking my fingers inside the waistband, I dragged it and my panties down over my hips, needlessly bending at the waist as I slid the material down my legs. When the fabric puddled at my feet, I stepped out and walked to my bureau. I'd never done a strip tease before, but it hadn't seemed very hard.

I wasn't brave enough to look at Blane as I searched through unfamiliar piles of satin and lace for pajamas. Finally, I gave up and pulled out a blue satin shorts and camisole set. I slipped them on and turned to face Blane. He hadn't moved from where he stood, but his eyes blazed and his hands were fisted at his sides. I felt a surge of satisfaction. So he wasn't immune to me after all.

Grabbing my brush off the bureau, I walked until I stood mere inches from him, tipping my head back to meet his eyes as I held out the brush.

"Will you help me with my hair?" I asked as innocently as I could. He hesitated, then gave a curt nod. I climbed into the center of the bed with my back to him and started removing the braided pigtails. After a moment, I felt the bed dip as he moved behind me. My hair was down and I combed through it with my fingers as a sigh escaped me. It felt good to have the braids out. I waited and finally felt the bristles pull tentatively through my hair.

It was immediately clear that Blane was unaccustomed to combing a girl's hair. He was slow and exceedingly careful when he hit tangles. I couldn't repress a small smile. It struck me as sweet, actually, that he didn't want to hurt me. I could have told him he could pull all he wanted, I had a pretty hard head, but kept my silence. After the many women I knew he'd been with, it meant something that this was a task unfamiliar to him. What had been a ploy on my part to get him to touch me was turning into something tender and sweet.

I closed my eyes and enjoyed the gentle tugging of the bristles and the feel of his hands smoothing the strands as he brushed. I felt a warm tightness in my chest and knew I was in dangerous territory. Although my head knew I couldn't risk getting more attached to Blane, it seemed I was powerless to stop it. Feeling the need to get back on more familiar footing, I cleared my throat.

"I remembered there's a case pending with the firm regarding TecSol," I said, and the brush paused for a moment before continuing. "I need to know what it's about."

"Why do you need to know?" Blane asked guardedly.

"Mark worked for them," I said. "He was afraid of them. Afraid they were after him. That Sheila was killed because of him."

"What else did he say?" The brush combed through the strands effortlessly now, the tangles gone.

I thought. "He said it might have something to do with Eve." Mark had also said someone at the firm had betrayed him, but I kept that to myself. I wondered who Eve was and what part she had played in Mark's death. "Is there someone named Eve involved with the case?"

"No," Blane said. "EVE's not a person, EVE's a thing. They call it Electronic Voting Evaluation. TecSol wrote the software that the city is using for the first election where all voting will be done online."

I frowned. "The case with TecSol wasn't it about election fraud?" I asked, trying to remember what I had read that night.

"Yes," Blane confirmed, still brushing my hair as he spoke. "Six months ago, someone came forward from TecSol claiming to be a whistleblower and that the software had security flaws. They were terminated and sued for disclosure of proprietary information. They counter-sued for wrongful termination under the Whistleblower Protection Act."

"What do the Santini brothers have to do with any of this?" I remembered Blane and I having to deliver those doc.u.ments to them that evening.

"They own TecSol through a front company," Blane answered.

"What's the status of the case now?"

"The case is no longer pending as the plaintiff is dead," he said flatly.

Startled, I turned around to face him. "The whistleblower is dead?"

Blane nodded, his face grim. "Car wreck," he explained.

I felt a flash of fury. "You know they were killed," I insisted, and he nodded again. "But," I sputtered, "they can't do that. They just can't go around killing people!"

"I know," he said calmly, "and I'm working on it. But you need to stay out of it. It doesn't concern you."

"It concerns me now," I retorted. "Mark said he knew about the problems with EVE, and that he'd come forward. He said someone at the firm betrayed him and now he's dead. But he gave that information to me. I can't just ignore that. And you," my eyes narrowed at him and I quickly scooted backward on the bed, away from him. "You work for them! Whose side are you on? Did you betray him?"

Blane's hand flashed out and snagged my waist, dragging me back toward him. I struggled briefly, but was so quickly subdued by Blane it was embarra.s.sing. My arms were pinned to my sides as he loomed over me.

"I didn't betray him, Kathleen, I'm on your side," he said curtly, "but you're not helping me protect you. I don't want them to know about you or what Mark told you. You could very well end up dead." My face paled at the reminder as Blane's eyes searched mine intently.

"I think they might already know," I said weakly, "or will soon." My anger had dissipated in a cloud of anxiety.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Kade," I answered, my voice small. "He threatened to tell them if I didn't bring him the drive." Growling a curse, Blane sat up, releasing me.

"I was going to give it to him," I said, sitting up. "He said to meet him tomorrow night at Monument Circle."

"Good," Blane said. "He'll leave you out of it so long as he gets what he wants. Kade's number one priority is himself." His eyes focused on my bruised cheek again. "And I'll take care of James," he said grimly. Alarm shot through me.

"No! You can't!" I said, latching onto his arm and tugging as he made to stand. Blane paused, though not because of my ineffectual pulling on him.

"Don't tell me you have feelings for him," he said with disgust, "not after what he did to you?"

"Of course not!" I protested, still hanging on to his arm. "He's a bully and a jerk!"

"Then why are you stopping me?"

"Because he's crazy!" I said, dismayed. "Really crazy. And he has this weird compet.i.tion thing with you and I don't want you to get hurt!" Our eyes caught and held.

"I couldn't handle..." my voice caught, and I had to stop and take a breath. "Please," I finally managed, "just...stay. With me. Please stay." My eyes pleaded with him and I could tell when he relented.

"This isn't a good idea," he muttered, his eyes dragging down my body. Still, he turned off the light and kicked off his shoes, leaving his jeans and shirt on. He turned to climb into bed but I was on my knees, stopping him. He looked at me questioningly, but I just dropped my gaze and started undoing the b.u.t.tons of his shirt. He didn't stop me and I was able to tug it from his waistband and push it off his shoulders and down his arms, sighing in pleasure as I did so.

"You're still drunk," he said gruffly, and I shrugged, scooting back on the bed and under the covers. After a moment he followed me. I unabashedly snuggled up to his side, resting my head on his chest as his arms encircled me. I remembered what he'd said last night, about me being innocent, and the words fell out of my mouth before I could think better of it.

"I'm not a virgin, you know," I said baldly. Blane went very still. After a moment, he spoke.