Read Turn on a Dime - Blane's Turn for Free Online Page A

again. Damn. What was it about this girl that had made that part of Blane go into hyper-mode? “It wasn’t anything personal. It was just Jimmy being Jimmy. He’s not happy unless everyone in the room is terrified of him.”
    She frowned at this. “Who were those men anyway?”
    “Frank and Richie Santini. They’re brothers and they run that local union we’re defending against election fraud.”
    Thankfully, Greg came back just then. Kathleen glanced over the menu before ordering a bowl of soup, and that was all. Was she not hungry? Maybe doing that ridiculous girl thing of pretending she didn’t eat? Blane was aware of a pang of disappointment. She’d been so against-type until now. He ordered himself a steak, medium-rare.
    “You sure all you want is soup?” Blane asked her, just to be sure. She nodded and Greg went on his way.
    “You’ve had a busy day,” Blane continued, deciding to out himself and the firm. “In one day you’ve had someone using you as a hostage, and someone else threatening you.” He couldn’t help himself from reaching across the table to tug open the collar of her shirt to expose the bandage covering the wound at the base of her neck.
    Blane was taken aback at the strong, sudden urge to brush his fingers against her throat. His skin was dark against the pale ivory of hers, which only made his thoughts go tripping down a path that imagined what the rest of her looked like.
    “Excuse me,” she snapped, jerking backward out of his reach. Her blue eyes flashed.
    Blane took another sip of his drink, trying to cool the surge of heat in his blood. She had a bit of a temper, which he liked, but now he needed to mollify her, much like soothing a hissing cat.
    “Where did you learn to get away like that?” he asked, pretending he hadn’t noticed the flash of anger.
    “My father,” she said, calmer though her gaze was still suspicious.
    Blane waited for her to continue but she looked away, fidgeting a little before taking another nervous sip of her manhattan. Perhaps Blane did have an effect on her after all, though why that produced a surge of satisfaction, Blane couldn’t say. He hardly knew the girl.
    “What else did he teach you?” Getting information out of her was about like interrogating a suspect.
    She thought for a moment, then said, “The fine art of making a proper whiskey drink, as any good Irishman knows. How to shoot, and more importantly, how to hit what I’m shooting. Not to trust what people say, but only what they do.”
    Okay, that was hot, though Blane thought it was unintentional. She was just being bluntly honest. Another unusual trait for a woman. He took another drink.
    “How did you find out about today?” she asked.
    “I was there,” Blane said. “He was my client. On trial for embezzlement. Couldn’t handle the pressure. I had no idea he’d do something like that, though, I swear.”
    His confession had an odd effect on her. Something like disappointment flitted across her face and was gone, then she drank the rest of her manhattan down in one practiced swallow.
    Greg arrived before Blane could question her further, setting the food down in front of them. By the longing gaze she gave his plate, Blane realized she was hungry, but just hadn’t ordered food. Didn’t want to eat in front of him then? He heaved an inward sigh at the quirks of women.
    Blane then had to revise that opinion as she scarfed down her soup as though it might run away any moment. She sat back in her stool and drank the second manhattan Greg had brought, eyeing his steak in such a way that Blane briefly considered offering her a bite.
    She seemed content to let dinner pass in silence, but Blane had a thousand questions running through his mind. He’d been tired earlier but now he was wide awake, his mind analyzing everything she’d told him and what she hadn’t, creating a picture inside his head of who she was. He was anxious to know how close or far it was from