Chapter 7 #2
"She did. I was determined to find her, and when I did, it was only to discover that she wasn't only beautiful, but smart as hell.
A professor and ten years my senior. I could not believe it.
" He took a sip of his water and smiled in memory.
"She wanted nothing to do with me, and when I persisted and told her I wasn't going anywhere, she suggested a physical relationship. She refused to take me seriously."
"Who could blame her?" Zane mused. "A respectable professor at a prestigious institution, and you just a playboy with a pretty face and a terrible reputation." He grinned at the dirty look he received.
"I fell in love with her, just simply slid into it headlong, until I thought I was going mad.
She was so cool and collected, and when we were finished rocking each other's world, she would tell me to get lost. Christ, I was in such bloody despair, I didn't know whether I was coming or going.
For the first time in my life, I didn't have the situation under control. "
"But you persisted."
"Yeah. She got engaged to another man, and I felt as if the bottom had fallen out of my world." He took another sip of water. "Mother told me to keep the faith." Amusement colored his tone. "She was definitely in my corner."
"And Hailey became pregnant."
David nodded. "Even then she wanted nothing to do with me. Said she was too old for me, and she didn't trust me to stick."
"You did."
"How could I not? I love her," he said simply. Eyeing the other man, he asked curiously, "What's this about? Usually, you would tell me to shut up about a story I'd spun too many times to count. What's the deal?"
"There's this woman."
"Ah." David leaned forward, a glint in his eyes. "This is proving to be very interesting."
"Just shut up," Zane growled. Signaling the wait staff, he ordered two glasses of scotch. "She's an ADA."
David simply stared at him. "You hate lawyers, and considering that you happen to be one, along with your entire family, it's baffling. You also swore one drunken night at a private card game that you would rather date an escort than hook up with a lawyer."
A frown pleated his brow. "I said that?"
"Yep."
"You're making it up."
"As God is my witness. In your defense, your firm had defended a known drug runner, and as soon as he was free, he kidnapped a fourteen-year-old and slit her throat."
The memory of that had his stomach turning. "That was a very low point in my life." He thanked the server who brought over the drink and took a long swallow. "That was also the point where I decided enough was enough."
"And now you're hooked on a lawyer."
"Yeah." He grimaced. "Not only is she a lawyer, but she's also a churchgoing one. I looked her up. Some hotshot mega church. And she's involved with a lawyer, going on two years."
David stared at him, before bursting out laughing.
"It's not funny," Zane growled.
"It kinda is. Where did you meet this woman?"
Zane told him the story of her car breaking down at the bike stop.
"Ah, the damsel-in-distress deal. That kind would appeal to you."
Zane threw him a dirty look. "What the hell do you mean by that?"
David shrugged. Leaning back in the chair, he cast his eyes around the room, which had emptied out some since they sat down to eat. "You like to be needed."
"No, I don't."
"All right, which might not be the best way to put it. You've a soft spot for women in trouble."
"And that's a crime?"
"No. But ask yourself this: is it the woman you're attracted to, or the fact that she needed you at that moment?"
Zane hissed out an annoyed breath. "I'm not a bloody moron. I have a photo." Fishing out his phone, he brought up the article he had found on her and showed it to him.
"Wow! She's a looker. All right, I take it back." He looked at his friend. "Well, what are you going to do about her?"
"Why, woo her, of course," he responded grimly.
"See these?" He pointed to the tattoo on his neck and the one on his arm.
"There's also another one on my left thigh and my stomach.
She's turned off by the ones she has seen so far.
" He shrugged. "I don't intend to change the way I am for anyone, no matter how attracted I am.
And the baffling thing about it is that for the first time in my life, I wanted to. Christ!"
"Good God! How long ago did you meet this woman?"
"A couple of weeks." Zane smiled mirthlessly and wondered if he could order another drink. He figured he would need it to help get him through the night. He told David about the kiss in the garden. "Wanting her is burning a hole in me."
David nodded in understanding, memories flooding him. "I felt the same way when I was with Hailey for the first time. I knew then that once was never going to be enough." He grinned at Zane. "You're in for the ride of your life."
"Or it might be bloody lust, and I'm making too much of it," he growled.
"You don't believe that."
"No." Zane laughed harshly, downing the rest of the drink and signaling for another. "I don't."
*****
Even though her heart was pounding and her limbs felt weak, she felt the freedom and exhilaration coursing through her body.
On the drive home, she belted out Whitney's "I'm Every Woman" at the top of her lungs.
That was also a first for her. The quiet, sedate Kara was slowly disappearing.
She wasn't going to say thank you to people for walking all over her. Nuh uh, not anymore.
She was going to stand up to her mother from now on. She just did, didn't she? she mused, laughing out loud. She just walked out of that restaurant, leaving the man who had been foisted on her for more than two years, a man who had only proposed because he was pressured by her mother.
She did not even feel humiliated. To hell with him.
Pulling into the driveway, she sat there for a minute, taking it all in. Yes, she felt a little sick to her stomach, but still...
Shoving from the vehicle, she left it right in front of the porch and boogied her way up the steps.
There was one other thing to do to celebrate the new her. And that required a glass of Cabernet.
As soon as she attended to that, she marched upstairs, her steps militant, and went straight to her bedroom closet. Flinging the barn doors open, she started leafing through the suits with one hand, the other holding the wine.
"Okay," she muttered. She felt the sickness increasing. "Good Lord. Why are there so many varieties of gray? Ash gray, stone gray, stormy cloud gray, gray-blue- Okay, you're staying."
By the time she had gone through the neat-as-a-pin suits, she was feeling the exhaustion and depression. It was as if they had all been made by the same hands, buttoned up to the neck and of the same sensible length.
She found a teal blue pantsuit hidden at the back and decided it had merit.
But most everything in her closet was so boring she was starting to fall asleep, even the ones she wore to functions.
Plopping down on the padded bench, she surveyed the mountain of clothes on the floor.
She had dragged them from their hangers, and the place looked like it had been struck by a volcano.
Her shoes were salvageable because she loved her some footwear. So they were staying. She felt the clutch in her stomach again at the thought of spending hundreds of dollars replacing a perfectly good wardrobe, just because she was on a tear.
What on earth was she thinking? Had she gone quite mad? What was she trying to prove? Yes, she had money. Aside from her salary, she had inherited a sum of money from her grandmother, and the money had never been touched. It was just there gathering interest in the bank.
She had no mortgage to pay because her home was paid for.
She had no children to think about expenses.
But what if something happened to her? A bout of sickness could easily wipe out an entire savings.
She had seen it happen to people before.
What on earth was she thinking? And what was she going to do with all these clothes?
She could box them up and take them to Goodwill. Taking another gulp of the wine, she stared at the mess she had made.
She was not one to make a mess. Even as a child, her room had been as neat as a pin. It had to be. Growing up with her parents, she had had to be careful about everything. It had been drummed into her head that a messy space was a sign of a scattered brain or some such nonsense.
She had barely been allowed toys. It had always been books, books, and more books. Not that she minded feeding her mind; she enjoyed reading and learning new things.
But she had never been given a choice. Lifting her chin, she firmed her shoulders.
No. She shook her head. She was taking control of her life for the first time.
She was going to do things to please herself.
She was free and clear to make those choices.
No longer was she going to allow anyone that power over her.
If she wanted to have a whole new wardrobe, no one was going to tell her otherwise. If she wanted to put some auburn streaks in her hair, she was jolly well going to.
Pressing a hand to her stomach, she rose shakily and stood in front of the mirror, staring at her hair. Slowly, she lifted a hand and tugged at the thick strand falling over her brow and thought, Oh God! She was going to color her hair. Feeling sick all over again, she finished the wine.