Fight For Me

How hard would you fight for a once in a lifetime love?

Senator Blane Kirk has given up finding a woman to share his life. That ship came in…and sailed off without him. These days he is consumed with his career and bringing honesty and integrity back to Washington. His brother, Kade, is his right hand and always has been. Even when bad things must be done by good men. Little does he know that one of those bad things is coming back to haunt him.

Anne Holton works two jobs to make ends meet—social worker by day, waitress at a high-end D.C. restaurant by night. Even though she’s the sole heiress to a multi-million-dollar fortune, she’s determined to make it on her own and try to help a few people along the way. Her future is mapped out and it doesn’t include falling in love…or being targeted by a vicious man vowing to never let his wife leave him.

Anne is as determined to rebuff Blane as he’s determined to have her. She possesses something that has him enthralled and utterly ensnared—he just has to convince her to give them a chance. But does Anne really want to turn her life upside down for a man who’s running for the highest office in the land? And if she does, will all the forces arrayed against them succeed in forcing them apart?

Even love has its limits, and Blane and Anne’s may end up in a grave.

--------------------------------
Chapter One

If there was something that made a man leap to his feet faster than having a waitress dump a full glass of ice water in his lap, Blane didn’t know what it would be. Maybe coffee instead of water? No, a knife would probably get the quickest reaction time.

These thoughts flew through his head as the waitress stood, aghast, her mouth open in a round O of horror, frozen in place. Blane tamped down his irritation. It wasn’t as though she’d done it on purpose but dumping water in the lap of the senior senator from Massachusetts wasn’t something she’d be bragging about. Or hell, maybe she would. Nowadays, you never knew.

The waitress found her tongue. “I’m so sorry, senator!” She snatched a linen napkin from the table and took a hurried step toward Blane, her eyes fixed on Blane’s crotch.

Blane snagged the napkin from her fingers before the unthinkable happened. Being groped by a waitress wasn’t an unwelcome option—especially one as pretty as this—but not in public.

“I’ve got it,” he said, dryly. “Where’s your men’s room?”

“Um, yes, of course,” she stammered, her face a shade whiter than the napkin Blane held. “I’ll show you myself.”

She spun on her heel, but Blane stopped her with a hand clamped to her shoulder. He certainly didn’t need to be led to the bathroom like a toddler. “Just point the way.”

“Out the door, turn right, then left down the hallway.”

Blane turned to the two men still sitting at the table. Both had identical grimaces on their faces.

“Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me.” It was hard to pull off sophistication when your trousers looked as though you’d had an unfortunate bladder accident, but he managed.

The men’s room had an attendant who took one look and dug out a blow dryer from underneath the vanity. “If you please, sir. I’ll take care of that for you.” He was older, maybe mid-sixties, and by the way he hadn’t batted an eye, he’d probably seen it all.

Blane disappeared into one of the cubicles, discarded his now soaked briefs, and handed the pants over the door to the attendant. He decided that cooling your heels in a bathroom stall in socks, shirt, tie, and jacket while naked from the waist down was life’s way of making sure you stayed humble.

Ten minutes later, he was back in dry clothes—albeit going commando—and adjusting his tie in the mirror. He handed the attendant a twenty.

“Thanks for your help.”

“Anytime, sir.”