Читать книгу Tall, Dark...And Framed? - Cathleen Galitz, Cathleen Galitz - Страница 10

Sebastian Wescott looked around the drab law office and shook his head in dismay. Why his half brother would even consider such a second-rate firm was beyond him. He supposed it either had something to do with the petite pretty blonde sitting across the desk from him or Dorian’s grudging attitude toward money. Having grown up without it, Dorian was still uncomfortable with the thought of spending vast sums of money when one could get an item of comparable value at a blue-light special. As touching as Dorian’s gesture was in providing Susan Wysocki a modest retainer out of his own pocket, Sebastian wasn’t at all happy with shopping discount when it came to legal representation.

Especially when his own life and freedom were at stake.

Coming here at all had been against his better judgment. Dorian practically had to drag him here by force. Perched on the edge of the chair next to his own, his half brother looked like he was considering blocking the door to prevent Sebastian from leaving before hearing this lawyer out. If he had been more like his old man, Sebastian would simply have twisted a couple of arms and paid off the judge to prevent this case from ever going to trial. But ever since he was a boy, Sebastian had done everything in his power to ensure he was nothing like his ruthless father. Even after going into the family business and becoming outrageously successful in his own right, he could still feel the cold breath of his father’s ghost on the back of his neck.

His deep-seated need to separate himself from Jack Wescott was partially responsible for his membership in the Texas Cattleman’s Club. The state’s most exclusive fraternity boasted a men-only membership of the richest, most established echelon in the Lone Star State. Few people knew that behind the club’s elegant, polished facade was a secret organization so select, its members could work covertly to protect the lives of the innocent. When they weren’t involved in secret missions, the membership focused their collective energy on keeping their bustling West Texas hometown prosperous and civic-minded.

It wasn’t the sort of organization that Jack Wescott would ever have been invited to join. Jack’s idea of a secret mission was sneaking off to the Pussy Cat Club some fifty miles away. Indeed, Jack had been a man far more interested in pursuing his own twisted desires than in being a father to his children, both those sired within and outside the sacred bonds of marriage.

A fact not lost on poor Dorian, who showed up on Sebastian’s doorstep one fine day not so very long ago claiming they were blood kin. According to Dorian, his mother had given him up for adoption when Jack Wescott refused to acknowledge him as a son and declared that he wasn’t about to provide a single penny of child support. It wasn’t until Jack’s death that Dorian’s birth mother looked up her son and informed him that the wealthy industrialist who’d just died was actually his father.

Had Sebastian had more faith in his father and had Dorian not borne such a striking resemblance to himself, he might well have sent the stranger packing and washed his hands of the whole sordid matter. Instead, he again felt bound to atone for his father’s sins.

As it turned out, giving Dorian a job in computer services at Wescott Oil had been one good deed that had truly come full circle. If anyone had ever suggested to Sebastian that his long-lost brother would be the first to rush to his defense at the lowest point in Sebastian’s life, he would have called him crazy. Recalling the parable about the poor widow giving her last few coins to charity, he wished there was some way of refusing his brother’s gift without seeming ungrateful.

Without somehow offending him.

The circumstances surrounding the accusations leveled at Sebastian only added to his frustration and rage. Aside from a burning desire to clear his good name and secure his independence, he was determined to find out who had murdered his colleague, in the process framing Sebastian for the heinous deed. He vowed the killer would pay dearly for his treachery.

“This is utterly idiotic!” he shouted, landing a large fist upon the desk and causing the woman behind it to jump in alarm. “I don’t need a lawyer. I’m innocent!”

As a wolf in sheep’s clothing, Susan thought wryly.

“That is exactly the reason you need my services, Mr. Wescott,” she assured him with cool poise intended to mask her own misgivings.

The truth was, if the opportunity to represent the virile man sitting on the other side of her desk hadn’t been so crucial to her financial survival, Susan Wysocki would likely have handed back the substantial retainer Dorian Brady had given her and run as fast as possible in the opposite direction.

For starters, Sebastian Wescott reminded her a little too much of her ex-husband. He was that sure of himself. Not that Joe had been anywhere near as physically imposing as this man. Truly Sebastian was nothing short of feral in the way he dominated the room. Not even the most expensive, hand-tailored suit in the world could hide a masculine physique that suggested the power and ferocity of a sleek panther.

A sleek, caged panther, she mentally amended.

Every so often her would-be client jumped out of his chair, paced back and forth in front of her scarred oak desk and punctuated the air with another gesture of pure outrage. It was all Susan could do to keep from leaning back in her chair to distance herself from his anger.

At the same time, it was all she could do to keep from leaning toward him as if pulled by a magnet.

She made a mental note to load the jury with women if this case ever actually went to trial. No matter how strong the prosecution’s case, they wouldn’t stand a chance if the jury happened to fall in love with the sexy millionaire accused of murdering his associate Eric Chambers, vice president of accounting for Wescott Oil.

She also didn’t like the way those silver-gray eyes of his made her go all shivery inside whenever he stopped in the midst of his pacing to train them on her. It was difficult to keep from squirming beneath his scrutiny. Susan’s body was still tingling from the perfunctory handshake they’d exchanged when Sebastian had first introduced himself. She assumed that the electrical current that held her as immobile as if she’d embraced a live wire was simply her body’s way of warning her of impending danger.

Painful past experience had taught her to trust her gut feelings.

She had been relieved when Sebastian had finally released that all-too-masculine grip. At thirty, she wasn’t so naive that she didn’t recognize her reaction for what it was—lust, in its most primitive and dangerous form. Fearing the same kind of machismo that had initially attracted her to her ex-husband, Susan reminded herself that finding the right man was a matter of choice better left to a level head than to fickle hormones.

It was unfortunate that Sebastian’s half brother, Dorian Brady, wasn’t more her type. He impressed her as being far less edgy than his sibling. Though strikingly similar in appearance to his brother, Dorian’s appeal was subtler, Susan decided. He was smaller in stature, but his eyes were nearly the same astonishing shade of silver as Sebastian’s. However, for some unfathomable reason, his gaze did not immediately hold her an unwilling captive the way Sebastian’s did. There was a swaggering seductiveness in Sebastian’s demeanor that contrasted sharply with his brother’s more understated nature.

That her body didn’t react in such openly traitorous ways to Dorian was definitely part of his charm to the wary Susan. Once burned… She cut off the thought and concentrated on the legal matter at hand.

Having received an abbreviated version from Dorian of how he had only a short time ago come to locate his long-lost family, Susan wasn’t quite sure exactly how his relationship with Sebastian stood. Other than the fact that Dorian seemed to hold no malice toward his half brother, who had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. By his own account, Dorian—who had been abandoned by Sebastian’s philandering father and put up for adoption by his brokenhearted mother—could barely afford plastic cutlery while growing up. That he had paid Susan’s retainer out of his own pocket, insisting on providing legal representation for his mulish kin, spoke volumes about him. Such loyalty was rare even among siblings raised together from birth. Susan could only assume that being new in town, Dorian knew nothing of her recent string of bad luck.

Losing two close court cases in a row had done more than simply damage her self-esteem. The lack of clients beating down her door was mute testimony of her own dwindling faith in her skills as an attorney. Her once-upon-a-time dream of giving the little guy a voice in the legal system—the same dream that had kept her going throughout law school—was now strained by the necessity of simply supporting herself.

Hadn’t Joe warned her that she didn’t stand a chance of making it on her own? He’d predicted that without his money and influence, she would fold like a house of cards….

Gritting her teeth at the memory of her ex-husband’s parting shot, Susan bolstered her flagging confidence with the desire to prove him wrong. Believing that success would ultimately prove the sweetest revenge, she smiled confidently at the intimidating Mr. Wescott and offered him a cup of coffee. He declined with nothing more than a terse shake of his head.

Trying to calm this man down was like convincing a wild animal to step willingly into a cage.

With her.

Armed with nothing but bravado and determination, Susan assessed her options. Though female intuition warned her to stay far, far away from Sebastian Wescott, she desperately needed just such an incredible opportunity. A high-profile case like this could well be her ticket to a recovery that would be as much emotional as financial for her. No matter how much working with this man might stir a prickly feminine responsiveness that was best left sleeping, it certainly beat chasing ambulances—which was where she feared she was headed if business didn’t pick up soon.

In fact, if things didn’t pick up, Susan feared she might have to lay off her secretary, Ann Worthe. A single mother who had just left an abusive marriage herself, Ann would be as devastated as Susan by such an unfortunate turn of events. Not only wouldn’t she be able to continue the night classes she was taking in hopes of becoming a paralegal, Ann would have trouble feeding her three young children without the help of food stamps—something the proud young mother had vowed never to do. Aside from the heart-wrenching personal aspects of laying off a woman she considered a friend, Susan knew such a move would mark the end of her own hard-fought dreams and aspirations. There was simply no way she could do her job as a lawyer and manage the office at the same time.

Landing the case of such a prominent citizen as Sebastian Wescott would certainly bolster her standing in the legal community. Lately she had been feeling like the local pariah among the elite of Royal, many of whom were aligned with her influential ex-husband and appeared to relish her past few defeats in the courtroom. The thought of seeing those good old Texas boys, some of whom openly believed the law was best left to men alone, turn pea green with envy was enough to straighten her spine.

Now was not the time to let silly girlish palpitations interfere with good sense. Just because her mind kept wandering to thoughts of how Sebastian might look naked in her bed didn’t mean anything would ever come of such outlandish fantasies. Aside from the fact that Sebastian Wescott could have any woman he wanted, the realization that he was accused of murder should have been more than enough to cool her blood. But it continued to course through her veins in hot, pounding spurts of female awareness.

Nonetheless, by the time Sebastian stopped pacing and took his seat again, Susan had made up her mind. If by some miracle, she could actually convince this millionaire oil baron that she was the best lawyer for the job, she would represent him as if more than just his life was on the line.

In a manner of speaking, hers was, too.

“Now that you’re sitting down, let me assure you that I am more than capable and willing to take your case on and I will focus 110% of my time and energy on your behalf.”

Sebastian was caught off guard by the haunting feminine quality of the voice that entreated him to remain calm. What was it about that particular inflection that wound its way around every nerve ending in his body and made him ache with an unfamiliar longing?

Searching for the answer to that particular question in a pair of mesmerizing hazel eyes was not a wise choice, he decided. Blue? Gray? Green? He could no more get a fix on their exact shade than a chameleon could remain satisfied with any one hue. It was his opinion that lawyers with winsome eyes should be permanently disbarred on the basis of unfair practices.

Had Susan Wysocki somehow hypnotized him into actually considering adding her to his already substantial legal team? Not that it really mattered, Sebastian told himself. After all, what was one more attorney’s salary to a self-made millionaire?

From the looks of her worn office chair, Susan Wysocki could certainly use the money. Why that mattered to Sebastian was not something he chose to reflect upon for long. He was used to trusting his gut instincts. That for some inexplicable reason he was drawn to this woman was impetus enough for him to set aside his reservations and actually consider hiring her.

Up until now he’d had no reason to keep any criminal lawyers on staff, his need being more in the way of corporate and business strategists. They would be of little use in a courtroom, but he respected their collective opinion nonetheless. Besides, Seb believed that this case would never actually go to trial.

“Mr. Wescott?” Susan repeated, attempting to bring his focus back to what was becoming a distinctly one-sided conversation.

With a start, Sebastian realized that Susan was staring at him as if considering whether to dial 911. He didn’t think it prudent to explain that he had been focusing on how the sunlight spilling in through the window cast a halo about her hair. Which was a most extraordinary color. Not a brash store-bought yellow, it was a true blond.

Whiplash blond, his father would have called it.

Like wild, dark honey.

Sebastian wondered if it felt as silky as it looked. This lady didn’t seem the type to fix those long, soft curls with half a can of hairspray every day to achieve the “big hair” that Texan women made famous. Having endured the coquettish advances of countless such polished vixens, he was struck by the fact that Susan Wysocki seemed singularly unaware of her natural beauty. He wondered if she even considered what an asset her looks would be in the courtroom.

“Are you all right, Mr. Wescott?” she asked, genuine concern etching worry lines upon her countenance.

“Call me Seb,” he said, shaking his head to rid it of the cobwebs. “My friends do.”

“I’d like that,” Susan replied, keenly aware that her pulse had pole-vaulted at the sound of the shortened, softer name and the glib invitation into his elite circle of friends.

Her response couldn’t have been more genuine. As long as they could maintain a friendly relationship, Susan was fairly certain there would be no problem representing this man. As a friend, Sebastian Wescott was bound to be a powerful and affluent ally. As a lover, she suspected he would be as dangerous to a woman’s heart as an arrow dipped in poison. As an enemy, he was probably deadly.

Susan quickly amended that particular choice of words, fearing it might color her perception of whether Sebastian Wescott was actually capable of the crime of which he was accused. But before she could ascertain anything so monumental, she needed to figure out a way to get her own capricious hormones under control. Right now the way this man was looking at her was making her feel hot all over.

Decidedly uncomfortable.

And every bit a woman.

She blinked hard. Twice. Then finally succumbed to the urge to turn her gaze to the floor, where she pretended to study the toes of her sensible navy pumps. Susan knew herself to be plain and unsophisticated compared to the kind of women “Seb” was used to.

Seeing the flicker of pain in Susan’s eyes, Seb felt a protective pang deep in his heart. A heart some people liked to think was as hard and black as his father’s, but in truth was much more susceptible to weakness. As much as this woman wanted to come across as some stereotypical thick-skinned lawyer, he recognized the vulnerability she was trying so hard to hide.

And was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

As a member of the Texas Cattleman’s Club, he had pledged his very life to protecting innocents. The innately honest aura surrounding this woman stirred his sense of old-fashioned chivalry—which struck him as ironic, considering that at the moment she was the one offering to save him. Seb was surprised by the intensity of the protective instincts welling up inside him. He didn’t hold lawyers in high esteem. As a rule, he thought them far more concerned about lining their own pockets than in genuinely pursuing justice. For some reason he couldn’t bring himself to lump this fascinating blond creature in with such parasites.

He suspected Susan Wysocki would be shocked to discover they had much in common. Leadership, Justice and Peace were the words burned into an iron-studded plaque hung in a place of honor at the Texas Cattleman’s Club. More than just a motto, they were the tenets by which the members lived. Even if Seb were to allow this lovely lady to represent him in a court of law, he doubted whether she would be able to understand that, come what may, he was duty bound to keep his whereabouts the night of the murder a secret. Protecting the club and the nature of the assignment that had taken him away that night was every bit as important as protecting his own life.

If it wasn’t, this would be an open-and-shut case, and he could merrily go on with life as he knew it without so much as missing a beat.

And he would never have had the chance to make the lovely Ms. Wysocki’s acquaintance and become so enamored by her amazing hazel eyes. It was the only upside Seb could find to the miserable predicament in which he was mired. That she was trying to hide the nervous flutter of her hands by rearranging a stack of papers on an otherwise clean desk struck him as inexplicably endearing. He noticed that her left hand was devoid of a wedding ring.

In light of the fact that the chemistry between them was anything but businesslike, Susan’s prim and proper attitude seemed utterly incongruent. Women threw themselves at Seb all the time. Oddly enough, none of their bold sexual advances had half the effect on him as had Susan’s simple handshake. Accompanied as it was by the widening of those big hazel eyes, he knew for a fact that she had felt something, too.

Like a tremor.

The kind that precedes an earthquake.

And changes one’s life forever.

Indeed, fate’s little aftershocks were still playing havoc with rational thought. Surely that alone caused the words to tumble out of his mouth of their own volition.

“If you’d like to go over the particulars of the case, I’ll be glad to meet with you later this evening—at my place, over drinks.”

Given the condition of her office furniture, Seb would have expected Susan to jump at the opportunity to make some real money. Thus, her reaction to his invitation both surprised and disconcerted him. That she appeared less than thrilled at the prospect of spending the evening with him was an understatement. She looked downright aghast.

Something both scared and needy glistening in those hypnotic eyes was all that kept him from being insulted by her lack of enthusiasm.

“Seb,” she said in her most coolly detached lawyer voice, all the while the intimacy of his pet name on her tongue sending a delicious shiver up her spine. “Surely you understand that I have to maintain a professional relationship with all my clients.”

Unused to being rebuffed, Seb was quick to make light of her presumption. “Were you thinking along any other lines, Ms. Wysocki?” he taunted. “I have a meeting later this afternoon at the Cattleman’s Club that I can’t miss. This evening is the only time I have to go over the specifics of the case. That is, if you’re still interested in representing me.”

If she was still interested!

Only a crazy woman would turn down an offer like this one on any level—professional or romantic—though Susan knew she had ruined any chances of the latter with her uptight reproach to a simple request for an after-hours meeting. Seb’s straightforward response had left her feeling like a complete idiot. Lord knows, she had worked around other clients’ schedules on more than one occasion.

Susan was spared an immediate response by the timeliness of Dorian’s interruption. For a moment she had almost forgotten he was in the room with them. Clearly thrilled that his big brother was actually considering accepting his gift of her legal services, he jumped into the conversation feetfirst. “If you’d be more comfortable with me present, Ms. Wysocki, I’d be glad to be there, as well.”

It was all Susan could do to keep from rolling her eyes. Dorian must have read the hesitancy in her body language and come to the conclusion that she was frightened of being alone with Seb. He was right, of course, but not for any of the reasons she suspected were running through his mind at the moment. For heaven’s sake, she was no shy virgin afraid of being compromised by a big bad wolf lurking in the woods. As much as she appreciated Dorian’s concern, she did not need his protection. Even though Sebastian was accused of murder, she certainly didn’t get any creepy vibes from him. If the truth were known, she suspected that more women accosted him than the other way around. Many of her own girlfriends would undoubtedly claw their way around her for the opportunity to spend an evening alone with such a man.

What Susan was really afraid of was her own reaction to being alone with a man who, by his very presence, reminded her that beneath her professional pin-striped suit jacket beat the heart of a woman very much longing for more than business aspirations to fill the void in her life.

“That won’t be necessary,” Seb assured Dorian with a black glare that lingered long enough for him to get the hint.

“Oh, I forgot,” Dorian exclaimed, snapping his fingers and donning a hearty grin. “I have someplace to be tonight, too. Wouldn’t want to break the little lady’s heart by standing her up, you know.”

Susan winced. The ploy was so patently obvious that she couldn’t help but wonder why she had ever thought Dorian subtle. Clearly he was more enamored of the prospect of pleasing Sebastian than he was of her. Not that he shouldn’t feel more allegiance to a brother than a complete stranger, she reminded herself.

Susan wished she could rationalize away her fears as easily. Maybe Sebastian really did have a meeting at the Texas Cattleman’s Club. Maybe it really was more important than clearing his name of murder. And maybe she was imagining that predatory interest in his eyes. All Susan knew for sure was that such heavy-handed tactics were reminiscent of the way her ex-husband used to manipulate her.

She smiled sweetly at her new client, the one who just might be the answer to her prayers if she played her cards right. Reminding herself that she was indeed a big girl and capable of separating past hurts from present opportunities, she tamped down her resentments. As long as she promised not to involve her heart in the case, there was really no reason to turn good fortune away from her doorstep.

“What time do you want me to be there?” she asked.