Читать книгу The Reluctant Texas Rancher - Cathy Gillen Thacker - Страница 8

An hour and a half later, tensions were high. And so, Travis thought, were his emotions.

“Do you want me to help you or not?” Liz demanded, her frustration with him apparent.

Travis figured she would be a hard-charging advocate. It was the reason he had hired her. It did not mean, however, that he wanted to bare his soul, to her or anyone else. He sat back in his chair and regarded her with unchecked irritation, taking in her upswept auburn hair. “How my relationship with Olympia started is irrelevant to the case.”

Bracing her hands on her desktop, Liz leaned toward him. She looked at him as if she could read him right down to the marrow of his soul and was not exactly thrilled with what she found.

She arched an elegant eyebrow and moved around to stand in front of the desk. “I will decide what’s relevant and what is not.” She stared at him with lawyerly intensity, then enunciated slowly, “Your job, as my client, is to answer my questions as openly and honestly as possible.”

Telling himself he could handle her, even in full battle mode, Travis added, “And stop thinking like an attorney while I’m at it, right?” He was beginning to see what made her so formidable in and out of the courtroom.

“It would help.” Frowning, Liz picked up the legal documents he had brought for her to peruse. “I don’t need you second-guessing me.”

Then what did she need?

Not that he wanted to go there. Especially with the trouble he was in.

Travis slouched in his chair, reluctantly returning his mind to business. “That’s not what I was doing.”

Liz looked down her nose at him in rigid disagreement. “You’re trying to run the defense.” As if finding it difficult to be that physically close to him, she abruptly straightened and moved away. “And you of all people ought to know better, because ‘a man who is his own lawyer has a fool for his client.’”

Much as he wanted to, Travis could not argue with that. He sighed and glanced around Liz’s law office. Unlike the ultra-luxurious one he’d had at Haverty, Brockman & Roberts, this one was sparsely decorated, with beige walls, sturdy dark wood furniture and comfortable client chairs. The focal point here was Liz. With her hair twisted into a casual knot at the nape of her neck, her attitude unerringly focused and businesslike, she was clearly in her element.

She belonged here, Travis thought. Not working the ranch.

She picked up the yellow legal pad she’d been writing on moments earlier and settled herself in her chair. “Now, back to the beginning …” she continued.

Travis tried not to groan.

“How—and under what circumstances—did you and Olympia Herndon meet?”

Not as accidentally as I thought. “I met her at a charity function we were both attending. I’d heard she was looking for new representation. Before I could approach her, she introduced herself to me.”

Liz scribbled furiously. “Did you talk about her search?”

“Not that evening, no. We just got to know each other a little bit.”

Tapping her pen impatiently on the pad, Liz prompted, “And then what?”

Already restless, Travis stood and prowled her office, inspecting the art—mostly black-and-white photographs of the Four Winds—on the wall. “I saw her again … socially … at a dinner party given by the senior partners and their wives. And then at another fundraiser.” He spun around. Lounging against a bookcase, he thrust his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “A few weeks later, I started representing her.” Aware that if they kept up the conversation they could be headed into dangerous territory, he compressed his lips. “Why does any of this matter?”

“Because Ms. Herndon is asserting in her lawsuit that you did not provide adequate, competent representation or act as a zealous advocate on her behalf.”

Fury gathered in his gut. He hated being put in the position of having to defend himself. “I did everything possible to get that wildcatter to sign with her company. He just didn’t want to.”

Liz studied him. “Would he testify to that?”

Travis wondered if the skin of her face was as silky-soft as it looked. Ditto for her lips.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Digger Dobbs doesn’t strike me as somebody who wants to get involved in somebody else’s mess.”

Liz twisted her lips. Making him wonder if she still kissed the way she once had—like an innocent virgin who preferred to keep her heart under lock and key.

“Well, he’s at the center of this so we’re going to have to contact him.” She paused as her cell phone began to ring, and glanced at the caller ID. “Sorry. This is the Laramie County Sheriff’s Department. I’ve got to get it.” She picked up. “Liz Cartwright. Yeah, hi, Rio. What? You’re kidding! No. Heck, no! Tell him I’ll be right there!”

She clicked off the phone, already half out of her seat. “Client emergency. I’ve got to go.”

Irked to be put on hold, Travis rose. “What about—”

Liz flashed by. “We’ll pick it up later. Even tonight if you want. Right now, I have to get over to Spring Street before J. T. Haskell lands himself in jail.”

TRAVIS HEADED OUT THE DOOR after her. “J. T. Haskell is your client?”

Liz cast a look at the dusky sky. The sun had slipped past the horizon, and it would be dark soon. “I have a habit of taking on underdogs.”

Travis nodded. “So it would seem,” he retorted drily.

Liz slanted him a glance while locking up. Having a big-shot attorney for a client was going to be harder than she’d thought. Partly because he was reluctant to relinquish control, and partly because she had the gut feeling there was still a lot he wasn’t telling her. Things she needed to know to adequately represent him.

But that was no surprise. Clients never gave their attorney all the information up front. Usually because they were trying to maintain their dignity, garner respect. It was up to counsel to retrieve all the facts and get to the bottom line.

Even when it came to defending another attorney.

Liz sighed. As they headed toward the parking lot, she turned the conversation back to the matter at hand. “Why are you so surprised I’m representing J.T.?”

Travis shrugged. “I heard he went off the deep end after his wife died last year.”

An understatement if there ever was one. “He kind of has,” she admitted with a grimace.

“He’s been arrested a couple of times for bar fights.”

“Actually, he was just busting up some furniture. He wasn’t drunk and he didn’t hit anyone. But, yeah, there are a number of places he can’t go in now because of his bad behavior.”

“Anyone talked to him about joining one of Kate Marten-McCabe’s grief groups over at the hospital?”

Liz’s frustration spiraled. “Everyone has.”

“He’s not buying it?”

“He doesn’t think he has a problem.”

Travis stopped at her SUV, all protective male. “I’m going with you.”

The firmness of his voice was a surprise.

Travis was quiet a moment, just looking at her with those keen eyes that seemed to see more than she liked. “He’s a big guy. If he’s upset, he could be dangerous.”

Liz attempted to curtail her irritation. Since when did she need protecting—from anyone? Well used to looking after her own interests, she said, “The sheriff’s department is on the way.”

Travis flashed an easygoing smile and climbed in the passenger side. “Consider it part of my new duties, protecting all the women on the Cartwright ranch.”

Maybe it was her imagination, but it felt a little more than that. “I hate to tell you this, cowboy.” She got in after him and slid her key in the ignition. “But we’re not on the Four Winds.”

He shrugged and turned to pull the safety restraint out of its sheath. “You know what I mean.”

She did. And she didn’t have time to argue. “Fine.” Liz put on her shoulder belt, too, then sent him a warning glare. “Just don’t put on your lawyer hat. This is my situation to handle.”

By the time they got to the Haskell home on Spring Street, the streetlamps were on and the sheriff’s car was already there. Deputies Rio Vasquez and Kyle McCabe were in the front yard, which, given the many stakes and flags, looked as if it had recently been surveyed.

Bypassing the crowd of neighbors who had gathered, Liz marched into the center of the circle of men. Not exactly the best way to spend a tranquil spring evening. “What’s going on?”

Tim Patrone pointed to Haskell. “J.T. has gone too far, that’s what is going on.”

The recently retired man glowered, his face red beneath his shock of white hair. “I want to take down a few trees and build a lagoon-style pool with a waterfall. What’s wrong with that?”

“In the front yard!” Tim retorted.

Liz took in J.T.’s tropical shirt, flip-flops and walking shorts. “I know you have a reason for doing what you’re doing.”

He rubbed the stubble of a three-day-old beard. “Don’t I always?”

“Suppose you tell everyone here what it is.” Before real trouble erupts.

“Cyndi, God bless her soul, always wanted to go to Hawaii. And I never did take her. I figure this is the least I can do. Besides, I offered to let all the neighborhood kids swim in it, once it’s built, so I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“And that’s another big problem. Safety!” Tim fumed.

Deputy Vasquez intervened. “Local ordinance requires a six-foot barrier around any private swimming pool.”

“Then I’ll put one up,” J.T. said with a shrug.

The neighbors appeared outraged at the idea. Liz understood why. A six-foot privacy fence in the front yard would ruin the look of all the homes on the street, as well as obstruct the view.

Liz moved forward and put a hand on J.T.’s arm. “There are zoning considerations, too. You’re going to need a permit to proceed. And I doubt the town of Laramie will grant you one for a swimming pool in the front yard, no matter how beautiful or lavish it is.”

“Well, there’s not room in the backyard,” J.T. declared. “Not for what I want to do.”

“Then buy a place in the country and move it all out there!” Tim advised.

J.T. flushed all the more. “I am not giving up the home I shared with my late wife. All our memories are here.”

No one could argue with that. Cyndi and J.T. had been inseparable until the day she died.

Before her client could say anything else, Liz intervened again. Her voice soothing, she looked at him and murmured, “J.T., you and I need to talk about this. Let’s go inside.”

“Nope,” he said. He put his hands in front of him and glared at the two deputies. “I don’t want your visit to be wasted. You want to arrest me for disturbing the peace? Arrest me!”

Rio and Kyle exchanged beleaguered looks.

“Or do I have to hit something first?” J.T. taunted, picking up one of the staked flags, clearly ready to make good on his claim.

“That’s it.” Rio got out his handcuffs before J.T. could snap the stake in half. “You’re going to a holding cell to cool off.”

“Whatever.” He let them take the stake from him. “I’m still building the pool!” He glared at his neighbors defiantly, still spoiling for a fight. “And no one is going to stop me!”

A pitying silence fell.

J.T. looked at Liz as he was led away, hands cuffed behind him. “You want to do something?” he shouted over his brawny shoulder. “Get me a permit so I can build this pool!”

“He’s losing it,” Travis said as they got back in Liz’s car and followed the squad car to the sheriff’s station.

“He’s grieving. He loved his wife so much. To see Cyndi lose her battle with lung disease was more than he could bear. He has to have some outlet for his anger.”

“Meaning what?” Travis scoffed. “You think he should be able to follow through on his crazy plan and, while he’s at it, lower the property values of every house on the street?”

“It’s not about building a pool. It’s about paying tribute to his wife, lamenting his loss and getting over his guilt for all the things he didn’t give Cyndi. He wants her back, Travis.” He wants the love he lost. “He wants to rewrite the past, and he can’t do that, so he’s ticked off. I get it.”

A long silence fell. “You really feel for the guy.”

Liz forced herself to concentrate on driving, instead of on the handsome man in the passenger seat beside her. “I’ve always had a thing for the underdog, in any situation. You know that.”

“I’m not sure I’d call J.T. an underdog,” Travis countered quietly.

Liz frowned at the red light, her foot on the brake pedal. “He’s at a disadvantage because of his distraught emotional state. He’s picking battles no one in their right mind would ever expect him to win.”

“Which is why you’re so drawn to him,” Travis concluded as the light changed and the SUV began to move again. “Because you think you can claim victory.”

Feeling the heat of his gaze like a physical caress, Liz turned at the next street. “Not in the sense of getting him a tropical haven in his front yard. But if I could help him put his life back on track, and keep him out of serious legal trouble in the meantime, I’d be happy.”

Travis didn’t take his eyes off her. “You really care about him.”

Liz was suddenly feeling a little too aware of Travis. “I do. And I owe him.” She turned into a parking spot, cut the engine and turned to Travis in all sincerity. “A few years ago, my mom and grandmother were driving a truck full of baby calves to a ranch thirty miles north of the Four Winds when the truck broke down unexpectedly. It was a brutally hot day. They were out in the middle of nowhere. And there was nowhere they could safely put the cattle while they went for help. Nor could they just leave them in the blistering interior of the cattle car….”

She drew a deep breath, shook her head. “Angels must have been looking down on them, because right then J.T. drove by. He was on his way to a job himself—as a satellite installer—but he stopped to help. Not only did he get another cattle truck out there within minutes, he helped transfer the calves and then stayed with our truck until the tow service arrived. Had he not been there, had he not known just who in that particular area to call for help, we might have had a very different outcome.” Liz paused to let her words sink in. “J.T. is a good guy. He’s just going through a rough patch.”

Travis studied her, a combination of respect and admiration on his handsome face. “He’s lucky to have you in his corner.”

Liz warmed at the compliment. “Let’s just hope I can do something for him.”

“NO WAY,” RIO VASQUEZ SAID. “He’s spending the night in a holding cell. He can go in front of the judge in the morning.”

Liz squared off with the arresting officers. “Guys, come on….”

Kyle McCabe stood firm, too. “It’s for his own good. Besides, you saw him, Liz. J.T. was practically pleading with us to bring him in.”

Maybe, Liz thought, so he wouldn’t have to spend another night alone in the house he had shared with his beloved Cyndi.

Travis put a hand on her shoulder. “They’re right.”

Liz knew it. She just didn’t want to admit that everything she had said to J.T. about his behavior so far had been ineffective. She lifted a hand. “Fine. I’ll be back first thing tomorrow.” The hours in between would give her time to think about what she wanted to say to the judge.

Travis and Liz walked out of the sheriff’s station. “So what now?” he asked, suddenly looking almost as restless as she felt.

She consulted her watch. It was only nine-thirty.

“It’s Friday evening,” Travis continued. “Do you have somewhere you need to be? Someone you need to see?”

His lack of subtlety was not lost on her.

He was trying to figure her out, the same way she’d been trying to get a handle on him. And his current legal problem.

Figuring it might help convince him to confide in her if they lightened up a little, she allowed herself to tease him back. “Why, Counselor, are you asking me if I have a date?”

He grinned at her exaggerated Texas accent. “I didn’t see any photos of a boyfriend at your office.” He paused, his eyes opaque. “Or the homestead, for that matter.”

Liz let out a long, careful breath. She slowed her steps, delaying the moment they would get back into her SUV. Suddenly, the space felt a tad too intimate.

She lifted her chin. “That’s because I don’t have one.”

“Which means what?” His eyes narrowed, he stepped close enough that she could smell the leather-and-soap scent of his hair and skin. “You’re not dating?” He reached up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You’re opposed to dating?”

When she didn’t answer, he met her gaze. “It’s nothing I couldn’t easily find out from someone else. I just thought …” His voice dropped another notch, in a way that sent heat slashing through her. “If the story is that we’re resuming our friendship, we ought to know the basic facts about each other.”

The woman in her wanted to keep up all the barriers. The attorney in her knew he was right. Plus, she was curious about him, too.

She resumed walking toward the parking lot behind the sheriff’s station while gazing up at the stars shimmering in the black velvet sky above. “I had a serious relationship a few years ago, when I was working in Dallas.” She shook off the unhappy memories. “We broke off our engagement by mutual agreement.”

Travis cocked his head and ran his gaze over her like a caress. “Are you still friends?”

“Not really.” She rummaged in her pocket for her keys, then hit the electronic keypad. The locks clicked; the interior lights went on. “It’s kind of hard to come back from something like that.”

He opened the driver’s door for her, stood waiting for her to get in. “And since …?”

The intensity of his regard had her whole body tensing. Liz adapted the casual attitude that perfectly summed up her nonexistent love life, the one that had the women in the family so worried she would never fall in love, never marry, never have a baby to carry on the Cartwright bloodline. “I’ve had the occasional date here and there.” She forced herself to meet his probing gaze. “What about you?”

He shrugged. It was, Liz thought, his turn to skillfully evade.

“I’d like to date. In theory. I just never seem to have the time.”

A lament voiced by many an associate at big law firms. “Not part of your one-, five- and ten-year plans?”

“Actually, marriage and family is. If I could ever figure out where I would work it in.”

That was a surprise, Liz thought. Travis had been so focused on his career, she hadn’t expected this was something he would want. She sized him up, wondering which allure would turn out to be stronger, his desire to live a more authentic, not so big-city life, or his desire to redeem his name and regain his former glory. “So when this is over, you plan to go back to working eighty-hour weeks….”

He shrugged, not about to commit yet, either way. “It is the norm for an associate in any big or midsize law firm,” he offered casually. “No matter where it is located.”

Liz knew that.

Lawyers in Lubbock who wanted fame and fortune—and the bank accounts that went with them—worked as hard as attorneys in Houston.

Fortunately, she had learned there were other, more important things in life.

Like feeling you made a difference.

She bit her lip, admitting, “Too many long hours are exactly why I quit my job at that firm in Dallas. I wanted more of a life outside the office.”

“And yet,” he murmured, playfully tapping the end of her nose, “here you are at 9:45 on a Friday night … lamenting your lack of a love life, same as me.”

Liz stiffened. Honestly, the man was taking far too much for granted. “I didn’t say I missed it,” she returned archly. Even if I have been wondering all evening long just how it would feel to kiss you….

“Really.” He lifted his eyebrows and waited for her gaze to meet his.

Indignation flushing her cheeks, Liz asserted, “I can live without sex.” Could he?

Travis grinned, as if he would like nothing more than to wear her down. “How about this?” he asked her softly. Grasping her waist, he tugged her against him. Threaded one hand through her hair, tilting her face to his. His mouth lowered seductively. “Can you live without a kiss?”