Читать книгу In Search Of A Hero - Cheryl Wolverton - Страница 13

Brighton’s was the perfect restaurant for a meeting. Quiet, dark, a place where they could talk and it wouldn’t get out of hand.

Rebekkah liked that.

A lot.

It had taken five calls, four messages and two secretarial meetings before the two worked out their schedules. She could be as stubborn as he could about who would be in charge of this meeting.

Rebekkah felt she’d won. She swung her stocking-clad legs out of her car. Once standing, she shut the door behind her, wondering if André had arrived yet.

He’d wanted to meet at a local café. She’d nixed that idea, wanting to meet at the office over Chinese food—to which he’d said no.

Tan heels clicked across the dark asphalt as she headed toward the front door.

Of course, she’d known he wouldn’t agree to the office. But at a place like this, she was certain he wouldn’t pull any surprises—just what she’d hoped for.

Preparing for their first conversation since the one in Drydan’s office, she had donned her tan linen suit that had darker brown threads woven through it, had pulled back her hair and brought her notebook with briefs on the case. She wanted Andréto know she was there strictly for business.

Why she let him bother her, she wasn’t sure. But every time they were around each other her hackles went up.

As she approached the front of the building, she found her nemesis waiting.

He was dressed to kill, she thought despairingly. Wearing dark brown trousers with a lighter sports jacket, he looked all male.

Rebekkah winced as she realized what the problem was. She was attracted to this man.

She thought him too handsome for his own good.

Great. Physical attraction, she thought, disgusted. At least that was as far as it went. Of course, she didn’t know him well enough for anything else, her mind reminded her—yet.

And that was the way it would stay.

“Good evening, Rebekkah. Shall we?” He motioned toward the door.

This was one thing she could do—court cases. Pulling her mind to that, she nodded. “I’m ready.”

As she passed him, he murmured, “I’m sure you are.”

Turning as they entered, she asked, “What do you mean by that?”

Eyebrows inching up, he said, “You’re the type to do your homework.”

Forcing herself to relax, she nodded.

The maître d’ seated them, and the waitress took their orders. All was quiet before she spoke again.

“I trust you’ve had a good week?”

André smiled. “Never better. I really am beginning to enjoy my business in the inner city.”

“Most people spend their life trying to escape there,” Rebekkah said coolly. “I find it hard to believe you’re enjoying work that pays next to nothing and small-time cases.”

André tilted his head. “Is that how you see it, Rebekkah? That the little people aren’t worth the work? I’m surprised.”

Rebekkah had the grace to blush. “I—” She cleared her throat and continued, “I apologize, André. We once again have gotten off on the wrong foot. Actually, I’ve seen few lawyers who like working in the inner city. Most prefer a challenge that a bigger company represents—as well as the job security. I simply meant it’s hard to believe after working with your father you’d find pleasure living from hand to mouth like that.”

André continued to smile, his hands steepled in front of him as he studied her. “Do you peg all people like this before you get to know them or just me?”

Realizing she had no control over this conversation and wasn’t going to gain control, she shook her head. “Again, I apologize.”

André shook his head slightly. The candlelight brought out the golden tones in his hair and caused his eyes to twinkle with what looked like merriment. “Relax, Rebekkah. You came in here tonight prepared to do battle. I’m not sure why, but let’s call a truce while we’re together. Okay?”

Rebekkah hesitated. “I suppose I’m worried you’re going to hurt your father again.”

André’s smile became strained. “I promise you, Rebekkah, I have no intention of hurting my father. I simply want him to admit he was wrong in breaking up my engagement. But, since we have to work together, I suggest we avoid that subject as much as possible. After all, if I’d wanted to hurt my father, I could have found a much easier way than coming to him with what I’d learned.”

Rebekkah sighed and admitted he was right. Waving a hand, she nodded. “I’ve heard a lot about you, actually,” she confessed.

“My father, I presume, has already flayed me alive?”

Rebekkah shook her head. “Actually, no, André. He’s proud of what you’ve accomplished. But since we are avoiding that subject,” she said softly, “what I meant was in court. I’ve heard you’re competent and usually get what you set out to do.”

André nodded. “I prefer civil cases, though I did assist my father in other areas as needed. I’ve backed off a lot of what I did when I first passed the bars.”

“What you were doing when you were involved in the Kittering case?” Rebekkah asked.

André nodded. “I used to be a trial lawyer,” he admitted.

“I’ve researched the case and come up with a brief outline.”

“It was a simple enough case,” André said, nodding his thanks as the waitress brought their tea and salads. He showed no discomfiture that she had researched a case he’d worked on or that she wanted to get right down to business. “A big company accused of not sticking to the EPA standards and poisoning the land around them. We proved the company was indeed within the bounds of the law.”

“You proved that the poor people who had hired their lawyer didn’t get a very good lawyer,” Rebekkah countered. “Devil’s advocate here,” she added at his sudden scrutiny.

“Ah…well, perhaps.” He played along.

“Enough that it might actually help them win the case if it’s reopened in an appeal?”

André frowned. “Kittering had allegedly caused problems in the Alaskan wilderness with the fishing and water. There was proof that the number of fish the area produced was down. But then, the population was up and many more tourists had visited the area in the previous two years. There were minute amounts of their chemicals in the water, but nothing near what the EPA insisted Kittering keep their levels below.”

“But what about the wildlife?”

Rebekkah said a quick prayer before picking up her fork and taking a bite of salad. André followed suit.

He had elegant hands, not the hands of a worker, but long gentle hands, she noticed. She thought of this Sunday when he’d shown up at church, when his friends had handed him their baby for a moment and how careful he had been. André was different from others she had met. And she knew many other male lawyers. Most were concerned about their careers and climbing the corporate ladder. Many played fast and loose. Rebekkah had clawed her way up that ladder, reveling when Drydan had taken her into the firm, even though she suspected it was to fulfill a minority quota.

She had a chance, at least.

And she wasn’t going to blow it. Yet here sat André, a man raised in elegance, shrugging over his career, calm over the fact this case, if reopened, might damage his reputation and that of his family.

How he could be so at ease, she had no idea.

“If I remember correctly,” André finally said, “there was never any direct proof that the deaths of those animals could be attributed to the drinking of the water—which was what the original lawsuit was about—the water contamination that was causing illnesses to so many in the area.”

“Yes, but what if they’ve found a connection?” she asked. “I’ve gone through all the information I could find on the case. Your client was adamant that they had no idea of the pending lawsuit, thus could not have covered it up.”

“On the day the Langley representative testified, it clearly indicates he didn’t visit the site until after the lawsuit. And then he went up with the intention of finding out the truth,” André said.

Rebekkah took another bite of her salad, frowning. “Is it possible someone forged the interoffice memo to make it look like the company was guilty when they weren’t?”

André set his salad plate and fork aside. “I suppose so. We won’t know until we see it. However, if someone did do that, then they’d surely know it would easily be proven a fake.”

When the waitress appeared with their seafood they both fell silent.

Once she was gone, André continued. “I think it best we go on the assumption this is true and that someone is indeed going to visit the site for some new proof that we don’t know about. I’d like to get to the bottom of this, too, find out if these people lied to us before we represented them.”

“If they did, and it comes out, whether you knew or not, it’s still going to hurt your father terribly.”

André nodded. “It will do that.”

“However, the poor people who’ve lost so many loved ones and fallen ill will have their proof.”

Again, he nodded. “Which would be a good thing for some of them. I saw many at the time who were simply money-grubbing people who saw a chance to get rich. That was one reason I got out of being a trial lawyer. I got burned out really quick seeing the baser nature of people and their greed.”

“Not all poor people are money grabbers,” Rebekkah said softly, her fork pausing by her plate.

“I agree. But we’ve represented many who were. Surely, Rebekkah, you’ve seen that in your experiences with my father’s company.”

Rebekkah’s glance left André speechless.

André wouldn’t let her escape, though. Reaching out, he caught her hand, which lay still on the table.

The warmth jolted her gaze to his. She froze, staring.

He didn’t say anything, just continued to hold her hand.

“Yes, I’ve seen that in your father’s business and in other businesses, as well,” she finally admitted. “But I’ve seen the poor ones, as well, those who couldn’t afford a lawyer and desperately needed help, the ones who weren’t greedy and sought out help only to be turned down because they had no money.”

“Which makes me wonder why you aren’t more supportive of where I work,” he murmured softly.

Realizing what she’d said, she pulled her hand back on the pretense of blotting her lips with the napkin. “If a person works, they can go places and not stay in the world they were born in. Many in the inner city just want to stay there.”

André went back to eating. “Which means you really want to see me help them on their way, I suppose.”

Rebekkah laughed. “You’re good at twisting things around, André.”

“And for a trial lawyer, Rebekkah, you can certainly jump from subject to subject.”

The tension relieved, she smiled. “Simply to keep you confused.”

“Oh, you do that without any problem,” André said.

And she did, André thought, watching the way the woman blinked before smoothing all emotions from her soft complexion.

“So tell me, Rebekkah, what made you want a job like the one at Watson and Watson,” André asked, deciding they’d discussed enough business for the night. He wanted to get to know his new partner better since they would be working together.

“I don’t understand,” she replied carefully. He thought most of her answers were careful, except to him. He’d noticed almost immediately he had the ability to rattle her easily. And he took advantage of it, too. “I mean, fast-paced, high stress, long hours.”

“Oh.” She smiled. The smile changed her features from beautiful to breathtaking. She really was quite a remarkable young woman. He had no idea how she’d stayed single so long, unless it was her sheer doggedness to climb the corporate ladder—something André realized wasn’t worth it when he’d lost Sarah.

“I like the challenge. I love my job. It gives me a chance to challenge my mind and the laws. It also has the possibility of advancement, bigger cases and such.”

“You want to make a name for yourself,” he confirmed.

“I want to make sure I have a firm foundation to stand on and job security.”

“Trusting God helps,” he said.

She frowned. “Figures you’d quote things like that to me.”

“I can’t let you do all the quoting, now, can I?” he asked, enjoying the sparring.

“I saw you were in church Sunday,” she countered.

“I was there, yes. But you didn’t answer my question. Do you trust God to take care of you?”

“I believe a person has to put forth an effort, but yes, God will take care of me.”

“Then it really boils down to you’re running from or to something.”

He’d struck gold with that, if the flash in her eyes was any indication. He wouldn’t push it, though. At least now he had an idea why she seemed so determined to please his father and make a name for herself. “I’ve run, too, Rebekkah,” he said simply. “I still am in some ways, I imagine. But that’s what life is about, trials.”

Tilting her head, she studied him. “Why do you really miss church, André?”

Steepling his hands in front of him, he smiled. “I’m backsliding, or so you say, Rebekkah.”

“I’m wondering if there isn’t more here than meets the eye.”

He grinned. “Maybe you should find out.”

Her cheeks reddened slightly, amusing him. Time to let her off the hook. He found teasing Rebekkah Hawkley too enjoyable. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. “Can you get the transcripts together so we can go over them some evening?”

Clearly relieved to be on the subject of work, she pulled out her notebook and flipped through it. “That’s going to be a tall order, but, yes, if you’d like.”

“I’d like it very much. Let’s meet somewhere quieter next time, more private, where we can spread out. Ideas?”

Rebekkah’s brow furrowed, and she nibbled her lip before tentatively offering, “My place?”

He knew she expected him to say no and then they’d haggle like they had over this restaurant. Instead, he nodded. “Sounds fine.”

He hid his smile as she gaped at him. “How about tomorrow night after church?”

“You’ll be at church?”

“If you agree to the meeting afterward,” he replied, smiling. He normally went to a much smaller church on Wednesday night, but he found he enjoyed talking with this woman. There was so much he didn’t know about her. He’d barely scratched the surface and he found himself compelled to dig deeper, get to know her more. Missing one Wednesday night wouldn’t hurt. His friend could take over the class for that night.

“What if I’m busy?” she challenged.

“But you won’t be, will you, Rebekkah? Because you want me to be in church.”

She chuckled. “It’s not my job to see you show up.”

“Nope. But it just might go a long way to helping me heal with my father, hey?”

She groaned.

He chuckled. “If you can’t meet Wednesday, Rebekkah, then any day is fine. I’ll still show up Wednesday night. How’s that?”

“Why?” she asked, true puzzlement on her face.

“Because, Rebekkah Hawkley, you intrigue me, and though I have an engagement on Wednesdays I’ll cancel it just to spend time with you.”

He’d done it again. The woman was gaping. Quickly recovering herself, she replied, “Wednesday is fine for a meeting. I go in late on Thursdays, running errands, so actually that would be the best day.”

He nodded. “Great.” To himself he added, Go ahead and think by agreeing to the Wednesday meeting that you can pretend I didn’t just say I was interested in getting to know you better. However, I’m not going to let you forget.

Crossing swords with Rebekkah was turning out to be quite fun. He found he was looking forward to peeling back another layer of the prickly woman and getting to know the female beneath.

For the first time since leaving his father’s firm, he found his interests lay in the direction of pleasure and amusement instead of revenge.

What an odd, odd world, indeed.