Читать книгу A Man To Count On - Helen R. Myers - Страница 10

“You’re kind to fit me into your schedule.” E.D. smiled at Ivan Priestly as he beckoned her across the patio of his home toward an umbrella-covered table. It was only hours after she’d called him on this Thursday morning, and she still couldn’t believe that he had not only agreed to meet with her, he’d invited her to lunch. Easing down onto the white wrought-iron chair he drew out for her, she wondered if this, too, was somehow Dylan’s doing? She hoped not. Gratitude aside, her wounded self-esteem needed to believe her reputation as well as the summary over the phone had convinced this icon in their legion of her worthiness.

Smaller built and frailer than she’d expected, the famous litigator suavely took his time taking his seat to her left, which shrewdly kept his back to the sun. She noticed the hearing aid in his right ear and wondered if it was fine-tuned to capture soft sighs or to make her grit her teeth if he asked, “Pardon?” once too often because he wanted to get rid of her. She quickly got her answer.

“I have no schedule, my dear. I’m at an age where I take leisure seriously, and no longer need to suffer fools or be nice to boors because it’s politically correct. I had no plans for today except to finally drag out War and Peace and read it in a week as has been recommended.”

E.D. nodded at the tanned grandfather with his shock of white hair that looked as if it hadn’t seen a comb since the last blue northern. “I have heard about your sense of principle, but I’ve never read as much as a whisper that you’re indifferent about anything.”

His laughter held private merriment. “Stay tuned. My detractors will have plenty to say when my ashes are thrown to the wind. In the meantime, you’re right, the cunning remain like hyenas in the shadows and call their conduct circumspect.” He gestured to the glass-topped table laden with beautiful china, fruit, a seafood salad and crackers. “Will you pour the tea? I miss my wife spoiling me and I’m sorry to say a neurological condition makes me too unsteady to do it without embarrassing us both.”

She had noted his subtle trembling and immediately reached for the elegant teapot trimmed in what had to be eighteen-karat gold. “Should I leave extra room for milk?”

“No, I drink mine as is, thanks.”

“Ah, a purist.”

“More like a doctor’s senior nurse nipping at me like a rabid terrier to cut calories and cholesterol.” Sighing, Ivan sat back in his chair and studied her. “I won’t pretend any longer—I’m intrigued with your dilemma.”

E.D. glanced into his wise, gray eyes and thought she saw sympathy as much as curiosity, even for a privileged child of a successful prosecutor. “I know my daughter’s situation suggests an outrageous negligence.”

“Which on first and second glance appears so incredibly unlike you, that I didn’t easily accept it as a possibility. If anything, I see you carrying over your meticulous work patterns to where you should be a borderline suffocating mom.”

She accepted his deduction with a nod that felt like an apology. “I may have ended up so, except for a life decision or two along my way.” Such as whom she had chosen to marry and the demands of her job that made family often come second, whether she liked it or not. Perhaps marrying Trey had been something of a rebellion, but it had also been liberating. If so, though, she was paying—would be paying—a hefty price.

“Indeed. Which is why I suspected immediately that you’re not part of this situation at all—unless you’re the most foolish person ever to pass the bar, let alone become Emmett Garner’s pride and joy. Since neither seems likely, it suggests a third intention more distasteful.”

Momentarily lost in her thoughts, E.D. struggled. “Excuse me?”

“I’m wondering if you’ve been set up to carry someone else’s guilt.”

Hours after the first blow, she’d begun to wonder much the same, but she hadn’t yet managed to convince herself as to the why.

“Yes,” he murmured studying her, “and the who is key. Stick to a narrow field.”

“If my husband signed something using my name and is trying to hide it, my daughter would tell me.” She would, wouldn’t she? E.D. thought with less confidence than before. Naturally, Dani had her own moments of rebellion, but there’d been nothing so negative between them to warrant any behavior like this.

“I’m not saying this is representative of your situation, but my granddaughter recently got caught in such a serious fib on behalf of a friend to where she’s now going to miss out on a class trip she’d greatly looked forward to and that has considerable educational impact.”

As his words registered, E.D. focused only on the message behind it. “You’re not going to make me go through more of an emotional wringer. You’re going to take my case.”

Ivan smiled as he lifted his teacup. “I hope you get some rest before your next case, Counselor.”

“That’s unlikely, but I’ll do my best.” E.D. could barely contain herself to speak the rest of her mind. “Dare I ask what else you are thinking?”

“I’m wondering why your husband was so quick to accept your guilt?”

E.D.’s pride had to take another blow. “Our marriage has expired from neglect. It’s embarrassing to admit, but a fact I can’t deny.”

“Was that decision one-sided?”

“No, we were equally responsible.” Worse than that confession, she was realizing she no longer cared, either.

“I’m simply wondering if it’s feasible that he would enjoy seeing you suffering some public ridicule?” he continued.

He already had. Hopefully, it was enough. “Whatever impulses he experiences, he’s not stupid. He has no income and needs my support. Ruin my career and he risks losing that comfort zone.”

Ivan looked momentarily uncomfortable. “He suffers from a handicap of some sort?”

“You mean because he doesn’t keep a day job himself? Only a lack of talent—he’s an unsuccessful writer.” As soon as the words were out, E.D. grimaced. “I’m sorry. It’s too soon for me not to swan dive into bitterness.”

“Understandable. How long has he been pursuing this goal of his?”

“For virtually all of our married life.”

Ivan Priestly coughed behind his linen napkin. “It strikes me that you’ve been extremely tolerant, Ms. Martel. Who’s your divorce attorney?”

“I have a dinner meeting tonight with Alyx Carmel.” Noting his startled reaction, E.D. pressed, “You don’t approve?”

“On the contrary, I’ve never met her. But from what I’ve seen and heard…her approach seems to go against your grain.”

“Well, from where I’m sitting, my grain doesn’t seem to have been serving me very well, has it?”

As she left the Priestly residence, E.D. remained lost in a maze of wonder and inspiration. Ivan was remarkable and he’d not only boosted her ego, he’d raised her optimism and buffeted her fighting instincts. Energized as she drove down the avenue back toward her office, she did a double take at the black Navigator that was heading in the opposite direction. Dylan? She hit her brakes and saw him cut a sharp U-turn on the otherwise empty street. He then passed her, signaling her to follow him.

Two turns later, she found herself at a small, woodsy park that was virtually empty. Bemused, she watched as he exited his vehicle and, when she released the passenger door lock, slipped into the seat beside her.

“At the risk of appearing like a stalker,” he began, “I came up with two free hours and wanted to see if you were still with Ivan.”

He looked elegant and smelled even better, his navy-blue suit intensifying the deep blue of his eyes. At the same time, she was dismayed that he’d ignored her plea and had taken this risk. “What if someone followed you, or me for that matter?”

“You give me far too much credit for being newsworthy. As for you, I didn’t see anyone back there, did you?”

“No.” E.D. checked again, though, and then came up with another concern. “You weren’t planning to come in, were you? What would Ivan have said? He’s admitted he’s sympathetic to my case, but I doubt he would be if you appeared. He’d likely reinvent math.”

Looking wholly nonplussed, Dylan replied, “I wouldn’t care…would you?”

What was he saying? How could he say that?

She had to stop jumping to conclusions. He was just being a truly lovely and caring friend. “Ivan has agreed to represent me,” she said going for the safest response.

“Good man!”

“I’m so grateful—and he was wonderful. Dignified, yet concerned and compassionate.” Like the man who’d first come to her aid.

“Ah, E.D., I’m so relieved for you.”

“Thanks.” Immeasurably glad to see him on the heels of this news, she tried and almost failed to keep emotion locked in her throat and had to look away.

Dylan tenderly brushed the back of his fingers against her jawline. “It’s been a helluva couple of days for you.”

Couldn’t he tell it was the mere sight of him that was turning her to mush? That the way he was looking at her tempted her to release her seat belt and throw herself into his arms? She was a married woman being carried at white-water-rapids speed into an ugly divorce and he was a professional friend—more mentor than friend—and fast becoming the dearest personal one. No, it couldn’t happen with his future in such important transition.

“Well, I’d better get a grip. Emmett wouldn’t take seeing me getting emotional.” While she spoke out loud, the words were a warning for her alone.

“He’s not here. And you’re not on the clock—or he should cut you some slack all things considered.”

Even his voice was a husky caress. Heaven help her. “I need to act as though I am.”

“You’ve been dealt back-to-back emotional and psychological blows. I’d be concerned if you did succeed in behaving like a robot…or an Oscar-caliber actress.”

Drawing a deep breath, E.D. glanced back at him. “Okay, confession time. I am glad to see you.”

“Then my impulse was well worth it. When I first spotted you, I worried you’d keep driving.”

“That would have been inexcusably rude.”

“I’d have understood. You know what your problem is? You don’t know what it’s like to be supported outside of the office.”

They’d never discussed their spouses before except in a cursory reference, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to. “This doesn’t sound like you, Dylan.”

“I apologize for the bad timing, but we play the hand we’re dealt. One door closes, another opens, and all that.”

“What door am I supposed to be to you?”

“Ouch.” He cleared his throat. “I suppose you’re seeing this in the worst possible way.”

She didn’t want to—that was what made this conversation critical because they shouldn’t be having it. Not for some time, if ever. “I apologize if I sound suspicious or ungrateful.”

“You sound gun-shy and scared—which is totally understandable.” Dylan lowered his head a fraction, an old habit due to his height to hold someone’s gaze whether on the bench or in a toe-to-toe conversation. “I simply want you to understand that I’m here for you, E.D.”

She studied him a moment longer then turned away again to digest what she’d taken in. Hoping to slow what was beginning to feel increasingly, intensely, intimate, she added, “I can only imagine what Trey’s reaction will be to Ivan’s suspicions of him. Ivan thinks if Dani didn’t forge my name, Trey did.”

After a slight pause, Dylan asked, “Do you agree?”

“At this point, I suppose nothing should surprise me. But what happened to make either of them willing to do that? To hurt me to protect themselves?”

“You’re sure this isn’t a case of a terrible misunderstanding?”

“Even if it is—which I doubt—what he said and did the other night and yesterday makes excuses an impossibility.” E.D. had to swallow the frozen block wedged in her throat. “No one prepares you for this kind of betrayal, Dylan.”

This time when he reached out, he cupped his hand at her nape beneath her neat chignon. “I can’t imagine.”

“He should have just asked or at least challenged me. I deserved that much. He had to know I would give him the benefit of the doubt if things were reversed.”

“Generous of you to credit him with your sense of logic and fair play.”

E.D. felt another stab that made it all the harder to breathe. “Imagine coming to the realization at this point and position in my career that I don’t know the man anymore. Maybe I never did. What does that say for me as a litigator?”

“I think you should come to the condo. It’s only a few blocks from here.”

Gathering herself, she shook her head enough to encourage him to remove his hand. “Impossible. I have to get back—and you have to stop being so reckless.”

“Determined, not reckless,” he said softly.

E.D. frowned at him. “Dylan, have you had a bad health checkup or something? You’re acting—scary.”

“I’ve never felt more clearheaded in my life.”

She could barely think when he locked those dark blue eyes on hers. “Okay, dare I threaten a gentle censure for some bad timing?”

“You want to hear about timing, Eva Danielle?” Dylan worked her right hand free from the steering wheel to transfer it into his warm grasp. “I’ve been dealing with the results of that for almost twenty years.” He glanced down at her modestly manicured fingernails painted only with clear polish. “I should have followed a gut hunch the moment you extended this hand the night we met.”

Torn between pulling free and tightening her fingers, E.D. all but choked. “Sure. I always have that effect on people. When I got home that night, I found four voice messages from the president, governor and two senators.”

“You didn’t sense I was captivated by you from the moment you welcomed me with that smile?”

“Frankly, no. And my mouth was so dry, it’s a miracle I could speak, while you were kind and patient with everyone who gushed over you.”

Dylan tightened his grasp. “E.D., I was one step away from suggesting we ditch the seminar that night and find a cozy pub booth.”

She wouldn’t, couldn’t, believe it. Oh, she knew he’d admired a smiling blonde but he never could have taken it beyond that. “You had too much professional integrity. Besides, you were engaged to Brenda.”

“And you were seriously dating Trey.”

It was disturbing how easily her husband slipped from her mind when in Dylan’s presence. “Brenda was right for you. She understood how hard you had to work, and had the generosity and willingness to support that.”

“I won’t disagree. She was a lovely person and a good partner.”

“I don’t want to think how my husband is going to describe me in hindsight. I suppose all I can hope for is to never be near him again when holding a sharp object.” She’d aimed for humor—somewhat—and came up unconvincing.

“How do you think Trey conceives your marriage?”

“I—” Honestly hadn’t thought of that in years. E.D. looked at her hand in Dylan’s and gently disengaged herself. “I can’t have this conversation. Not with you, not now.”

“We can’t always get the timing we want, and history has proved we both made decisions based on mitigating circumstances.”

“But I have two children, Dylan, and I need to be focused on them.”

“Agreed. That said, when I turned on the TV yesterday, heard your name, and saw the wolves licking their chops and circling in, I felt things I don’t even have words for yet.”

She risked a great deal to meet his steady gaze and felt it in places long shut down and repressed. “You got me through yesterday. I was fantasizing about sending a personal note once you were confirmed and then burying myself deep in work again. Maybe you should have waited. Maybe you should have let that call be enough.”

“That’s one option. The other is that if you’re going to take one step, you might as well take two.” Dylan bent to place a kiss on the back of her hand. “I’ll stop. Just make me one promise—don’t lock me out?”