Good God, how was that possible? After everything he’d done to thwart this, how could he... want her? Talk about the impossible dream. Or nightmare.
It was time to regain control of this little soiree, time to play his ace. He glared at Kerrigan, pointing to the red folder he’d slapped on his desk following his grand entrance. “There is the small, rather insignificant matter of your prenuptial agreement with Mr. Smith.” He handed the file to Tobin. “He has left those benefits to my client as well. There’s a copy of his will in the blue file.”
Stephanie returned his glare. “Not a problem. Smitty’s estate is entitled to one-half of the increased value of my portfolio measured from the close of business the day before our wedding. Unfortunately, the economy has been brutal. My holdings are worth substantially less than the day Smitty married me. There is nothing for your client to claim.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
Gotcha! Ethan mimicked her pose. “Have you read the document?”
“Read it?” Tobin roared. “I wrote the damned thing!” He leafed through the red file, spewing papers on the floor until he found what he was looking for. He scanned the page then cleared his throat. “In the event of death or divorce, Peter Jak Smith and/or his estate is entitled to...”
Ethan finished his sentence. “... ‘one-half of Stephanie Aldred Kerrigan’s shares of Kerrigan Financial Services owned at the date of or acquired during the tenure of their marriage.’ I would never have allowed a client to sign this, but there it is.”
Tobin threw the prenup on the floor. “This isn’t right! It’s a fake! I don’t know how you managed to do this, but you altered it! This is a low blow, but I’d expect nothing less from a bastard like you!”
Bastard. The word stung. Ethan drew from his pain. “I am that, in all senses of the word. But the document is real. I had the unfortunate pleasure of personally dealing with the Wicked Witch of Records herself for that copy. She doesn’t let anything slide.”
Stephanie picked the document up off the floor. Her voice shook, barely above a whisper. “He’s right. The old bat certified it. God, I hate that woman.” She turned to Tobin. “How did this happen?” Her hand shook more than her voice.
Tobin’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. He raked his hands through his shaggy, graying hair. “I don’t know,” he finally managed to croak out.
Satisfaction bloomed through Ethan. Their arrogance was gone. The air of superiority dissolved. It was almost sad. Almost.
Ethan stood straight, stretching to his full height, calling on everything he held sacred to keep from laughing in their formerly haughty faces. “I guess we’ll see you in court.”
Stephanie uncrossed her ankles. She stood a little too close then leaned in closer. She stared directly into his eyes, nose to nose. Her essence wrapped around him. Her strength. Her intellect. Her evergreen eyes hardened. “It’s a date.” Head high, shoulders square, she turned, walking slowly, but with purpose, toward the door.
A deflated Tobin rose to leave. “If you need anything, have your assistant contact my assistant.”
Ethan’s gaze followed Stephanie. He nodded without looking away from her retreating form. She was damned near as tall as he was. His eyes dropped to the monster heels that had cost more than his monthly grocery bill. But what they did to her legs and ass made whatever price she’d paid worth it. So, she’d augmented her height to intimidate him. It hadn’t worked. Intimidation was the last thing he was feeling. “You might want to hire a second assistant to handle the paperwork that’s about to bury you. I have no problem destroying trees. Or anything else that stands in my way.”
CHAPTER 7
STEPHANIE’S CHIN TREMBLED as she strode out of Ethan’s office, through the reception area, and into the hall. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to stuff her emotions under a thin veneer of pride while making a hasty retreat. The veneer shattered, falling like the tears she couldn’t keep inside.
Her heels beat a vicious staccato on the hardwood floor, reverberating off the walls as she sprinted toward the lobby. She ignored Uncle Brian’s calls to wait.
She had to escape. Why hadn’t she worn normal, sensible shoes? Why had she given in to the impulse to wear the shoes she was sure would have emasculated Webb? No such luck.
Her hands stung as she slapped the door with both hands. It was a miracle the polished wood didn’t splinter under her attack as she pushed past the obstacle to freedom. Once outside, she broke into a jog, hell-bent on putting as much distance as possible between her and Ethan Webb. This Megan woman had taken her husband and the baby she’d wanted more than anything. Stephanie would be damned if the bitch would take the only thing she had left: her company. Forking over half of her shares in Kerrigan Financial Services would jeopardize her control; she could lose everything. She couldn’t let that happen. Without it, she would have nothing. Be nothing.
“Baby girl, have pity on an old, out-of-shape man.” Uncle Brian huffed as he followed her across the parking lot.
But Stephanie didn’t stop until she got to her car. She half-collapsed against the roof and let the tears flow.
A red-faced, wheezing Uncle Brian finally caught up to her. He cupped her shoulder with one hand and reached into his pocket with his other hand.
Stephanie took the handkerchief he offered, blotted her tears, and blew her nose. Dainty she wasn’t. “How could this have happened? The prenup was all handled in-house. It was never touched by anyone other than Kerrigan personnel until it was filed with the county clerk. Who hates me enough to do this to me?”
Still panting, Uncle Brian shook his head before pulling her into a fatherly embrace. “I don’t know, sweetheart, but we’ll get to the bottom of this. I promise I won’t let him hurt you. If I have to, I’ll send the boys to teach him a lesson.”
The image of half a ton of Tobins rearranging Webb’s arrogant face invaded her brain. “Nothing illegal, Uncle Brian. I won’t stoop to his level.”
But Webb hadn’t done anything illegal, had he? She wasn’t sure he’d done anything unethical. But someone had. Someone who worked for her. Someone she trusted. But who? And why?
She relaxed into Uncle Brian’s arms. “I don’t know what I would have done without you and Aunt Deb these past few months. Thank you.”
Uncle Brian chuckled. “To quote your father, ‘I may not have planted the seed, but I will tend your garden.’ It was amazing how poetic he got after a few bent elbows. Trust me, we bent more than a few elbows over the years. I know if it had been Deb and me who’d died, Jamie and Rosemary would have stepped up for our boys.”
He checked his watch and cursed. “I’m late for a meeting with Bengtsen. You know how our chairman of the board hates to be kept waiting. Why don’t we meet for lunch at the club? We’ll try to figure this whole mess out over a few dirty martinis.”
Stephanie reached into her purse. “Day drinking sounds good to me. I might go there now to get a head start on you. Give me a minute to put it in my calendar.” She rummaged through her cavernous bag. “My phone. Where’s my phone?”
Uncle Brian groaned. “You’ve lost another phone? Have you ever considered buying phones in bulk? Or better yet, they have this new type of phone that hangs on the wall and has a coiled, stringy thing attached to something called a handset. You can’t take it with you, but you never lose it.”
“Ha, ha,” Stephanie deadpanned, but panic welled in her as she emptied the contents of her purse onto the roof of her car.
Uncle Brian grabbed a pile of paper with a huff. “Speeding and parking tickets again? Baby girl, I don’t know how many more of these your aunt Sandy and I can take care of for you. For the love of God, please slow down. Considering this family’s history of car accidents, you could be next. Losing you would kill your aunt Deb. And me.”
The pain in his face nearly flattened her. “I know. I’m sorry.” And she would try. It wasn’t like she did it on purpose; it just sort of happened.
“But r
ight now, I need to find my phone. I know I had it in his office when he...” she slumped with a groan. “charged into the room like a bull in heat. I dropped it. It’s still in his office. Shit.”
What else could go wrong? She immediately crossed herself to stave off any malicious force waiting in the wings for a chance to answer the question.
“Stay here, baby girl. I’ll get it for you,” Uncle Brian offered.
Stephanie shook her head. “No, you’re late. No sense giving Bengtsen any extra ammunition. If this whole thing goes south, we’re going to need him on our side. Go make nice with him, and I’ll meet you at noon.”
She kissed him on the cheek. This was going to suck, but she could handle it. She hoped. She gave an extra tug on her big girl panties before heading back toward Webb’s office.
A police officer, who looked like he should be sitting in Algebra class, opened the lobby door for her with a nod. She headed to the ladies’ room to repair her make-up before facing Webb again.
A few swipes, a little cold water, and a fresh coat of war paint later, Stephanie was ready to face the world again. With her head high, she made her way toward Webb’s office.
She nearly tip-toed through the hall as she approached his suite. His outer office door was open; she peeked around the corner. His back was to her, blocking his PA’s view as they talked to the baby-faced police officer. Whatever was going on held their attention. Could she sneak into his office, grab her phone, and be on her way before anyone was the wiser? It was worth a shot.
CHAPTER 8
ETHAN STOOD AT THE window, a broad smile pulling on muscles he seldom used during business hours. She couldn’t get away fast enough. It was amazing she’d held it together as long as she had. A deep belly laugh tickled its way up his throat and reverberated through his office at the sight of her portly lawyer huffing across the parking lot to catch up with her.
The warm glow of victory slowly washed over him, forcing out the anger that had fueled his professional persona. Judging from his opponents’ hasty retreat, he’d won the first round.
Now for that nap he’d been obsessing over. He’d more than earned it, but first, he had to build his box. He carefully hung his suit jacket on the valet stand next to the window then arranged the contents of his pockets on the shelf. Wallet first, straight north and south. He laid his phone parallel to the wallet. His office keys and pen touched his wallet exactly at the corners, forming perfect ninety-degree angles. He tapped his phone until it barely touched his pen and keys. It was ready, the place he’d pour his painful memories—the place he’d seal them away until he needed them again.
He settled into his chair to begin the meditation exercise that would empty his mind and fill his box.
He didn’t get the chance to loosen his tie.
Nicole burst into his office without knocking. “Ethan, you need to come out here. Right. Now.”
His heart lurched. Nicole’s white face and wide eyes sent his stomach climbing up his throat. She’d never entered his office without a quick courtesy tap. This serious breach of office protocol could only mean bad news. He stood, nearly tripping over his own feet as he raced into the reception area.
A cop? He pinched the bridge of his nose. Which one of his friends needed to be bailed out this time? If it was Yordi again, the kid was toast. He glared at his visitor. “Officer, what’s this about?”
Damn, they’d sent a rookie. The kid looked like he was about to wet himself. Or worse. Ethan had been that frightened kid once upon a time, and those memories still lingered. He softened his voice. “How can I help you?”
“Mr. Webb,” the cop’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “Mr. Webb, we have Megan Smith in custody. She’s asking, screaming, for you.”
Ethan’s knees buckled. He grabbed at Nicole’s desk for support. The stomach that had been in his throat dropped to his knees. “Megan? Where is she? Where is the baby?”
What had happened? Sure, she’d been crying when he’d left this morning, but she’d been crying almost constantly since she’d heard about Smitty. Did he miss a sign, a look, a tone, anything that would have told him—that should have told him—that today was different?
Fear pushed out his pain. “What happened?”
The officer stiffened. “She walked with the baby in his stroller into the middle of the street and stopped. She’s been taken to Friends Hospital. Child Protective Services has the baby.”
Ethan’s stomach settled in his toes. If it could have fallen farther, it would have. Pete was in the system. Where kids got lost or forgotten, shuffled between substandard facilities... if they were lucky. Would they feed him? Would they hold him? Would they change his diaper, or would he lie in his own waste until his diaper rash raged out of control?
Ethan had seen it happen before. He’d seen a lot. Every horror he’d ever endured, ever witnessed, ever heard of, hit him. He squeezed his eyes shut. His breath came in short bursts. “Thank you, officer. Is there anything else I need to know?”
“No sir,” the cop replied. He turned, practically running out of the office, obviously desperate to get back to the safety of his cruiser.
A stab of pity hit Ethan. He hoped the kid’s next call would settle his nerves. Like a nice hostage situation or riot. He pivoted toward Nicole. “The dealership has my car. I need your car keys.” He held out his hand.
Nicole shook her head. “My sister has my car. Lissa dropped me off on the way to do her community service in Conshohocken. Let me call you a taxi.”
“Fine, but please hurry.” He strode back into his office and came crotch-to-elevated butt with Stephanie Kerrigan as she crawled around in front of his desk.
This was about the last thing he needed right now. “What the hell are you doing?” he barked.
Startled, Stephanie rose to her knees too quickly, bumping her head on the corner of his desk. “Ouch! I left my phone here. You were busy. I thought I could sneak in to get it without having to talk to you.” She held up her phone with one hand while rubbing her head with the other. She pulled her hand away with a frown; a minuscule drop of blood stained her middle finger. She flashed it at him. “Great, I’m bleeding. Know any good personal injury attorneys?”
Ethan saw red, and it wasn’t Stephanie’s blood mingling with her fiery hair. Anger, no doubt. But there was something else. Pure lust. Wasn’t having a beautiful woman on her knees in front of him every man’s fantasy? Under all the layers, with all his issues, Ethan was still a man. Something the stirring behind his zipper was joyfully reminding him of. Down, boy.
He yanked a handful of tissues from the box on his desk and arranged them into a tidy square. He took a breath. Then another. Reining in his emotions, he forced himself to gently hold the tissues to her head. “I don’t have time for this.” He held two fingers in front of her face. “How many fingers?”
“Two,” she snapped. “There’s nothing wrong with me. Now that I have my phone, let me leave.”
Ethan shook his head. “Not until you sign a statement for my insurance company. I’m taking that crack about personal injury attorneys seriously. I’ve won cases with less.”
He could only imagine the glee his colleagues would feel burying him in paperwork the way he had buried them. All she’d have to do is stand on the courthouse steps and whisper her intent to sue him. Within seconds, she’d have a dozen top attorneys falling at her feet all begging for the chance to shred him in front of a judge. Probably pro bono. They might offer to pay her.
Bumpy ride? He wished. She was a hellcat. He should have known better.
Why had he opened this can of worms? It’s not like they needed the money. He had plenty. Megan and Pete would never want for anything. It was his own arrogance that had gotten him here. The opportunity for revenge had been too tempting, his chance to give Pete what he and Megan had never known: the respectability of a father’s acknowledgment. Even if that father was dead.
He blotted at the tiny cut near her hairlin
e. He shouldn’t have touched her because now he didn’t want to stop. He itched to pull her uptight bun apart, to comb his fingers through her vibrant, silky curls, to caress the spot behind her ear that drove women insane.
Why was he torturing himself like this? He wasn’t ready for another foray into the dating scene, and Stephanie Kerrigan would be the wrong woman to start with. Or he was the wrong man. What was that old saying? Two wrongs don’t make a right? They never did, and they surely wouldn’t in this case either.
Ethan reluctantly pulled the tissue away from her head. “I think the bleeding has stopped. I’m going to have Nicole help you with your statement, then call nine-one-one for you, but I have to leave.” He folded the tissues neatly and tossed them into the trash along with other perfectly folded cast-offs.
He moved behind his desk for hand sanitizer, working the pungent liquid into his hands more aggressively than necessary, but he had to do something with his hands. Other than pull her to her feet and into his arm. Almost anything but that.
CHAPTER 9
THE MAN FOLDED HIS trash. What would her therapist make of that? Or all that hand sanitizer? He must go through a gallon a week the way he slathered it on those huge hands. Did he think she was dirty? Well, her thoughts certainly were. The tissue buffered his touch, but the heat his hand had generated could have cauterized her wound and the gash on her heart.
Do not go there. She was a widow for crying out loud. There were expectations and defying those expectations would have dire consequences.
Her husband, cheater that he was, had been in his grave barely seventy-two hours. Dating Ethan Webb, or anyone else, was off the table for at least a year.
A year. Three-hundred sixty-five days of fertility wasted. She was closing in on thirty, how many more fertile days did she have left? Not enough. Every day that ticked by reduced the chances she’d ever have a baby of her own let alone the houseful of kids she’d always dreamed of. It was enough to make her start crying again. But not in front of him. Ethan Webb could never know how he affected her. The first step in that direction? Getting off her knees and focusing her eyes on anything but the bulge in his pants that exerted a magnetic pull on her eyes. Not to mention her hands. And lips.
For Pete's Sake: An Enemies to Lovers Marriage of Convenience Standalone Romance Novel (Tobin Tribe Book 1) Page 4