“I don’t, at least not from personal experience,” he countered. “But neither do you, so my guess is as good as anyone’s.”
“How many movie set designs have you worked on in the last six months?” She didn’t wait for his reply. “I’ll tell you. Four. That’s more than you did in the past two years.”
“I’m building a reputation. I’m in demand. You should be grateful. It allows me to pay you an exorbitant salary to keep this office running smoothly.”
“You’re hiding.”
“Dorothy!”
To his deep regret, she ignored the warning note in his voice. “I will not shut up. I have watched you hiding out in this office long enough. It’s time to start living again. If not for your sake, then think of Davey.”
David ran his fingers through his hair. “Look, I know you mean well, but I have to handle this the best way I know how.”
“By working yourself into a state of exhaustion? By ignoring your son?” she said.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
The unfamiliar feminine voice, filled with derision, cut into their conversation.
Startled, David turned to stare at the slender, dark-haired woman standing in the doorway. Her wide-set eyes were flashing fire. Her mouth, which no doubt would be described as lush by advertising standards, had taken a disapproving downturn. She was wearing one of those power suits, dark and businesslike. A flash of hot pink silk at the neckline teased suggestively. He doubted she realized the provocative effect. She struck him as the type who would have disapproved of it.
He completed his survey and decided there wasn’t a hint of vulnerability to soften all those hard edges. All in all, she was the kind of woman he genuinely disliked on sight. The exact opposite of Alicia, who’d been warm and gentle and compassionate, all soft curves and femininity.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded ungraciously. “We’re closed.”
“Then you should have locked the door,” she shot right back, clearly unintimidated by his lack of welcome.
He headed for the door to the workroom. “Dorothy, take care of this. I’ll be in back,” he said, retreating from the woman and from the unsettling effect she was having on him.
The woman looked ready to leap into his path. Dorothy, damn her, was practically racing for the opposite door.
“See you,” his assistant said. “Like you said, we’re closed. It’s the weekend and I’m out of here.”
“You’re fired.”
She beamed at him. “In that case, don’t forget to clean the coffeepot before you go. You know how you hate it when it gets all cruddy after sitting all weekend.”
Poised in midflight, David stared after his traitorous assistant. Then he regarded the unexpected visitor suspiciously.
“Are you a reporter?” There had been a lot of them lately, trying to sneak an advance look at the designs for Future Rock, which was being touted as the most ambitious futuristic drama since the advent of all the Star Wars films.
“No.”
“If you’re looking for a job, I don’t have any available. Dorothy handles everything around here.”
“Then I don’t envy her,” the woman retorted sympathetically.
David dealt with snippy, feminist women like this all the time, women who’d had to claw their way to the top of a sexist entertainment industry. Normally he gave as good as he got. Today he was simply too worn-out to try.
“Lady, obviously you have some sort of ax to grind,” he said wearily. “Get it off your chest and leave me alone. I have work to do.”
“Don’t we all,” she countered. “I’ll bet mine is less pleasant than yours.”
“Then I suggest you get it over with and leave us both in peace.”
An odd expression, mostly anger, but touched by sadness, flashed across her face then. David suddenly began to wonder if it was going to be so easy to find peace again, once she’d said whatever was on her mind. He was bothered by a nagging memory of what she’d said when she walked into his office. It had been something that suggested she knew more about him than a stranger should. A reference to Davey?
“I’m here representing your son,” she said.
The statement confirmed his recollection but added a startling twist. “My son,” he repeated weakly. Then in a rush, he demanded, “Is Davey okay? What the hell do you mean you’re representing him?”
She ignored his tone and slowly withdrew a piece of paper that for all the world looked like a legal document. She held it out. Heart thumping, he snatched it from her grasp. When he’d read it through, he regarded her in astonishment. As indignation washed through him, he waved the paper in her face.
“This says that my son has retained you as his legal counsel.”
“Good. You can read. That will make things easier.”
The cutting remark sailed right past him as he tried to focus on the meaning of the legal document in his hand. He finally met her gaze again, indignation suddenly tempered by genuine bewilderment. “He’s a ten-year-old boy, for God’s sake. What does he need a lawyer for?”
“Because, Mr. Winthrop, your son would like to file for a divorce.” She waited just long enough for that incredible piece of news to sink in, then added, “From you.”
Chapter Two
David couldn’t have been more stunned if someone had told him that his futuristic sets, all products of a vivid imagination, were accurate depictions of far-off planets down to the last alien being and barren detail. He also felt a powerful surge of helplessness and anger that a total stranger knew more about what was going on in his son’s head than he did. Why in God’s name hadn’t he seen this coming?
Of course, he consoled himself, it was entirely possible that this woman was making the whole charade up. He clung to that premise because it allowed him to retort with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
“You know, lady, I’ve heard of ambulance chasers in your business, but taking advantage of a ten-year-old boy is outrageous. I could have you brought up on charges.”
She didn’t bat an eye. He had to admit that impressed him. And worried him.
“What charges?” she inquired with disconcerting calm. “I’m looking after my client’s interests. Last I heard, that was what lawyers get paid to do.”
“Paid? Now we’re getting down to it, aren’t we?” he said, almost sorry that this woman was the low-down vulture he’d first predicted her to be. “What’s it going to take to get you off your high horse and out of my life? Name your price.”
The derisive question brought a furious spark to those incredible, vivid eyes that were the shade of whisky shot through with fire. He couldn’t seem to look away, fascinated despite himself by the immediate, passionate response that was evident before she said a word.
“How dare you!” she said, stepping up until they were toe to toe. In her high-heeled pumps, with her chin tilted up defiantly, their eyes were almost level.
“This isn’t about money,” she said slowly and emphatically, as if she wasn’t entirely sure he could grasp plain English. “It isn’t about me taking advantage of anyone. It’s about a little boy’s relationship with his father and, frankly, Mr. Winthrop, I’m beginning to see why he wants out.”
Noble words, spoken with conviction. Hurled smack in his face, in fact. David recognized the technique. She was invading his space, trying to intimidate him. She was probably a real hellion in a courtroom, he thought with surprising admiration. Perhaps elsewhere, as well. A little shiver of awareness cut through his own outrage. Analyzing that unexpected reaction kept him from listening too closely to the accusations she was leveling at him, until one snagged his attention.
“…and neglect.”
Neglect? He simply stared at her. “I do not neglect my son,” he said in a low, furious tone that matched hers for righteous indignation. “He is fed and clothed. He has every toy, every opportunity a boy his age could possibly dream about. He’s got more computer games than FAO Schwartz.
He plays baseball, football and soccer. He has an Olympic-size pool in the backyard. If he expresses an interest in anything, he’s signed up for lessons. Our housekeeper spends more time driving him around town than she does taking care of the house. He goes to the best private school in all of Los Angeles.”
“I’m delighted your housekeeper is so dutiful. But frankly, for all the attention you’ve been paying him yourself, I’m surprised you don’t have him in boarding school,” she snapped back, clearly unimpressed by everything that had come before.
He cringed at that. He actually had considered boarding school at one point during Alicia’s illness, but she had protested vehemently, had made him promise that Davey would never be sent away from home. He regarded this woman—Kate Newton, according to the paper she’d handed him—as if she were some sort of witch for having zeroed in on his single biggest weakness as a parent, his desire to deal with his anguish in his own time, in his own way…alone. And his ardent wish to spare his son from having to cope with one single instant of his own dark depression.
“I think you’d better go now,” he said with quiet resolve, refusing to give in to his desire to shout at the top of his lungs. There was a tremendous temptation to take out months of pent-up frustration and grief on a woman he’d just met, because she was tearing open all of the raw wounds that time had not yet healed. He gestured toward the door. “You can show yourself out, I’m sure.” He started for the workroom in back.
“We’re not through,” she retorted, staying right where she was. The low, natural command in her voice halted him in his tracks.
He turned slowly to face her. “I think we are, Ms. Newton. I’ve heard just about enough of your outlandish accusations. This business about representing a ten-year-old in a divorce proceeding against a parent is garbage. Any court in the country would laugh you out the door.”
“Sorry. A child in Orlando won in a similar case just last fall. I’m surprised you didn’t read about it. It was in all the papers.” She glanced around, apparently taking in the elaborate, futuristic sketches pinned to the corkboard walls for the first time. “Of course, perhaps you don’t live in the real world with the rest of us.”
“So that’s it,” he said, finally beginning to get a glimmer of understanding about what had driven this woman to charge into his office like an avenging angel. If it wasn’t money, then it had to be publicity. In the long run, one well-placed story in the Los Angeles paper and picked up by the wire services and networks would equal money in the bank.
He shook his head in disgust. “God knows how you zeroed in on Davey, but you probably took some innocent remark he made and latched on to it because you knew the case would generate a lot of publicity. Are you that desperate to get your career off the ground?”
Instead of lashing back with the fury he’d half expected, she simply laughed. To his bewilderment, the amusement seemed genuine. And the sound of that laughter did astonishing things to his pulse rate, stirred it in a way that all that yelling had not.
“Mister, I don’t need the publicity,” she retorted bluntly. “I get more than my share. That’s how your son chose me. He read about my last case in the paper. As for the validity of the agreement David and I have, you have the retainer he signed. I think under the circumstances it would hold up in court.” She shrugged. “But if that’s not good enough for you, go home and ask him what he wants, ask him why he felt the need to retain a lawyer in the first place. At least, that’s one way to assure that the two of you actually sit down and have a long-overdue conversation.”
The sarcastic barb hit home, just as she’d obviously intended. Suddenly filled with despair as he realized that this situation wasn’t going to evaporate, that she genuinely believed she was in the right, he felt all the fight drain out of him. “You’re really serious about all this, aren’t you?” he asked wearily.
“You bet I am. I don’t like seeing a kid sitting in my office telling me that he and his father have quote, irreconcilable differences, unquote.”
David sank down in a chair and regarded her miserably. “He said that?”
“That and a whole lot more,” she retorted without a trace of sympathy. “It’s been my experience, and Lord knows I’ve handled enough custody disputes, that kids don’t make this sort of thing up. Even so, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Is there any truth to his claims? Have you been neglecting him? Shutting him out?”
He struggled with the answer to that one. “I suppose he might see things that way,” he admitted eventually, not liking what that said about him as a father. He’d wanted desperately to believe that Davey didn’t need him right now, because he wasn’t at all sure he had anything left to give.
“Is there another way?” she asked. “What’s your perspective?”
“My wife…” He couldn’t even bring himself to complete the sentence aloud.
“Davey told me she died,” she said, finishing it for him. She said it with the first hint of gentleness she’d displayed since storming into his office.
He regarded her in astonishment. “He actually told you that?”
“Does that surprise you?”
He nodded. “He never talks about it.”
“He says it makes you both too sad.”
The thought that Davey had recognized his anguish and shared that with this woman penetrated all the barriers he’d slid into place months before Alicia’s death. To his amazement, he found himself saying more than he had to anyone in all these long weeks, the angry, tormented words spilling out before he could censor them.
“My wife’s death was agonizingly slow and painful,” he said. “It was horrifying to watch. It wasn’t easy on any of us. I tried to protect Davey from the worst of it. So did Alicia. She insisted on being away from home, in a hospital, for the final weeks. Davey was only allowed to see her when she had her good spells. Those became increasingly infrequent.”
“So even before she died, Davey already felt cut off from his mother,” she said.
Phrased that way, it sounded like an accusation.
“We both felt it was best for him,” David said stiffly.
“How do you protect a child from the fact that his mother is dying?” she asked quietly. “I still think about my father’s last days. It’s been years since he died and I was an adult when it happened, but I still remember his illness, how frightened I was at the prospect of losing him. I can’t block out those thoughts because they might be painful. I know that eventually the good memories will begin to overshadow all the others. Why wouldn’t Davey feel the same way?”
She paused for breath and regarded him evenly. “Why wouldn’t you?”
David ignored the question because he had no answer for it. He was more fascinated by what she had just revealed about her own feelings. He had a hunch it was far more than she usually shared. He suspected that she, like he, tended to keep a tight grip on messy emotions. It struck him as all the more surprising, then, that she had taken Davey’s side with such passion.
His impression of Kate Newton altered slightly. Perhaps she did really care about what happened to Davey, perhaps she was more capable of empathy than he’d given her credit for.
Then again, despite her disclaimers, perhaps she was simply meddling for the potential publicity a case with him at its center would generate. His might not be a household name, but the films he’d worked on were as familiar as those of Spielberg or Disney.
“Look, I appreciate your coming here and telling me about Davey,” he said in an admittedly belated attempt to sound gracious and cooperative. “I’ll have a talk with him. We’ll work it out. Just send me the bill for your time.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way. Davey hired me. He has to fire me.”
David felt his irritation climb again. Was there no getting rid of this pesky woman, even after he’d conceded that she’d made her point? “No document signed by a kid his age would be legal,” he argued. “Drop it. You’ve done you
r job.”
“I’m not referring to the legalities,” she said stubbornly. “I’m discussing moral obligations. I took his case. I’ll see it through.”
He started to protest, but she cut him off. “I’m sure you mean well, Mr. Winthrop, but I have an obligation to my client. I hope you will talk to Davey. I hope you will work things out, but until he tells me the case is closed and he no longer wishes to divorce you, I’ll be sticking around.”
She stood up and headed for the door. David was about to breathe a sigh of relief, when she turned and faced him. She glanced pointedly at her watch. “It’s nearly eight o’clock on a Friday night, Mr. Winthrop. If you meant what you said, shouldn’t you be going home to your son?”
* * *
Kate thought the meeting had gone rather well. She’d served up a healthy combination of threats and guilt. With any luck David Allen Winthrop would take a good, hard look at himself and change his ways. He’d certainly looked shaken once he realized that she wasn’t going to vanish without a fight, that she was taking his son’s claims seriously.
Over the past ten years she had developed a keen eye for an adversary’s weaknesses and strengths. As much as she’d been inclined to dislike him on sight, David Winthrop had struck her as a man who possessed a great deal of inner strength. He also was a man in pain. She had never known anyone who’d loved so deeply, whose grief was plainly written in the depths of his dark, almost midnight black eyes. Hopefully she had forced him to examine the price his son was paying while he struggled with his own suffering.
But she had meant what she’d said; she would be sticking to him like a burr until she was certain that her client had his father back again.
She was surprised by the shaft of anticipation that shot through her as she contemplated that prospect. When was the last time she’d even noticed a man in a sexual way? Months? A couple of years? She thought she’d pretty well buried her libido under a schedule that would wilt a well-trained athlete. The fact that she’d been at least marginally aware of David Winthrop’s ruggedly handsome features and the snug fit of his jeans was downright startling.
Kate's Vow (Vows) Page 2