by Lisa Jackson
“Scholarship. My mother didn’t have any money to send me to school, and I worked part-time, but the scholarship up here was a godsend.” She took a sip from her cup and frowned.
“And you met Fisher at school?”
She shook her head. “No. I was working part-time at First Cascade as a loan clerk. He met me there.” With difficulty she went on to explain about those first few magic months when she’d dated one of the bank’s wealthiest customers and how, because of Robert’s sophistication, charm and money, he’d swept her off her feet. She glanced up at him. “I know this all sounds ridiculous now. But that’s how I felt.”
“You didn’t know about his reputation?”
Kimberly swallowed a sip of coffee. “I’d heard a few rumors while I was dating him, of course, but I chalked them up to office gossip and jealousy. When he asked me to marry him, I jumped at the chance.”
“He’s quite a bit older than you are.”
“Fifteen years,” she admitted.
“That didn’t bother you?”
Kimberly sighed, but lifted her eyes to meet the question in Jake’s. “It bothered me a little. But not enough. I’d convinced myself that I loved him.”
He quit writing. The fire burned softly. The clock on the mantel ticked. Shadows flickered across his face. “Did you?”
Compressing her lips, she struggled with an answer. “I—uh, I don’t think so. I don’t know how I could have.”
“Why not?”
“The rumors . . . I couldn’t ignore them and all those lawsuits. I thought they were all part of his business until a few years ago when a man was killed—or committed suicide.” She shuddered and noticed Jake’s face had become tense, his eyes narrowing.
“Go on,” he urged.
“The man’s name was ... Daniel ... Stevens, I think.”
“You don’t remember?”
She snapped her head up. “I try not to. Anyway, from that point on, things were worse, much worse. Robert became secretive, and he changed, grew colder.” She bit her lip as painful, frightening memories enveloped her.
“What do you know about Daniel Stevens?”
“Nothing. Only what I read in the papers,” she said.
“Robert never said anything?”
“We didn’t discuss anything remotely connected with his business.”
“And you think Steven’s death was connected to your husband’s business?”
“I didn’t say that. He was a police officer. And I understand he was investigating Robert. That’s all I know.” She took a sip of her coffee and asked, “What’s this got to do with my divorce?”
Jake’s eyes were dark. Tiny lines bracketed his mouth. “I just need to know all the facts.”
“Well, I don’t know anything more about Daniel Stevens.”
He hesitated a second, his gaze hard and assessing. “So, even after all Robert’s bad press, his shady business ties, the fact that he may have been involved with Daniel—”
“No—he wasn’t. It was suicide, I think.”
“Despite all that, you still stayed married to him?” he asked, his voice filled with disbelief.
“You have to understand that I grew up believing in marriage, and vows, and loyalty.”
“Oh, until death do you part?” he said caustically.
“Yes.”
“And I—I didn’t want the stigma of divorce.”
“It’s not a stigma.”
“But it was to me. My parents had a wonderful marriage—never a fight until the day my father died. And I thought—I hoped—that Robert would ... That he’d see that he was on the wrong path.”
“But he didn’t?”
“No.”
“So, what changed your mind about divorcing him?”
Kimberly frowned. “Robert was unfaithful—had been all along, I guess. But then he met a woman and he fell in love with her.”
“Stella?”
“Yes.” Kimberly let out a long sigh. Why Robert’s affair with Stella hurt, she didn’t know. She didn’t love him, probably never had, but Robert’s betrayal had cut deep into her pride. And then there were all those accusations . . . all those late nights. Had he been trysting with Stella—or had it been much worse? She shivered, then went on to explain that Robert was so anxious to be rid of her that he’d agreed to give her full custody of Lindsay. She demanded nothing else of him—the support she received she stuck into a trust fund for Lindsay. He’d given her the small house and car.
Jake asked a few more questions, less personal but difficult just the same. Kimberly answered as honestly as possible, but didn’t meet his eyes. Instead she concentrated on her coffee, or watched the fire burn down and tried not to notice the scent of his aftershave.
Suddenly the front door burst open, sending in a blast of chill air. Lindsay, blonde hair flying behind, bounced into the room. “Mommy!” she cried, stopping dead in her tracks when she spied Jake. “Who’re you?”
Kimberly stood, held her arms open and was rewarded by Lindsay flinging herself against her. She swung her daughter up into the air and squeezed her. “This is Mr. McGowan, he’s . . . a friend of mine,” she said as Arlene bustled inside.
“I’m Jake,” he said, his face softening as he stared at the tiny blonde bundle of energy.
“I told her to slow down,” Arlene complained good-naturedly, sending Lindsay a knowing look, “but she was just too excited.”
“It’s all right,” Kimberly said. Lindsay’s chubby arms surrounded her neck, and she smelled of lilac soap.
“She’s all ready for bed. Just take off her coat and boots,” Arlene explained, though her gaze wandered to Jake.
Still holding Lindsay, Kimberly made quick introductions, and Arlene’s dark eyes regarded Jake with more than a little interest. “Glad to meet you,” she said, then added quickly, “I’ve got to run. Lyle will worry if I don’t hightail it back.” She adjusted her jacket’s hood over her gray frizz.
“Thanks a bunch,” Kimberly said.
“No problem.” Arlene glanced again at Jake. “Any time. You know we love to have her.” With a quick wave she hurried out the door.
Jake shoved his notes and pens inside his briefcase and snapped the leather case shut. “I think it’s time I shoved off, too.”
“Good.” Lindsay regarded him suspiciously, her lower lip thrust out.
“I’ll call you when I get back into town,” he said, his lips twitching in response to Lindsay’s outright hostility. “We’ll get together and sort this all out.”
Kimberly’s heartbeat accelerated. Suddenly she wanted him as her attorney. She’d seen a hard edge to him, felt his intensity. If he represented her, he’d give it his best shot. “Then you’ll take my case?”
He rubbed the back of his neck and frowned. “I’ll take it on two conditions. The first, you already know—we do things my way.”
“And the second?”
“That you don’t hold anything back from me,” he said solemnly. “There are things you might not want to talk about, but if we’re going to win the case, I’ll need all the facts. Painful as they may be.”
“Of course,” she said quickly, though his gaze seemed to read her mind. She tilted her chin up and squared her shoulders. “I have a couple of conditions myself.”
“Shoot.”
“I want you to keep me abreast of the case at all times. No surprises.”
“Fair enough.”
“And if you ever think, even for a second, that Robert’s got the upper hand, I want to know about it.”
“Why?” he asked.
“I just want to know where I stand,” she said, lying a little. Already she was beginning to trust Jake, and if he thought Robert had a chance of taking Lindsay away from her, then she’d do what she had to do to keep her daughter with her. Even if it meant running away from Robert—and the law.
CHAPTER FOUR
Jake sat in the bar and glared out the window to the snow-covered slopes of Mt.
Bachelor. Grey clouds hovered over the craggy peaks of the Cascades, and a fine, misting rain drizzled from the sky, melting the snow. The temperature was nearly forty degrees, and the extended forecast called for a warming trend.
“Wonderful,” Jake muttered sarcastically, signaling to the bartender for another drink. He sipped his beer slowly, and his mood deteriorated with the weather. The raucous noise from the bar’s sound system didn’t interest him, and he couldn’t care less about the skiing exhibition on the big screen.
Other patrons of the bar, drenched skiers in wet jackets and sopping wool hats, seemed to find solace in grumbling together, drinking and even laughing about the rain.
Jake didn’t. He’d spent too many weeks planning this trip. He was anxious and coiled tight as a spring. And, though he was loath to admit it, his thoughts kept turning to Kimberly.
Her image had been with him ever since he’d left her two nights before, lingering with him like the evocative scent of an expensive perfume. Try as he might, he couldn’t forget her wise blue-green eyes, gently curving lips or the sweet seduction of her voice. He couldn’t help feeling he should’ve stayed in Portland and started working on the mess with her ex-husband.
At the thought of Fisher, he pulled his eyebrows together. Glancing outside to the dismal day, he wondered if God were getting even with him and the rest of the noisy crowd in the smoky bar.
He swore pointedly under his breath, finished his drink, left some bills on the polished bar and strode through the throng that had gathered as fast as his ski boots would allow.
Outside, the weather was miserable. Melting icicles dripping in tempo with the soft fall of the rain. Ignoring the conditions, he stomped into his ski bindings and jabbed his poles into the ground. His right ski caught in the slush, but he made it to the four-man lift and, without a word to the other souls braving the rain, let the chair carry him over the tops of the drooping pine trees to the summit.
Once there, he skied down the ramp and stopped, surveying the lower slopes. Partially hidden by low-hanging clouds, the run was wet and slushy.
Cold rain ran down his neck and settled into his bones. He blew on his wet gloves, but his fingers were frigid. Glowering furiously at the dark heavens, he found no relief in the ominous sky.
There was no reason on earth to stay here any longer. He thought again of Kimberly, shoved his poles into the snow and took off, nearly flying down the run. He may as well return to Portland, he decided fatalistically as he headed for the lodge. At least in the city he could do something worthwhile.
And he would see her again. For the first time that miserable afternoon, Jake smiled.
* * *
Kimberly placed a set of statements for the Juniper account on the security cashier’s desk in the operations section of the trust department. “If you could just double-check the dividends—make sure that everything was posted last quarter,” she said to Charlene, who handled all the bond and stock transfers.
“Anything wrong?” Charlene asked. Red-haired and quick, she hardly ever made a mistake.
“Nothing that I know of, but Mr. Juniper has some questions. He’s sure the dividends and interest were down for the quarter. I looked it over and it seems fine, but if you’d double-check it, I’d appreciate it.”
“You got it,” Charlene said as the phone in her office started ringing.
Kimberly headed back to the administrative offices and nearly bumped into Marcie. “Oh, good, I was looking for you,” Marcie said. “Mr. Compton’s scheduled a meeting for all of the officers at four-thirty in the boardroom.”
Checking her watch, Kimberly said, “I’ll be there.”
“Good. Oh, and that list of attorneys you wanted? The ones associated with this bank? I left it on your desk.”
“Thanks, Marcie,” Kimberly said as she turned the corner and came face-to-face with Robert. Her footsteps faltered, but she managed to keep walking.
Robert glanced lazily her way, then turned back to the cluster of men he was with. Tall and distinguished-looking, he was surrounded by a group of bank bigwigs. Eric Compton, vice president for the trust department, Bill Zealander, Aaron Thornburn, president of the bank, and Earl Kellerman, advisor to the board, were gathered together near the elevator doors.
Robert’s blue eyes flicked back to Kimberly’s quickly again before returning to Thornburn. A cold needle of dread stabbing her.
“I’ll be in my office,” she said to Marcie.
She’d just settled into her chair when Robert slid into the room and closed the door quietly behind him.
For the first time since the divorce, Kimberly was alone with him. “Hello, Kimberly.” His voice was just as melodic as she remembered.
“What do you want?” she asked. She leaned back in her chair to stare up at him.
He slung one leg over the corner of her desk. “Now that’s a silly question.”
Her heart began to pound. “I mean, what’re you doing here?”
“Oh—” he waved and frowned “—nothing important. Just a little bank business.”
“And it’s finished? Then you can leave.”
“In a minute.” He folded his hands over his knee. “I thought you and I should talk—and not through our attorneys.” He smiled warmly, and Kimberly saw a glimpse of the man she’d married—charming and sophisticated.
“Talk about what?”
“Our daughter.”
Kimberly braced herself. “What about her?” she asked, feigning innocence.
“You know she’s better off with me.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Kimberly,” he whispered in a way he thought was seductive. It made her furious.
“Just say what you have to say, Robert.”
He looked perturbed. “I want my daughter, Kim. She needs a father.”
“And a mother.”
“Stella—”
“Isn’t her mother. I don’t want to hear about Stella. I’m Lindsay’s mother.”
His color began to rise, and he arched an imperious brow. “There comes a time when a man needs to know he’s not ... so mortal, I guess.”
“You should have thought of that before.”
His eyes blazed, and he bit out, “I won’t rest until she’s with me, y’know.”
The arrogance of the man! “So, what is this—some kind of threat?”
“No,” he said, his smooth brow creasing. “Threats don’t seem to work with you.”
“Then what?” Dear Lord, she hoped he couldn’t hear her heart pounding.
“I want you to reconsider. Think what’s best for the child. Stella and I can offer her anything money can buy.”
“Maybe that’s not enough. I give her love, Robert. I’m the one who wanted her, remember? You weren’t too interested in having children. Especially a daughter.”
“I know, I know,” he said with maddening calm. “But things have changed.”
“You mean since Stella can’t give you a son?”
“That’s a cold way of putting it.”
“Too bad. It’s the truth. It doesn’t change things. We had an agreement, Robert.” She stood, hoping to gain some advantage from the added inches in height. “And I expect you to honor it. Lindsay stays with me.”
“You know, Kimberly, you’re too stubborn for your own good.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I could make it worth your while.”
“What’s this?” she asked, incredulous. “A bribe? Get real, Robert! I don’t want your money. If I had, I would have made claims during the divorce.”
He clucked his tongue. “Kimberly, Kimberly,” he said, rising to his feet and towering over her. “You just don’t get it, do you? I want my daughter.”
“Do you? Well, why is it that never once have I heard you say you love her?”
His mouth clamped shut, and all the friendliness left his eyes. “You know, you might be singing a different tune if you lost your job.”
She
thought about his influence with the bank. “I’d get another one.”
“It might not be that easy,” he said.
“Your scare tactics don’t work with me, Robert. You said so yourself.” She leaned across her desk, propping herself up with her hands, and forced her features to remain calm while deep inside she was quaking to her very soul. “If you care anything for Lindsay, don’t do anything that might hurt her. Consider her first.”
“Oh, like you’ve done.”
“Yes!”
A sharp rap interrupted them, and Robert’s bodyguard, a burly blond man with a ponytail, poked his head into the room. “You said to remind you of the meeting with Schuster,” he said, almost bowing.
Kimberly thought she might get sick.
“I’ll be right there,” Robert told him. He glanced down at Kimberly’s hands on the desktop, and for the first time she noticed the document on her desk—the list of attorneys connected to the bank and therefore to Robert.
She didn’t even bother being sly; she just turned the page over before he could read too much.
His cold eyes held hers. “I guess I’ll see you in court.”
She didn’t flinch. “I guess so.”
“And you’ll lose, you know. You’ll lose big.”
“I don’t think so.”
“We’ll see.”
She couldn’t resist one parting shot. “At least I don’t have to travel with a bodyguard.”
“Maybe you should.” With a tight smile he left the room. The second the door closed, Kimberly collapsed into her chair. What was he planning? How could he be so self-assured? No court would grant him custody—right?
Biting her lip, she flipped the paper over and scanned the list of names, searching for one. But Jake McGowan wasn’t listed.
She felt a tiny sense of relief, but it was short-lived. She knew she’d heard Jake’s name before. Diane had mentioned him, of course, but someone else had, as well. If she hadn’t heard Jake’s name from someone in the bank, then where? Certainly not from Robert. Or had she?
Her throat went dry with dread. She sensed that Jake had run across Robert before, though he hadn’t said as much. He seemed to have a knowledge and interest in Robert that went beyond the usual curiosity derived from reading the paper. Had Jake been Robert’s attorney? Had Robert double-crossed him?