Let's Make It Legal

by Patricia Kay

  That’s why he’d given up his law career.

  That’s why he was working in an office in his home—so he could be there for his children.

  That’s why he found himself here today working for Sydney Wells.

  It amazed him that he’d had no idea this woman his employees referred to as The Shark was a passionate children’s advocate. True, he had lost touch with the movers and shakers of the legal community and didn’t keep up with who was representing whom, but you’d think he’d have heard something about Sydney Wells’s specialization.

  This fact alone was enough to earn his grudging admiration, even though he had a feeling her tough exterior was a facade she effected, probably because she was a female in a male-dominated profession.

  He grinned to himself. Sydney Wells had certainly done everything in her power to turn attention away from her femininity. Today—and John was sure today was no exception—everything she wore was designed to blend in with her male colleagues: severely cut gray suit that fell below her knees, plain white blouse, utilitarian black watch, plain black pumps, hardly any makeup. Even her hands, which were slender and well-shaped, were unadorned, and the nails were filed to a medium length and unpolished.

  But all her attempts to deemphasize her gender hadn’t worked. Each time she walked into the vicinity of his desk, he was very much aware of her as a female. An attractive female. Even that scowl that appeared much too often couldn’t detract from her appeal.

  He watched her walk away—back toward the conference room that had been designated as the War Room. She was tall. He guessed about five foot nine or ten. Andrea had been tall, too. John smiled, remembering how at one time he’d thought he liked his women tiny. Andrea had changed that misconception. Andrea had changed a lot of things in his life. Sydney had nice legs, too, he thought. Actually, they were gorgeous legs, what he could see of them. Too bad he couldn’t see more. John was definitely a leg man. He wondered what she’d look like in a short, red dress and maybe some red stiletto heels—something that would complement the brilliant blue of her eyes and the honey-blond highlights of her hair.

  He shook himself. Better get back to work. Sydney Scott Wells wasn’t paying him to daydream. And certainly not to fantasize about her. He couldn’t help grinning. She’d probably have more than a few choice words for him if she had any idea what he’d been thinking.

  Not that she ever would. Because after the way he’d deceived her today, the best thing he could do from now on was stay completely out of her orbit.

  * * *

  At three o’clock, Sydney left the War Room and headed toward her office. She beckoned to John to come inside. “I’ve got a couple of other calls I want you to make.”

  They had just sat down when there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” Sydney called.

  Doug Farrell, like herself one of the newer partners, opened the door and poked his head inside.

  Sydney suppressed a groan when she saw him. She couldn’t stand Doug, not only because he was the type of person who would cut your throat if he thought it would further his career, but because he was one of the most conceited, chauvinistic men she’d ever met.

  The phrase “He thinks he’s God’s gift to women” had probably been coined with Doug in mind. He hated her because she’d brushed off every overture he’d ever made in her direction and because she made no secret of her disdain for his behavior.

  “Hey, Sydney,” he said, strutting in with what Sydney secretly termed his peacock walk, “thought I’d find you here.” He looked curiously at John, who glanced up and met his gaze. “Who’s that?” he said, cocking his head toward John.

  “A temporary paralegal, filling in for Gerri,” Sydney said curtly, not that it was any of his business. “What can I do for you, Doug?”

  Doug’s grin expanded. “There are lots of things you could do for me, Sydney, baby, and you’d probably enjoy them all if you’d just loosen up and let yourself go for a change.” He winked at John.

  Sydney counted to ten and drummed her fingers on her desk top. “I’ve heard this all before,” she said through gritted teeth, “so could we skip the comedy routine?”

  “Hey,” he said innocently, “can’t you take a joke? That’s what’s wrong with women like you. You have no sense of humor at all.” He gave John a conspiratorial smile.

  “Just what is it that you wanted, Doug?” Sydney avoided John’s eyes. Bad enough she had to put up with a sleeze like Doug, but to have John witness his baiting and her impotence in the face of it was humiliating.

  “I need you to take a depo for me at four o’clock. Gotta witness coming in and I’m scheduled to tee off with Oscar Farrington at four-fifteen.”

  Sydney seethed inside. “Look, despite what you might think, I actually have something important to do for the rest of the afternoon.” Under her breath, she muttered, “Unlike you.”

  His handsome face hardened. “Golfing with clients is important. All you have to do is look at how much business I bring to the firm to know that.”

  Sydney sighed. “Yes, yes, I know. You’re wonderful.”

  “Are you always this much of a bitch, Sydney?” Doug snarled. “Or is it that time of the month?”

  Sydney slammed her hand down on her desk. She could feel her face heating and knew she probably looked like a lobster. “I could bring you up on charges if you keep making those kinds of remarks, Doug.”

  His eyes widened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  “I only meant because you’re in the middle of billing time... ”

  Sydney stared at him. “Find someone else to do your work,” she said.

  “Up yours,” was his parting remark. Then he slammed out of her office.

  Sydney’s heart was beating too fast. She looked at John. “I suppose you think I’m a bitch, too.”

  “No, frankly, I was thinking something entirely different.”

  Sydney felt oddly flustered by the expression in his dark eyes.

  He smiled. “I was thinking, if I were you, I’d have been tempted to punch that creep right in the middle of his costly nose job! ”

  Something soft and sweet slid into Sydney’s stomach as John Whipple’s warm brown eyes met hers, his gaze admiring and entirely without censure.

  She shrugged. “I’m used to Doug. Unfortunately, he’s not the only one around here who thinks the way he does. He’s just the most obnoxious and blatant.” She couldn’t help the note of bitterness that had crept into her voice. “The others talk behind my back.”

  “Don’t pay any attention to them. They feel threatened. The only way a lot of guys know how to relate to a strong, aggressive female is to put her down. Before my wife died, she ran into the same kind of thing with some of the lawyers she dealt with—” He broke off, grimacing. “Sorry. I’m talking too much.”

  Sydney finished giving him her instructions, then he left to go back to his desk. She bent her head to her work, but she couldn’t stop thinking about John Whipple.

  What was a man like him doing working as a temp? He was obviously well-educated, and he was certainly presentable and attractive. He’d said his wife was dead. Wonder what happened? She must have died awfully young, because Sydney was sure John was still in his thirties. And he’d said his wife had dealt with lawyers. Had she been a paralegal, too? Dealt with, he’d said. Not worked for.

  For the next two hours, curiosity about her temporary paralegal kept Sydney from concentrating as hard as she needed to. When the small clock on her desk chimed the hour, she realized it was five o’clock and time for John to leave for the day. She got up and walked out to his cubicle. He was closing the files and stacking them neatly. He’d put on his suit coat again.

  “I might need you again on Monday,” she said. “If I do, I’ll call the agency.”

  He looked up quickly. “They might have another assignment for me.”

  Sydney knew that
Folger & Hubbard was Appleton Legal Temps biggest client. If she wanted John Whipple again, she’d get him. But all she did was nod. “Were you able to reach all the experts?”

  “All but Reba Morrison, but her sister said she’d be back in town on Sunday and that she was ready for the trial.”

  “Good. Is there something I have to sign before you leave?”

  He gave her a look of chagrin. “I forgot to bring a time sheet. I’ll mail it to you.”

  “All right.”

  He stuck out his right hand. She took it. As his warm hand enfolded hers, shaking it firmly, she was once again consumed with curiosity.

  “I enjoyed working with you today,” he said, smiling.

  Sydney smiled, too. “Sorry I was so rude this morning. I was just—”

  “No apologies necessary.” He released her hand. “Good luck with the case. I’ll be watching your progress in the newspapers.”

  “Thanks.”

  He turned to go, and Sydney suddenly had to ask him the question that had bothered her for most of the day. “John...”

  He turned, his eyebrows raised in question.

  “Can I ask you something?” she said.

  “Sure.”

  “What’s a man like you doing working as a temp?”

  He looked at her for a long moment, then said, “It’s hard to explain. Let’s just say circumstances dictated it.”

  Sydney couldn’t have said why his answer didn’t sit right, but long after he’d left the office, she was still convinced that he had been evasive.

  The question was why?

  Chapter Two

  “So how did things go today?” Janet asked before John even got the door shut behind him.

  “Do you want to hear the good part first or the bad part first?” John countered, grinning.

  Janet clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, no. What happened that was bad?”

  John removed his suit coat and loosened his tie. “Before I tell you about it, tell me why you never called Sydney Wells’s secretary to tell her I was coming instead of Jo Whipple.”

  “I tried, John. But she was away from her desk the first time I called, and then she was on another line and I couldn’t wait because I had a call, and before I knew it, it was already nine o’clock, and I figured by then you would’ve gotten there and they’d know about the substitution, anyway.” Janet made a face. “Sorry. Did it make things uncomfortable for you?”

  “You could say that.” John proceeded to tell her how Sydney’s secretary had thought he was Jo Whipple. “Before I could correct her, she’d already introduced me to her boss, and The Shark nearly bit my head off about being late. She said she had no time for excuses. She ticked me off,” he admitted, not proud of the way he’d allowed himself to lose his professionalism, “so I let her go on thinking I was Jo Whipple.”

  “You what?” Janet exclaimed, eyes wide. “Oh, John. Why did you do that? What’s she going to think if she ever finds out? Somehow, I don’t think she’s the type who takes kindly to being deceived.”

  John grimaced. He knew Janet was right. Although Sydney Wells had shown her vulnerable side to him today, she would be furious over his dishonesty, which would probably negate all of the positive feelings he knew they’d shared by the end of the day.

  “Yeah, well, by the time I’d decided I shouldn’t have gone along with the misconception, no matter what she said to me, it was too late to correct it without making things even worse. But she’ll never find out.”

  Janet’s forehead remained creased in a worried frown. “Aside from that, how did the day go?”

  “The work was a piece of cake.”

  “What about Sydney Wells? Is she as bad as everyone says she is?”

  “I didn’t think she was so bad. She’s driven and aggressive—you know the type—a typical overachiever.”

  “So you got along with her all right?”

  “Yeah, I did. In fact, I found myself sympathizing with her at one point. I also have to admit, I ended up admiring her. She’s got guts.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. She crossed swords with a hotshot colleague. You know, one of those jerks you run into a lot in some of these firms. He tried to embarrass her in front of me. But she held her own. In fact, she got in some pretty good digs.”

  “You almost sound as if you liked her,” Janet commented.

  John smiled. “I did. She...she reminded me of Andrea.” He was immediately sorry he’d added the last bit of information, for his sister’s face slid into astonishment.

  “Andrea! Oh, John, come on. From everything our temps have said, Sydney Scott Wells is nothing like Andrea.”

  “They were wrong.” Even though John wished he’d kept his mouth shut, he felt a strange sense of loyalty to Sydney.

  Janet gave him a look that said she didn’t believe him.

  “I think I knew Andrea better than anyone else, Janet,” he reminded her.

  “Yes... well...” But Janet didn’t look convinced. “What made you think she’s like Andrea? Does she look like her?”

  “No. She’s blond and blue-eyed.” Andrea had been the stereotypical redhead—green-eyed and freckled. “But she’s tall like Andrea was. And she’s also sharp, very sharp. And smart.” Those were also characteristics of Andrea’s, as Janet very well knew.

  “But Andrea was so friendly and so nice,” Janet said.

  “Sure. Around you. But she had another side to her in her professional world. She had to. Nice, agreeable women don’t get very far in the legal business. Nice, agreeable women don’t get very far in any business. You should know that, Jan.”

  “Well, why do you think our temps are so afraid of Sydney Wells if she’s as great as you seem to think she is?”

  “Probably because she’s tough. She drives her secretary and everyone else relentlessly, including herself.” John chuckled. “She’s also short on tact at times.”

  “She doesn’t sound like someone I’d like,” Janet said. “I’ll bet she’s hard-looking.”

  “No,” John said, thinking how he’d felt Sydney was anything but hard-looking.

  “Did you think she was attractive?”

  John shrugged. Suddenly, he didn’t want to discuss Sydney Scott Wells any longer. “Yeah, I guess so.” He looked around. “Where are the kids?”

  “Mom called and invited Emily to go shopping for her birthday, and Jeffrey’s over at Benjamin’s house.” John nodded. His six-year-old son and Benjamin Newberry were best friends, especially since Benjamin’s dad had built him a tree house.

  “Mom said she and Emily would eat at the mall, so not to expect her home until about eight-thirty.” Janet stood. “I guess I’ll be going. Mike and I are going out for Chinese tonight. Do you and Jeffrey want to come with us? We’d love to have you.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t think so. We’ve got some leftovers. We’ll manage.”

  John liked his brother-in-law, Mike Cameron, but he wasn’t in the mood to go out to eat, even though he knew Jeffrey loved eating out. He’d take both kids out tomorrow night, instead.

  “Oh, and Mom also invited all of us for Sunday dinner.”

  “What, Cecelia Appleton is going to cook?” John grinned. “What’s the occasion?”

  Their mother never cooked. She hated to cook. And since their father had died several years earlier, she had given up even the pretense of cooking. She’d once told John that she considered cooking in the same category as cleaning toilets.

  Janet laughed. “I think she’s feeling guilty. Like she’s fallen down on the job of being a mother.”

  “What time are we supposed to be there?”

  “Two o’clock.” Janet picked up her purse. “John, what are we going to do if Sydney Wells ever finds out who you really are?”

  John walked over and put his hands on his twin’s shoulders. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Let’s not borrow trouble, okay?” He turned her around and gave her a little push toward the door. �
��Now quit worrying, and go home. We’ll see you Sunday.”

  * * *

  “Well, Sydney, I wasn’t sure if you’d show up today.” Helena Wells’s dark blue eyes always seemed judgmental to Sydney. Always seemed to say her youngest daughter wasn’t measuring up. Again.

  To cover the feelings of inadequacy and frustration prolonged exposure to her mother and sisters always produced, Sydney shrugged. “I always try to make Sunday dinner if I can.”

  Her mother smiled. “I know. I’m glad you’re here. It’s too pretty a day to spend cooped up in the office.”

  Sydney nodded. It was a gorgeous day—cool, with low humidity—the first really crisp fall day Houston had seen after a long, hot summer that had had even the hardiest natives complaining.

  As Sydney followed her mother through the house and into the enormous family room that overlooked the pool and backyard, she saw that her three sisters and their families were already there, gathered around the television set watching the Texans game. As Sydney walked in, a loud cheer erupted as the Texans made a successful play.

  Claire, her oldest sister at forty-two, smiled when she saw Sydney. She immediately got up from the couch and walked over, extending her arms for a hug. As they embraced, Sydney felt a swift rush of love. Besides their father, Claire was the only one in Sydney’s family she felt close to.

  “We missed you last week,” Claire said as they drew apart.

  Sydney smiled, then looked around at the rest of the family.

  “Hey, Syd,” said Tom Stevens, Claire’s husband. He grinned up at her from his spot on the floor, his freckled face reflecting his good nature.

  Sydney liked Tom. Who could help liking him? He was like a puppy—he lived to please—but sometimes she wondered how Claire, who was witty and intelligent, could stand being married to him. Sydney often wondered what the two of them talked about. Or didn’t people talk after they were married? She thought about her own parents, whose conversation seemed to consist of discussions about their children and what they would eat for dinner.

  Eliza waved from the kitchen, and Sydney gave a little wave back. Sydney and Eliza couldn’t stand each other, but by unspoken agreement they pretended to be sisterly in front of their parents.