Since they'd be sitting closer, side-by-side at the small breakfast counter, he readily agreed.
Andrea peeled off her parka, and didn't waste any time laying out the food. While she did that, he poured iced tea he'd made earlier. Once they were seated on stools, he noticed their knees made contact. He purposefully didn't move away.
"How are the Lawai'as?" he asked.
"Everyone's fine. They all say they miss me, especially Phillip. But I think that's because he's the designated dishwasher now."
Will laughed. He loved the way her eyes sparkled and how her skin had a golden glow.
"So how are you doing, Andrea?"
"Busy. Real busy." She munched on a crispy chicken leg. "I've been with Dad all morning. He arranged to have my paperwork pushed through legal channels. He's got a lot of influence, you know."
"I know." If there was one thing Will was certain of, that was it.
"I now have my driver's license, and he's let me borrow his car." She smiled. "It's really good to drive again."
He nodded. "There's no need now for you to pretend you had a suspended license due to a DUI."
She flushed. "True. I have my own bank account, too. All these years I've had to deal in cash, so I'm really grateful for credit cards and checks."
"Most women are," he murmured.
"I've been putting them to good use, too. Winter things, mostly." She set down her chicken and wiped her hands. "But also fancy clothes for Saturday's party."
The corners of her mouth drooped. She seemed sad.
He moved his stool closer to hers, inhaling her roses and jasmine scent. "Andrea, what's the matter?"
She looked at him, and then focused on the polished wood floor. She didn't speak.
He tried another tack. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"
"Well, I could say that I just happened to be in the neighborhood, but that isn't so. Especially since I had to look up your address." Her sigh was deep, heavy, affecting. "I have an ulterior motive."
He grinned. "Thank heavens for ulterior motives, then! What can I do for you?"
"It's my father. You know what he's like." She met Will's gaze. "He's got it in his head that it's his job to introduce me to eligible men."
Damn. His grin died. Randolph Ernst was as persistent as they come. He'd strike a deal with some lucky man for Andrea's hand in marriage. Will knew for sure that would be the case. After all, he himself had been Randolph's first choice as son-in-law.
She spread out her hands, palms up. "I want to tell Dad that this is just a visit. I'm not staying. But the timing just doesn't seem right. Do you have any advice on how I can handle this?"
Will swung around on the stool and then got to his feet. He busied himself by cleaning up the lunch remnants. His buoyant mood had turned morose. Reason one was Andrea's determination to return to Hawaii. Reason two was the thought of her marrying another man. And the third reason was the undeniable fact that he also was married...to another woman.
Hell.
She was waiting for him to respond. He sat back down and took her hand. "Your return is so new to your father. He needs time to adjust. Time to realize things aren't the same as seven years ago. I'd suggest going along with him until after the party. That's less than two weeks away. Afterward you can have a frank talk and tell him how you feel."
"That makes sense. I'll do that." Andrea leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks, Wilson."
The next second she was reaching for her parka. "I'd better get going before your wife comes home. She probably wouldn't want to find me here. If the situation was reversed, I know I wouldn't." She winked.
As quick as a flash, she was at the front door. "Thanks again for the advice. I'll see you at the Christmas party."
Will watched her sprint down the sidewalk toward Randolph's dark blue Gran Turismo. He waited until she was inside the car before he closed the door.
Resting against the door, Will touched his cheek. It still tingled from her kiss.
* * * *
Goodness, what was I thinking? Whatever possessed me to kiss him?
Andrea bit her lip, gripped the steering wheel, and turned out into traffic all at the same time. Her mind, however, was only half on her driving.
That brief touch of his skin had felt wonderful. Wilson's scent of English Leather mixed together with coffee, had stirred her senses. His innate warmth permeated her lips even though the contact had been only a second.
But it was a sisterly kiss. Just an innocent peck on the cheek.
Sure. So how come every blessed nerve in her body broadcasted desire?
Rats.
Turning up the heater, Andrea headed for Ernst, Scargill, and Petersen. Her father'd wanted to buy her a car, but she stalled him. She wouldn't be in Richmond long enough to merit that particular expense.
Fifteen minutes later, she parked in her father's spot. When she entered the law offices, many people greeted her. Some she recognized, but most she didn't.
But of course she knew Melinda Dithers.
As she approached the older woman's desk, Melinda stood. "Andrea, dear." She toddled forward and gave Andrea a hug. "Did you have fun shopping today?"
Fun? She hedged on her answer. "I've never seen so many people out, hunting for holiday bargains. I think I got some good deals, though. Is my father in?"
"Yes, he's conferring with George Ziegler, one of our attorneys, but Mr. Ernst instructed me to send you in as soon as you arrived."
"Thank you." Andrea took off her parka before opening the door to her father's office.
One of her first memories was of him sitting behind the biggest desk imaginable--at least it was to a five-year-old. Over the years, the size of the desk shrunk, in her mind, but her father always remained the same larger-than-life figure.
He was that figure today, too. His hair still shining silver, he looked strong and handsome in his navy pinstriped suit and bold red tie. More lines radiated out from his eyes than seven years ago, but he appeared better, more vibrant, than just yesterday.
She hesitated before speaking. "Sorry to interrupt."
The man seated in front of the desk turned around. He had sandy, slicked back hair, a confident smile, and sharp green eyes.
"Nonsense, nonsense," her father said. "Come in, Andrea. I want to introduce you to one of our best litigators, George Ziegler."
George Ziegler stood as soon as she entered. "The pleasure is mine, Ms. Ernst." He stood and held out his hand.
She flinched. Technically, she was Mrs. Struthers. With all her heart, she wanted to be Mrs. Struthers. But she had to be realistic. That title really belonged to a woman named Stella.
"Very nice to meet you, Mr. Ziegler." She completed the handshake.
"Sit, sit," her father directed. "George and I were just going over some details on a bankruptcy case we've decided to handle."
She sat in the large antique chair next to George.
"I wanted you two to meet before the Christmas party, Andrea. To get to know each other. So you won't feel like you're in a room full of strangers."
Goodness. It was happening already. Her father had done his research and was now parading possible candidates for the position of her husband. Just as he'd had seven years ago.
She struggled to be polite. "How thoughtful, Dad." It was difficult not to spit the words.
He beamed a paternal smile on the man. "George has been with the firm eight years."
She turned toward the attorney. "How do you like working for Ernst, Scargill, and Petersen, Mr. Ziegler?"
"George, please." He straightened his tie and answered, of course positively.
While he talked about his history with the firm, she tuned him out. She should've asked Wilson how to get out of situations like this.
But she was a big girl. She really couldn't trouble Wilson. It was up to her to extricate herself from would-be suitors' quests to marry her. She couldn't, no, she shouldn't, depend on Wilson.
And of course, she was jumping the gun. This man might just be trying to be polite, as she was.
Fat chance.
She sighed. How cynical she'd become.
Her father's voice overrode George's. "You're tired, aren't you, my dear?"
"Yes." She could admit that. "Holiday shopping is more frenetic than I remember."
He took charge, as he always did. "George, we'll finish our talk tomorrow. I've got to get Andrea home."
Good. She smiled. This time, her wishes and her father's were identical.
After more handshakes and niceties were exchanged, George left the office. Her father had a few calls to make before he could leave, so Andrea gazed out the window, staring at the cobblestone street below.
Just like she had when she'd first met Wilson. Back then, she'd thought of only Wilson. And now, her thoughts were regrettably the same.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
When the law offices of Ernst, Scargill, and Peterson threw a Christmas party, they spared no expense, that much was certain. Even in today's lackluster economy, the firm pulled out all the stops.
The location of the festivities rotated from one office to the next. This year it was Richmond's turn. Partners and top earners from all the offices were flown in, at company expense, on Friday afternoon to enjoy a luxurious weekend at a posh, exclusive hotel.
Will glanced around the hotel ballroom located near the historic Shockoe Slip district. Despite his jaded disposition, he was impressed. Garlands of evergreen plaited with red-berried holly leaves decorated the room's many arches and grand Ionic columns. Scotch pine trees twinkled with dancing white lights, while an orchestra of eight set the mood for this grand holiday celebration.
Fellow partners, attorneys, and special clients gathered under the huge multi-crystalled chandelier. Dressed in their holiday finest, they danced to Christmas tunes, or ate tasty appetizers, or chatted with friends at this champagne reception. Dinner was scheduled for eight o'clock.
Chatting with Kevin Ballantine, Will watched everyone else having a good time. He felt more like Scrooge than Santa Claus.
"Swell gig," Kevin commented as he munched on an hors d'oeuvre, and then washed it down with whisky.
"As usual." Will also downed his whisky--plain. He was in no mood for food. He hadn't been for days now.
Raising bushy red eyebrows, Kevin wagged a stubby finger at him. "Play nice, m'laddie. I see our sainted trio, Ernst, Scargill, and Petersen, looking our way."
Will shrugged. He didn't have to kowtow anymore to the powers that be, especially to his former father-in-law. Truth be told, he was in a lousy frame of mind. He shouldn't have come to this party.
But Stella had insisted.
He finished his drink and signaled to a server for another.
"Hey, hey, take it easy." Kevin stretched out his hand, slowing Will from his descent into oblivion. "Getting plastered in front of the senior partners is not the way to win friends and influence people."
Will loosened his tie with its ridiculous image of a reindeer emblazoned upon it. An early present from Stella.
"I'm not plastered. Just feeling no pain." He scanned the groups of nearby revelers. "Where's your wife?"
Kevin had recently married and just as recently, had become a partner at the firm. As a result, his rough-around-the-edges demeanor had considerably softened.
"Naomi?" He raised up on his toes to look over the crowd. "I don't see-- Oh, there she is. On the dance floor with that guy from Honolulu." He flared his nostrils.
Will withheld his laugh. By the look of things, Kevin was ready to punch out his wife's hapless partner. Then what Kevin had said finally penetrated.
"Honolulu?" As he looked over the dancers, he asked, "Who's from Honolulu? Nathan Lawai'a?"
"Nope." Kevin's ruddy face had deepened in color. He reminded Will of a bull getting ready to charge. "That new partner, Jack Fairweather."
Will zeroed in on Fairweather, dancing with the petite Naomi. He narrowed his gaze. He had no doubt Fairweather would continue his pursuit of Andrea.
And speaking of Andrea, where the hell was she?
Kevin stomped his foot. "I'm gonna cut in. Excuse me." He charged off.
Will couldn't blame his friend for hitting the panic button. Talk of Fairweather's philandering ways had preceded the man's arrival. And also talk of his partner status. Once Will had delivered the news to Randolph that there'd been no foundation to those malfeasance rumors, Fairweather's promotion had been given the green light.
Sipping his whisky, Will walked slowly through the room, exchanging pleasantries with new and old acquaintances. He did all this by rote. Foremost on his mind was Andrea. Since Randolph was present and accounted for at this reception, Andrea had to be here as well.
Someone tapped him on the back. Will turned around. George Ziegler, Randolph's current fair-haired favorite, lifted his fluted champagne glass in greeting.
"Hello, Will. How's it going?"
"It's all good, George." Will continued to dart his gaze around the room. "Enjoying the party?"
"Naturally. Holiday cheer, and all that." Ziegler took a drink. "I wanted to tell you, I met your wife."
"Stella?" Will immediately searched for her long blonde hair and swathed-in-violet figure. She didn't seem to be in the ballroom. Perhaps she was still talking with that Texan client he'd introduced her to.
Ziegler grinned, looking like a Cheshire cat. "No, your first wife, Andrea."
Hell. Will nearly dropped his glass. Obviously Randolph was engaging in his matchmaking schemes, the same as he had with Will.
He refrained from commenting.
"Quite a beauty," Ziegler added. "A real knockout."
The word knockout only called to mind what Will wanted to do to Ziegler. He submerged this violent urge by finishing his drink.
"Where is Andrea?" Will hoped his voice remained steady. "Randy told me he needed to speak with her."
A lie, but Ziegler wouldn't know the difference.
The man pointed toward the orchestra. "The big man's found her. They're dancing now. It looks like they're doing the cha-cha."
Will turned his gaze toward the front of the ballroom. He skipped over Randolph's silver head to focus on Andrea.
Dear God! He gulped down his desire. She wore a navy blue dress--modest by today's standards. Sleeveless and V-necked, but not cut too low. Her slim waist was accented by a wide sequined belt, and the flirty hem ended right above her knees.
Will licked his lips. Yeah, it was a modest dress, but damn, did his pulse race. She looked ravishing.
Setting his empty glass on a side table, he straightened his reindeer tie. "Thanks, George. I think I'll pay my respects."
His sights set on Andrea, Will didn't see anyone else. He reached his goal just as the music ended.
Andrea looked up at him and smiled.
"Will, there you are." Randolph slapped him on the shoulder as a greeting. "We were just talking about you."
"Nothing bad, I hope." Will spoke to the older man but his gaze was riveted on Andrea.
"Of course not." Randolph flitted his gaze from Will to his daughter and back.
Strains of Irving Berlin's "White Christmas" added to the holiday cheer already floating about the ballroom.
Randolph took Andrea's hand and placed it in Will's. "Why don't you two dance? I've got to go talk with Petersen about a trivial matter."
Will grasped her hand. His ardent wish was to never let her go.
She tilted her head at her father. "Don't you mean an important matter, Dad?"
"You being back is an important matter, my dear. Everything else pales in comparison." Randolph shooed them away. "Now, go. Dance."
"Gladly." Still holding her right hand, Will curved his left arm around her waist and swung her into a slow two-step.
She felt like heaven.
Andrea pulled back to place more space between them. "Wilson, you're too close."
"You feel pret
ty good to me," he murmured into the softness of her hair. "I'm dreaming of something other than a white Christmas."
Although he couldn't see her expression, he knew she was smiling. "You've had too much to drink."
He moved so he could gaze straight into her eyes. "Possibly."
Those eyes, usually warm, tropical blue, had deepened to match the navy of her dress. "Wilson," she warned. "I'm telling you, we're dancing too close. I can feel..."
She blushed. "Well, you know."
He executed a turn before replying. "I'm happy to see you, Andrea."
Her blush intensified. She raised her head to whisper into his ear. "People are going to talk, Wilson."
He sighed. She was right. Her nearness so intoxicated him, he was throwing all caution to the wind.
Loosening his hold, he whispered back, "There. Is that better?"
Her lower lip trembled. "Yes."
"It's not better for me," he grumbled.
She removed her hand from his shoulder to flip back her long hair. "You're being bad. Changing the subject, what are your holiday plans?"
He shrugged. "I have no idea. They're unimportant. Ditto to what your father said."
For a brief second, he felt her breasts against his chest as she exhaled. "My father has been wonderful. He truly does enjoy having me around."
"He's not the only one."
"Wilson!" She blinked rapidly. "You're making this very difficult for me."
"Am I?" He moved his right hand closer, with hers in tow, then brushed his lips against her smooth skin and the tops of her knuckles. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. You're right, I've had way too much to drink."
He mentally slapped himself to attention. "I'll change the subject. What are your holiday plans?"
Her eyes seemed to thank him. "I've got two aunts and their families in Vermont. My father and I are flying to Manchester to spend a week there."
The song "White Christmas" was ending, as was his dream of holding onto Andrea forever. He pretended not to hear the ending chords of music. "What will you be doing after Vermont?"
She took a step away from him. "What we talked about. You know, me heading for home."
Hell.
And if that didn't make him feel bad enough, a tap on the shoulder caused him to turn around.
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