In the law office, she kept her focus on the wall across from us where a colorful abstract painting hung. Her delicate jaw was rock solid as she held a nail hostage between her lips. “Yes,” she said in a muffled tone.
I leaned into her. “Maybe you’re still thinking of me in art class.”
Her knee began to bounce.
A man cleared his throat. I straightened, turning my attention to Mr. Davenport, whose tie sat loosely around his neck as though he’d just lost a big case.
“Mr. Maxwell, nice to see you again. Why don’t we sit in the conference room right around the corner here?” He gestured to my left, the diamonds on his wedding band glimmering.
Lizzie hopped up. I trailed behind her, watching her swing her hips from side to side. I stifled a groan as we entered the richly designed conference room—oak and leather furnishings—and filed away any and all impure thoughts of Lizzie.
Mr. Davenport pulled out a chair from the massive table then eased into it. Lizzie and I chose two across from him.
After I made the introductions, I said, “Thank you for seeing us. As I mentioned on the phone, Lizzie has a problem with the trustee of her father’s estate. We suspect he’s taken off with her inheritance. We’d like to know what her legal options are.”
She fiddled with the chain of her necklace between her forefinger and thumb. “I’ve contacted the attorney in Florida who set up my parents’ estate, but he hasn’t returned my calls. And I’m in Boston trying to find the man who stole my money.”
“Do you know for certain he has?” Interest splashed over Mr. Davenport’s face.
She sucked on her cheek. “He hasn’t deposited my monthly allowance, and he didn’t pay my college tuition at the beginning of the semester. When I went to his house, he’d apparently moved out. At least that’s what his neighbor told me.”
Mr. Davenport mulled something over. Then he said, “Mr. Maxwell, you want a job here this summer, correct?”
I nodded. “This isn’t about me, though.” I did want to prove that I wasn’t just some naked model. But out of the five law firms I’d submitted my résumé to the year before, Davenport’s law firm had name recognition and was known for helping clients who lived in other states. Which could help move things along more quickly for Lizzie.
“Tell you what. Prove to me that I should hire you. Research the estate laws in Florida. You can use the law library here. Once you have some answers, then we’ll sit down and talk.”
“What?” Lizzie’s voice was high, grinding like nails on a chalkboard. “Kelton isn’t a lawyer. You are. Time is critical here. Why can’t you just give me advice?” Her body was rigid. “I need my money.”
The law moved slowly, on lawyers’ and judges’ time. But I empathized with her frustration.
“Ms. Reardon, I wasn’t finished.” Mr. Davenport gentled his professional tone. “First, my advice today won’t get you any closer to getting your money back today or even next week.”
A muscle ticked in Lizzie’s jaw as her breathing sped up.
“And while Mr. Maxwell is doing his research, I’ll draft a letter to the attorney in Florida asking for a copy of the estate documents. I need to understand what’s in those.” He opened his hands in a dramatic fashion. “Unfortunately, it’s not that easy to remove a trustee from an estate. We need facts. The good news is, as a beneficiary, you are entitled to know every detail about your parents’ estate. You should also know if the trustee has been complying with his duties set forth in the legal documents. But again, the process will take time.”
“So what you’re saying is I won’t get my money back.” Her face reddened.
Mr. Davenport clasped his hands together on the table. “One way to get to the bottom of this matter is to find the man and ask him for the accounting documents on the estate.”
Accounting or not, Terrance needed to be removed as the executor. I settled my hand on her thigh, hoping to ease her anxiety before she combusted. “Can we use the library this afternoon?” While my exercise in Florida law wasn’t the silver bullet to Lizzie’s problem, I wanted her to feel like I was doing something to help her. I wanted to feel like I was doing something to help her. I was confident Mr. Davenport was well versed in Florida estate law. He was right, though. We did need to find Terrance Malden.
“Sure.” He stood. “I have a client meeting I have to run to. I’ll have my secretary show you to the library. Ms. Reardon, please give my secretary all the information on your attorney. I’ll get the letter out to him ASAP. And Mr. Maxwell, make an appointment with me for next Thursday. I should have the documents from Ms. Reardon’s lawyer by then.”
We made a bathroom stop, then Mr. Davenport’s secretary, a short middle-aged lady, escorted Lizzie and me to the library.
“My name is Bonnie, and I’m just down the hall to your right if you need anything,” she said, leaving us alone.
With a slow shake of her head, Lizzie took in the stacks of bookcases and law books on all but one wall. When I’d worked for Brady, Schlenk, and Schiel, I’d spent the majority of my time in their library, although it wasn’t as big as this one.
“How do you find anything in this place?” she asked.
“If it’s like the last one I worked in, the books should be organized by the type of law.” I wound my way around eight small library tables.
A high-pitched whimper escaped her. “Do you think I’ll ever get my money back?”
I combed my hands through my hair, my heart breaking at the sound of defeat in her voice. I had a clawing urge to find Terrance, tie him up, and beat the shit out of him. I just might do that if Zach didn’t cooperate. He was our best shot to find Terrance quickly. “One way or another we’ll get to the bottom of all this.” My gut told me Terrance had probably gambled away all of her money. Unless her dad had a separate trust set up for the 401Ks. Even so, I wasn’t certain Terrance hadn’t discovered a way to steal that money, too. I scoured the shelves for anything related to estate law. As I did, I asked, “Are you doing anything on Sunday?” Hopefully taking her mind off the problem even for a minute would help reduce her stress level. “I’d like to invite you to Sunday dinner with my family.” I’d explained Lizzie’s predicament to my old man, including the passing of her family.
He’d taken the news like I had, swearing, pacing, and looking in shock for several minutes before he’d settled down. Then the psychiatrist in him had emerged. “I’ll need to speak to your mother’s doctor. We’ll decide the best route to take regarding how we break the news to her.”
I’d wondered why we should break the news at all. We were a family again. Our mom was home. She still had moments of depression, but they weren’t severe like they had been, or bad enough for her to return to a mental health facility.
But my father had said, “Since your mom heard Lizzie’s name, she continually asks when the Reardons will be here. I believe her wanting to see the Reardons is another step in the healing process. Although, as her husband, I’m just as afraid as you boys are of how she’ll react to the Reardons’ deaths.”
Death—that word again. I’d lived with it for so long—Karen and then Kody’s girlfriend. And in a way, Mom living in a mental health facility had felt like she’d died. In a way, she had. We lost her for years, and it was devastating and terrifying. All those emotions were heightened once again. The living, breathing, sexy woman so close to me, yet so freaking far, frightened the fuck out of me. I’d planned to walk away from Lizzie after I’d spoken to her on Dillon’s porch. I’d had no plans to build a relationship with her. But for fuck’s sake, every moment I spent with her was another moment I wanted to wrap my arms around her and kiss her until we died from lack of oxygen, got drunk off each other’s touches, got dizzy off each other’s scent. Was another moment I wanted to get so deep inside her I wouldn’t want her to lea
ve me for a moment.
I snapped back to the present when Lizzie came up to me.
“You want me to have dinner with your family?” She scratched her head, scrunching up her face.
I couldn’t tell if her twisted expression was from my invitation or because her wig was bothering her. Either way, I wanted to burn that wig.
“You sound shocked.” I spotted two shelves on estate law and scanned the books, removing one titled The Florida Probate Guide.
“I’m sorry, I can’t accept the invitation.” Her words were clipped.
“Why? It’s just dinner. It’s not like you’ve never met my family, and you’ve already broken the ice with Kade.” I’d gotten a text just before art class from Kade filling me in on Lizzie’s visit. It fried my ass that she hadn’t told me.
She pinned me with a glare. “Are you forgetting the past?”
“My mom wants to see you.”
She stuck her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest. “Why? So we can talk about how my sister shot Karen? Sorry, but I’m not up for that. I’ve been through more bad shit than I care to talk about. And I don’t want anyone to take pity on me, especially your family. I saw the look in Kade’s eyes.”
I dumped the book on the table, the sound exploding around the room. “I get it, okay? I understand the pain of death. My mom may not have died that day, but she did try to end her life and as a result ended up living in a mental health facility for years. Which hasn’t been a walk in the park. I also get you don’t want pity. And if you haven’t noticed, I haven’t given you any.” I clenched my teeth, itching like a fucker to either kiss her or spank her.
“You mean that kiss the other day wasn’t out of pity?” The woman had the nerve to flaunt a smile.
Easy, dude. You’re in a law office. One that you might be working at soon. Don’t ruin your chances. I quickly checked the exit. Two windows framed the door, but no sign of anyone watching or passing by. “You think that kiss was because I felt sorry for you? Is that what you felt?” I kept my voice low.
She played with her earring.
“Nervous?” I couldn’t help but taunt.
She began to walk away. “I need to use the ladies’ room and speak to Bonnie.”
“Are you running? Is that your MO these days?” I tucked my hands in my pockets when all I wanted to do was rip off that ugly wig and feel the silk strands of her long, dark hair.
“Asswipe,” she spat.
“While you’re in the ladies’ room, take the wig and the contacts off, then throw them in the trash.” If she didn’t, I would before we left there.
She flipped me the bird as she sashayed her luscious body out of the room.
My chest tightened, and so did my dick. The woman knew how to irritate me and get me so fucking horny I was about to erupt. I grumbled as I sat down then began perusing the probate guide—nothing like a law text to get my dick to calm the fuck down. I jotted note after note on the role of the trustee, the beneficiary’s rights and entitlements, and several reasons a trustee could be removed, including not handling the estate properly, death, stealing, and if the trustee no longer lived in Florida.
The door squeaked open. I kept reading and taking notes, not wanting to check if my guest was Lizzie, out of fear that she probably wasn’t coming back. We were both trying hard to keep our emotions in check. The operative word was trying. I was failing miserably. One minute I was an asswipe, the next minute I was sweet. Then I was angry and irritated. I wanted Lizzie, then I didn’t want Lizzie. I wanted to feel her again, but I didn’t.
The word motherfucker repeated in my head like a song stuck on loop. I had to get my head on straight. I didn’t know how to do that with her in my life again. Whether she got her money back or not, she would probably leave Boston at some point. I nodded to myself. I had to keep things between us professional, like a lawyer would.
“Who are you nodding to?” she asked.
Not looking up, I said, “You didn’t run, huh?”
“Nah. You’d only chase me.” Her tone was light, sexy, and playful.
Jerking up my head, my mouth fell open. She stood in front of me with her dark hair spilling over her breasts. Her baby-blue T-shirt accentuated her eyes, bringing out the blue over the gray. My throat was as dry as the Mohave Desert, and my dick perked up.
“Stop drooling. It’s disgusting,” she teased.
“You listened to me.” That alone had my heart doing somersaults.
“No, the wig was itchy.”
“Do you need me to scratch anything?” I beg you to say yes.
She threw me the finger again.
“Flip me off again, and I may lay you out on one of these tables.” My balls were turning blue.
“I—”
Bonnie stuck her head in. “We’re closing the offices. If you don’t have everything you need, you can use the library before your appointment next week with Mr. Davenport.”
I tore off my sheets of notes then returned the book to the shelf. I did want to do more research before speaking with Mr. Davenport, but I could use the Internet.
After we thanked Bonnie, we made our way to my Jeep. The sun was finally out after a week of gloomy days.
“Did you get everything you need?” Lizzie asked.
“On the legal end, almost. In the meantime, Zach will be back on Sunday night. I’ll talk to him then. What were you doing with Dillon at Rumors?” Kade had only texted me that Lizzie had stopped by with Dillon. Then followed it up with another text asking me to call him. After we’d left art class, we’d come straight to Davenport’s. With Lizzie in the Jeep, I hadn’t had any privacy to talk to Kade. And most of our conversation from BU to Davenport’s had stemmed around her questions about the legal system, most of which I couldn’t answer.
“Dillon and I paid a visit to a guy he knows. He told Dillon he would call him if he hears about any high-stakes poker games,” she said. “Afterward I went to see Kade. I thought he had an opening for a waitress.”
“I’m confused. You can’t accept my invitation to dinner with my family, but you can ask Kade for a job?” I mentally scratched my head. Not only that, the idea of her waiting on drunk men who would make advances on her dug a hole in the pit of my stomach.
“It was a bad idea. Can we not talk about your family?”
I halted in my tracks as my throat tightened. It hurt like a motherfucker that Lizzie was blowing me off. I shouldn’t have kissed her. I shouldn’t have gone anywhere near her. I should’ve bolted the minute Dillon called her name in the club. The pain in my chest, the one I was trying so fucking hard to avoid, was dull but present.
She threw up her hands, stomping back to me. “What’s wrong? Mad because you’re not getting your way?”
I tugged her toward a narrow side street away from pedestrian traffic. “It’s not about getting my way. It’s about why you’re so terrified to have dinner with my family. And don’t tell me pity.” There were more layers to peel back to get to her main reason. The question was whether she would let me peel them.
She huffed and puffed then poked me in the chest. “I’m in Boston to get my inheritance back. I’m not here to make amends with my past. I never counted on finding you. I’m still in shock that you live with the son of the asshole who has been gambling away my money.” She stuck her finger into my chest again. “I’m sorry about your mom. But I’m not the key to her happiness or her recovery.” She glared up at me, water filling her pretty eyes. “Also, I’ll confront Zach. This is my problem. I don’t need your help.” She marched away.
My whole body was ready to convulse at the sting of her words but also at the truth behind them. My family was thinking of Mom and only Mom. We weren’t putting ourselves in Lizzie’s shoes, thinking about how she would feel, even though she had told me a coupl
e of times now.
Maybe I was using my mom as an excuse, afraid if I asked Lizzie to spend time with me she’d say no. If she did, the sting would feel like a scorpion instead of a bee. Maybe I should have listened to my old man and not lived my life thinking every woman would run from me.
If she rejected me, I’d be fucked up. But for seven years she’d dominated my thoughts and lived in my dreams. At this moment, I wasn’t dreaming, not when I could feel a gust of wind slap me in the face. Not to mention that her curvy form was fading into the distance like she had in my dreams. I’d protected my heart for so long. Maybe it was time to let fate take control.
“Lizard!” I shouted.
She came to an abrupt halt.
I ran up to her. Tears poured down her rosy cheeks. Schmuck came to mind. I swallowed hard, forgetting what I’d wanted to say, forgetting that a city of people sped past us on the sidewalks and in the streets. Horns blew. Beeps erupted from a vehicle backing up. Buzz, buzz, buzz went the heartbeat of Boston’s city streets. My heart beat in my ears just as loudly as the sounds around me.
She batted her eyelashes, tears hanging on the edge like I was. I was holding onto some imaginary cliff for dear fucking life, and I was about to fall into oblivion, not certain if she’d be there to catch me.
I searched her eyes for some sign she knew what I was thinking. Or maybe I was too afraid to speak. If I did, I’d scare her off. But when she blinked, the tears dropped, one by one. I went to wipe away her tears. She jerked back as though I was the scum of the earth. Fuck if that didn’t cut like a hunting knife right across my wrists. Her hair whipped in the wind as she skimmed her watery gaze over me before she darted into a group of pedestrians.
The Maxwell Series Boxed Set: Books 1-3 Page 77