Balancing Act (The Santa Monica Trilogy Book 3)

by Blake, Jill

  As if sensing her scrutiny, Zach glanced up. His lips curved into a slow smile. For someone who was likely responsible for some serious conflict of interest violations, he looked way too relaxed.

  Angie frowned and turned back to the deponent. “Aside from the things you just mentioned, Dr. DeLuca, did you have any other concerns with the plans proposed by S&L?”

  “None that I can think of right now.”

  Angie let the silence stretch a bit longer before moving on. “Before you submitted your report to the city, did you discuss its contents with anyone?”

  “Yes.”

  “With whom?”

  “The laboratory technicians who were doing the soil testing. Several of my colleagues who helped put together technical recommendations for building setbacks, groundwater seismic design, erosion control, shoring and internal bracing, that sort of thing.”

  “What about anyone outside of your company?”

  “One of the architects involved in designing the project. The structural engineer at S&L who had done some of the calculations. The lead agency on the EIR.”

  “By EIR you mean the Environment Impact Report that includes your geotechnical study?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you discuss your findings with anyone else?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You didn’t discuss it with any friends or family?”

  “No.”

  “Are you absolutely sure about that?”

  “Objection,” Zach said. “Asked and answered.”

  Angie backed off. “Who typically retains the services of your company, Dr. DeLuca?”

  “We consult for a variety of clients. State and local government agencies, industrial facilities, real estate investors, developers.”

  “Did you say developers?”

  “Yes.”

  “Like Stewart & Landry?”

  “Are you asking if they’re developers?”

  Angie suppressed a grudging sense of admiration and rephrased the question. “I’m asking if you’ve ever consulted for S&L.”

  “No.”

  “What about the company you work for? Has the company ever been retained by S&L in any capacity?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you acquainted with Tom Stewart?”

  “Not personally, no.”

  “What about Zachary Stewart?”

  “Yes.”

  “How well do you know Mr. Stewart?”

  Jeannine blinked. “I don’t understand the question.”

  “Are you and Mr. Stewart casual acquaintances? Good friends? Lovers?”

  Jeannine glanced at Zach.

  “Objection,” he said. “Relevance.”

  “Speaks to bias,” Angie fired back. “Any personal ties Dr. DeLuca may have to the company whose project she’s evaluating poses an inherent conflict of interest.”

  For several seconds, the only sound in the room was the tapping of the court reporter’s fingers on her keyboard.

  “Dr. DeLuca, I’ll ask you again. What is the nature of your relationship with Zachary Stewart?”

  Jeannine hesitated. “We dated.”

  “Could you speak up, please?”

  She looked at Zach, and at his slight nod, repeated the words more firmly.

  “You dated,” Angie said. “I see. And when exactly did you date?”

  “A few years ago.”

  “Could you be more precise? Was is two years? Five? Eight?”

  “Maybe two or three.”

  “Two or three years ago. Isn’t that around the time S&L acquired the property that was the subject of your report?”

  “Yes.”

  “While you were dating Mr. Stewart, did the two of you ever discuss the property or S&L’s plans to develop it?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “How long did you and Mr. Stewart date?”

  “About six months.”

  “And in all that time, you don’t recall ever discussing with Mr. Stewart the multi-million dollar deal that he helped broker?”

  “Objection,” Zach said, leaning forward. “Argumentative.”

  “Dr. DeLuca, please answer the question,” Angie said. “Did you at any point discuss your job with Mr. Stewart?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Really, Dr. DeLuca? You work how many hours a week?”

  “It varies.”

  “On average. Twenty hours? Forty? Eighty?”

  “Between forty and eighty.”

  “So is it fair to say you spend a considerable amount of your time at work?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the question of how you spend forty to eighty hours a week never came up? Not once, in all the six months you were dating Mr. Stewart?”

  “We didn’t exactly spend a lot of time talking.”

  Angie kept her attention focused on Jeannine, ignoring Zach’s smirk. “When the city hired your company to do an evaluation of the S&L project, did you tell Mr. Stewart about it?”

  “No.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because by that time we were no longer dating.”

  “So you and Mr. Stewart parted ways. Was it an amicable breakup?”

  “Objection. Relevance.”

  Angie noted that he was no longer smirking. “Did you and Mr. Stewart remain friends?”

  Jeannine shrugged. “Depends on what you mean by friends.”

  “Did you maintain any contact with Mr. Stewart after you broke up?”

  “Yes.”

  “How often did you see or speak with him?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t keep track.”

  “Would you say daily? Weekly? Monthly?”

  “Less often than that. Maybe a few times a year.”

  “When you did talk with him, was there any discussion of the S&L project?”

  “No.”

  “Did you receive any money or gifts from Mr. Stewart? Anything that might have directly or indirectly influenced your ability to conduct an objective environmental analysis of the S&L project?”

  “Objection. Compound question.”

  “Six months of dating, Dr. DeLuca, and no gifts?”

  Zach shot up. “That’s it. I’m calling the judge.”

  “Dr. DeLuca? Anything?”

  Jeannine shook her head at Zach and he hesitated before sinking back into his chair.

  “I earned a PhD in Civil and Environmental Engineering from Stanford,” she said softly. “Since then, I’ve designed and implemented hundreds of environmental assessments and subsurface investigations for due diligence and liability purposes. I’ve supervised major environmental impact remediation efforts for dozens of clients throughout the state. Believe me, Ms. MacDowell, I’m good at what I do. I take pride in that. I’m sure you feel the same about your work. That’s why I’m not going to take offense at your insinuation that I would allow my personal life to compromise my objectivity or work ethic.”

  Wow. Angie stared at her. Jeannine DeLuca had class. Along with brains and beauty. Why would any man willingly give that up? Maybe after seeing her like this, today, Zach was regretting their breakup? Was he even now considering ways of getting Jeannine back into his life and bed?

  Angie glanced in his direction, only to find him staring back. Not at Jeannine, his perfect ex-girlfriend, but at Angie.

  The woman he’d all but ignored for years, and then had the audacity to liken to a Doberman Pinscher for her tenacity and willingness to fight.

  The woman he was driving crazy with provocative statements and heated looks.

  She tore her eyes away and cleared her throat. “Thank you, Dr. DeLuca. I have no more questions.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Zach followed her out of the building and down the street. It was rush hour, and Wilshire was bumper-to-bumper. Angie slowed her pace along the pitted sidewalk, cursing the vanity that had prompted her to don high heels that morning.

  Zach matched her st
ride. “Why do you wear those things if you can’t walk in them?”

  “I can walk in them.”

  “You’re limping,” he said.

  She slowed down even more, watching for cracks in the pavement. “No I’m not.”

  “I can give you a ride.” He nodded toward the underground parking structure across the street. “My car’s over there.”

  “No thanks.”

  “The sky is blue.”

  She glanced at him. “What?”

  “Just wondering if you’d contradict me on principle alone.”

  She glanced up. “For your information, the sky is gray. See those clouds? It might even rain.”

  “This early in the season?” he scoffed. “No way.”

  “See, I’m not the only one who likes to argue.”

  “Touché,” he said. “So, how about that ride? In case it does rain.”

  “I’m fine. Besides, in this traffic it’ll take longer to drive than to walk.”

  “You couldn’t find more comfortable shoes?”

  She glanced sideways at him. “They’re Jimmy Choos.”

  “So?”

  “I like the way they look.”

  He snorted. “Looks aren’t everything, you know.”

  “Right,” she said. “That’s why you only date cover models.”

  His brows shot up. “Jean’s not a cover model.”

  “She’s not ugly, either.”

  “No. She isn’t.” He paused beside her at the light. People in business suits trickled out of nearby buildings and joined them at the corner, waiting for the signal to change. “But that’s irrelevant. She didn’t deserve to be attacked.”

  “I didn’t attack her.”

  “Could have fooled me.”

  “In case you’ve forgotten, this was a deposition, not a garden party.”

  “I know.” Someone jostled them from behind, and Zach steadied her with a hand around her upper arm. “But just because you’re angry with me, doesn’t give you the right to take it out on Jean.”

  She shook off his hand. “Why would you think I’m angry with you?”

  “You basically accused me of impropriety.”

  “You were sleeping with the person instrumental in getting your company’s project approved.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Jean told you exactly what happened. There was nothing inappropriate about what either of us did.”

  “Would you admit it if there was?”

  He frowned. The light turned green and the crowd surged forward across six lanes of gridlocked traffic.

  Angie nodded and stepped off the curb. “I didn’t think so. And anyway, the perception of impropriety can be just as bad.”

  “Oh, that’s rich, coming from you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “This thing you have with Fitzpatrick,” he said. “You want to talk propriety? How appropriate was it for an associate to have an affair with a senior partner?”

  She glanced around to see if anyone was paying attention, then lowered her voice. “You know nothing about it.”

  “I know enough. What did you call the time you spent in bed with him? Billable hours?”

  The words hit her like a two-by-four to the solar plexus. She stopped, unable to even formulate a coherent response.

  A car horn blasted nearby, and Zach pulled her out of the way, onto the sidewalk. He didn’t let go until they were standing beneath the overhang of a nearby building. There, he faced her, his body providing a buffer against the stream of pedestrians that continued to flow past.

  “You had to have known what it would look like,” he said.

  She stared at his chest. “What happened then has no bearing on this case.”

  He leaned in, bracing a palm against the brick wall behind her. “Are you still sleeping with him?”

  “None of your business.”

  “What if I want to make it my business?”

  Her eyes flew to his. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Try me.”

  Her breath seized beneath the dark intensity of his gaze. “Zach…”

  “How can you not see that the man is bad news?”

  She blinked and forced her frozen limbs to move. Hadn’t they circled this same territory by phone, less than a month ago? What was Zach trying to accomplish by bringing it up again?

  Her shoulder brushed his chest as she ducked beneath his arm and out onto the sidewalk. She’d gone less than a dozen steps before she felt his presence behind her.

  “For God’s sake,” he said, catching up. “The man cheated on you.”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “Why are you still defending him?”

  “Because he’s not the guilty party here.”

  “Then who is?”

  She frowned. “Fine. You’ve made your point. You didn’t behave inappropriately, even if a judge might perceive it that way.”

  “You’re not still planning to use that tactic, are you?”

  She nearly smiled at his aggrieved tone. “Don’t worry. I’ve got plenty more in reserve.”

  He continued at her side in silence as they crossed a side street and veered toward the heart of Westwood Village.

  Eventually, when he showed no signs of turning around, Angie glanced at him. “I thought you said your car was back there.”

  “It is. But this time of day, it’ll take me forever to get home.”

  “Really?” She realized she had no clue where he lived. Odd, when she knew so much about him that was way more personal. “Where’s home?”

  “Marina Del Rey. On the water.”

  That sounded vaguely familiar. “Didn’t S&L build some luxury condos there a while back?”

  “Yep. Our first big development. I got a good deal on a penthouse suite.”

  Angie rolled her eyes. Figured.

  “Don’t knock it till you see it,” he said. “Ten foot ceilings, a wall of glass overlooking the ocean. I can lie in bed and see the sun set over the water.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  He shot her an assessing glance. “You don’t have to take my word for it. Come over, experience it for yourself.”

  She couldn’t tell if he was seriously hitting on her or just trying to throw her off balance.

  Time to shift the conversation back to safer ground. Before she forgot why mingling their personal lives was a bad idea, and did something really stupid, like take him up on his offer.

  She said the first thing that popped into her head. “Why did you and Jeannine break up?”

  The slight hitch in his stride was the only sign that he’d heard the question. Seconds dragged into minutes. Just when she thought he wouldn’t answer, Zach said, “She wanted to get married.”

  “To you? After six months?”

  “You’re hell on a man’s ego, Angel.”

  “But…seriously. Six months?”

  “I’m not saying she wanted to get married immediately. But yes, marriage was the ultimate goal.” He narrowed his eyes at Angie’s continued disbelief. “I’m not exactly poor, and I still have all my own hair and teeth.”

  “Okay.” She wasn’t disputing that he was attractive. Hell, she was the last person to blame a woman for wanting to jump his bones. But marriage? Didn’t that imply at least the possibility of long-term fidelity?

  “I don’t do marriage,” he said.

  “So you dumped her.”

  “No, I didn’t dump her.”

  “She dumped you?”

  Zach sighed. “We discussed it like two civilized adults, and then made a mutual decision to part ways.”

  They walked in silence for another block before Angie asked, “Do you regret it?”

  He shrugged. “She’s a good person.”

  That didn’t answer the question. “Would you have stayed together if she’d agreed to your no-marriage stance?”

  He hesitated. “Probably not.”

  Angie started to breathe again. Tomorrow,
in the light of day, she might regret asking. But tonight, seduced by an intimacy she’d never before felt with him, and lulled by the cover of gathering darkness, she said, “Why not?”

  “Unrequited love isn’t the best basis for a long-term relationship.”

  Angie frowned. Unrequited love? Why would Jeannine want to marry him if she didn’t love him? It made no sense. Unless…

  Oh. Her sense of relief was completely out of proportion to the realization. He wasn’t in love with Jeannine.

  “What about you and Fitzpatrick?” Zach said.

  “What?”

  “Do you love him?”

  At one time she’d thought so. But then life had gotten hectic, and whatever she might have felt for Quinn proved unequal to the pressures of work, time, and distance. In the end, they had both moved on too easily.

  “We broke up a few months after I left the firm.”

  “But you still see him,” Zach said.

  She slowed as they approached her building. “And you still see Jeannine.”

  He didn’t contradict her.

  She stopped at the outer gate and punched in the security code. Zach followed her into the courtyard, and up the stairs to her unit. She dug in her bag for the keys. “Thanks for walking me home.”

  The dim light from the wall sconce outside her door cast his face into shadow. “You aren’t going to invite me in?”

  Her pulse leapt. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “You sure?” His breath brushed her temple as he leaned down.

  “Zach…”

  His lips were warm, softer than she expected. Teasing, tempting, like the first taste of chocolate after months of dieting. Her lashes drifted down. She sighed, and he took advantage of the moment by slipping his tongue inside.

  Heat blossomed in her core, spreading out to her chest and limbs, until everything was tingling. He pressed closer. Her balance wavered, and she clutched at the lapel of his jacket with her free hand.

  Something dropped, and pain exploded in her foot, jarring her out of her sensual haze.

  Her eyes flew open and she jerked back, knocking into the door jamb.

  His palm cradled the back of her head and she flinched. “Angel?”

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. She bit her lip. It was swollen from the kiss. She could still taste him, still feel the hammering of his heart beneath her hand.