Jay questioned.
As Jay had assumed, the unexpected and unwanted visit from his uncle took a minute to absorb. Carter considered himself adaptable, but Uncle Max was the self ordained patriarch of Carter’s family and a first class son-of-a-bitch if there ever was one.
Jay managed to divert Max until Carter figured out why Max had sought him out.
Carter and Jay worked franticly, searching Carter’s cases with Max’s colleagues and friends. Sure enough, a son of a diplomat was due to appear in Carter’s court within the week. Prepared for the suggestion from his uncle, Carter met him for drinks that night at the hotel where his uncle was staying. There was small talk. A few, “How is the family doing?” questions, and then Max proceeded to try to bend Carter’s decision to Max’s will. Max smoothed the collar of his perfectly tailored suit jacket along his chest. The man was fit, barely carrying an extra pound around his belly, but the years in office were catching up with him. Streaks of gray peppered his brown hair. He was blessed with good looks and charisma, the two things money couldn’t buy in politics.
“I understand one of the Prescott boys is going to be in your court next week. Some kind of domestic issue.”
“Is that so?” Carter lifted his drink to his lips, completely prepared for what was coming next.
“Kids make mistakes.”
Not this one. Joe Prescott II was one spoiled bastard who had managed to escape justice for every misdeed he’d been guilty of since his teens. At twenty-three, the rape and physical evidence the prosecution had on Joe’s crimes should wipe the perpetual smirk of the kid’s face for a long time. Although Carter had yet to hear the case, the eyewitness testimony and physical evidence was apparently ironclad.
The evidence was what every cop wanted, and what every lawyer loved. As a judge, it made his job easy.
Joe had waved a jury trial in hopes of bribing the judge.
Carter hoped the police didn’t screw something up, and testimony or evidence wouldn’t have to be thrown out. Shitheads like Joe and his political friends needed to understand that some judges didn’t sell out. No matter who asked.
“Baseballs breaking windows are accidents. Tying defenseless women up and assaulting them…not so much.”
Max took of a swig of his drink. “The girl is unreliable. From a bad family.”
“That makes it okay?”
“Don’t be stupid. Prescott is a good kid. He’s changed.”
Carter sat back in his chair and watched the unease from his Uncle. He couldn’t help but smile and enjoy his moment of uncertainty.
“Prescott gives everyone with a ‘Y’ chromosome a bad name.”
Max’s glass hit the counter with a thud. “The case needs to go away.”
“To protect your political dollars?”
“Make it happen.”
The last thing Carter wanted was more politicians like his uncle running the country. Knowing his Uncle Max like he did, Carter said little more about the case and was determined to do all he could to send Joe to jail.
Less than a week later, Joe Prescott II was found guilty beyond reasonable doubt and had his own escort to the state penitentiary where he should have had plenty of time to contemplate his misguided life.
Should have.
Max never spoke of the trial, never spoke of the case. However, after only fifteen months in prison, an executive pardon exempted everything Joe Prescott did and set him free.
Carter was livid. He knew what happened. He knew the ties Uncle Max had pulled to set the kid free.
“Well? Is it Eliza?”
Jay’s question snapped Carter out of his past memories and to the present.
“Why would you ask that?”
“She’s beautiful. An easy distraction.”
That she was. Even though Carter trusted Jay, he wouldn’t reveal any of his true concerns when it came to Eliza. “I had a life before I decided to run for Governor.”
Jay tossed his head back and laughed. “No, you didn’t. I was there, remember?”
“Just because it wasn’t displayed for your eyes, doesn’t mean it wasn’t there.”
“Don’t give me that crap. Dating and an occasional toss don’t constitute a love life. And outside of your job you didn’t do squat. You’ve made this job a cake walk up until that stunt in the cowboy parking lot.”
The cowboy parking lot had mucked up his momentum and helped his rivals take the lead. If only Eliza would agree to marry him. Then he could keep an eye on her and make the good citizens of California see that he was the right person for the job.
“Is this distraction of yours going to keep you from the luncheon in Chicago tomorrow?
“No.” Lunch in Chicago to raise funds tomorrow, San Francisco the next night. How in the world was he supposed to snag a wife—no make that...snag Eliza—when he was jet-setting all over the country?
And what if someone was watching her?
What if the dirt-bag responsible for her parents’ deaths wanted to speed up Eliza’s date with death? A familiar burn in his stomach started to warm his insides. “Remind me again…who are Montgomery’s supporters?”
While Jay rattled off the Governor of Illinois’s allies in congress, Carter did his best to not think of Eliza and the four legged furry friend protecting her when Carter couldn’t be by her side.
****
“For a police dog…” Eliza waved three inch high heel at Zod while she yelled. “You sure have a thing or two to learn about manners!”
Zod tilted his head to the side and continued to pant. Not an ounce of guilt marred the dog’s expression.
Eliza eyed the puncture marks in the heel and felt her blood pressure soar all over again. She had a half a mind to send Jim and Dean a bill.
The front door to her home opened and a calm female voice announced the breach into the interior of the home as if it were a flight arriving on time at O’Hare. Front door! Equally annoying was the back sliding door opening, or a window being opened. Only when the system was armed would an actual alarm blaze a siren that would wake the neighborhood.
It was overkill. All of it. “Bad dog,” Eliza scolded one last time before dumping the shoe on the counter.
Gwen sailed into the kitchen with a garment bag in her arms. “I thought I heard you in here.” Gwen wore the perfect smile, under the perfect nose, without one hair out of place. Eliza was sure that the girls Gwen had gone to school with probably hated her for her perfection.
“I’m telling Cujo here to lay off the shoes.”
Gwen set her bag down and wagged a finger in Zod’s direction. “Are you misbehaving?”
Zod’s tongue rolled out of his mouth as his big brown eyes glanced between the two of them.
“I’ll give the dog points for taste. He only eats expensive. My guess is his original owner was a man.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He hasn’t touched my running shoes.”
“Perhaps he needs more exercise,” Gwen said. “Our dogs back home run the grounds of Albany and seldom sit inside.”
Albany was Gwen’s family estate. Eliza had been there on occasion to celebrate with Blake and Samantha. Gwen’s idea of a yard was hundreds of acres of land. Eliza’s postage stamp back yard didn’t compare.
“I’m still not sure why you’d want to live here and not the virtual palace you grew up in.” Eliza picked up the ruined shoe and plunked it in the trash.
Zod stared. It was as if the dog knew he could take you out and didn’t give a rat’s rear end that he messed with your stuff.
“There is more to life than a big home.”
“Big homes don’t suck.” Eliza loved Samantha’s Malibu estate. The views, the pool. The kitchen was even tempting although Eliza’s idea of cooking consisted of a microwave and a toaster oven. She always said that if she had a “cook’s kitchen” she’d learn how to bake a pie.
“I’ve had luxuries my entire life, and though I appreciated them, I know I took them for granted.
For once I’d like to earn my own way.”
Eliza laughed. “You haven’t lived until you’ve eaten dehydrated noodle soup for lunch and dinner.”
A look of horror passed over Gwen’s face. “That sounds ghastly.”
“Be careful what you wish for, Gwen. I’ve had next to nothing, and it’s less than fun. I can see how earning your own way might sound enlightening to you. For the rest of us, it’s old fashion hard work.”
“I’m not afraid of hard work,” Gwen defended herself.
“I’m happy to hear that. We have a mixer we’re attending tonight. Fancy ordeal at The Royal Suites in Beverly Hills. Very upscale. The kind of thing you should fit in quite well with.”
Gwen flashed a smile and lifted her chin. “I’ll be eager to learn what you and Samantha do.”
Eliza heard a muffled sound behind her and noticed Zod inching toward the back door and another pair of forgotten heels.
She yelled at the dog to stop in German, and then picked up her shoes.
“I find it hard to believe that Zod will ignore beef, but eat shoes.”
“We might not want to tell anyone his weakness, or we might find a shoe salesmen ransacking the house.”
Chapter Twelve
The mixer was black tie and formal gowns, the kind of affair Eliza endured but didn’t love.
The fake smiles and meaningless endearments rolled off the tongues of the attendees like cheap lines at a beer bar. “Nice to see you again… Don’t you look lovely… What a smashing gown…”
Who in the real world used a word like smashing?
Uptight, rich yuppies who managed to invest their trust funds and make money, that’s who.
The first time Samantha had brought Eliza to one of these functions to work the room, prospecting for clients and the women willing to marry them, Eliza nearly tripped on her formal gown. Back then, she couldn’t talk current affairs of the rich and connected. Gwen however was a natural. A daughter of a duke who understood the rich better than Eliza ever would, Gwen veered away from Eliza as soon as they left their coats with the doorman.
Eliza kept a glass of wine in her hands and managed one sip. She didn’t drink at these functions, but always kept a glass in her hand. A salesman might try to work the room as an outsider, she didn’t play that way. She tried obtaining the trust of her clients by acting as one of them.
Thus far, her strategy had worked.
No one guessed she had a compact nine-millimeter strapped to her thigh. At affairs like this one, a purse would be cumbersome and leaving a firearm unattended was never smart. There had been many events in the past year where she left her gun at home. Thanks to Dean and Jim, she didn’t feel as if she could do that, anymore.
Even now, she felt the heavy weight of someone’s stare and turned around to see if anyone watched her.
She was about to give up on her search when her gaze landed on the broad shoulders of a familiar frame.
Over the rim of his glass, Carter caught her gaze and sent her a wink.
What is he doing here?
Warmth spread in her stomach and traveled south. His dominating presence and charismatic smile snagged more than one attractive woman’s attention as they walked by. The suit had a tailored fit that made department store suits appear rumpled and old.
Though most of the men wore bow ties, Carter kept it simple with navy blue. Very patriotic.
Carter went back to talking with the group he was standing with before he shook one man’s hand and started walking toward her.
Several eyes followed him as he made his way to her side.
Once there, he leaned down and kissed her cheek as if it were a normal greeting for them both. “Sorry I’m late,” he said a little louder than Eliza expected.
“Late?” she whispered. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Really?” He removed a glass of wine from a passing waiter’s tray as he spoke. “I’m sure I mentioned it last night.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.”
“Must have slipped my mind.”
Sure it did. Eliza sipped her wine, not meaning to, and watched Carter wave to a guest across the room. What was he up to?
“Aren’t you flying out of town tomorrow?”
“First thing in the morning.”
“How many hours sleep did you manage last night?” He appeared more rested than the previous night, but not by much.
“A few.”
“A few? You’re going to get sick if you keep this up.”
Carter lifted his eyebrows and flashed his Hollywood smile. “Is that concern in your voice?”
Was it?
“No…yes.”
Amusement passed his lips.
“Oh, stop. Of course I’m concerned. Illness spreads and we do run in the same circles.” Her excuse was lame, but it would have to do. Instead of waiting for Carter to laugh in her face, she attempted to turn away.
He managed to capture her around her waist and slid his hand to the small of her back. “C’mon, I have some people I want you to meet.”
“I’m here for work,” she said as he directed her across the room.
“So am I.”
Walking away would have made a scene, so Eliza kept to his side and ignored the comfortable position of Carter’s fingers pressing against the small of her back. When they arrived at a gathering of men drinking and laughing, Carter’s hand didn’t move. In fact, he moved even farther into Eliza’s personal space.
“Gentlemen,” Carter interrupted the conversation. “I’d like you to meet a friend of mine. Eliza Havens, this is…” Carter rolled of several names, all of which she should have remembered but promptly forgot.
Carter proudly stated that Eliza was part of a firm titled under acquisitions and mergers. He didn’t elaborate on any details and derailed any personal questions about the two of them. The men were polite and appeared enamored by anything Carter had to say. Very little politics were discussed and most of it only scratched the surface of the current events plaguing the state. Carter told the others that they were attempting to enjoy a night off without deep debate. Of course, if the men wanted to join him at a campaign function there was one planned at the end of the month to help raise funds. He’d talk politics in depth at that time.
As the conversation dried up, Carter moved Eliza to another set of people and repeated his introductions.
Within half an hour, her drink was gone and another one was in her hand.
Carter’s palm sat firmly on her back with his fingers often squeezing her side when one of the men in the group let his eyes linger on her cleavage for more than a second.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Gwen working the room. Something she really should be doing.
Instead of letting Carter’s nearness distract her, Eliza attempted to remember the names and marital status of the people Carter was introducing her.
Stenberg, a lawyer, probably in his sixties. He lifted his drink to his lips and Eliza saw the gold band.
Next.
McKinney, an investor of some sort. No ring. Had to be in his seventies. “Mr. McKinney was it?”
“That’s right.” He had a slight Irish lit to his voice.
“Is your wife here, or does she stay away from these affairs?”
Carter nudged her side, and she nudged him back.
“No wife I’m afraid.”
Carter kept the conversation light. “McKinney and I are the bachelors on the block.”
Stenberg sighed. “McKinney might not have a stunning woman on his arm like you, Billings, but that doesn’t make him a bachelor.”
McKinney tossed his head back and laughed. “My last divorce wasn’t my doing. No matter how the media painted it.”
“The media does have a way of mucking things up, don’t they?” Eliza asked while making a mental note to keep McKinney on her Alliance radar.
From that encounter on, Carter attempted to stop Eliza from probing the personal life
of the guests by asking about a man’s wife or a woman’s husband. The ones where he didn’t mention a significant other gave Eliza the information she needed.
Eliza placed her empty glass on a tray and shook her head.
Carter excused them and led her toward a lighted doorway to the outside patio.
“Where are we going?”
“You look like you need some air.”
She did. The fact that he noticed made her heart skip an extra beat.
The air outside was still warm with a slight breeze coming in from the east. “Feels like a Santa Ana setting in.”
“As long as it doesn’t produce any fires.”
Summer, wind, and fires were a constant in Southern California. More than earthquakes.
“I think we’ll be okay.”
Carter stopped by the edge of a pole and reluctantly let his arm drop to his side. “You’re a natural in there. Do you and Samantha come to these things a lot?”
“Samantha used to do this all the time. Before Blake. I’ve been solo for most of the last two years. With Gwen coming on, it should ease up the number of these that I’ll have to attend.”
“Does it work? I mean, do you just ask if the men are single and ask if they’re interested in a dating service?”
“I’m much more subtle. Most of our clients are referrals. But it doesn’t hurt to mingle and find new ones.”
“I guess it’s not very different from getting set up in college.”
“Only our clients all have something to offer and something to gain.”
Carter thought about how Samantha and Blake’s marriage started out as an arrangement and ended up with a happily ever after.
He glanced and caught Eliza watching him.
“What?”
“Why are you really here, Carter? And don’t tell me it’s to work. You haven’t talked politics all evening.”
He stepped away from the pillar he was leaning against and took a step closer to her. “You’re right. I’m not here for my quest for office.”
Instinct told her to move back, but she kept her feet planted in place.
“Why then?”
“For you. I knew if I’d asked to join you tonight you probably would have said no.”
Married by Monday (Weekday Brides) Page 11