Family Secrets: Books 5-8

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Family Secrets: Books 5-8 Page 26

by Virginia Kantra


  Eric.

  Shed imagined this moment countless times, had wondered what it would be like to see him, to feel the energy that rushed through her when he so much as entered the room. But nothing had prepared her for this. Nothing could possibly have prepared her to see him standing in the muted lighting of the reception area, looking at her through the eyes of the boy shed once loved, but wearing the professional clothing of a man she did not know.

  Every hot, shattered, humiliated emotion came cascading back, hard, fast and broken. But in the years that stood between them, the naive girl shed been had grown up. Lessons hadnt come easily, but shed learned, and standing there in the posh lobby of Brightman and Associates with her heart thudding painfully, Leigh refused to let one sliver of emotion seep through.

  Eric, she forced herself to say, breaking the uneasy silence. This is quite a surprise.

  He smiled slightly, just enough to reveal the dimple to the side of his mouth that had once made her heart thrum.

  Its been a long time, he said simply.

  Nowhere near long enough.

  The years had been kind to him, hardening the lines of his face and the intensity of his eyes, but preserving that thick hair that used to fall roguishly into his face during the economics class hed taught on Tuesday and Thursday mornings. For a fleeting moment she was an undergrad again, sitting in the front row and trying to pay attention to his lecture, but instead fantasizing about what it would feel like to brush those unruly locks back from his forehead.

  But that girl was gone now, all grown up.

  And the grad student was a man with the power to shatter her world.

  Shaking off the past, Leigh set her coffee on Juless desk, then stuck out her hand. She was an attorney skilled at taking on prosecutors and judges. One man, the memory of one night, could not reduce her to a naive, love-struck college girl.

  I didnt know you were in town, she said in her best professional voice, the one that allowed a trace of her eight years in England to seep through.

  Eric stared at her outstretched hand, the line of his mouth turning hard. Everything happened so fast then, she didnt have time to prepare herself. Didnt have time to move.

  Christ, Leigh, he muttered, but rather than accepting her gesture, he crushed her in his arms.

  Shock streamed through her, ten years of heartbreak warring with an age-old longing. She was a seasoned attorneya barracuda the English press had called hera woman who didnt back down from cutthroat prosecutors or crusty judges. Shed learned to stand her ground, fight tooth and nail for her clients. But standing in Eric Joness embrace, for a painful moment she felt small and vulnerable, fragile in a way she hadnt been in years. She could hear his heart beating, smell the masculine scent of sandalwood and clove that had never stopped haunting her.

  The temptation to put her arms around him and hold him, just hold him, pierced like a physical pain.

  Its damn good to see you, he said against her hair, which shed pulled back into a sleek silver barrette, in deference to the heat.

  The words washed through her and around her, stripped away the years between them. But more than time separated them, Leigh reminded herself. Secrets and truths and lies all had their places as well. She was no longer the bright-eyed Pollyanna whod once sat star-struck in this mans economics class. Shed learned to push forward despite adversity, separate truth from fantasy, protect herself from the ugliness she frequently encountered as a defense attorney. But more than anything, shed learned to ignore the longing deep inside, the dangerous yearning to close her eyes and savor the feel of Erics arms around her, to believe she and Eric Jones could ever get past one desperate, snowy night.

  Suddenly unable to breathe, she struggled from his arms and stepped back. She could barely look at him, much less touch him without remembering that night a lifetime ago.

  Or the morning after.

  Look, she said as levelly as she could, I know its been a long time, but now isnt a good time. My morning is full and

  His expression hardened. Dont, Leigh.

  Dont what? Temper spiked. Hed been out of her life for ten years. He didnt have the right to stroll back in and expect her to drop everything for him. If youd like to schedule time next Monday or Tuesday, Julia will be glad to help.

  He stepped closer, lowered his voice. Dont shut me out.

  Shut you out? she asked incredulously. Its been ten years, Eric. Ten years without one word.

  Of course, she hadnt tried to contact him, either. But then, she hadnt wanted to know. Hadnt wanted to hear about the house he and his wife Becky had bought, the family they were starting.

  I know, he said in a voice unusually thick. And Im sorry. But I cant change any of that. Not now.

  Neither of them could. Every decision carried a consequence, and consequences had to be lived with. Look, Ive got to get on with my morning. She had to breathe, figure out what to say to this man, what to keep to herself. Maybe we can get together sometime next week?

  A week wouldnt be long enough, but it would give her a few days to prepare. And decide.

  His eyes darkened. Next week is too late. I need you now.

  The breath jammed in Leighs throat, trapped by a sudden rush of alarm. It took effort, but she kept her expression unreadable while the impact of that simple statement wove through her with relentless disregard for the years between them. Her heart thrummed hard. Thoughts fractured.

  She could only stare at Eric, try to understand the quiet ferocity blazing in his gaze.

  The same ferocity shed seen that desperate, snowy night ten years before.

  The ferocity that still had the power to twist her up inside, make her ache in ways shed thought long behind her.

  Abruptly, she glanced at a clearly fascinated Julia. Well be in the conference room, she said, leveling the receptionist with her best dont-ask glare. No way was she escorting Eric Jones into her office, her personal space, where hed learn truths she wasnt remotely ready to discuss.

  With a calmness she didnt begin to feel, she motioned for Eric to follow her, then walked briskly down the plush carpet of the hallway, thankful the upholstered walls absorbed sound, even the hammering of her heart.

  At the massive mahogany door, she didnt break stride, just depressed the handle and breezed inside. A long, gleaming table dominated the center of the room, with floor-to-ceiling bookcases occupying two walls. The third wall featured a credenza with a delicate demitasse coffee service below a window boasting a breathtaking view of Lake Michigan.

  Needing a moment, she crossed the room and stared over the choppy blue water. In the distance a score of brightly colored sailboats moved lazily, almost imperceptibly, against an impossibly blue horizon. Come the weekend, that number would multiply.

  How long have you been back? came Erics voice from behind her.

  Leigh tensed. Two years, she said, turning to face him. London was wonderful, but Chicago is home.

  Erics mouth curved in that easy, relaxed manner she remembered too well. I know what you mean. Ive been back six months. Bought a place in Lincoln Park.

  Questions jumbled through her, but she refused to give them voice. Their answers didnt matter. How well Erics wife, Becky, was adjusting
to big-city life had no relevance to Leigh. Im up in Lake Forest.

  Surprise registered in his gaze. The burbs? I always pictured you as a high-rise girl.

  Im not a girl anymore, she said automatically, but when his gaze heated and skimmed down her tailored taupe pantsuit, lingering on her chest before returning to her face, she realized her mistake. The burbs suit me just fine.

  You look good, he said quietly. He stood several feet away, but the heat of his stare singed clear down to her bone.

  She refused to step back, wasnt about to trap herself between his body and the window. Im happy.

  It shows, he said, then closed the distance between them. How about this heat? he asked, looking out over the lake.

  And Leigh couldnt take it. She couldnt just stand there and make small talk with Eric Jones. Just looking at the man twisted her up inside. He stood so close now she could feel the warmth of his body merging with the warmth from the window, both of which made her long to take off her fitted jacket and unbutton her blouse a bit further.

  Look, Eric, I know what youre trying to do, but lets not, okay? Lets not stand here and make small talk like were old friends catching up on where life has taken us.

  He turned to face her. Arent we old friends?

  No. Absolutely not. Old friends kept in touch over the years, exchanged Christmas cards, e-mails and an occasional phone call. Old friends conjured images of warmth and security, not this crazy jumble of emotions jostling around inside Leigh. Not this uncharacteristic vulnerability.

  You know what I mean, she said vaguely.

  The disappointment in his gaze said that he did. Jake told me youve made quite a name for yourself as a defense attorney on both sides of the pond.

  Her smile was automatic. How is Jake? she asked, trying to recall the last time theyd spoken. It had been in April, shortly after hed been tapped to investigate the World Bank heist. I havent seen him in ages, except in the newspapers.

  Have you been following the investigation?

  Frustration tightened through her. She really didnt know how to make idle chatter with Eric Jones. The last time shed looked the man in the eye, shed been standing cold and naked in one of his sheets. The last time shed seen him, hed been standing somberly between his mother and his fiance, with his back to Leigh. Hed never even known she was there.

  Kind of hard not to, she said, glancing at her watch. Jakes really waded into a mess this time.

  Hes not the only one.

  There was an odd note to Erics voice, a gravity that had not been there before. And deep inside, the tickle of discomfort intensified. The instincts of an attorney kicked hard. Has something happened? Is that why youre here?

  Eric swore softly. Theres no easy way to say this, he muttered, shoving a hand through his hair.

  And only then did Leigh note that a gold band did not circle his ring finger. There wasnt even a slight discoloration, hinting at skin that hadnt seen the sun in awhile. His hand was just as square and strong and tanned as always.

  Eric?

  Jake came to see me yesterday, he bit out. The feds have closed in on a suspect, are preparing for an arrest.

  Its about time, Leigh said. Whoever this Achilles bastard is, he deserves to rot in jail for the rest of his life.

  Something hot flashed in his eyes. They think hes me.

  Leigh stood very still, completely sure shed somehow misunderstood him. What?

  The feds think Im Achilles, he told her in a voice stripped of all the warmth of only minutes before. The words came out hard, angry. Jake came to warn me, said the lead agentVenturi, I think his name isis convinced Im their man.

  Disbelief robbed Leigh of breath, merged with horror. The shock of seeing Eric fractured into something far worse. Since April the press had been full of stories about the far-reaching consequences of the ambitious crime, the fate awaiting the culprit, who, the FBI vowed, would be found and brought swiftly to justice. Careers in the upper echelons of the government lay on the line. An arrest needed to be made soon, or heads would roll.

  But not Eric. Dear God, not Eric.

  Thats ridiculous, she said through the tightness in her throat.

  You know that, he bit out, shoving his hands into the pockets of his gray trousers. I know that and Jake knows that, but the FBI thinks otherwise. He paused, searched her gaze. Thats why Im here.

  I need you

  No, he didnt. Not her.

  She turned from him, from the intimacy of the deep, eye-to-eye contact, and glanced out the window, not at the lake that made her think of dreams and fantasies, but at the congested snarl of cars and taxis and buses fifty-seven stories below.

  Eric Jones needed an attorney, and while she couldnt fulfill that role for him, she was safer operating in that mode, than in the mode of a woman facing the man shed once loved with all her heart, the man whod apologized for the night theyd made love, then encouraged her to move to Oxford as he calmly announced he was going through with his plans to marry his high-school, middle-school, grade-school sweetheart.

  The man who no longer wore a wedding ring, but whom the feds had set in their sights.

  Try not to worry, she said. Ive worked on cases involving the FBI before, and if theres one thing Ive learned, its that they dont play footsie. They played to win. If an arrest is made, its only because they have ironclad evidence. Even the best defense barely stood a chance against the FBI, not when the resources of the entire government had been brought to bear to make sure the guilty party was arrested. Federal prosecutors rarely lost cases, hated to be made fools of.

  They may be sniffing around, she said, looking back at him with a reassuring smile, but Im sure theyll realize theyve got the wrong man and move on.

  The lines of tension on Erics face lessened. I want to believe that, but its not a chance I can take. I have to be prepared. I need to know that if the worst comes to pass, youll be there for me. I need to know youll be my attorney.

  The breath whooshed right out of Leigh. Im afraid thats impossible, she said. She could barely look at him without remembering the feel of his mouth on hers, their bodies moving together, the devastation of his casual dismissal. She could not be the one he turned to in his time of need, not with the history and heartbreak and secrets standing between them. She couldnt imagine a more surefire prescription for disaster.

  Surprise and disappointment flashed hard in the deep blue of his eyes. Is this because of what happened the night my dad died? Is that why youre not willing to help?

  The room started to spin. She was not letting him do this to her, not letting him drag her back ten years in time. It took more than memories to break her.

  Im too personally involved, she explained in her best professional voice, but almost choked on the understatement. The best I can do is find someone else to help.

  His gaze held hers. No, he said quietly. I need you.

  The intensity in his eyes sent her reeling. Eric

  You know me, he rolled on. You are personally involved. How can that be a bad thing?

  Because she couldnt think straight around him. She could barely breathe.

 
Its not as simple as that, she explained. You need to trust me on this one. Youll be better off with someone else.

  Fleetingly, she glanced at his bare ring finger, then back to his face. Only moments before a hot blue fire had burned in his eyes, but they were flat now, completely detached.

  Apparently so, he said in a harsh voice. I can see Ive wasted your time.

  Eric, please understand

  I understand, he bit out. I understand perfectly.

  That said, he turned and strode across the conference room, pulled open the massive door, then vanished into the hallway.

  Leigh watched him go, felt her chest tighten all over again. Once upon a time Eric Jones had filled every corner of her young heart. There hadnt been a thing in the world she wouldnt have done for him. Shed known his devotion lay elsewhere and that he would never return her feelings, but that hadnt lessened her desire to have him in her life. Their time together had seemed magical, even when theyd done something mundane like debate economic theory. And his smiles. Dear God, when hed give her one of those warm, endearing smiles, everything inside had turned soft and warm.

  One night had changed everything.

  They could never go back, Leigh knew. Maybe she and Eric would share some kind of acquaintance in the future, but it would never be the easy, uncomplicated camaraderie theyd once enjoyed. That time was over. Those people were gone. Life had taken them down radically different paths, and even if they were both in Chicago, proximity could not take away what stood between them.

  Nothing could.

  He wouldnt be arrested, she told herself as she left the conference room. He didnt need her. The FBI was just rattling cages. Soon they would move to their next target, and life would resume its normal cadence, as though the past thirty minutes had never happened.

  But as she stepped into her cool, spacious office and saw the 8x10 mahogany frame seated on her credenza, the mischievous blue eyes, gap-toothed grin and irrepressible dimple staring back at her, she recognized the thoughtthe fleeting fantasyfor the impossible lie it was.

 

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