by Jo Leigh
“Finally,” Harlow said, her hair magically transformed from pale wheat blond to an astonishingly gorgeous rose gold that made her look like a princess in her sea green dress, tight on top and frilly on the bottom. “Some friend you are, keeping us all in suspense.”
“Where’s that hottie?” Jade asked. “Although I prefer the fabulous and scruffy Wyatt.”
Harlow’s hand went up when she practically shouted, “Team gorgeous suit.”
That made Cricket smile, at least. “He’s no one. Someone from work. With news that I don’t want to even think about let alone talk about. Is Ginny at the bar? I need liquor.”
Jade shook her head. “She can’t come. Something’s up with Tilda. She didn’t get too specific, but she sounded upset.”
“Oh, no.”
“She said she’d talk to us tomorrow.”
Cricket frowned. It probably had something to do with their discussion. She’d text her soon, see if she needed anything. “Well, where’s the nearest bar?”
“I’ll go,” Jade said. “Harlow went last time. What do you want?”
Cricket didn’t hesitate. “A double Scotch. Neat.”
“Whoa, that must’ve been some really bad news.” Jade walked behind her and gave her shoulder a squeeze. She also looked beautiful in her elegant blue sheath dress. “Hang tough. We’ll keep you in Scotch for as long as you want.”
“No, I need you guys to make sure I don’t get sloppy. Two is my max. Seriously.”
“Fine. But we’ll keep my Sea Breezes coming. Don’t say anything interesting while I’m gone.”
Jade kept walking, and Cricket glanced around the room. Everyone seemed to be having a good time already. That could’ve included her had she come with Wyatt. At the thought, a wave of sadness washed over her. Dammit. She probably shouldn’t have come. But she was made of tough stuff, so she put on a smile and sank onto her seat.
Looking over at the bar where Jade was in line, Cricket knew it would be a while until she came back, especially since she was talking to a tall, good-looking guy. “Wait, is that Fletcher?”
Harlow followed her gaze. “Yep. Odds are, he’ll help her with the drinks, then come and join us. You know anything about him now?”
Cricket shook her head. “We all have to get together tomorrow for brunch, or, I don’t know, something.”
Harlow moved over to sit next to her. “Hey, you don’t look so hot. Oh, wait. I mean, you look, wow. That dress is stunning. But something’s off.”
“I’m fine. Really,” she said, catching sight of Lindsey McCarron, an old nemesis of Harlow’s. That made steering the conversation away from Cricket a piece of cake.
In one second flat Harlow was off and running about “the prissy rich girl with a stick up her butt.” Hard to believe it had been fifteen years since they’d graduated. A familiar face, a vague memory, it didn’t take much to hurl them back through time.
When Cricket noticed the servers bringing out trays of food, she was actually hungry.
Jade and Fletcher joined them carrying all the drinks, but they had to wait until the salads were served.
Fletcher, who’d grown into a real hunk, knew everyone so there was lots of chitchat, while Cricket nibbled on her salad and watched her tough-as-nails friend get dreamy-eyed. Yep, there was something going on, and she wondered if it would continue beyond the reunion. Probably not. The real world was rarely so tidy.
Damn Grant. She wished more than anything that she’d never started anything with him. She knew better than to mix work with sex. God, she was thirty-two years old, not some stupid little girl.
Between the salad course and the entrée, a choice of prime rib or a tuna steak, one of the guys who’d been flirting with Harlow joined them. Cricket had been told his name, but it didn’t stick. He wasn’t someone she’d known from school.
A good-looking man stopped to chat up Cricket, claiming he knew her from a biology class. She didn’t remember him, though she could’ve been a little nicer about blowing him off.
Honestly, she didn’t think her mood could get any darker. But she waited. Long enough to push her food around her plate so it looked as if she’d made a dent, and then waited for the plates to be cleared. Somehow, when she was included in the conversation, she was able to respond appropriately, although it wasn’t easy.
It was past time to make her exit. Instead of just vanishing, she waited until Fletcher and the other mystery man left to get more drinks, causing a natural lull. If it had just been the girls, she would have stayed and milked her malaise for all she was worth. But she was glad they were all having a good time, which also made it easier for her to bow out. “You know what?” She put her napkin on the table and stood. “I’m really not able to enjoy this like I wanted to. I hope you understand it’s nothing personal, but I’m going to go back to my room. Just, if you guys decide to do brunch in the morning, or whatever, text me, okay? I don’t want to miss out.”
“No, Cricket.” Harlow was suddenly next to her, grabbing her hand. “Please don’t go. You’ll get drunk. We’ll all get drunk, and dance and have a great time shaming ourselves in front of the Waverly Hills gang. It’s our duty.”
“Thanks. But I’m just not in the right space for that. Also, get extra desserts for me and Ginny, then each of you have some. It’s crème brûlée, your favorite.”
After two heartening hugs, she left, just as the desserts were being served, and Nia Quail—the scourge of anyone who wasn’t rich, thin and willing to follow the leader—went onstage to the dais.
“Wait for us,” Jade called out as Cricket crossed to the door. “Don’t leave us with these people.”
Cricket couldn’t help laughing. Half the room could’ve heard Jade, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t changed a bit.
Out in the corridor, the quiet was an immediate relief. At least she’d showed up, and her friends kind of understood. On her way to the elevator, she texted Ginny for the second time to make sure she was okay, and let her know she could call if she needed anything. Then she rode up to her room, anxious to kick off the heels and get to bed, let sleep put an end to the awful day.
It was only nine by the time she got to her room. She went straight to the minibar, opened the little fridge and then closed it again. Dropped her shoes off in the closet, then went back to the fridge and got out a candy bar.
She almost tore into it, but it really wouldn’t make up for the crème brûlée, so she put it back. Even the liquor didn’t interest her.
All she could think about was how her life had spun out of control. After she settled on the comfy couch, she thought about getting up again and changing out of her dress. Instead, she turned on the TV. There was a Sandra Bullock movie on HBO, but that didn’t hold her interest for long.
Dammit, Grant was such a bastard. She should have known better. Although he’d never been a real contender for anything serious, nothing more than a guy to pass the time with. He hadn’t even been that great in bed, and besides, he spent longer than her in the bathroom. She’d never figured out what he did in there that took so long, although his skin was pretty smooth.
Had he really not known her well enough to think she’d be willing to do anything for the firm? It was just this kind of dilemma that made her forego criminal law. It was part of her job to keep contracts legal and binding, to warn her clients when other companies were trying to pull one over. She was great with the fine print. It was the reason Burbidge had noticed her in the first place. She didn’t miss a trick.
She turned off the TV. A bath called, but she’d just keep thinking, and that would ruin the whole experience. Since she rarely had trouble sleeping, she had no pills to help her out, and the thought of drinking to oblivion alone in a hotel room made her sadder than ever.
She could call Ronny. He wouldn’t be asleep yet. But then she’d have to explain about work, a
nd she didn’t want him worrying about—oh. God, she was dense.
Wyatt.
For heaven’s sake, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t been lingering in the back of her mind all evening. In spite of Grant and all his bullshit.
Oh yeah, Wyatt was just the man she wanted to see. He was the perfect distraction. Sexy, rugged, mysterious—a cocktail she was more than ready to indulge in.
Besides, she had a legit rain check.
Before she could change her mind, she slipped on her heels, reapplied her lipstick and headed out the door.
As she walked down the hall, her mood lifted more than she thought possible. What was it about that enigmatic, scruffy man that had her smiling for the first time since Grant had dropped a bomb in the middle of her life?
Chapter Eight
WYATT STOOD BEHIND the bar, his back to the customers and staff as he lifted his shot glass. “To you, Adam,” he said softly. “I miss you like hell, buddy.” Then he downed the tequila. He’d held off for a couple of hours, but today had been such a stinker that he finally gave in. All it did was burn on the way down, and didn’t help his mood one iota.
He should have gone to the birthday party. But his darkness wouldn’t have helped things there, and probably would have affected the kids. No. It was smarter that he stayed at work, although damn, he hoped Becky was all right.
“That was tequila,” Sabrina said, knocking her shoulder against his. They were both pouring drinks while Tiffy and Viv tended the tables. Most of the customers were in town for a big golf tournament this weekend, along with the usual locals, but for a Saturday night, the place wasn’t all that crowded.
“Yes. It was.”
“You never drink when you’re working.”
“Yeah, well, things change. Who knows? I might end up a drunk, just for the hell of it.”
She sputtered a laugh. “Yeah, right. As if we don’t have enough of them in here. Your buddy Arnie is about to fall off his chair.”
“Dammit. All right. Who’s free to take him home?”
“You told Viv she could clock out early. She’ll get him there.”
“Good.”
A very dressed-up couple came into the bar, already lit. They must have left the reunion party early. Or maybe, given their weaving, they’d been asked to leave. They laughed too loud and nearly knocked the table over.
Wyatt shouldn’t even be here. Not when he was this morose. But going to his apartment without anything to occupy him would be worse. He was glad Becky had decided to cut back on going to the grandparents’ celebrations. She’d still send the kids, who always had a good time, but it was time for her to move on with her life. Just thinking that made his gut ache. For her. For Adam. For everyone he’d lost.
“Champagne,” Viv said, interrupting his dour thoughts as she leaned on the bar. “They want Cristal.”
“Did you tell them—?”
“I did. They still insisted on Cristal. The guy waved a hundred at me. I told him no liquor stores were open this late, but he just kept waving it.”
“A hundred? Cheap bastard. Tell you what, take the hundred and the Bollinger but use the ice bucket and hide the label. They’re wasted already, they won’t notice.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope.”
“That doesn’t sound like you at all.”
He shrugged.
“If he complains, you’re dealing with him.”
“Sure, why not.” It was just the kind of thing he imagined Grant would do. With that suit and tie and leather satchel. Dismissing Wyatt with that curled lip of condescension. Put him in a dinghy in the middle of the Persian Gulf and see how far his silk tie would get him. At that moment, Cricket appeared at the entrance like a gift, wearing a sexy gold-and-white dress, her very high heels dangling from her left hand. He watched her brush the top of her right foot over her calf to shake off the sand. When he looked up again, she was staring at him.
Grant was nowhere in sight. That helped Wyatt’s mood.
And then she smiled.
After slipping on her shoes, she walked over to an empty seat at the bar. He made sure he was right in front of her.
“Is that rain check still good?” She took a quick glance over her shoulder at the crowd. “Or maybe later?”
Damn. Why did he tell Viv she could leave early? “Give me an hour?”
“Absolutely. Give me a drink?”
“Scotch?”
“Oh, yes.”
Wyatt made sure she got the good stuff, and then went back to filling orders, because now, all of a sudden, everybody wanted a damn drink. It didn’t let up, which was good and bad, but he didn’t have a spare minute to let the bad win. Besides, every time he looked at her, she was looking at him.
If the staff noticed he was doing double duty, mixing drinks and serving, no one mentioned it. Finally, just before he was going to throw in the towel, Viv decided the tips were too good to leave yet.
“Hey.” Sabrina sidled up next to him. “If you wanna go, we’ve got this.”
He glanced at Cricket, and then noticed another couple entering the bar. “You might get hammered with reunion people.”
“So what? That means more tips. Anyway, in two hours it’s last call.”
Damn, he was tempted. Tiffy would help Sabrina finish up. They’d both make a few bucks extra for it, so they’d be happy. Although he had the feeling they would have done it regardless, seeing that he was finally interested in someone. That part didn’t thrill him. He didn’t need them making a big deal out of nothing.
“Okay. Thanks.” He picked up a clean rag and wiped his hands. “If you guys get slammed, call. I shouldn’t be far.” He caught Sabrina’s little smile before she nodded. Everyone probably thought they were headed upstairs to his apartment. Nothing he could say would change that. And then again, it wasn’t that bad an idea. “Ready?” he asked Cricket.
Her eyes widened. She glanced around. “You sure? Because I can wait.”
“Nope. Let’s get out of here.” He refused her money with a snort, and offered his hand, although she was steady in those stilts of hers. Once they were on the deck, he refused to look back. “Where to?”
“The beach?”
“Of course,” he said, leading her down the path. The night was perfect for a late stroll, especially with the almost full moon. Tomorrow night would be the real deal, but this would do fine.
At the edge of the sand, she stopped and slipped off her heels. After he’d tucked them under the last step, a secret he’d learned only recently, he stashed his boat shoes, as well. It had been a long time since he’d gone barefoot.
“Oh, this feels wonderful,” she said, scrunching her toes. “I’ve missed this. I used to be a menace on this beach, running everywhere with nothing on my feet. It didn’t matter if it was freezing outside.”
“That doesn’t seem wise,” he said, waiting for her to pick their heading.
“I was fine. By the time I was ten, the bottoms of my feet felt like leather soles. I could handle the rocks, no sweat.”
“And now?”
“Try me.”
He laughed. “So north or south?”
To their left, several couples were strolling along the shoreline. A breeze coming up from the south brought the sound of laughter. Cricket looked out at the gentle waves churning out silvery foam. “Too many people out here,” she said. “I know a place that’s more private. But beware, we might run into pirates.”
“This secret place—you’re staring out at the water. Should I be worried?”
“What? You can’t swim?” Her wide-eyed innocent look gave way to an infectious grin.
“Okay,” he said, nodding. “I see how you roll. Lead on, Captain.”
There were fewer beachgoers as they walked up the crag
gy incline toward Pirate’s Cove that was nearly a mile away. It was nice and easy, and he liked that she didn’t need to fill in the quiet spaces.
It was him, in fact, that broke the silence. “You sure you want to be climbing around in that dress?”
“What do you want me to do? Take it off?”
Wyatt thought a moment. “I’m pleading the Fifth.” Evidently, she thought that was pretty funny, and laughed until she got a chuckle out of him. “What happened to your friend?”
“Which one?” She stopped and frowned. “You mean, Ginny?”
“Grant.”
Her eyes closed briefly. “Colleague,” she corrected. “As a rule, friends don’t stab friends in the back.”
“Ouch.”
“Yep,” she said, nodding, then started walking again. “I work for a big law firm in Chicago. You’ve probably never heard of it, but it’s old, prestigious, places in the top fifty firms in the country. And I was very lucky to be hired right out of law school. But I’m also good at my job.”
“Which is?”
“Contract law. It’s nice and neat. That’s the area of law I chose and what I do. I am most definitely not a criminal attorney.”
“Okay...” he said, waiting for the punch line.
“Grant, my so-called friend, and his precious, very important client, who shall remain nameless, are trying to blackmail me into joining the team defending Mr. Big’s son against a rape charge. Why? I have no idea. The last person they’d want representing the damn sociopath is me. I’ve dealt with him. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he’s guilty.” She stopped and stared out at the waves. “But because Richie Rich’s daddy asked, I’m supposed to drop my morals and say fine. Then play to the jury—oh, wait. That’s right. A focus group determined that juries tend to like me. That’s why they want me on the team, even though I’m unqualified.”
“That doesn’t sound kosher. Wouldn’t the judge object?”
“Bingo. You’re not even an attorney and yet you get it. I’ve only had a half dozen court appearances, and I knew I was in the right. Even if I hadn’t been, I’d have fought for my client. But a rape case?” Cricket shuddered. “Then again, if they’re wrong about the jury, and the degenerate is convicted, they might try to use my inexperience as grounds for an appeal. Stupid bastards.”