Evening Hours

by Mary Lynn Baxter

  He released a sigh, thinking his secretary’s blunt reminder had kept him from making the wrong move. He grabbed his briefcase and walked out.

  Eleven

  “Emily, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this opportunity.”

  Kaylee meant it, too. In fact, she was finding it hard to contain her excitement. She would have loved to dance around the room, shouting the Hallelujah Chorus. But since she couldn’t, she’d have to be content with shouting it silently.

  Her meeting with Emily had just come to an end and Emily was leaving shortly to board the plane back to New York. Kaylee couldn’t have asked for a more productive afternoon. The tall, curvy brunette—an ex-model—had both a keen sense of business and a winning personality.

  “Hey, it’s me—us—who’s thanking you,” Emily said after making her way to the door. There she turned and extended her hand.

  Kaylee clasped it with a smile. “We’ll get to work right away on our end.”

  “Again, our agency has every confidence in yours. That’s why we handpicked you.”

  “I still find that amazing.”

  “Don’t. You’ve built quite a reputation for yourself, and after spending time here, I can see why. You have great girls, and you run a tight ship.”

  “I try. But I couldn’t do it without Sandy and the others.”

  “Give my regards to your assistant, and tell her I’m looking forward to working with her, as well.”

  “I’ll tell her. Meanwhile, you take care. And thanks again.”

  Emily smiled, then walked out. Immediately Kaylee sagged against the closed door, feeling as if all her energy had been zapped. Throughout the session with Emily she’d been uptight, wanting everything to go perfectly. And for the most part, it had.

  Benton Agency had gotten the big contract and the big bucks that went along with it. What a coup, as Sandy had said. What a responsibility. The amount of work required to put on a show of this magnitude was mind-boggling. Versace was the top name in the fashion industry, and Kaylee still couldn’t believe she was going to get to work with such a prestigious house.

  But again, the responsibility was awesome. Yet she was more than up to the challenge. For years she’d hoped for a break like this. No way was she going to blow it. She would put her mind and heart wholeheartedly into the project, letting nothing else interfere.

  And that included Cutler McFarland.

  Kaylee let out a groan as she made her way back to her desk and eased into her chair. She didn’t want to think about him and what had happened at the restaurant. Unfortunately, that was all she had thought about.

  Even now Kaylee felt a surge of color flood her face. In the back of her mind she knew the potential to fall was there. She wondered if in all her success she’d grown overconfident.

  Which was not smart.

  Actually, what wasn’t smart was to have gone to lunch with Cutler. She had known better, but she hadn’t listened to her head. Instead, she’d gone with her heart and paid the price, reminding herself again that choices have consequences. In this particular case her consequence was humiliation.

  She blinked back unwanted tears, hating it when she felt sorry for herself. She wished things were different, wished she was whole in body and soul. But she wasn’t. No matter how hard she tried or how hard she pretended otherwise, she was different.

  Damn him for making her feel this way. Damn him for making her feel bad about herself. Damn him for making her care.

  About him.

  Her attraction to Cutler had seemingly come out of nowhere, leaving her clueless as to how to handle these raw emotions.

  Yesterday it had taken every ounce of willpower she possessed to gather her dignity and drag herself away from him, fearing she would see pity in his eyes.

  Distancing herself had been hard, especially when a shaft of desire had shot through every pore of her slender frame. No matter how much she tried to rationalize her reaction, she knew her body craved to know his touch, feel his hands on her flesh.

  That scared the wits out of her.

  She tried to calm down, telling herself she wouldn’t see him again and risk pain for which she had no antidote. She had to remain focused and keep her mind on her business and the chance of a lifetime the Versace show offered her company.

  She could do that. After all, concentration was her strong suit. Besides, while Cutler didn’t seem bothered that she’d almost fallen flat on her face, that didn’t mean he was smitten with her or that he wanted to make love to her.

  Kaylee’s breath caught at the thought of intimacy with him. She felt as if she was bleeding on the inside, and knew she had to stop such forbidden thoughts from assailing her. If only she had more expertise in this arena, she was certain she’d know what to do.

  The whole experience left her feeling as vulnerable as she’d felt for years following the accident. It was an emotion she had come to despise, and still did. She wouldn’t let herself sink into that black hole again. She had worked too hard, overcome too much, to let that happen.

  Armed with new resolve, Kaylee shrugged off her doldrums, got up, walked down the hall to the lounge and poured herself a fresh cup of coffee. In a few minutes she had appointments with several prospective new clients, one of whom had recently purchased both a television station and a large automobile dealership. If she convinced him of her agency’s ability to handle both accounts simultaneously, her company would reap another tremendous financial reward. She’d been working on her sales pitch for weeks and was eager to present her ideas.

  She was headed back to her office when she heard screaming. For a second Kaylee froze, feeling a frisson of fear stand her hair on end.

  “What on earth,” she muttered, realizing the commotion was coming from one of the dressing rooms.

  She was halfway there when the door opened and a model stuck her head around the corner and cried, “Kaylee, come quick.”

  Cursing her uncooperative leg, Kaylee upped her pace as much as she dared, yesterday’s fiasco a vivid reminder of her limitations.

  Still, she moved faster than she should have as the screams became shriller. By the time she crossed the threshold and saw what was going on, rage filled her.

  Two models were locked together on the floor involved in a free-for-all. At first she couldn’t tell who they were. After moving closer, she identified them. Barbie and Jessica.

  “Stop it!” Kaylee cried. “Stop it right now.”

  She might as well have been talking to herself for all the attention they paid her.

  “You bitch!” Barbie spat, clawing at Jessica’s eyes.

  Jessica grabbed a handful of Barbie’s long hair and yanked. “It takes one to know one!”

  Barbie took another swipe at Jessica, landing a blow on her neck.

  Kaylee winced, while the other girls simply watched the spectacle in silence, terror mirrored in their faces.

  “What can we do?” Gwen asked, a frantic note in her voice. “Do you want us to try and separate them?”

  “Not on your life,” Kaylee said in a terse whisper. “Two in a catfight is enough.”

  “Surely you’re not thinking about stepping in?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “But we have to do something, don’t we?” Gwen asked amidst the continued screaming and punching.

  Kaylee looked at her; then her gaze perused the others before dipping back to the floor where the two were still fighting. “As a matter of fact, we don’t have to do anything.”

  “What?” Candy Crenshaw screeched. “But…but one of them is going to get hurt.”

  “That’s the price they’ll have to pay, isn’t it?” Kaylee said, hearing the steel in her voice.

  “Jeez, Louise, what’s going on?”

  Sandy appeared in the doorway, her mouth agape. “Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?”

  Kaylee nodded. “That you are.”

  “Want me to do anything?”

  “No, I don’t.�
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  Sandy grinned. “Okay, I get you.”

  “Girls,” Kaylee said, “out of here. And I don’t have to remind you to keep your mouths shut about this incident. What goes on under this roof is no one else’s business. If I find you’ve betrayed that confidence, you’ll be fired.”

  Once the room was cleared except for the two still grappling on the floor, Kaylee and Sandy watched the girls continue to slap and hiss at one another.

  Barbie already had a black eye and Jessica had a welt on one cheek.

  “Let’s go, Sandy,” she finally said, disgust making her sick to her stomach.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “I have no choice but to give them their walking papers.”

  “God, Kaylee, if we lose them now, we’re up the creek without a paddle, especially with the Versace deal in the works.”

  Kaylee frowned. “What do you suggest—that I let them get by with that kind of behavior?”

  “No, but…”

  “But what?”

  Sandy merely shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m just as confounded about this as you are. As we’ve said all along, something foul is in the air, but I’ll be damned if I can figure out what it is.”

  “If word gets out, we’re in deep trouble. We don’t need our competition portraying our girls as vicious princesses who can’t get along on an assignment.”

  “All the more reason why I think we should try and get to the bottom of this rather than dump them out to hit the streets. Of all our models, those two have the biggest mouths.”

  Kaylee didn’t say anything. Sandy was right. Yet her anger far exceeded any rational thought. She shouldn’t make a hasty decision that she would live to regret, she cautioned herself.

  “Okay. I’ll sleep on it.”

  “Meanwhile, I guess I’d better check and see if either one has any hair left.”

  “I’m thinking about their faces,” Kaylee said in a glum tone.

  “They won’t be able to work the Neiman show, which makes me want to strangle them.” She paused and blew out a forlorn sigh. “Hopefully, they’ll be ready for the Versace shindig, though they might look more like clowns than models.”

  Kaylee knew Sandy was making an attempt at humor, but she found nothing to laugh about.

  Her well-ordered life was rapidly careening out of control.

  Twelve

  Winston Gilmore took a sip of his drink, then swirled the liquid around in the glass before indulging himself again.

  He was a man of average height and build with a set of pearly whites that he considered his best asset, especially when it came to the press. Dressing to perfection enhanced his desired image as a self-confident, good-looking man who would do his constituents proud if he were elected to the office of district attorney.

  “So do you think we’ve got him running scared?”

  Winston sighed deeply, then pursed his lips while staring at his campaign manager, Harvey Eddison, a tall, bald man with big ears and large lips. Homely was the only way to describe him. But what Harvey lacked in looks, he made up for in brains. He was smart and aggressively organized, just the kind of person Winston needed to spearhead his campaign to replace Cutler McFarland as D.A.

  He had agreed to meet Harvey for lunch at a small restaurant near Winston’s law firm. He wished he could’ve given his manager more time, but he had a heavy court schedule.

  “I’d like to think he’s panicked,” Winston finally said, “but with McFarland you never know. He holds his cards close to his chest.”

  “Maybe his personal card, but not his business one,” Harvey pointed out. “His record is an open book, which is what we’re going to use to hammer him.”

  “Don’t underestimate him, Harvey. Underneath that cowboy persona is a tough hombre, no pun intended.”

  “Trust me, I know. I’ve done my homework on our present D.A.” Harvey scratched one of his ears, then took a drink of his Scotch. “Still, I believe we’ve made a dent in his credibility with our television blitz.”

  Winston finished his wine, then motioned to the waiter for a refill. “Not to mention the controversial cases he’s trying,” he pointed out once his glass was replenished. “He’s up to his ass in alligators with at least two of them. Maybe more.”

  “The woman who nixed her kids, who’s now claiming insanity, could eat his lunch. Murdered kids is a topic hotter than a branding iron.”

  “I can’t argue with that.”

  “During the trial we’ll make him look as bad as we can.”

  Winston nodded. “The defrocked priest who instigated the murder of that abortion-clinic doctor is probably next on his agenda. That case will give us extra ammo to shoot at him.”

  Harvey nodded in agreement. “We just have to have our guns loaded, ready to move in for the kill.”

  Winston’s eyes narrowed. “It’s time for that cocky bastard to go.”

  “You never told me why you have your stinger out for McFarland. Did he by chance sleep with your wife?”

  Winston clenched his jaw and cursed.

  Harvey held up his hand in a defensive gesture. “Hey, that was meant to be a joke. Don’t tell me it isn’t.”

  “He and Jan were an item once,” Winston admitted through tight lips. “But that has no bearing on this election. Let’s just say I want his job and leave it at that.”

  “Works for me,” Harvey responded with ease. “What we need to do is hit him where he’s weak.”

  “Right.”

  “Which means digging the skeletons out of his closet and exposing them.”

  “Suppose he doesn’t have any.”

  Harvey snorted. “Everyone has secrets. Some are easier to find than others, but again, everyone has something to hide.”

  “I did hear something interesting.” Winston gazed around the premises, then leaned forward.

  “I’m listening,” Harvey said, also leaning in.

  “It concerns Judge Jenkins.”

  “Oh?”

  “McFarland has it out for him.”

  “How crazy is that?” Harvey’s tone was incredulous.

  “Exactly. If he crosses Jenkins, he’ll wipe the floor with McFarland.”

  “So I guess I should find out what that’s all about.”

  Winston smiled. “I don’t particularly like Jenkins myself. He’s given me more than one headache in court, but I’m not crazy enough to take him on. He takes no prisoners.”

  “So if McFarland crosses him, Jenkins could knock him off for us.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping for, but I’m not going to put all my eggs in the judge’s basket. Not to beat a dead horse, but McFarland’s a slick operator and won’t go down without a fight.”

  “No problem. We’ll just be smarter and tougher. I’ve bested far better men than a wannabe cowboy. Don’t worry, come election time, he’ll be out on his ear.”

  Winston lifted his glass and grinned. Harvey did likewise.

  “To victory,” Winston said.

  Their glasses clinked before they drained them.

  Cutler stared out the French doors onto the opulent grounds that stretched as far as the eye could see. His old-time friend and backer Salem Caskey was one rich dude.

  Several years ago Salem had purchased one of the largest and oldest homes in upscale River Oaks and had it completely renovated. Cutler rarely gave a second thought to where people lived, or how they lived, for that matter, because he didn’t care.

  But this place was overwhelming with its huge columns, high ceiling-to-floor windows and the magnificent, artwork adorning the walls. He couldn’t forget the huge indoor lap pool that Salem used every day to soothe his crippling arthritis.

  “May I get you something to drink while you wait?”

  Cutler swung around and smiled at Lupe, the housekeeper. “Got any hot tea cakes?”

  Lupe’s black eyes lit up. “Just took them out of the oven.”

  “Will you marry me?”

&
nbsp; Lupe giggled. “Do you want some now or had you rather take a batch home?”

  “Home, if you don’t mind.”

  “I’ll have them ready,” she said, then moved aside as Salem made his entrance.

  Despite his gnarled hands and slightly humped shoulders, he was a large, robust man who kept himself fit. Though in his seventies, he still had a full head of black hair with no gray, thanks to his Native American heritage.

  “Sorry, but she’s already taken.”

  Lupe fluttered her hand as if embarrassed, though she was obviously pleased with all the attention she was getting. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Cutler.”

  “Same here,” Cutler said with a wink, then watched as the housekeeper walked out.

  “Bourbon and Coke?” Salem asked, crossing to the bar.

  Cutler peered at his watch. “Don’t normally drink until after five.”

  “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

  “According to the country-western song, you’re right.” Cutler grinned. “I’ll take a beer.”

  “Beer it is.”

  Once they were seated across from each other, drinks in hand, Salem didn’t waste any time sampling his Scotch. Cutler did likewise with his beer, and they sipped in silence. Cutler relished the moment, feeling his insides uncoil for the first time in a long while. He couldn’t remember when he and Salem hadn’t been friends, though that friendship had been tested a few months back when Salem’s only son had gotten into trouble.

  Thank God their friendship had weathered that storm and remained intact. He didn’t think he could win the election without Salem’s money and backing. There was no thinking about it; he couldn’t win. Cutler was convinced this summons to the mansion was to seal Salem’s commitment.

  “I think you should hear it straight from the horse’s mouth,” Salem said, following a discreet belch.

  “I can’t thank you enough for your support, Salem.”

  “Only, I’m not supporting you.”

  At first Cutler thought his ears had deceived him. But then he met Salem’s eyes head-on and knew better. They were as cold as a block of ice. Cutler’s stomach hollowed. He had to hand it to himself, though; he forced his voice and his manner to remain calm and even. “Why’s that?”