How To Win (Back) a Wife (Harlequin Silhouette Desire)

by Lass Small

  In a blue, discouraged funk, Tyler had gone back to his apartment. He’d changed into jogging clothes and went out to run himself into enough physical exhaustion that he would sleep.

  As time had eased past, the structuring of the trial went well. It was simple, clean and true. There was backup for everything. All was researched and proven. It was so well done and clear that it scared Tyler spitless.

  What did the opposition have that could counter them? If the opposition knew all the truths, what did they have that could possibly give them the guts to face a trial?

  Tyler mentioned that to Jamie. And Jamie went on dealing with papers on his desk as he replied, “They’re not paying for the trial, they’re being paid.”

  That was true.

  And it finally came time for them to choose the jury.

  Trial by jury is a constitutional right. Demand for a jury is a given.

  In choosing a jury, there is the challenge for cause and a preemptory challenge. They are different.

  In the challenge for cause, the potential juror is questioned. The questions are slid in and if the potential juror gives the wrong answer or sounds like a problem or is prejudiced in the favor of the other side, he or she can be challenged for cause by either side. For example, being a longtime customer or acquaintance of the other side.

  The preemptory challenges are fewer. The lawyer gives no reason and does not have to explain why. The jurors are questioned four at a time to choose or excuse. In some states on civil cases, the jurors are of six people. But not for this trial. There would be twelve.

  Actually, as the jurors were being chosen, Tyler became involved and his intensity calmed somewhat.

  Jamie told him, “Don’t drink so much water, you’ll slosh.”

  And Tyler replied, “Right.”

  It was especially interesting for Tyler to watch another lawyer question the potential jurors. One guy seemed so helpful and nice. And Jamie used a preemptory challenge to get rid of him.

  With curiosity, Tyler asked Jamie, “Why not he?”

  “I saw him talking kindly to a cousin of the bastard.”

  Tyler nodded. “I hadn’t known the other side were bastards.”

  “You’ll learn.”

  So, eventually, the jury was settled and the trial began. To be one of such a trial is very limiting to their thinking. They are immersed in all the ramifications of witness examinations and cross-examinations. They have to keep track of who has said what all. And use it or hide it.

  Jamie and Tyler did win. That was supposed to be because of their research and the reputation of the Andersons. But who knows how the wind will blow?

  Jamie and Tyler did a sterling job of it. And they were used up with the end of it. Tyler made no bones about it. He said, “Wow. I watched that jury the whole entire time, and they listened and watched so closely and were so solemn and serious. I had no idea which way they’d go. I thought our witnesses were perfect. I thought your questions were germane. And you presented them just right.”

  Even Jamie admitted to being wrung out. But he was past that trial and looking at another.

  “How can you switch so easily?” Tyler asked with squinched eyes.

  “You’ll get used to it.”

  But Tyler took the afternoon off and went to his apartment. He wanted quiet. Peace. Time to let his brain relax.

  So what did he do? He put on a workout rig and went jogging. He ran four miles. He came back to the apartment. There, he listened to the messages. And Kayla was one who had called. She said, “You did a great job! Congratulations!”

  And Tyler stripped, went into the bath for a shower, dried himself, punched the mute button on the phone and went to bed—and slept. Out. Dreamless. Rejuvenation. He didn’t hear anything, he was so deep in exhausted sleep.

  Eight

  So the next thing Tyler tried clearing out was his office. Having done his apartment so well, he realized it had been simple compared to his portion of the office. Jamie’s side was rather tamed. It was Tyler’s desk that was obscene. The only pristine thing on his desk was his computer.

  It was their office file cabinets that would be a chore. He dreaded it all, but he was committed.

  He faced the fact that he was reluctant in getting started on something so mental and physical that would take a long time. There were too many files. Most were in a room of their own. It would take a lot of decisions and time. He found he was hesitating.

  Discipline. Yeah. That old, nasty word. It had been ground into him all his human life.

  Those last words caught his attention. His—human—life? And he considered the subconscious selection of that word. Did that mean he could have been subhuman? Prehuman? Antihuman? Another form entirely?

  As fascinating as the lure of it was, the human Tyler didn’t allow his imagination to narrow his attention into the lure. To define the human or whatever other thing he might be could take all his free time and library research just to satisfy his curiosity.

  He needed to be geared, concentrated and get the damned files in control. Yes.

  He did sigh and take another mental glance at such a fascinating slip of his subliminal dip.

  But he had decided he would do his desk first. So he began on straightening out and discarding all the junk and files he had gathered in and around his desk. He stayed late. It wasn’t too bad. It took some evening time that week. Since he was back to batching it, he really had nothing else to do to entertain himself.

  Some of the papers needed to be filed, and he put them in a hold tray to get that done when he did the file cabinets. While he was not a neophyte with file cabinets, he wasn’t that comfortable with them.

  One of the office staff asked him, “Do you need help in filing those?”

  Tyler replied, “No. It’s good discipline. Another time would be great, but now this is an underline of the need not to put things off.”

  The staff person smiled. “Holler if you need help.”

  And Tyler said, “Thank you.”

  As he worked along, his mind branched off in a portion with the time to debate if he was maturing. Perhaps. He was being very adult with Kayla. His rigid self-discipline was amazing even to him!

  He’d been astounded and his sex had been stunned when he’d let her go. Godzilla had gone berserk and wild. He’d noted that. But his sex had been furious and saw to it that he had suffered.

  He looked down at the bulge in his trousers. Silently, he said to it, Cut it out, I know how you feel!

  It didn’t let up. It just went on wanting and agitating. So Tyler pulled out his shirt and let the tails cover the damned, stubborn part of him that he couldn’t control.

  How could a man love the neediness only when he wanted it? Ah, the sweet pain of such suffering.

  It took almost a week to get his desk in order. Of course, the file bin was larger, but it was separate and he knew why the papers should be kept in the office files instead of lost on his desk, and he knew where they would be put.

  He labeled them exactly and put them aside to be filed another time. He looked at his desk.

  He sat down and observed the ordered top. The files that were current and in sequence were in the top drawer. He had the entire desk under control. It was a heady feeling of accomplishment.

  And he observed the stack of papers to be filed. They were separated, in order and alphabetized.

  Tyler lay back in his office chair. He hadn’t had this feeling of being in control in a long, long time. And he had to smile. In control ... of paper?

  So he got up, turned off the lights and left. His car was one of the few left in the parking garage. He got in and drove to their—to his apartment. That pristine apartment.

  He parked in his apartment slot, walked into the building and down the hall. He opened the door of his place and stood, eyeing the tidiness. The gleaming surfaces. Of course, he knew that the drawers were neat. Everything was in control. His control.

  He wondered if the tim
e would ever come that he could tidy up Kayla and be in control of her? If he could conquer the paper in his office, he could surely conquer her. Right? Naw. The papers had no brain nor could they move themselves.

  And he thought of all the lost papers and wondered if they actually could move? Could they sneak away? How?

  He showered. And he went to the neat and tidy bed and slept the sleep of any hungry man. He tore the bed apart in his sleep with his wild dreams. She was always just beyond him, and there were always other men interfering.

  She did lure other eyes. She was an alluring woman. She lured him.

  He wakened sweating in that linen mess and looked at the dark ceiling quite soberly. Why would he allow anyone to interfere with his life as she was doing? All that it took was self-discipline.

  He was the Captain of his ship and the Master of his soul.

  Of course.

  He got up, tidied the bed and went into the bathroom. He put a warm cloth on his hot face and wiped off all the sweat He took off his pajamas and went back to bed naked. And he slept.

  So it was the next morning that he went into his office and his filing tray was gone. He was shocked. Who had taken the tray? He looked at Jamie’s casual desk. The missing papers were not there. He asked Jamie, “Did you see my tray for filing?”

  Not looking up, Jamie said, “Susan took it.”

  If Jamie didn’t look up, how did he know who had it? That made Tyler indignant. He inquired with calm, “Why would she take it?”

  Never looking up, Jamie replied, “It was ready for filing, she files, she took it and it’s all probably already filed.”

  “Oh.” There was nothing else for Tyler to say. It just made more stuff he’d have to check out in the files. He was ticked. Someone—in this case, Susan—should have inquired what he wanted done with those papers.

  Tyler opened his tidy brief and began to research a trial in which they were involved. They probably wouldn’t go into court. If there was a trial, it could be assigned to someone else.

  But after supper, when Tyler went back to the office to begin on the file cabinets, he was startled to find them as neat and organized as they could be. He had never really been in the files to actually check them out. He told a clerk what he wanted and it was there on his desk.

  But the files were updated and organized. It was a cross between relief and disappointment. The relief came before the disappointment. There was more of the relief.

  So... his evening was free.

  He went to the local bar to see if anyone was around. It was loosely inhabited by some locals. Tyler knew them by sight. They lifted their hands to recognize him, and he nodded in reply. No one included him. He’d never been with any of them before, so they didn’t expect him to join them. They only acknowledged him.

  Some woman came along and asked, “Lonesome?”

  “Nah. Thanks, anyway.”

  She hesitated, but he didn’t look up or say anything so she went off along the bar.

  Tyler didn’t finish the beer. He went out of the bar and down the street to the parking garage for his car. And he drove over to his parents’ house. They were watching something on their humongous TV and were only peripherally glad to see him and shifted their chairs enough for him to be included.

  He sat down and was sorry. Their taste in politicians was different. He didn’t care for the man or his manner of speaking. He was a sham. His indignation was a lie. It had no foundation.

  Tyler endured him for as briefly as he could before he got up and got a beer. All his siblings were gone. Some permanently, but those still around weren’t there.

  He paced around but his parents didn’t catch his restlessness so he drifted off and went to his empty apartment. He watched Looney Tunes as the only tolerable thing to watch. That didn’t last long.

  He put on his jogging duds and went out to run. He was grateful running was a habit of so many people. He was accepted as was. He ran easily and it helped.

  How strange that he was disappointed because the files were already tidied. Any business keeps the files current. The law offices have old files in the basement in case something could be gleaned from them. But the rest of the file cabinets were obviously kept tidy and up-to-date.

  That was nice. Why hadn’t he known?

  He’d never inquired.

  He paced around the apartment. Then he did what he’d obviously wanted to all along and he called Kayla.

  She answered her phone, and Tyler listened to her voice. It was ordinary and not at all smoky or luring. He gently hung up. He didn’t know what to say to her anyway. He’d just stumble his words around and sound like an idiot.

  He’d hardly hung up when his phone rang. Because it was a private number, he answered, “Yeah?”

  Kayla said, “How come you hung up? Call the wrong number?”

  And he asked, “How’d you know it was me?”

  She replied easily, “I have a caller ID, and I remember our old number.”

  “Are you okay?” He asked that.

  “Sure.”

  “You sound... quiet.”

  She replied quietly, “There’s nothing to celebrate.”

  “We won our last case.”

  “I saw it.”

  He was astonished. So much so that his voice was very vulnerable as he asked softly, “You were there?”

  “Not all the time. But I got to see your cross examination. You did a very good job of it. The jurors listened and took you very seriously.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It reminded me of your first trial. You were a basket case until you got into court, and you smoothed out and seemed very calm and sure.”

  “I was.”

  She assured him, “You did very well with this one. I was proud of you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So were your parents.”

  Tyler exclaimed softly, “They were there?”

  In his ear, her voice was positive as she explained, “It was a big case. Your dad said if you didn’t win after that cross examination, he was going to go get his Thunder Boom out after the jury.” Thunder Boom was what the kids had called Mr. Fuller’s duck gun.

  “Have you ever gone duck hunting? It seems to me Dad promised to take you out. Did he?”

  “We’ve gone about five times in these last two years.”

  Tyler gasped, “Five times? He’s only taken me once!”

  “You’re probably not good company.”

  And Tyler turned vulnerable. “Was that why you left?”

  “You took me to the most—” she sought the words “—remarkable places.”

  “Which ones were those?”

  “You misunderstand. I didn’t like the places you thought were so interesting.”

  “The dogfight.” It was a statement. He didn’t need to guess. “That wasn’t planned. We just went to see what all those cars were doing there.”

  “Yes. I was appalled.”

  “Obviously. You’re not at all subtle. How come you went off without me?”

  And she said snidely, “With those big dogs, there wasn’t any room for—another—animal.”

  “I’m a human man. I’m not an animal.”

  “Then why did you want to go to such a place where the dogs had no choice?”

  And he told the phone quite seriously, “I was curious as to why all those cars were there.”

  “I’ve never considered you as such a person. You’d always been the hero until we blundered into that dogfight.”

  “You rejected me for one dogfight? I left almost as soon as you did. When I finally got home, you were asleep but the four dogs growled at me.”

  “I was appalled by the dogfights.”

  So he was logical. “You wouldn’t have bought those four dogs and freed them if we hadn’t gone there.”

  “That’s true. Thank you for them.”

  And he asked a very urgent question, “Didn’t being there and seeing it widen your knowledge of the
world and the people in it?”

  Dryly, she informed him, “I could have done without the knowledge.”

  “Did you see how the people there loved what they saw? Did you see their sparkling eyes and hear their laughter?”

  “Did any of them know the dogs who died in the fights?”

  “I doubt it. They just bet on which one will win. And there’s a whole lot more dogs in the world than you’d ever know. At least if you walk the streets.”

  Tersely, she snapped, “I have a job.” Even in his ear, her voice was stilted. “I don’t have to walk the streets.”

  “Whoa. What do you mean by that? I was talking about exercise on streets where dogs live. You have to watch where you run or jog.”

  “Oh. Yes.” She agreed. “You’re right. I don’t know why people in the city have dogs.”

  “Why does anyone? They like the animals, and the dogs are friendly and interested in the world. They will even watch TV with the humans.”

  She thought of the TV show and asked, “Lassie?”

  “I suppose.” Then he asked, “Who all bought the dogs from you?”

  “Tom Keeper.”

  “All four?” His voice was hostile.

  “No. He just has friends who help out. They took the dogs and passed them on to other people. They found good places for them. Only one dog didn’t settle in. Tom took him out to the far ranch and showed him the prairie dog holes proliferating in one corner of his land.”

  Tyler inquired, “The dog took over?”

  “Actually, from what Tom says, the dog is fascinated. He digs, too, but he gets nowhere. The tunnels are mostly lure. The dog gets the wrong ones. And it’s very frustrating.”

  Tyler inquired, “So he’s in therapy?”

  She laughed. “Probably, soon. Tom thinks it’s excellent training for the dog. Of course, at first the paws were scraped badly and the dog had to wear soft leather boots for a while.”

  “Now how would a dog be talked into wearing boots?”

  “Tom let him lick them off a couple of times and walk on the abraded paws. Then he would put the boots back on the dog and take him for a walk. It took a while, but the dog gradually allowed Tom to take care of him, and he wore the boots until he was healed. By then he knew to watch cautiously, and eventually, he got one of the prairie dogs.”