Kate could almost literally feel the emotions vibrating around Wainwright. Was he telling her the truth, or was this something he was just saying for effect? From her experience, handsome men liked to cast themselves in a good light early on.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
“Thank you,” Jackson answered stiffly. “But I’m here about the living.” He thought of how reckless Jonah was becoming and what he’d gotten himself into this time. “Although I’m not sure just how much longer that’s going to be true.”
“You’re going to have to explain that.”
Yes, he supposed he should. “My brother has an addictive personality.” All the signs had been there from the beginning, but no one wanted to admit it. “Every time he cleans up his act in one department, he latches onto something else, another crutch to help him stand upright—or reasonably so.” Jackson paused to recall the correct order. “He has, by turns, been a drug addict, an alcoholic, a religious zealot, a food addict and—this is his latest craze—a gambling addict.”
Being his brother had to be a heavy burden, Kate thought, suddenly very grateful that all Kullen did was collect lightweight girlfriends who had the IQ of a shoelace. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
He laughed shortly. “If he didn’t have an addictive personality, I wouldn’t be here, so for you this might be a good thing.”
That was rather a cynical remark, despite the fact that he punctuated it with a smile. “You do plan to explain that, too, right?”
Regarding her for a moment, Jackson made a decision. “I do, but not on an empty stomach. Do you have any plans for lunch?”
That caught her off guard. “Other than eating it, no. But I do have to file some papers at the courthouse this afternoon.”
He had to get back to the office himself, but that wasn’t for a couple of hours. Would she be leaving before then? “Is there a set time?”
Although she’d planned to get there in another half hour or so, in actuality she just had to get there before they closed for the day. “Before five.”
He nodded. “Good. We’ll be done with phase one by then.”
The man definitely talked in riddles. “Phase one?”
“Getting to know each other.”
A red light went off in her head. Was this a business meeting, or was it all a sham? Her eyes narrowed. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
“You won’t be following. You’ll be in my car. Parking will be easier that way.” He was already rising to his feet.
Kate put up her hand like a traffic cop. “Wait, hold it,” she ordered. He needed to clear this up for her. If he was a client, she’d cut him a little slack. But if he was trying to come on to her, there was no way she was going to go along with this. She didn’t need another good-looking man creating havoc in her life. “Just why do we need to get to know each other?”
“Well, it doesn’t have to be reciprocal if you choose not to ask any questions, but I for one need to get to know you.” His eyes held hers as he made his point. “You don’t expect me to just entrust the family fortune to you without knowing who I’m dealing with.”
Maybe being in a crowded restaurant with this man wasn’t such a bad idea. Although they were speaking mostly in generalities, there was this undercurrent of intimacy she found impossible to shake—or to understand. And when he looked at her like that, she caught herself thinking things that weren’t entirely professional even though her guard was up.
“I’m assuming that you’re here on someone’s recommendation,” she speculated. A recommendation should count for something with this man.
Sitting down again, Jackson smiled and she found that, just for a split second, she needed to remind herself to breathe. Alarms started going off in her head—but she couldn’t very well just walk away from a client. The head of the firm, Harrison Rothchild, her father’s successor, wasn’t a very understanding or forgiving man.
“I am, actually,” he told her, “but the recommendation was hardly unbiased.”
She could see how that would happen. All of her clients as well as Kullen’s were completely satisfied with their work. They were on retainer with a good many clients, something that actually did please Rothchild no end.
“Most of our clients tend to be quite sold on us after they make use of our services.” She did her best to go the extra mile for her clients and none of them remotely looked as good or seemed as charming as Jackson Wainwright.
Damn it, where had that come from?
His smile only widened, as if he was privy to some private joke he wasn’t quite ready to share. “That might be true, but this recommendation, I suspect, started out biased.”
“Forgive me, Mr. Wainwright, but I have to ask. Do most banking executives talk in some kind of code the way you do?”
All too often, he was given to beginning sentences in his head and voicing them out loud only when he came to the middle, so he took no offense.
“All right, let me be plain.”
“Please.” Although she truly doubted that was possible. Men who looked like Jackson Wainwright did didn’t even have a nodding acquaintance with the word plain. She was fairly certain that Jackson Wainwright was accustomed to women falling all over themselves to garner his favor.
“Your mother recommended you. Well, she recommended both of you, although she didn’t mention that K. C. Manetti was actually her daughter. What she did say was that K. C. Manetti and Kullen Manetti were her children.”
Her mind had temporarily frozen the moment he’d uttered the word mother. Her eyes were on his as she repeated, “My mother.”
“Yes.” Then, to keep her from asking if perhaps he’d made a mistake, Jackson described the woman in question to her. “Petite, well-dressed lady. Lively eyes, trim figure, a smile that’s rather reminiscent of yours now that I think of it, and—”
For the second time since he’d walked into her office, Kate held up her hand. “My mother, yes, that’s her. I get it.” What did her mother do, buttonhole every good-looking man she came across and try to steer him directly into her path?
Mother, she silently cried, you know better.
Knowing that there would be no peace for her until she knew, Kate had to ask. “What were you doing, talking to my mother?”
“Hiring her actually,” Jackson said. “I’m having a small ‘get acquainted’ party at the bank—I’m the new district manager—and I needed a caterer. Your mother comes very highly recommended. The branch manager had her cater his Christmas party.”
Kate had to give her mother that, even though right now, there was a very strong urge to wrap her fingers around her mother’s slender neck and just squeeze. Just for a second. Just until she promised never to do this kind of thing again.
When she spoke, restrained anger made Kate’s voice sound very formal. “My mother’s very good at what she does.”
“How about you?” he asked, turning the tables, his eyes pinning her in her place. “Are you very good at what you do?”
She never flinched or looked away. However uncertain she was in her chaotic private life, that was how confident she was in her professional one.
“I am excellent,” she assured him. “And I can give you a list of references if you like. Current clients,” she added.
Still sitting at her desk, Kate shifted in her chair so she could face her computer. She hit the keyboard, bringing the computer back around from the land of saved watts and slumber. The picture of a beach at sunset faded away and a desktop full of folders popped up. She was about to open one of them when he stopped her.
“Thanks, but don’t bother. I like making up my own mind.”
She dropped her hand. “And you can do that over lunch.” It wasn’t a question, just an assumption built on what he’d said a few minutes ago. She did her best to bank down the trace of sarcasm.
He smiled, inclining his head. “Exactly.”
If lunch was what he wanted, lunch was what he would get. Bu
t not before she had a question of her own answered.
“All right. But before we go, I need to know just what sort of services you’ll require.”
That really sounded like a loaded question that could be answered in a variety of ways, some of which could get him slapped. Where had that come from? he silently demanded. Granted she was attractive—exceedingly attractive—but that wasn’t the reason he was here. What was going on with him?
Maybe, he theorized, he’d been all business for so long, something inside of him was rebelling, trying to break free. Trying to remember what life was all about outside of the pressures of the banking industry.
Or maybe this was his own version of a meltdown. He couldn’t honestly say. He could say that he had to keep his answer straight and business oriented. Otherwise, there would be repercussions. Serious ones.
“To give you the Reader’s Digest version, my parents doted on Jonah. He was the firstborn and the golden child. He was—and still can be—very charming and engaging when he wants to be. However, that didn’t change the fact that he has a very weak character and my parents eventually had to admit that Jonah had to be saved from himself. So, when they had their will drawn up—they essentially divided the money between Jonah and me—they made sure that his was in the form of a trust fund. Each month a certain amount—generous even by today’s standards—would be doled out to Jonah, but the principle would remain intact and in trust until Jonah’s thirty-fifth birthday, at which time he would get it all.” Jackson paused for a moment, silently wishing that Jonah was the brother he wanted him to be, a brother who didn’t need to constantly be reined in or policed. He hated being the bad guy. “Jonah turns thirty-five next month.”
It was easy to read between the lines. “And you don’t want him inheriting the money.”
“No, I don’t,” Jackson agreed bluntly. “If he gets his hands on the money, he’ll either be dead in a month, or the money’ll be gone in six. Or maybe both. If my brother survives, he’ll be in debt in seven. It’s his nature and although I have bailed him out in the past, his problem keeps mushrooming and eventually, there won’t be enough money in the world to cover his debts.”
Jackson knew that what he was asking for wasn’t easy, nor was it strictly orthodox. Legally, Jonah had every right to expect to finally be united with his inheritance. Jackson was trying to have his parents’ wishes and authority usurped by finding a loophole and extending the age limit on the trust. The only reason his parents had picked thirty-five was because they’d honestly believed Jonah would finally get his act together by then.
Surprise, folks. He’s still a kid.
He looked at Kate. “Are you up to that, Ms. Manetti, or is it too much of a challenge for your firm?”
Kate raised her chin. “I don’t know about my firm, but I enjoy a challenge, Mr. Wainwright.”
“Good to hear. All right.” On his feet, he rounded the desk and stood beside her chair. “Let’s go to lunch.”
She’d thought that the matter was settled, despite all his talk about eating. Obviously not. How much more was he going to ask her? Oh well, it was lunchtime. She might as well indulge him.
Taking her purse out of the bottom drawer, Kate closed the drawer and rose to her feet. “Am I still auditioning for the part of your lawyer?”
“Yes, you are,” he confirmed, deliberately keeping a straight face. But there was a smile in his eyes. “But right now, I’d say you have the inside track on getting the part.” She looked at him and it was obvious that she wanted to say something in response. “What?”
Her suspicions had been stirred, but for now, she decided to keep them to herself. “Nothing.”
“I require truthfulness at all times.”
“All right.” She stopped just shy of the door. “Are you really looking for a lawyer?”
“What would I be doing here if I wasn’t?”
Infrequent phone calls and contact not withstanding, she knew her mother. Knew how Theresa Manetti thought. Nikki was getting married and she wasn’t. Her mother was bent on changing that. Somewhere there was a saint’s statue melting because of all the candles that were being lit in front of it. But to ask this man if he’d been sent here to pretend to need her services, all under the guise of meeting and dating her, somehow sounded very conceited. On the chance that she was wrong and he was on the level, Kate swallowed her question and forced a smile to her lips.
“You’re right,” she agreed amiably. “Why would you be here if you didn’t need a lawyer?” She glanced at her watch. How did it get to be so late? Especially when it felt as if time was standing still? “If we’re going to go to lunch, we’d better get moving.”
In his opinion, Theresa Manetti’s daughter was moving just fine as it was.
“Your choice,” he told her out of the blue. “The restaurant,” he explained. “I’ve been gone a long time and things have changed a lot around Bedford. My favorite restaurant’s history, so I leave it up to you to pick one.”
“What was your favorite restaurant?” she asked as they walked out of her office.
There was a fond smile on his lips as he said, “Gin-Ling’s.”
“You like Chinese food?” It was rather a safe deduction.
“I’m rather partial to it, yes.”
Well, they had that in common. The next second, she banished the thought from her head. She was not going to fall into her mother’s trap. “I know a wonderful Chinese restaurant,” she told him.
His expression brightened just a shade. “Sounds promising. You can give me the directions when we get to the car.”
If nothing else, he thought, holding the door open for her, he was going to get a good meal out of this and perhaps discover a new favorite restaurant.
And if he was lucky, Jackson added silently, he’d wind up getting a very attractive family lawyer to boot.
Things could have been worse.
Chapter Three
Located in the center of an outdoor mall, the China Pearl was a modest-size restaurant that saw more than its fair share of traffic both for lunch and for dinner. There was a bar, small but well stocked, to the right of the entrance and the reservation desk. Four rows of six booths each composed the rest of the floor plan.
After leading them to a booth, the hostess gave them dark green bound menus to peruse and quietly faded back to her post.
Kate pretended to look at the menu. It hadn’t changed in over a year. At this point, she knew it by heart. What she didn’t know was very much about the man sitting across from her. Was he on the level or the first of an endless line of setups arranged by her mother? A little probing chatter wouldn’t be out of order to assess the situation.
“So,” she placed the menu on the table in front of her, “are you here in Bedford permanently, or is this just a temporary move until you can straighten things out?”
If it were only that simple, Jackson thought. “Unfortunately, this isn’t anything I can put a bandage on,” he answered. “I’ve already tried that. Jonah needs someone in his life on a regular basis, not someone who checks in on him once a week.” No matter how many questions he barked into the phone, he thought.
Wainwright seemed to take his responsibility seriously, she thought. Since she’d entered family law, she’d discovered that a lot of people bristled when it came to doing what needed to be done, feeling shackled by “the ties that bind.” Was Wainwright just paying lip service in order to make himself look good, or did he really mean what he told her, that he wanted to protect his brother from himself? She supposed it shouldn’t really matter to her. Either way, it began to sound as if he really did need a lawyer. Her curiosity was aroused. “That sounds like it can get to be a pretty heavy burden.”
Jackson shrugged as he scanned the menu. “It already is. Jonah doesn’t like being ‘supervised,’ he likes being indulged.” And that was his parents’ fault. Jonah was artistically gifted and, in an attempt to nurture that talent and make it bear fruit, his par
ents, especially his mother, bent over backward to accommodate Jonah. He loved his brother, but he wasn’t about to let him run right over him.
Jackson looked up from the menu. “I’ll be honest with you. I’ve got a feeling that was why Mort suffered his heart attack. The stress of trying to keep my brother in line and out of jail finally got to him.”
“Jail?” she asked.
“Disorderly in public,” he recited. “Bathing in the fountain in front of city hall at one in the morning—”
“That doesn’t sound as if it merited jail.”
“Naked,” Jackson added.
“Oh. I’d better stock up on blood-pressure medicine, then,” Kate quipped. The corners of her mouth curved as she allowed her amusement to surface. “If you don’t mind my making an observation, you don’t really know how to sell something, do you?”
His eyes held hers. She couldn’t quite make up her mind if his were pure blue or if they had a touch of gray in them.
Doesn’t matter if they’re purple. He’s just a client, remember? her inner voice chided.
“I just want you to know up front what you’re getting into, Kate,” he told her simply. “If you’d rather not have to deal with someone who can make you contemplate justifiable homicide even as he charms the socks off you, I need to know now so I can find someone else to handle this trust-fund restructuring.”
“I’m no stranger to contemplating justifiable homicide,” she assured him with a smile. “I have a very charming brother of my own.”
Their server, a petite young woman in a rich, royal blue dress with a Mandarin collar and two discreet side slits that stopped just short of the middle of her thigh, brought them a pot of tea and backed away, her silence indicating they could take their time ordering.
Fixed Up with Mr. Right? Page 3