Shared Secrets

by Pam Mantovani

  Of course, she knew he had a son. Not because she had ever returned to the small town of Prentiss at the base of the Ozarks in northern Arkansas. Or because she’d ever asked about Lucas. From the day of her hasty marriage, she’d never once mentioned Lucas by name.

  She did recall how Stephen had casually mentioned the news about the birth of Lucas’s son one morning as she’d prepared to leave for class. She’d managed to hold her composure, as Stephen expected of her, until she reached campus. Then she’d found an empty bathroom stall and cried herself dry. She’d always wondered if that emotional outpouring had provoked her labor.

  “I’m sorry you came all this way without calling first, but I can’t help you. As of this morning I’m on a leave of absence from the firm.”

  “So what? Are you telling me you can’t make a decision without asking permission first?” Her back stiffened at the insult.

  “What if it were your son?” he demanded and took an infinitesimal step closer. She heard the toe of his boot knock against the dark wood of the bar. “What if it were our son? Damn it, Taylor. Micah should have been our son.”

  “But he’s not,” she cried before immediately shooting out a hand, stopping any chance of him pressing the issue. How dare he stand here after all these years and use their past when he was the one who’d betrayed their love? “He’s not our son, Lucas.”

  She tucked her hands within the pockets of her slacks and curled them into fists. Even bitten down, her nails dug into the palms.

  “He’s the son your wife gave you.”

  “Yes, he is. And I’ll be damned if I apologize for having him.” Taylor said nothing and her silence had Lucas drawing in a deep breath. “I’ve never turned my back on Micah and walked away. I won’t start now.” Lucas stared at her a moment longer before crossing the room to stand before the fireplace.

  As he stared into the empty hearth, his fingers traced the carved mantle. For half a heartbeat she nearly smiled. Even in his obvious distress, he instinctively sought the grain of wood.

  Lucas shifted as his gaze roamed the room. Here it comes, she thought as if eighteen minutes rather than years had passed between them. This is when he calls on his innate patience and tries to convince me to change my mind. Isn’t that what she’d been so afraid of all those years ago—that he could change her mind, convince her to give up something that she needed every bit as much as she wanted him?

  Why on earth would she think he’d leave simply because she turned down his request? He’d always been so much better than she at subduing the burn of defeat, at methodically working toward the goal he set. No matter what obstacles or setbacks he faced.

  “From all appearances, you got everything you were so determined to have.” He shrugged. “A reputation as one of the finest defense attorneys in the state; marriage to an influential state senator; wealth and a beautiful home, although I don’t see much of you in this room.”

  He paused, but she held back the admission she’d never felt comfortable in what she’d always thought of as a stiff, cold room. From the paneled walls and dark colors of the furnishings she had yet to replace, it was unmistakably a man’s room.

  “I stayed in Prentiss and worked long and hard to build my business and a solid reputation. You of all people know how important that is to me.” He waited until she nodded. “I asked everyone else I know. They all said they couldn’t help. Wouldn’t help. And now you’re turning me away without even listening. Why won’t you at least listen to me?”

  She had a brief moment of satisfaction at knowing he’d been reluctant to seek her out, that he’d only done so because she represented his last resort. That was the very reason she relented.

  “Okay, Lucas, tell me what’s going on.”

  She considered crossing the room for a notepad and pen but decided it wouldn’t be necessary. She did cross her arms under her breasts, for once not caring if the gesture relayed any measure of trepidation.

  “I’m not promising I’ll help, but I will give you two minutes.”

  He took a step toward her, his eagerness and relief so evident it made her heart clutch in her chest.

  “I got a call.” He rubbed the palm of his hand under his chin. Even with the distance, she could hear the sandpaper rasp of his beard. Damn him, it brought back the sensation of it scraping on her skin. “Hell, I don’t know how many hours ago. All I know is they’re wrong. Micah would never do what they’re saying he did.”

  “And that would be?”

  “Assault. I think that’s what the sheriff said.” Lucas drew in a breath, and Taylor could almost see him building, layer by layer, an internal protective shield. “He also warned me there’s a good chance the D.A. will press for charges of rape.”

  She had a gut-level, feminine reaction rather than one expected of an unrelenting defense attorney. Her hands dropping to her sides, she shrank back a step in retreat. Lucas’s eyes narrowed.

  “Micah didn’t touch the girl. You have my word on that, Taylor.”

  She could have flung out that his word no longer meant as much to her as it once had. But, as before, going over old territory would do nothing to resolve this situation tonight. She glanced down before remembering she’d taken off her watch hours earlier.

  She sighed and finally crossed the room to sink into the chintz chair she’d recovered last month. It seemed Lucas would get more than two minutes time after all. What a surprise, she reflected with less bitterness than she would have anticipated—she’d always given him more than she’d ever given anyone.

  “Tell me what you know.”

  Thankfully his knowledge was limited, taking but a short time to relate. From his sparse facts, her attorney instincts told her the prosecutor had little to go on.

  Giving the appearance that she considered all he’d told her, she stood and walked over to the sliding glass door leading to the patio. In the distance she saw the glint of the moon along the surface of the pool. The cool night breeze kept the silk of her blouse from sticking to her damp back but did little to soothe the taut muscles at the base of her neck.

  She could help Lucas’s son, could in all probability have the charges dismissed. But at what cost?

  “How old is he?” she asked, already knowing the answer. There was no way on earth she could ever forget that her daughter and his son were separated in age by little more than two months.

  “Micah turned eighteen a few weeks ago.”

  “He’s been charged as an adult?”

  “Yes.”

  No, Taylor resolved with a firm decision. There were too many risks, too much potential for disaster here. She couldn’t jeopardize everything she’d striven to accomplish the past eighteen years.

  Going to the desk tucked in the east corner of the room, she opened the lap drawer and took out a slim portfolio containing sleeves of business cards. She flipped three pages before finding what she wanted. “I really think Roger Barnham could help you better than I could right now.” She reached for a notepad and pen. “He and Stephen were close friends, but I’m sure he’ll talk to you as a favor to me.” She wrote down the name and number but before she could rip the page free of the pad, she felt Lucas’s hand on her arm.

  He spun her around, his hands gripping both of her arms, his body a breath away from brushing against hers. She felt the unexpected temptation to be drawn into his glorious energy even as she knew it was imperative that she pull away from its lure.

  The one time she’d given into that temptation had altered her life.

  “The only favor I want is for you to get Micah out of this mess.”

  “And any other time I would,” she began.

  “I don’t have any other time. I need your help now.”

  “Lucas, from the facts you related, there are plenty of other good attorneys in this state who can get your son released.”

  “Are they as good as you?”

  Professional pride made her hesitate. She’d worked long and hard for her reput
ation. Her marriage might have opened doors for her, but she’d made damn sure her work kept those doors wide open.

  “Then why are you telling me no, Taylor?” He shocked her with a tiny shake, his hands tightening on her arms. Before her stood not the boy of her past, but a man desperate enough to do whatever it took to get what he wanted. “Because you hate me?”

  A part of her wanted to loosen the bonds of control she’d adopted and indulge the luxury of freedom she’d always felt in his arms. But she’d learned the high price of letting her emotions guide her actions.

  “No, Lucas, I don’t hate you. I did,” she said, letting some of her personal feelings slip into the admission. “That kind of thinking or blame solves nothing.”

  “Then help me. I know another attorney can handle Micah’s case, but I don’t want another attorney.” For a fraction of a second he lowered his forehead to hers. Then he lifted his face to stare into her eyes while he continued to hold her.

  “It’s you I want.”

  For a heartbeat she felt everything inside of her freeze. His voice had lowered, gentled. All of the confusion and aching loss of their separation, along with the turbulent emotions of tonight’s meeting, simply vanished. It was the past, the good past with its layers of understanding, acceptance, and love that surrounded them. It was in that good past that she’d known, for the first time with Lucas, how it felt to be wanted, not for the dollars the state agency handed out or due to charity, but wanted for no other reason than for herself.

  Taylor felt a sense of peace, coupled with the forgotten joy of being held by him, seep into her bones. She might have gone with it, might have softened and let old emotions and longing rule her actions. But the strident teenage voice carrying over the threshold had her blood running cold.

  “That’s certainly the way it looks from where I’m standing.”

  Chapter 2

  Taylor felt the color drain from her face. Her heart went dead still—and then it beat so hard she felt the vibration of every pulse throughout her body. She wanted to shriek and scream even as a huge part of her wanted to rejoice at the knowledge that her daughter had returned home safe.

  Only the sarcastic tone in the comment, coupled with being found in Lucas’s arms, caused the panic she’d been fighting since his arrival to speed through her now. How the hell had she lost control like this?

  She stepped free of Lucas and turned to face her daughter. “Stephanie.” She bit down on her bottom lip when her voice trembled. “I’ve been worried sick.”

  “Yeah, I can see that right away, Adams,” Stephanie said.

  Taylor managed to hold the wince at bay. Since Stephen’s death, her daughter tried to put distance between them by calling her by her maiden name.

  It wasn’t the only change in her daughter since Stephen’s death. The thick dark hair that had once hung down her back in a straight curtain had been cut short enough to spike out at odd angles. A total of four earrings now adorned each ear. Soft, subtle shading had given way to a much more dramatic hand in her makeup. All the classic and fashionable clothing that so suited her daughter’s tall, willowy frame had been abandoned for a variety of items found at thrift and consignment shops.

  “That’s enough, Stephanie,” Taylor sharply admonished. In a move more symbolic than effective, she shifted to block Stephanie’s view of Lucas. “Don’t you dare stand here and judge me or my actions when your own are in question. You disobeyed my instructions and stole out of the house tonight. Stephen would never have stood for this kind of behavior, and neither will I.”

  “Daddy’s not here.” For the bat of an eyelash, Stephanie looked and sounded like a vulnerable and miserable five-year-old. Taylor’s mother’s heart ached for her little girl. Then Stephanie lifted her chin and Taylor’s heart went stone cold with apprehension. “Instead, I get your watch dog coming after me, dragging me back home.” She jerked a thumb behind her to the man standing silent.

  Taylor both wanted to protect her friend Bryan from any further insults and to get Stephanie out of sight of Lucas. “We’ll discuss this later. Until then, go to your room. And this time stay there as you’re told.”

  “When are you going to quit treating me like I’m a child?” Stephanie protested.

  “When you quit acting like one.”

  In the charged silence Lucas sidestepped Taylor. “I’m Lucas Black,” he introduced himself to Stephanie. “An old friend of your mother’s.” His pause gave greater emphasis to the family connection than did the tone of his voice. Taylor simmered with resentment at his interference. “I’m here to ask for her help with an important legal matter.”

  “Bryan here,” Stephanie waved a hand at the man standing silent beside her, “is hoping his friendship with Adams involves something a little more than just their legal alliance.”

  “Stephanie,” Bryan gently protested.

  “Can you deny it?” Stephanie demanded, not of Bryan but of her mother.

  All too aware of his hope for a relationship beyond friendship, Taylor couldn’t voice any form of denial. Still, friendship, no matter how precious, could never replace love.

  “That’s none of your business,” Taylor told her daughter. She’d risk the edge of Stephanie’s sarcastic temper as long as it resulted in her daughter leaving the room.

  “Again, treating me like a child, like I don’t have a clue about sex and stuff.”

  Taylor swallowed down renewed concern about Stephanie’s behavior in the past weeks. Had she gone so far as to sleep with someone—out of spite or, perhaps even more dangerous, because she confused grief and love?

  “You’ll always be my child,” Taylor said softly.

  “Not for much longer at least. I’ll be eighteen in two months. Old enough to be considered an adult in many states.” Stephanie walked to the bar and knelt down to pull a bottle of mineral water out of the mini-fridge. “The tattoo parlor on Washington Avenue thought I was old enough.”

  “Tattoo parlor?” Taylor repeated in a hoarse voice, the words a raw scrape on her nerves.

  Stephanie took a long swallow of water before she lifted the hem of a long, brightly flowered skirt and showed off her new addition. “Isn’t it great? I mean, at least butterflies are free even if I can’t be.”

  “Oh, God, Stephanie.”

  All Taylor saw was the danger of infection and the ramifications of possible blood transfusions. Closing her eyes, she recalled seeing her daughter, two months premature, lying in an incubator while the doctors worked long and hard to save her.

  “How could you take that kind of risk?” she whispered only to have her own conscience answer. Because her daughter had no idea about the danger. Because Taylor had never told her daughter the truth. She’d done what she thought was best. As she would do now. Her eyes flashed open and she looked at Bryan. Her marriage to Stephen had given her a daughter, a career, and the influence that came with his name.

  “I want it closed down. Tonight.” He nodded and left the room. She caught a glimpse of Lucas, saw the speculation on his face that conveyed his realization of the power she could utilize. Was he thinking of how she could use that to help his son?

  “Why are you so freaking out?” Stephanie let the hem of her skirt drop. “It’s not that big a deal.”

  Taylor reeled as if Stephanie had slapped her. In truth, a hand to the face would have hurt less. She looked at her daughter, at the rebellion and anger so evident in those Irish countryside-green eyes.

  “A big enough deal,” she said, calling on every single bit of her training to keep her voice level. “To ground you for the entire summer. And trust me, this time I’ll make sure you have no opportunity to slip free.”

  The words stopped Stephanie’s retreat from the room. She swung around, stunned surprise on her face. “What are you going to do, throw me in jail?”

  For once, it was Taylor who lifted her chin in defiance. “Of course not. But I can, and will, freeze access to your bank account.”

&nbs
p; “Don’t you think it’s a little late in the ball game to be playing the mother role, Adams? Especially when the lawyer act is what you’re so good at.” With one more glance at Lucas, she left.

  In the deafening silence, Taylor let the regrets and longing rip and tear her heart apart. Later in the privacy of her bedroom, even knowing it would change nothing, she would give the hurt free rein. She wished there was something for her gaze to settle on, something other than Lucas. Suddenly panicked, she couldn’t bring forth Stephen’s face to mind. How could she have forgotten him so quickly when he’d been such a defining presence in her life?

  She flinched when Bryan reappeared in the doorway. With a deep breath she recaptured her composure. “Thank you for finding Stephanie and bringing her home. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Bryan glanced at Lucas. “I can stay longer if you need me.”

  “I’m fine.” She offered a weak smile, but made no move toward him. “As soon as I’ve made definite plans, I’ll let you know.”

  The silence that followed Bryan’s leaving ate at her nerves. So much could be said. So much more needed to be left unsaid. Finally, hoping to regain control of both the conversation and her nerves she drew in a deep breath, turned to Lucas.

  “Do you see now why I can’t help you?”

  “What I see is a young girl trying to get her mother’s attention.”

  It galled her to admit he’d spotted in one quick meeting what it had taken her months to realize. She also wondered how he could so clearly understand Stephanie and yet overlook what she saw as obvious.

  Because she felt like chewing her remaining two nails down to the quick, Taylor again retreated behind the bar. Rashly, in a move she knew she would regret upon waking, she splashed scotch into a glass and took a deep swallow. The fire scalded her throat and roared into her empty stomach.

  “Exactly,” she admitted, her hands fisting on the bar top. “You saw Stephanie tonight, what she’s doing to herself.” She pressed her lips together before admitting, “That’s why I took the leave of absence. I need time with her.”