“He showed me the bank account, Nell. It’s your name that is on it. Not his.”
Nell swallowed hard. She was a lawyer. She knew better than to sign anything she hadn’t read. But the amount of paperwork that flowed through Martin’s office was staggering. And she’d trusted him. A note left here or there for her to initial, to sign... She hadn’t thought a thing about it. “He put it there.”
Ros’s expression turned pitying. “If this is about me making partner and you not—”
Nell stood. “This isn’t about becoming a partner! For God’s sake, Ros, you’re my oldest friend. You’re like a sister to me.”
“And my father was like a father to you. Only he wasn’t. You had your own, except he ran out on you when you were sixteen. And my father took you in!” Ros raked her fingers through her hair. It was just as dark as Nell’s but where Nell’s was uncontrollably curly, Ros’s was thick and enviably straight. “My father who got you into law school. My father who hired you even though your grades were mediocre.”
Nell’s jaw tightened. Her grades might have been mediocre. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t good at her job now. She just hadn’t been good enough, or she would have recognized what Martin had been up to earlier than she had. She would have never initialed this or signed that.
And Rosalind could talk until she was blue in the face about Martin’s paternal devotion, but it had always come at a cost. He’d never been the loving father type. If Ros wanted his affection, she’d had to earn it by being a perfect reflection of him.
“You should be thanking him that he’s not reporting the situation.” Ros was shaking with her anger. “He’s still showing loyalty to you and that certainly wouldn’t be the case if he hadn’t been like a father to you.” She looked at the diamond watch around her wrist. “I think it’s time you move out,” she said abruptly.
“What? Right this minute?”
“Obviously not,” she snapped and dropped her arm. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”
That stung. “Since when?”
Her friend avoided her eyes. “Since a while now,” Ros said defensively. “We’re not college kids. We’re too old to want or need a roommate. It’s, well, it’s embarrassing frankly.”
That really stung. “And if I don’t want to move? The lease is in both of our names.”
“Then I’ll move.” Ros crossed her arms. “Jonathan and I have been talking about taking things to the next level. He wants a family and—”
Nell’s eyebrows climbed into her hairline. “Do you? With Jonathan? Two months ago, you told me he was good in the kitchen, but outside of it, not so much!”
Ros looked annoyed at the reminder. “Even if you hadn’t done what you did—”
“What I did?” Nell’s voice rose even more. “Rosalind Pastore, when have you ever known me to lie about something?”
Ros plowed onward. “It still would be time for us to start acting like the grown women that we are. I’m a partner at Pastore Legal now. I should—”
Nell lifted her hand, steeling herself. “Don’t. I don’t even want to hear it. Your father wants me out at the firm. You want me out of here. You always said you wanted to be like him, and you’ve succeeded. Congratulations.” Her voice went a little hoarse and she picked up her coffee, struggling for composure. “Soon as I can arrange it, I’ll be out of your hair, too.”
Ros’s eyes finally flickered, showing at least some semblance of emotion. “This didn’t have to get this ugly, Nell.”
She locked her knees. She felt like she’d been betrayed by everything she’d held dear for the last twenty years. She stared straight into her friend’s eyes. Because she knew in her heart that she hadn’t done one single thing wrong. Except put her faith where it didn’t belong. “Didn’t it?”
Ros was the first to look away. Then without another word, she ran quickly up the stairs. A moment later, Nell heard the slam of a bedroom door.
She sank down on the couch arm again, and covered her eyes with a shaking hand.
“You all right?”
Startled, she slipped right off the narrow edge of slick white leather to land ignominiously on the floor, hot coffee splashing everywhere. She grabbed the towel that had also slipped, barely keeping it above her breasts and below her butt, and stared at the door, which was slightly ajar.
Right at Archer’s damned face peeking through the crack.
Chapter Three
Her cheeks burning more than her coffee-drenched thighs, Nell quickly righted herself so that she was on her knees. “Haven’t you done enough? What are you doing here?”
He pushed the door open farther and stepped into the house. “I could hear your voices out on the street.” He picked up the coffee mug, as it had continued rolling across the black-tiled floor right toward his feet.
“That doesn’t give you permission to barge in.”
He held out his hand. “Need help?”
“Not from you.” With one hand keeping the bottom of the towel tucked against her thighs and the other keeping the top of it tucked against her chest, she managed to get to her feet. While she had only a length of coffee-splattered white terry cloth protecting her dignity, since earlier this morning, Archer had changed from the undershirt and navy pajama pants into blue jeans and a black pullover.
“And it wasn’t closed, by the way.”
She couldn’t even argue the point with him, because the door often failed to latch the first time around. “If you’re here to see your sister, she’s upstairs.”
He snorted and set the mug on the sofa table. “Stepsister. And no. I’m not.”
“Then have you come here to gloat?”
“Because you’ve left Pastore Legal?”
She didn’t understand why it disturbed her so much that he, more so than anyone else who’d been leaving her messages, knew about it. But it did.
“Nothing to gloat about,” he said calmly, completely ignoring her stony silence. “I figure you’re showing more sense than you have in the last ten, fifteen years.” He angled his head, his gaze roving over her. “Did you burn your legs?”
She had, but what was the point of confirming it? “If I ask you to please, please leave, will you?”
His lips twitched. Her life felt like it was in the toilet, but the man’s infernal green eyes still had the nerve to sparkle. “What do you think?”
She let out an impatient sound and turned to make her own run up the stairs. Ros’s bedroom door was tellingly shut as she passed it heading for her room on the opposite side of the hall.
She shut her door and went into her bathroom again, wetting a fresh cloth to wipe away the coffee on her legs. The skin was red and tender when she blotted it dry. Rather than dress in jeans, she pulled on a calf-length T-shirt dress that she usually wore only to sleep in.
As her hair was drying, it had begun twisting into its usual corkscrew curls and now she yanked it up and into a careless knot. Her reflection in the mirror looked a little feverish, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it, so she went back downstairs.
Archer was sprawled on the unforgivingly hard, straight-backed couch as comfortably as he’d been sprawled on the overstuffed chair in his own home.
The coffee had also been wiped up from the floor, though there was a small wet spot on the edge of the area rug. It could have been a lot worse. The rug was as white as the couch.
“Just sit down, Nell,” he said calmly when she hovered there at the base of the stairs. “And tell me what happened with Pastore.”
Her hand tightened over the newel post. “After you tell me what happened last night.” Her cheeks felt as feverish as they’d looked in her mirror.
“You mean after you were finished dancing on the bar?”
She winced. “I had hoped that was just a bad dream.”
“
Look at the bright side. At least you still had on your shirt when the cops showed.”
She released the post and slunk over to the opposite end of the couch. The side chair that matched it was piled with law books that she kept meaning to take to the office. “Guess it’s good I’ve already parted ways with Martin. If he heard about that, I’d have been in a different heap of trouble.”
“Why did you part ways?”
She pressed her tongue against her teeth, studying his unfairly handsome face. “I didn’t make partner.” It was the truth; just not the truth he’d requested. “I thought it was time for a change.”
His eyes narrowed, but after a moment, he shrugged slightly. “Okay. So now what? Have a plan?”
“I have a lot of contacts,” she managed. “I’m sure I’ll find a new firm without too much trouble.”
“You can always work for me.”
She couldn’t stop the choked sound that rose in her throat. “I know you don’t mean that.” And when he’d made the proposition of working together all those years ago, it had been a with situation, not a for.
He shrugged again. “It would sure piss off Ros, though. Which is par for the course. I’m already in the doghouse with one of my other sisters. Why not make it two.”
She pressed her lips together and silence fell between them. She crossed her ankles, then uncrossed them. He showed no sign of leaving. And he still hadn’t answered her question about what had occurred the night before.
She toyed with her ragged thumbnail and changed tack. “What doghouse with which sister?” Not including Rosalind, he had four, three of whom were identical triplets.
“Greer. Her youngest, Finn, turns one today. She and her husband, Ryder, are having a big party.”
She gave him a sharp look. “Then why are you here?” He’d always put his family first. He was even loyal to Ros in a way. Despite the strained relationship Ros had with her mother, who lived several hours away in Braden, Archer made a point of personally delivering messages and the gifts that Meredith kept sending for birthdays and Christmases and every other little reason she could think of. Ros said he did it to annoy her. Nell had never been so sure. She would have loved to have a mother still around to send her messages and silly little gifts.
“I’ll get over to Braden soon enough for cake,” he told her.
Which reminded her of her own birthday cake from the day before. Birthday cake and champagne. Way too much champagne.
She folded her fingers together. “Why was I in your bed? We didn’t, uh—”
“Play doctor like we used to?”
She gaped. “We never played doctor,” she said in a fierce whisper.
He leaned across the cushion separating them. That faint, annoying smile played across his lips. He drew his finger slowly along her cheek, then tapped it once, lightly, against her lower lip.
Her skin burned and she found it very hard to breathe.
He leaned a few inches closer and his deep voice seemed to drop another octave into a whisper of his own. “Then how do we know what each other’s bits and pieces look like?”
Every cell in her body lurched. “We agreed not to ever talk about that,” she managed after a moment.
His smile widened slightly. “Times change. We didn’t do anything wrong. As I recall, it was quite...right.”
One night. One night during her last month of law school when she’d succumbed to his appeal.
Nell had never told anyone.
Not even Ros.
And it had taken her years before she’d managed to file the experience away in the dusty past where it belonged. While he had just continued onward, changing one woman on his arm for the next with routine ease.
The amazing thing was he’d never seemed to leave anyone with hard feelings.
Except her.
But admitting that then or now was anathema.
She stiffened her resolve. “You still haven’t answered the question, either.”
His lashes dropped slightly. He sat back, stretching out his long legs, and smiled his unreadable smile. “You were in my guest room,” he finally said.
Relief swept through her. “Thank God.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t need to sound so relieved there, Cornelia.”
“Heaven forbid someone bruise your considerable ego.” She pushed to her feet and stepped over his legs. “Your nephew’s birthday party is waiting.” She opened the door with a pointed flourish.
He exhaled as if she were the one trying his patience, and stood. He walked over to the door. “If you need me, you know how to reach me.”
Her hand tightened around the doorknob. “I won’t need you.”
The amused tilt of his lips twisted slightly. “I know.”
Then he stepped past her and strode down the walkway toward the fancy pickup truck parked at the curb.
She was still standing in the doorway watching when he drove away.
No. She wouldn’t need him.
She wouldn’t need anyone.
It was a lesson she’d learned when she’d been sixteen. And every time she’d forgotten it since then, all she’d earned was pain.
* * *
“I’m sorry, Nell.” The director of the legal aid agency smiled apologetically. “I appreciate your offer, but we just don’t have space for you.”
Nell kept her own smile in place with an effort. It had been nearly six weeks since she’d left Pastore Legal. She’d put in her name at every firm in Cheyenne—whether they had openings or not. But now, to have her services—her volunteer services no less—turned down was the last straw.
“Sally.” She met the director’s eyes. “We’ve known each other for years. We have lunch at least once a month. Since when have you ever turned down a capable volunteer?”
Sally looked pained. She looked beyond Nell’s shoulder toward the open office area beyond. Then she folded her hands together and leaned forward over her untidy metal desk, her voice lowering confidentially. “I can’t afford to get on the wrong side of Martin Pastore, Nell. You know how much pro bono his firm does for us.”
Nell’s fists curled. “What’s he been saying?”
Sally lifted her shoulders, looking helpless. “Nothing actionable. But there are rumors about, well, I’m sorry, but about your overall competency. Things falling through the cracks that other people have had to cover for. Little things that add up to larger problems.”
Nell’s nerves tightened. After two weeks of failing to gain so much as a single interview, she’d begun wondering if Martin was manipulating things behind the scenes. She’d told herself she was being paranoid. But then a third week passed. And a fourth.
Ros had already managed to break the lease on their condo and move out. She’d been staying with Jonathan for weeks now. Which had left Nell on the hook for that month’s rent on the oversize condo. She’d put in notice that she’d be vacating it in eleven days, even though she hadn’t secured a replacement just yet. There were places she could rent. Just not ones that wanted an unemployed lawyer whose name was apparently mud.
“You know me better than that, Sally.”
“I do, but... Ros made partner at Pastore.”
“She’s Martin’s daughter,” Nell reminded her stiffly.
“So did Scott Muelhaupt.” Sally looked genuinely baffled. “He’s new with the firm. You’d been there for years.” She shook her head again. “I’m sorry. I wish I could do more for you, Nell. You know I like you, but—”
“But your agency likes Martin’s firm more,” Nell finished bluntly.
“Needs Martin’s firm more,” Sally corrected.
Nell exhaled. She stood. “I appreciate the honesty, Sally.” At this point it was more than she’d received from anyone else.
“I’m sure things will work out in time.” Sally foll
owed her through the desks crowded into the office area toward the front door. “Once there’s more distance from your departure from Pastore Legal.”
Time was the one thing Nell didn’t really have. Not that she intended to share that information with Sally Youngblood.
Once outside, she crossed to her car in the pitted parking lot and tossed her briefcase onto the passenger seat. Her back seat was filled with packing boxes. Same as her trunk. She’d rented a small storage unit and had been methodically transferring things there from the condo. These were the things she couldn’t bear to part with—like all of her mother’s books—but that she didn’t need for day-to-day living.
Even though she was loathe to part with any more cash than she had to, she needed coffee, particularly after that depressing meeting with Sally Youngblood. She drove to the coffeehouse on the corner of the next block where she paid for an exorbitant but delicious coffee before she proceeded to the storage facility.
Once she got there and parked, she couldn’t find any of the carts that were supposed to always be available but weren’t, so she carried the heavy boxes of books one after another to the unit. She’d chosen one on the second floor because it was cheaper. Unfortunately, the elevator was as readily available as the elusive carts and she always ended up having to use the stairs.
She figured it made up a little for the fact that she’d canceled her gym membership in order to save that monthly fee, too.
With her back seat and trunk empty once more, Nell sat in her car with the windows open because of the heat of the day and finished her coffee.
She’d lived in Cheyenne all her life and had never seriously contemplated relocating elsewhere. But how could she stay in Cheyenne and make a living considering the long reach of Martin Pastore?
She needed either a new location or a new profession. Cheyenne was only a few hours from Denver. The city was huge compared with Cheyenne. But the rents were proportionately higher, as well. She was trying to make ends meet, not move those ends even further apart.
Lawfully Unwed (Return To The Double C Book 17) Page 4