Lured: A Love Letters Novel

by Kristen Blakely

  “Really?” Andrea frowned. “It doesn’t sound like the man you’ve been telling me about.”

  “It’s not. He did the Jekyll-Hyde thing on me. Just like Jerry used to do. Charming when he wanted something from me. Cold when he didn’t get his way.”

  “That’s a shame. Sounded like he was just the guy for you.”

  Shannon’s eyebrows drew together. “Really?”

  “Something in you lit when you talked about him. It’s been a while since you’ve been this excited about a guy.”

  “Excited? Me?” She did not think of herself as the excitable type, but she supposed she had been reliving the moments in his company—the conversations, the sex, heck, even the quiet moments spent together, each of them pursuing his or her own interest. Ironically, his bluntness put her at ease; she did not have to second-guess what he said. His career-focus alleviated her obscure guilt over focusing on her career.

  Right guy. Right time. Right place.

  Except that he doesn’t seem to want me anymore.

  Well, she had been blowing hot and cold. How could she blame him for doing the same? Perhaps it was her turn to close the distance. She could send him a bottle of wine—she wouldn’t know what to pick but surely a halfway intelligently designed website would have recommendations. She strode into her office and flipped up the cover of her laptop to browse wine connoisseur sites. As a description of red wines appeared on her screen, she reached for the pile of mail on her desk.

  The first envelope was registered and addressed to the clinic. Curious, she slit it open and pulled out the contents. She read through the two-page letter once, and then, suddenly cold, again. Words leaped out at her. Class action lawsuit. Plaintiffs. Defendants. Deliberate negligence resulting in physical harm.

  She—the clinic—was being sued for millions of dollars!

  Her mind skittered like a panicked squirrel. She reached for her smartphone and called Brandon’s cell phone number. Surely, he could help explain the document and advise her on what to do next.

  He did not answer his cell phone, and she hung up without leaving a message. Hands trembling, she called his office number. Within moments, a woman’s voice came over the phone. “Hammerstein and Lewis. How may I direct your call?”

  “I’d like to speak to Brandon Smith, please.”

  “Please hold. I’ll transfer your call.”

  As the phone rang, she picked up the letter again and held it at arm’s length, trying to distance her emotional reaction from the mental focus needed to deal with the problem. Her gaze fell on the letterhead.

  Hammerstein and Lewis.

  Her heart jackhammered in her chest.

  Brandon’s law firm was representing the people suing her—

  The phone clicked. “This is Brandon Smith,” his familiar voice spoke in her ear.

  Her heart cracking, bleeding, she hung up without a word.

  Brandon pulled his ear away from the phone and frowned at the receiver. The caller had hung up without speaking. He reached into his briefcase for his smartphone, which he had set to silent mode. The screen displayed a single missed call from Shannon just moments earlier.

  She had probably called his office, too.

  Damn it!

  Fighting the instinct to call her back, he set the phone down on the desk and slid it away from him. He stared at it—willing the screen to light up, the phone to start vibrating. Call me, Shannon, so that I can—

  Can what?

  Apologize? Explain? What on earth could he possibly say to justify what he was doing to her? He would win—because he always did, because his partnership was riding on it—and his victory would cost her insurance millions of dollars, and it would cost her the clinic in which she had invested all her savings. He would wipe her out, financially, and make it nearly impossible to start over, except as an employee in a hospital, forcing her back into the life she had escaped.

  The case was not strong, but with the little she had told him about the clinic, he could strengthen it significantly. He knew where to dig deeper, where to find the circumstantial evidence that would convince a judge to rule in favor of the plaintiffs.

  He could win the case.

  He could make partner.

  What else was there to discuss?

  Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  Except for the fact that he had fallen—hard—for her. Right girl. Wrong time. Wrong place. Brandon stared at his hands, clenched into fists, on his desk. What the hell do I do?

  Chapter 10

  Shannon did not arrive back at her townhouse until late that evening. After the clinic closed, she had spent hours researching law firms in the area and making appointments to meet with lawyers. The sooner she received trustworthy advice, the better off she would be.

  Her cell phone rang as she entered the house. She shrugged off her purse and jacket and slumped into the couch. She spared a quick glance at the caller ID before accepting the call. “Hey, Jon.”

  Jonathan Seifer, Andrea’s son, sounded grim. “How are you doing?”

  “I’ve gotten past the initial shock. I’m working my way up to furious.”

  “That’s a damned sight better than Mom. She started at shocked, and now she’s spiraling into devastated. She blames herself.”

  “Why would she?”

  “The dates cited on the class action lawsuit—they’re after Dad passed away and before Herbert sold you the clinic. After Dad died, Mom saw that Herbert was overloaded, but she couldn’t convince him to bring on more help. Guess it showed.” Jon’s voice was tight with tension. “Mom’s really upset. She says she should have tried harder with Herbert—insisted, threatened to quit, whatever it took. But the damage’s done.”

  “It’s not her fault. Tell her that. I’ll talk to her tomorrow, too.”

  “I called a couple of friends in New York City to check on that firm Hammerstein and Lewis. The lawyer they’ve assigned to the case—Brandon Smith—is apparently one of their superstars. People who know him call him ‘The Barracuda.’”

  “Why?”

  “He’s great at making a strong case out of a weak one. Apparently, he’s got a talent for finding minute traces of blood and then tearing deep until there’s nothing but blood in the water.”

  Shannon shuddered at the analogy. She pressed a hand to her forehead, as nausea coiled in the pit of her stomach. Emotions she could not name swelled in her throat, making it hard to breathe. She had told Brandon everything about the clinic—its issues, its problems. If he had a weak case before, he had a strong one now. With effort, she spoke. “I don’t understand why—it’s not as if we’re a big hospital system. How much money can there be in suing a clinic?”

  “I don’t know. It’s as crazy to me as it is to you. Obviously, they must think there’s something they can milk out of you or your malpractice insurance.” He sighed. “This Brandon guy—he’s bad news. He’s driven and hungry for success. I’ve heard people say the most dangerous lawyers are the ones on the verge of making partner. They’re so single-minded, they’ll trample over anything that gets in their way. Brandon’s especially dangerous since he’s been thwarted once before.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Rumor has it he was going to be promoted to partner last year, but one of his cases derailed badly and some clients took their business elsewhere.”

  “Do you know what happened?”

  “I don’t have any details. It’s just the buzz off the pipeline.” Jon grunted. “It makes him twice as dangerous. Not only is he gunning for his promotion, he’s got an ax to grind.”

  Shannon released her breath in a shuddering sigh. Her eyes stung, and she blinked hard to hold back the tears. It explained Brandon’s brusqueness, his sudden transformation from nice to nasty. He must have obtained all the inside information he needed for his case; he had no need to cozy up to the naïve doctor any longer.

  Stupid. It’s all my fault. Why didn’t I let myself get distracted? If I had just
focused on work instead of getting distracted…beguiled by a relationship, this would never have happened.

  The doorbell buzzed. “Hey, Jon, can you hold on? Someone’s at the door.” She pushed up from the couch and dragged her feet to the door. A glance through the peephole rooted her to the carpet. Of all the— “Jon, I’ve got to call you back. Keep an eye on your mom, will you?”

  “Sure. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  Shannon disconnected the call and flung the door open. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here.”

  Brandon inhaled deeply. “Let me explain.” His tone was measured, his voice pitched low.

  How could she ever have thought that his voice was sexy—perfect for the boardroom, the courtroom, and the bedroom? She ground her teeth. “There is nothing you can say.”

  She swung the door in his face, but he caught it before he slammed. “I owe you an explanation.”

  “You owe me nothing,” Shannon snapped. “And you know what, I don’t need or want explanations.”

  “Let me in. I don’t think the entire neighborhood needs to hear our business.”

  “No, you’re right. The entire neighborhood doesn’t need to hear our business. In fact, they don’t need to hear anything at all. I want you to leave.”

  “You called me at the office. Why did you hang up?”

  “I called you when I got the letter about the class action lawsuit. Stupid me, I wanted to talk to a lawyer I trusted. When your receptionist answered with the name of your firm, I realized that I was in bed with the enemy.” Her voice cracked.

  “I’m not the enemy. Shannon. Will you just—” His jaw tensed. “Let me in.”

  “Are you allowed to talk to me without my lawyer present?”

  “This is a conversation, not a legal consultation.”

  “Is there a difference?” Her hands clenched into fists; she was too incensed to mince words. “You fucked me, and now you’re going to fuck my business?”

  He winced at her crudeness. “The firm handed me the case on Friday evening, minutes before I left the office. I didn’t read it until Saturday morning, after you left for work.”

  “You expect me to believe it?”

  “Yes, because it’s the truth. You know me—”

  “No, I don’t know you. We spent a week together in Italy. We’ve spent less than twenty-four hours together here in the U.S. I don’t know who—what—you are.”

  “Knowledge is about closeness and intimacy, not time.”

  “Getting naked doesn’t count.”

  His eyes flashed. “I didn’t imagine the connection we shared.”

  “Do you expect me to believe that our week in Italy meant something to you when you did nothing for an entire month after that? No, we had no connection. You made it up to get close to me, to dig up the details about the clinic—all its issues, its problems. You’ve got the ammunition you need now to win your case and get promoted to partner, and you’ll destroy my career and my clinic in the process.” She bared her teeth at him, and clenched her hands into fists to stop the quivering. “You win, Brandon, on every single count, including being a far bigger asshole than Jerry.”

  “Don’t compare me to Jerry.” He grabbed her upper arms. “Will you listen to me?”

  Shannon shoved him away from her. “Don’t touch me. Don’t you dare touch me.” She folded her arms across her chest. Damn it, why couldn’t she keep her voice from trembling? “You’re right. I shouldn’t compare you to Jerry. Next to you, he’s a saint. He turned cold only when he sulked about not getting enough time with me, as opposed to you. You turned cold after you used me, after you could no longer get anything useful out of me.”

  “I left you that afternoon after I found out about the case. I cut you off because I didn’t want you to tell me any more about the clinic. I didn’t want to know anything that I wasn’t supposed to know.”

  Shannon jerked her gaze up to his. Could he be telling the truth? The deep breath she inhaled shuddered through her chest. “Why are you here, Brandon?” She heard the resignation and despair in her own voice, and prayed that he would not.

  “You called me. I figured we needed to talk.”

  “I do, but apparently, I can’t talk to you, not about this. Not with you on the other side of the courtroom.”

  “Shannon—”

  “I heard that you almost made partner last year, but you lost one of your cases, and lost clients.”

  “It wasn’t my case, and my firm ended up winning that case, but we did lose a major client, and I missed out on partner.”

  “What happened?”

  Brandon shook his head sharply. “It’s not relevant.”

  “As long as you’re planning to make partner, it is relevant.”

  He sighed and looked away. “Cynthia’s elder brother was a doctor. One of our clients sued him for indecent exposure.”

  “Did he…expose himself to her?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t the lawyer on the case, but when Cynthia heard that my firm was representing the woman suing her brother, she wanted me to put pressure on the case and shut it down.”

  “What?”

  “She didn’t want her brother to get sued. It would have wrecked his reputation and damaged his business, regardless of who was telling the truth.”

  “What did she expect you to do? Twist the client’s arm?”

  “Figuratively, yes. And she expected me to twist my colleague’s arm, too.”

  “Could you have?” Shannon asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

  “Technically, I could have put enough pressure on the case for the partners to pull the plug on it, but I chose not to.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s not my place to make those decisions for my firm’s clients. I represent them. I don’t threaten them or betray their trust just because it’s my fiancée’s brother who’s getting sued.”

  “What happened then?”

  “My colleague won the case. Cynthia broke up with me after accusing me of loving my job more than I loved her.”

  “And you didn’t make partner?”

  Brandon shook his head. His shoulders slumped on a sigh as he turned his head to stare out into the darkness. “Cynthia told everyone she knew what I’d done—or refused to do for her. I don’t know exactly what she said, but I don’t think she was interested in spinning it to make me look like a hero.” His lips twisted into an ironic half-smile.

  “I would think most people would be glad to know a lawyer would stick to his professional ethics.”

  “One of my major corporate clients wasn’t nearly so pleased. They wanted a lawyer who would be willing to do anything for them.”

  “Including break his own code of conduct?”

  He shrugged. “I lost their business. They went to a different firm.” His eyes closed briefly, as if recalling memories better forgotten. “The client was huge, and the partners were furious. I was lucky to hold on to my job.”

  “And now you’re in the running for partner again.”

  “I worked my ass off last year, trying to make up for lost ground. That’s why I went to Italy. I needed a break; I was burnt-out.”

  “Apparently working hard paid off. You’re on the verge of making partner again.”

  “Right.” His tone was flat and devoid of any trace of excitement or pleasure.

  “Lucky you.” She couldn’t help the bitter snap of her tone.

  “Where does that leave us?” Brandon asked quietly.

  Shannon shook her head. “There is no us. There never was.”

  She shut the door on him, and he made no move to stop her.

  Chapter 11

  The week passed in a frenzy of conference calls and closed-door meetings between Shannon and her lawyer, Tom Lancaster, in preparation for their first showdown with Brandon. On Friday afternoon, Shannon and Tom arrived at the offices of Hammerstein and Lewis precisely in time for their 2 p.m. meeting.

  “It’s going to be
a straightforward discussion,” Tom had said. “This initial meeting is just to make sure we are all on the same page as to what the case is about. I’ll probe for the range and limits of what the plaintiffs want, but no one is going to be talking about money or settlement at this stage. After this meeting, we’ll regroup and figure out our next steps. Just let me do most of the talking.”

  Shannon had nodded, but her intention of doing so vanished when the receptionist showed them into a conference room where a middle-aged lawyer awaited them. He stood as they entered. “Hi, I’m Daniel Lewis. I’m glad to meet you. Please come in; have a seat.”

  “I…” Shannon looked around the room, but it was empty except for her, Tom, and Daniel. “Where is Brandon?”

  “Brandon Smith. You know him?”

  “I thought he was on this case.”

  “We had assigned it to him, but on Monday afternoon, he cited a conflict of interest and declined it.”

  Monday afternoon. Before he came to speak to me.

  He turned down the case and his chance at a partnership before he came to see me.

  Shannon’s mind reeled. What did it mean, and why hadn’t he said anything? With effort, she shoved Brandon out of her mind as Tom and Daniel began talking. As Tom had promised, the first conversation was neutral, covering much the same ground as the registered letter sent to her.

  “We’ll be in touch.” Tom rose, signaling that the meeting was over.

  Shannon stood, too. “If you don’t mind, I have another question.”

  Daniel inclined his head. “Of course.”

  “I was under the impression that this case would have been really important for Brandon’s career.”

  “Yes, it would have been.”

  “I don’t understand, then, why he would have turned it down.”

  Daniel’s eyes narrowed, but his smile remained in place. “I can’t speak for him. Perhaps you should ask Brandon.”

  Shannon followed Tom from the conference room. “Is there time—?”

  “Time?”

  “To talk to Brandon.”