Quinn Cavanaugh would say that isn’t true, that it’s about ownership of property, and I would normally agree.
I’m levelheaded Sienna, after all.
But not this time. This time, it’s about my grandfather, who was the best man I’ve ever known, and who I lost five weeks ago. He was funny and smart, and damn it, he was good.
I won’t let anyone say otherwise, and I won’t let Quinn’s client take the park away from our community.
Not gonna happen.
So I’ll paint, and I’ll think, and on Monday, they won’t know what hit them.
I’m in the ladies’ room in Quinn Cavanaugh’s office building, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intimidated.
The building is chrome and glass, brand-new, and damn expensive.
Which I expected.
But I’m a city attorney with an office full of secondhand furniture in a building that hasn’t been remodeled since Kennedy was in office.
As in, president.
“You’ve got this,” I say to my reflection in the mirror. I’m in my best gray suit with a black blouse under the jacket. My gray skirt is fitted and hugs my curves without being slutty, the hem falling just below my knees.
Of course, I’m wearing my sensible black heels, and my red hair is smoothed into its usual French twist at the back of my head, without a hair out of place.
Add my grandmother’s pearls, and just a touch of makeup, and my armor is in place. I look professional, polished, and ready to make my case.
I march out of the restroom and to a desk, manned by a pretty woman with a headset, talking on the phone.
“That’s right, Mr. Shaw is in a meeting until four, but I’ll give him the message as soon as I see him.” She smiles at me and holds a finger up, asking me to hang on. “Yes, of course. Of course. Okay, thank you.”
She hits a button and sighs, her smile still in place.
“How can I help you?”
“I’m Sienna Hendricks, here to see Mr. Cavanaugh.”
She types on her keyboard, and then nods. “Yes, I see an appointment with Quinn and Bruce House.”
“That sounds right.”
“Have a seat, and I’ll let Quinn know you’re here.”
“No need,” a deep voice says from behind me. I startle and turn, and there’s Quinn, his lips tipped up in a grin. “Sorry to startle you. We’re ready for you.”
“All right.” I glance back at the kind woman. “Thank you.”
She winks. “Good luck.”
Quinn gestures for me to walk with him through a tall, thick pair of glass doors.
“The conference rooms are this way,” he informs me. “My office is in the opposite direction.”
I cock an eyebrow, and he just shrugs a shoulder.
“In case you ever need to find my office.”
“I assure you, I won’t.”
I walk ahead of him into the conference room, my head high, palms sweaty, and heart thumping.
But all they see is the confidence, and that’s all I’ll let them see today.
“May I call you Sienna?” Quinn asks, and I nod in return. “Sienna, I’d like you to meet Bruce House.”
“Hello.” I reach out to shake his hand.
“And this is my assistant, Kami. She’ll be taking notes, and helping out as needed.”
The younger blond woman nods, but she doesn’t smile. She looks determined, and I like that.
She’s not office candy.
“Okay, let’s get down to it,” I say as I sit and set my briefcase on the floor next to my seat. “I assume you have a deed to show me?”
Both men frown, and Mr. House shifts in his seat.
“I don’t,” he says.
“Then why are you wasting my time?”
“I have other documentation and an offer,” he replies. He’s balding, and his hands are shaky. He’s wearing a brown suit one size too small, and everything about this meeting feels smarmy.
I don’t like Bruce House.
I look at Quinn and shake my head, but he holds up a hand. “Just hear us out.”
“You have exactly three minutes.”
Chapter Two
~Quinn~
“Let me show you what Bruce has with him,” I begin and pass a manila envelope to Sienna, then wait as she opens the folder and begins to read. She looks beautiful, and off-limits, in her proper suit, her hair up, and those horrible shoes.
I suspect she’d look amazing in a paper sack. Her hair is strawberry blond, and her ice-blue eyes are more expressive than she’d be comfortable with.
She’s smart, and I’m damn attracted to her.
“This is a promissory note from 1913,” she says with a frown. “Between Lawrence Hendricks, my great-grandfather, and Reginald House.”
“My great-grandfather,” Bruce says with a nod. “It says that Reginald gave Lawrence twenty thousand dollars, and in exchange for the money, Lawrence signed the land over to Reginald.”
“But it also says here,” Sienna replies, “that the land would be deeded back to Lawrence when the money was paid back in full.”
Her blue eyes find Bruce’s and she raises a brow.
“I have no documentation that it was repaid,” Bruce says.
“But you also don’t have documentation that it wasn’t,” she argues, and keeps going. “And as a matter of fact, I don’t have proof that this isn’t a fake. It could have been printed last week, for all I know.”
“Both men signed it,” I reply and watch as she bites her lower lip and gazes down at the paper again. “It’s not a fake.”
“I don’t know that,” she snaps.
“I understand that this is a surprise,” Bruce says and adjusts his tie. Bruce isn’t a bad guy. I don’t believe he’s trying to pull one over on Sienna; he thinks he’s in the right.
Whether he is or not, I don’t know for sure, but it’s my job to represent him.
“I also know that this property is worth much more than the twenty thousand dollars that Reginald paid for it, and I’d like to make it right.”
Sienna’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t say anything as Bruce continues talking.
“I’d like to have Quinn file a formal deed, officially transferring the land into my name, and in exchange, I’ll pay you one hundred thousand dollars.”
She blinks rapidly and sits back in her seat, closing the folder and pushing it away from her. I know before she says anything at all that the answer is a resounding hell no.
“Listen,” she says, her voice deceptively calm. Bruce nods, smiling with confidence that he’s just talked her into his plan.
He’s about to be disappointed.
“Bruce, you don’t know me very well. If you think that you can pay me barely six figures for a piece of property that’s worth millions, all based on a piece of paper that may or may not be real, you’re a complete idiot and your attorney should have given you better advice.”
That stings. I didn’t know about Bruce’s ludicrous offer until about twenty seconds ago.
“I’m going to take this before a judge,” I say, waving Bruce off when he wants to speak again. “I’m going to ask him to file the deed.”
“Based on what?”
I shake my head. “Based on this letter.”
She watches me for a moment, then a slow smile spreads over her pink lips and she stands, gathering her things.
“Looks like I’ll see you in court, then. Have a good day.”
She walks out, and I can’t take my eyes off her ass. I’m not proud of it, and I’d never admit it, but Sienna with her strawberry-blond hair and her quick wit turn me the hell on. I wonder what it would take to mess up her hair and get her out of that sensible suit?
Kami discreetly leaves the room, leaving me alone with my client.
“Now what?” Bruce asks.
“Now we go to court.”
“She’s not wrong,” Bruce says. “I can’t prove that this letter is real. I foun
d it three months ago, before her grandfather died.”
“Did you approach him about it?”
“I tried to, but he didn’t reply to my emails.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“Well, I hope so because Sienna is also correct about what that land is worth, and I’d like to start building on it.”
“Don’t touch it until a judge confirms you’re the owner,” I warn him. “Let me do my job, and then you can put a strip mall there for all I care.”
“I won’t do anything,” he says with a sigh as he stands to gather his things. “How quickly can we see a judge?”
“I’ll keep you posted.”
He leaves, and I walk down the hall to my office, a headache beginning to set up residence behind my left eye.
The first thing I do is call Mom, just to check in with her.
“Hello, dear,” she says.
“Did you go to your doctor appointment?”
“It’s good to hear from you too.”
I rub my hand down my face. “I just want to make sure you had a ride, since I wasn’t able to get away from the office.”
“Edna took me,” she confirms, referring to her next-door neighbor. “And the doctor says my blood pressure is fine.”
“I’m glad to hear that. What are you doing now?”
She sighs heavily. “You hover too much, Quinn. Don’t worry about me. Work, find a nice girl to court, go on a vacation.”
“I can do all those things and still worry about you, Mama.”
She laughs. “You always were an excellent multitasker. I’m feeling fit as a fiddle today, so don’t worry about me.”
“Okay. I’ll see you tonight, then.”
“If you insist,” she replies.
“You don’t want to see me?”
“Quinn, I love you, but I see you every day. You’re allowed to take a day off.”
“I’ll see you tonight,” I reply before saying good-bye and hanging up. I glance at the time and curse under my breath.
I’m late for my weekly meeting with Finn and Carter, my partners and brothers. Finn started our firm just after Dad died five years ago, and we’ve been incredibly successful. We’ve thrown around the idea of bringing on another partner, but the truth is, we trust one another and are comfortable with the way things are now.
No need to fix what isn’t broken.
“We were about to come find you,” Finn says when I walk into his office. Carter is sitting in his usual chair across from Finn, and I sit next to him.
Carter is technically our brother-in-law. He was married to our sister, Darcy, before she died five years ago.
It’s a long story.
“Gabby says hi,” he says, grinning at his phone. Gabby is Carter’s daughter, and the apple of all our eyes.
“I haven’t seen her in a while,” I say, rubbing my chin. “I’ll take her to the movies soon.”
“She’d like that,” Carter says and then turns to Finn. “Do you have something to announce?”
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“I saw a small blue box on his desk earlier, but he was defensive and put it away.”
Finn scowls and then sighs. “I’m going to ask London to marry me.”
“Why is this bad?” I ask, confused.
“I’ve mentioned marriage a few times over the past year,” he says, reaching for the box in his drawer. “But every time, she just smiles and says some day.”
“That’s not a good sign,” Carter says.
“Or, rather than talk about it, she wants you to do something about it,” I suggest. “Like, propose.”
“Well, I’m going to,” he says. “At the opening night of the new show she’s backing.”
Carter and I look at each other and then back to Finn, both shaking our heads no.
“What?” Finn demands.
“I think we’ve learned a lot about London over the past year,” Carter says, “and she would not want the proposal to be centered around her work.”
“Agreed,” I say, nodding.
“What are you talking about? It’ll be romantic. I can get up onstage with her when she’s introducing the first show.”
“No!” we both exclaim, holding our hands up.
“Remember when you decided to buy a house for her, without her knowing, and she was so pissed at you? We told you not to do it, and you didn’t listen.”
“This is different,” Finn says, but stops talking when he sees our faces. “Okay, tell me how to not fuck this up.”
“You need to do it privately,” I say, thinking it over. “Not in front of a crowd of strangers.”
“I agree, her whole job always keeps her in the limelight, especially with how well the movie is doing.”
London starred in a musical that continues to sit at the top of the charts. We couldn’t be more proud of her.
“You haven’t had a chance to go away, just the two of you, in a while,” I suggest. “Take her to the house in Martha’s Vineyard.”
“We haven’t been in almost a year,” he says, mulling it over. “Things have just been so busy.”
“It’s where you fell in love,” Carter says with a smug smile. “I’ll send Gabby with you.”
“That might be taking it too far,” Finn says with a laugh. “But I like this idea a lot. I’ll ask her to make room in her schedule for a couple of nights away.”
“Perfect. Now, let us see it.”
“It has a bow on it,” Finn says with a frown. “I don’t want to ruin it.”
“It’s going to already be open when you give it to her,” I remind him. “We need to see it.”
“Agreed,” Carter says.
Finn mumbles something about us being meddling women, making us both laugh, as he unwraps the box and shows us the pear-shaped diamond on a platinum band.
I whistle. “That’s one hell of a rock, brother.”
“She’s one hell of a woman,” he says with a grin. “She’ll like it, right?”
“She’s going to flip her shit,” Carter says. “Hell, I might marry you.”
“You’re not my type,” Finn says. “Now that we have that out of the way, how did your meeting go, Q?”
“It’s interesting,” I reply. “I don’t know how she’ll prove that the money was either paid back, or that the promissory note isn’t valid, but that’s not my problem.”
“It’s not often we get a case this old,” Carter adds. “It’s fascinating.”
“I’m hoping I can get in front of a judge early next week. This shouldn’t take up too much of my time.”
“That’s good because we have some new things to talk about,” Finn replies and begins going down his laundry list of topics for this week’s meeting.
It’s late. My meeting with the guys pushed the rest of my day back by hours, but there was no avoiding it.
I’m driving, rush hour long over, to my mom’s place, just to check in with her before I drive back to my apartment in Manhattan.
The lights are on in her house when I pull in. I walk inside and smile when I find her in the living room, munching on popcorn, watching the Real Housewives of New Jersey.
“I like this Dolores,” she says as I walk in the room and bend over to kiss her cheek. “She has spunk.”
“I forgot this was your TV night,” I reply and sink down into the couch across from her, lay my head back on the cushion, and drape my arm over my face. This is the first moment of the day that I’ve had to sit and just be.
I’m fucking tired.
It’s been a long stretch of work, without a break. I’m talking more than six months, working seven days a week.
Maybe I should take a day off this weekend and let off some steam. Go to the racetrack or to zip line. Climb a mountain.
I would say hook up with a beautiful woman, but the only woman who comes to mind is Sienna Hendricks, and I can guarantee you that she would not welcome my advances.
Which only makes me want her
more.
I’m a fucking masochist.
“Quinn?”
“Yeah?” I pull my arm away and look over at Mom.
“Did you fall asleep?”
“No. What did you say?”
“If you’re this tired, you should have just gone home. This is too far out of your way.”
“Mom, I’m fine. I just didn’t hear what you said.”
“I asked if you were hungry.”
My stomach decides now is the best moment to let out a growl, making us both smile.
“I’ll make you something,” she says, standing.
“No, you don’t have to do that. I can grab something on my way home.”
“You come here every day, and you don’t need to do that either. I’m fixing my son something to eat.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I smile and follow her into the kitchen, then sit at the table as she bustles about, fills a pot with water to boil, and assembles the ingredients for a quick spaghetti.
“I don’t have any of my marinara left, but I have some that your aunt Kathy canned earlier this summer and brought me.”
“That’ll be great,” I say and watch quietly as she makes my dinner. I’m not what you’d call a mama’s boy. I can live my life without needing her input, but I do worry about her. Darcy and Dad died within months of each other, and Mom’s health hasn’t been stellar over the past couple of years.
I’m terrified of losing her too.
So I insist on doctors’ visits, and I do hover. I admit it. But if anything were to happen to her, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.
Not to mention, I enjoy my evenings here, talking with her. Laughing. It’s the only part of my life that relaxes me.
“Your father called,” she says, pulling me out of my relaxed thoughts and making me frown.
“What?”
She smiles over at me. “He’s just going to be a bit late tonight, so I’ll save him some dinner for later.”
“Mom, Dad’s been gone for five years. He didn’t call.”
She blinks rapidly, then frowns, her eyes sad, as she remembers. “Oh, that’s right.”
She’s never done something like this before. My God, is she developing dementia? Alzheimer’s?
All It Takes Page 2
