Coop looked around, then nodded in a way that said he was trying to be incognito at the moment.
“So you bagged the guy my sister offed?”
Carlotta frowned. “He offed himself.”
“I’ll make the final determination,” Coop said, then his eyes twinkled. “But the evidence at the scene suggests your sister is telling the truth.”
“You have a cool job,” Wes said.
“It’s cool some of the time,” Coop admitted. “But not everyone can work with stiffs all day. Buy you a beer?”
“Sure,” Wes said happily.
“No,” Carlotta cut in, then added to Coop. “He’s not old enough to drink.”
Wesley frowned. “I drink all the time.”
“Well, you shouldn’t,” Coop said. “What brings you into Moody’s?”
Carlotta smiled. “A congratulatory gift for our father.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“A promotion.”
“Ah… nice.”
At the sound of footsteps on the stairs, Carlotta glanced up to see June Moody descending gracefully. The woman was in her mid-fifties and dressed with the elegance of a Hepburn.
“Hi, June,” Carlotta said, so pleased to see her.
June returned the smile. “Hello. Nice to see you.”
Carlotta realized with a jolt the woman didn’t recognize her, but was being cordial, just as she would be to any customer.
“May I help you?” she offered.
Carlotta turned to Wesley. “Would you choose a nice cigar for Randolph?”
“Me? I don’t know anything about cigars.”
June winked and gestured with a manicured hand. “Come… I’ll teach you.”
Carlotta marveled as the petulant, foul-mouthed teenager with the attitude morphed into a polite young man. His eagerness tugged on her heart—he was starved for adult attention.
When they walked away, Coop turned to her. “Shall we sit?”
She agreed and lowered herself to the stool next to him.
“So,” he said, “we meet again.”
“So it would seem.” She could tell from the slight glaze of his eyes that he was buzzed.
His mouth opened slightly. “Are you sure we’ve never met before today?”
“I guess it’s possible,” she said carefully.
He glanced at her wedding ring. “I’m not coming on to you… I just can’t shake this feeling of déjà vu.”
“I feel it, too. Actually, I know someone very much like you.”
He gave a little laugh. “Poor fellow.”
“He’s been through some rough patches,” she admitted. “He had a job very similar to the one you have now.” She nodded to his glass. “But he made a terrible mistake and lost everything.”
Coop wet his lips. “How’s he doing now?”
“He’s resilient, but he’d give anything to hit the rewind button.”
Coop nodded slowly, but remained silent. He looked at his drink glass, then back to her. “Why do I have the feeling you’re some kind of messenger?”
She smiled. “Because… I am.”
He arched an eyebrow and scanned her face, then he scoffed. “I must be loaded.”
“Maybe,” she conceded. “But when you sober up, I hope you’ll remember this conversation.”
He pursed his mouth. “I won’t forget you, that’s for sure.”
“Hey, Sis,” Wes said, striding up. “What do you think about this one?” He held a fat brown cigar with a silver label reverently. “June says it’s really rare and it smells great. Do you think Dad will like it?”
Carlotta nodded. “Looks good to me. Can you wrap it?” she asked June.
June smiled. “I can put it in a leather tube and add a red bow.”
“Perfect.” She looked at Wes. “Keep Dr. Craft company while I pay for the cigar?”
She left the men and followed June to the cash register. June busied herself with the sale, but glanced up. “I’m sorry, I can’t place your name.”
“Carlotta Wren… er, Ashford.”
“You know Coop?”
“Actually, we met earlier today.”
“Really? Funny, you two seem more familiar with each other.”
Carlotta smiled. “I guess it’s just like that for some people.”
June nodded in concession.
“Do you mind if I ask you an odd question?” Carlotta said.
“Not at all.”
“Has your life turned out the way you planned?”
June hesitated. “No. But then has anyone’s?”
“You don’t believe in destiny?”
The woman laughed merrily. “I think destiny is overrated. People get too caught up in what they think they’re supposed to do or be. Instead of living life, they wind up chasing some optimum version of it, and missing out on all the good, everyday stuff.”
Carlotta pondered the woman’s words. “In other words, there’s no one best path.”
“Right. At least that’s what I think.” She nodded to Carlotta’s hand. “I see you’re married.”
Carlotta rummaged in her purse to find her wallet. “Yes.”
“And is he a good man?”
Carlotta pulled out a credit card and handed it over. “Yes.”
June took the card. “Then aren’t you a lucky one?”
Carlotta nodded thoughtfully, then glanced over at Coop. He and Wesley were deep in guy-talk about cars and engines. She had never seen Wes more animated. Anger toward her parents shot through her—they hadn’t abandoned her and Wes, yet they weren’t present in their children’s lives. Was this way really any better?
She thanked June for the cigar, and slipped it into her shirt pocket for safekeeping. When she walked over to the men, they were still talking automotive.
“I was telling Coop about the Humvee,” Wes said.
“Ah. And did he tell you about his ’72 Corvette?” she asked.
Coop blinked. “How did you know I have a ’Vette?”
“You must’ve mentioned it,” she said softly. “How else would I know?”
He studied her solemnly, then paled and pushed away his half-full drink.
“We should get going,” she said to Wes.
Wes looked disappointed, but nodded. “Nice talking to you,” he offered to Coop.
Coop pulled out his wallet and fished out a business card. “Don’t know if you’re interested in medicine or lab work, but we can always use a bright intern at the morgue.”
Wes took the card, but made a face. “My grades aren’t so good.”
“Then you should do something about that,” Coop said, pushing off his stool.
Carlotta wanted to kiss him. A few words from him meant more to Wes than anything she or their parents could possibly say. She mouthed “thank you,” to the man, and, after a few seconds of silent communing with their eyes, he mouthed the words back.
“See you around,” Wes said as they moved toward the door.
“I hope so,” Coop said.
Carlotta gave him one last look, then waved to June and walked outside.
“Cool guy,” Wes said as they climbed into the Humvee.
“I think he liked you, too,” Carlotta offered, buckling her seat belt.
Wes put the business card in his jacket pocket and started the engine. “This has been the weirdest day.”
“Why do you say that?” she asked lightly.
“I don’t know. I just feel… happy.” He blushed furiously. “How lame is that?”
“It’s not lame at all.”
On the drive back to the Buckhead office building where Mashburn, Tully & Wren Investments was located, she
quizzed him about school, about his grades, and if he’d thought about his future. It was clear that while he was intrigued to think he had the smarts to do something with his life, he still clung to his dumb jock identity.
“I don’t want to turn into Randolph,” he said as he pulled into a parking garage for the Buckhead financial district. “A slave to some stinking shirt-and-tie job.”
“So instead you’re going to be a slave to a drug habit?” she asked. “And live with Mom and Dad forever?”
He scowled. “It’s not like I’m an addict.”
“Prove it. Get your life together and get out on your own.”
He gave a mocking laugh as he pulled into a parking place. “Yeah, because you’re so independent.”
“Touché.” She angled her head. “Pact?”
Wes looked suspicious. “What do you mean?”
“Let’s both do something with our lives.”
“Like what?”
“Finish our education, for one. And maybe the morgue could use two interns.”
His eyes bulged. “You? Working at the morgue?”
She shrugged. “Sounds intriguing, doesn’t it?”
He pursed his mouth and nodded. “More interesting than school… and being in that house with the Stepfords.”
“So we have a deal? We’re both going to get our lives together?”
He looked uncomfortable. “So why the big change in you all of a sudden?”
“Chalk it up to my close call today at the club. When someone has a gun pointed at you, you tend to evaluate your life.”
He smirked. “I guess you’re right.” But he still looked unconvinced… wary.
“Wes, we have to stick together, keep each other honest, okay? I need your help.”
He was quiet for so long, she thought she’d lost him. Finally, he said, “Okay… I’m in.”
She grinned. “Good. Now let’s go in and play nice.”
He grimaced. “I’d rather be somewhere else.”
Nursing a pang for her old life, Carlotta was starting to fear she’d been plopped into this unpredictable place for good. “I know exactly what you mean.”
Chapter 13
The only thing different about the offices of Mashburn, Tully & Wren Investments since the last time Carlotta had been there to visit Peter was the fact that her father’s name in gilt letters hadn’t been scraped off the door.
Carlotta was happy to see Quinten Gallagher was still receptionist at the firm, but she was surprised by the frosty greeting.
“Welcome, Mrs. Ashford,” he said with thinly veiled contempt, then his gaze bounced to Wes with equal disdain. “Mr. Wren.”
She murmured a response, wondering how nasty she had been to this man in the past.
“Our new intern Meg will show you to the room where the party is being held.”
The attractive young dishwater-blonde was familiar to Carlotta, but it took her a minute to recognize her from her previous world as Meg Vincent, the girl who worked with Wesley in the city office where he performed his community service work—and on whom he had a huge crush.
And from the way he was looking at her now, he was just as smitten.
“I’m Wesley Wren,” he announced, his chest puffed out.
Meg sniffed and turned for him to follow her. Carlotta bit back a smile. It seemed the girl was as immune to Wes’s charms as ever.
“I’ll catch up,” Carlotta said, then turned back to Quinten. “I’m sorry we haven’t gotten to know each other. Would you like to have lunch sometime?”
He thawed right before her eyes. “Sure. That would be… nice.”
“Great,” she said, then turned and followed Wes and Meg to a noisy conference room where dozens of people mingled around a table that held a sheet cake heralding “Congratulations!”
She stiffened when she saw Walt Tully, Randolph’s partner and Tracey’s father, also her godfather, standing next to Randolph. Walt had led the charge against her father and had abandoned his godchildren during their time of need. She had to hide her loathing when the man smiled his waxy smile and gave her a one-armed hug, reminding herself that in this place, he wasn’t evil, just creepy.
“There’s the woman of the hour,” Walt boomed. “Tracey said you were quite the hero today at the club.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Carlotta said, trying not to recoil.
“What were you thinking?” Randolph said, enveloping her in an embrace.
The feel and smell of him made tears well in her eyes. She held on, prolonging the hug. He squeezed her hard, then pulled back. “You okay, Sweetheart?”
She nodded, fine with him thinking she was overcome by what had happened at the club versus being overwhelmed hugging a father for whom she’d yearned for more than a decade. “Congratulations. I’m so proud of you.”
He smiled wide and squeezed her again. “I’m proud of you, too. You were brave today.”
“Or foolish,” Valerie said, walking up. But when Randolph released Carlotta, her mother hugged her close. “What would I do without you?” she whispered in Carlotta’s ear.
Carlotta closed her eyes. She’d hungered to know whether her mother had regretted leaving, if she’d missed her daughter while she was in exile… it appeared maybe she had.
When Valerie pulled back, Carlotta was happy to see her mother’s dark eyes were clear and lucid.
“I talked to your father about Wesley,” Valerie said, for their ears only. “We’re both going to keep closer tabs on him.” She squeezed Carlotta’s hand. “I was wrong before… you’d make a wonderful mother.”
Carlotta’s throat was so clogged with emotion, she could only nod.
“Now… where is that handsome husband of yours?”
Carlotta glanced around the crowded room, but didn’t see Peter. “Probably in his office—I’ll find him.”
She left the room feeling as if she were floating, buoyed by the sense that her family was going to be all right. It was the happiest she’d been since before her father had been indicted and their world had imploded.
When she reached Peter’s office, the door was ajar. She opened it and saw he was on the phone, leaning against his desk, his back to her.
She walked closer, her ears piqued when she realized he was speaking to someone in an intimate voice, and in low tones. Snatches of the conversation drifted to her.
“… can’t do this, Angela…. have to come clean… not good for either one of us.”
Carlotta must have gasped or either he sensed her presence because he turned. When he saw her, he paled.
“I’ll call you back,” he said into the phone, then set it down.
She fought back tears. “You’re missing my father’s party so you can have a private conversation with Angela Keener?”
He sighed. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough,” she said evenly.
He held up his hands. “Carly, it’s not what you think.”
“Then clear it up for me.” She was shaking now. “Explain why you’ve been seen with her in out of the way places.”
He massaged the bridge of his nose, then walked closer. “Angela is involved in something illegal, and she came to me for advice.”
She stopped, wanting to believe him. “What’s she involved in?”
He averted his gaze. “I promised I wouldn’t say—”
“What about your promise to me?”
He sighed again. “You’re right. Okay… she’s a call girl for an escort service.”
Surprise shot through her. “What?”
“I know, I couldn’t believe it either when she told me. She got behind on her bills, and a girlfriend told her she could make some quick money. But now that she’s in, the people she works fo
r won’t let her out.”
Carlotta frowned. “Why did she come to you?”
“We grew up together, our families know each other. She trusts me. I’ve convinced her to go to the district attorney’s office with names to try to save herself.”
So Angela’s life had taken a path similar to the other place. Carlotta lifted her chin. “Is that all that’s going on between the two of you?”
Disbelief flashed over his face, then he clasped her arms. “Carly, I’m sorry I’ve been secretive—I should’ve told you what was going on. But Angie is just a friend, that’s all. I couldn’t possibly be attracted to another woman.”
He smoothed her hair back from her face, then kissed her earnestly. She felt his love for her as his mouth moved tenderly over hers, but when he lifted his head, she could tell in his eyes something was wrong.
“So what did you want to talk to me about?”
He released her, then pulled his hand over his mouth. He looked all around his office, as if he were afraid someone was lurking in a corner. “There are some things going on here at the firm I’m not comfortable with.”
Her mind instantly went to the improprieties that had cost her father his job—and his freedom. “What things?”
He stepped closer and searched her face, then he smiled. “Never mind. It’s just stress. I’ve been working too much.”
“Yes, you have,” she murmured, clasping his face in her hands. “And I’d rather you walk away from this job if staying means you have to walk away from your integrity.”
His expression cleared and he looked as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He kissed her again, harder, with a hint of desperation. She opened her mouth and welcomed his tongue, swept up in his fervor.
When they were young, Peter had been an ardent lover, but later, stress and emotional baggage had hampered his libido. They hadn’t been able to consummate their reunion in the place she’d come from, but the insistent erection now pressed against her stomach was reminiscent of their early lovemaking. When he released her to close and lock his office door, she didn’t stop him.
He walked her back into his desk. “I was scared to death when I heard about the robbery. I want to hold my wife.”
“I want you, too,” she whispered, fumbling with his belt and zipper.
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