Reluctant Wife

by Carla Cassidy

  Tyler shrugged. “The facts speak for themselves. He was found the next morning on the terrace. The railing on the balcony was old and rotten. Apparently it broke away and he fell.”

  It wasn’t right. Something about it just wasn’t right. Samantha felt it in her gut but didn’t know what to do about it.

  Tyler leaned forward, and Samantha caught a wave of his scent. Spicy cologne mingled with clean soap; a pleasant scent that caused a memory to flood Samantha’s mind.

  She remembered cuddling against him in the dark interior of a car, her hand caressing the firmness of his thigh. That same scent had surrounded her then, and despite the numbing effects of the alcohol she’d consumed, she’d been filled with the desire to hold and be held by him.

  She snapped back to the present, refusing to allow the memory to go any further, not wanting to relive one of her greatest humiliations—the night she had tried to seduce the great Tyler Sinclair.

  “Your father left behind a will,” Tyler said. “According to the terms, you and Melissa each get half of the house and its contents. I’ve been living there since Melissa got married, but I’ll make arrangements to move out immediately if you intend to stay in town.”

  “I intend to stay here, but you don’t have to move out. It’s a big house and there’s really no point in making any changes until I talk to Melissa and we decide what we’re going to do.”

  She rubbed her forehead, feeling as if she was being assaulted by too much information. “When did Melissa get married?” So much time, so many events had been missed because of her own stubbornness and pride. Her heart suddenly ached with the need to see her sister.

  “She married about six months after you left town, but she and her husband recently separated.”

  “Did she marry anyone I know?”

  Tyler shook his head. “I don’t think so. His name is Bill Newman. He moved here soon after you left. He runs a heating-and-cooling business.”

  Again Samantha touched her forehead, realizing a headache was attempting to gain hold. “I can’t believe I allowed myself to get so out of touch,” she said with a tinge of regret.

  “As I recall, your parting words when you left here were that you never wanted to see, think of, or talk to anyone from the town of Wilford for the rest of your life,” Tyler reminded her wryly.

  “And there are still some people I feel that way about,” she replied coolly, hoping he realized in no uncertain terms that he was one of those people. “But I’ve grown up considerably in the years I’ve been away and understand sometimes it’s necessary to deal with people you don’t particularly like.”

  Once again, a flicker of humor filled his eyes. “I’m glad you feel that way, because it looks like you and I will have to deal with each other in the future.”

  “Why? What are you talking about?” she asked.

  “Your father’s will made provisions for the firm. Fifty percent of it goes to you and fifty percent of it goes to me.”

  “Congratulations,” she said sarcastically. “I guess sucking up to my father for all those years finally paid off.”

  This time his eyes flickered with a darker emotion—anger and perhaps a tinge of hurt. That surprised her. She’d never seen him express anything close to hurt before. He stood and walked to the window, his broad back toward her. She cursed herself for the childish barb. What was it about him that always brought out the worst in her?

  “I know you don’t believe me, Samantha, but I cared about your father. I never gave a damn about his money.” He turned and eyed her, his features once again carefully devoid of emotion. “I’ll make a fair offer to buy you out.”

  “That’s funny. I was just about to say the same thing,” she replied.

  For a moment they faced each other, equal partners, but apparently neither of them interested in a partnership venture. How could a man who looked so hot be so cool? Samantha wondered. His rigid self-control was one of the things about him that had always driven her crazy. Just once, she would love to see him lose control, go a little crazy. Samantha knew all about going a little crazy.

  “What about Melissa? Didn’t Father leave her any part of the firm?” she asked.

  Tyler shook his head. “He left her a generous trust fund instead.”

  Samantha stood, not wanting him towering over her, and changed the subject. “I stopped by the coffee shop a little while ago and ran into Jeb Marcola. He wants you to represent Dominic.”

  “I know. He’s called me about a dozen times since Dominic was arrested.”

  “Are you going to take the case?”

  He shook his head. “It’s a loser. From what I’ve heard, the circumstantial evidence is overwhelming, as is the forensic evidence.”

  “Ah, now I understand how you got your reputation for winning. You only try the easy cases.”

  Again his eyes darkened but his mouth curved into a humorless smile. “A good lawyer takes cases on gut instinct. My instincts tell me this is one to stay away from.”

  “But I know Dominic. I’m sure he didn’t kill anyone.”

  Tyler stepped around the desk and came to stand right in front of her. “You knew Dominic. You’ve been gone for six years, Samantha. Things happen. People change.”

  “People don’t change that much. Dominic isn’t a killer.”

  “As usual, you’re not thinking with your head. You’re thinking with your heart.”

  She stepped back, her heart thudding an unnatural rhythm at his closeness. “I’m surprised you’d recognize that, seeing as you don’t have a heart.”

  He laughed and moved back behind his desk. “A good lawyer doesn’t have to have a heart.” He sat down. “In fact, most lawyers would consider the possession of a heart a liability.”

  Samantha eyed him narrowly. Her father had taught him well. It was the kind of cold, harsh philosophy Jamison Jackson Dark would have spouted. “So you won’t represent him?”

  “It isn’t a case I want. It’s going to be a high-profile nightmare. This firm has always been conservative, steering clear of controversial, publicity-laden cases.”

  Samantha drew a deep breath as she remembered the look on Jeb’s face. She had to help him...help Dominic. Jeb had always been there for her. “I now own fifty percent of this law firm?” she asked.

  Tyler gazed at her in speculation and nodded slowly. “Samantha, Justice Inc. doesn’t take cases like Dominic’s.”

  “It does now.” She smiled and withdrew a copy of her law degree from her purse. She tossed it on his desk. “If you won’t represent him, then I will. See you later, partner.” She walked out of his office, his shocked expression engraved in her mind.

  It was only when she got back into her car that self-doubts hit her like a ton of bricks falling on her head. What had she just done? With the bravado that had often gotten her into trouble in the past, she’d just announced that she intended to defend Dominic Marcola against a murder charge. It would be her first murder case. In fact, it would be her first case of any kind.

  What bothered her was that she wasn’t sure she was taking the case because she believed in Dominic and wanted to help him, or because she wanted to prove something to Tyler Sinclair.

  Chaos had returned. That was Tyler’s thought the moment she whirled out of his office. He’d always known she would come home eventually. What he hadn’t expected was that she would come bearing a law degree.

  He leaned back in the chair, the photocopy of her degree in hand. What a surprise. He’d assumed he would be able to buy her out, that Justice Inc. would be all his. He’d put blood, sweat and tears into the firm, always with Jamison’s promise that someday it would belong to him. He hadn’t counted on Samantha getting a degree and wanting to be a working partner.

  Somehow he knew he shouldn’t be surprised. Samantha had always managed to do the unexpected. That had always been part of her charm, and part of what had once driven him utterly crazy.

  He didn’t want her in the firm, didn’t
want her in his life in any way, shape or form. She muddled his senses, made the irrational appear rational, made him think of dreams he’d long ago cast aside. She was a threat to everything he’d worked so hard to achieve.

  He cast the photocopy aside, leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, a vision of her unfolding in his mind. Hair askew, with flashing brown eyes and her dress decorated with wrinkles and what had appeared to be a splash of catsup on the bodice, she’d been as beautiful as he remembered.

  Unlike her younger sister, who seemed to go out of her way to follow every rule, abide by laws both common and otherwise, Samantha had never met a rule she wouldn’t break. She could lie without batting an eyelash, and she had a gift for the gab that had gotten her out of more than one tense situation. He smiled wryly. She would make one hell of a lawyer.

  She couldn’t be serious about taking the Marcola case. It would be career suicide. His eyes narrowed as he thought of her assessment that he only took easy cases and thus had earned a reputation as a winning lawyer. It wasn’t true. He’d had his share of difficult clients, overwhelming damning evidence, and painful losses.

  What bothered him about the Marcola case was that it had all the elements of a sleazy tabloid story. Already it had not only filled the local papers, but had been picked up by the nearby Kansas City papers, as well. It would be a media madhouse, and Tyler wanted no part in it. Besides, Justice Inc. had always steered clear of murder cases.

  Unfortunately, if Samantha was serious about representing Dominic, and Dominic agreed to her representation, Tyler had a feeling he would be sucked into the whole mess. Yes, chaos had returned, and its name was Samantha.

  Chapter 2

  The Dark mansion sat atop a hill overlooking the small town of Wilford, Kansas, the way the manor of a feudal lord would dominate his kingdom.

  For all intents and purposes, Jamison Dark had been king of Wilford. He’d owned half the land in town and had been a powerful friend to his supporters, a wicked foe to anyone who opposed him.

  The porch light was lit, as if in warm welcome as she pulled up in the circular driveway. But Samantha knew the implied welcome was merely an illusion. the house had never contained any warmth or family affection. It had been cold and austere, a perfect reflection of her father.

  She knocked on the front door, wondering if the dragon lady still ran the household with an iron fist. Sure enough, Virginia Wilcox opened the door, her dark eyes flaring slightly in surprise. “Samantha.” She said the name as if it left a sour taste in her mouth.

  “Hello, Virginia.”

  Samantha stepped around the rigid-backed, gray-haired woman. Familiar scents assailed her—the smell of lemon furniture polish mingled with woodsmoke from the fireplace in the den. Her father had always loved a fire and only on the hottest of nights did the fireplace remain dormant.

  Although Virginia displayed no further emotion, Samantha felt both her surprise and her displeasure as she set down her battered suitcase. “Is my room available?” she asked.

  “Of course. Mr. Tyler called a few minutes ago and had me prepare it.”

  Samantha nodded and picked up her suitcase, sighing in dismay as the burgeoning case snapped open and clothes spilled out. “I’ll get it,” she said, despite the fact that Virginia hadn’t moved. “You can go back to whatever you were doing. I know the way to my room.”

  Virginia nodded and left the foyer, moving in silence like a disapproving wraith. Samantha watched her go, then bent down to grab a handful of the clothing. It took her only a minute to realize she would have to make two trips. There was no way to stuff her clothes back into the broken suitcase.

  She took the wide, winding staircase two steps at a time, wondering which room Tyler called home. Probably the blue bedroom. She could see him in that room with its masculine furniture and the navy blue and silver wallpaper.

  Before passing it by, she stopped and opened the door and peeked inside. Sure enough, the room smelled of his cologne and the closet was open, displaying suits neatly hung.

  She closed the door and continued down the long hallway to her own bedroom. Thank goodness. At least for the time she was here, he would be at one end of the hall and her room was at the other.

  It didn’t surprise her that he lived here. She’d been fourteen when her father had first introduced her to his protégé. It had been obvious from that moment that Tyler would receive from her father all the love, respect and friendship she herself had craved. It was then that she had begun to hate Tyler Sinclair.

  Shoving these thoughts aside, she pushed open the door to her bedroom. It was just as she’d left it six years ago. A feminine white bed with a blush-colored ruffled bedspread, the one she’d picked out for herself when she was twelve years old.

  She threw the armful of clothes on the bed and walked around the room, touching old mementos and keepsakes as memories sailed through her mind. Here was the music box given to her by Samuel Edwards, a boy her father had considered unsuitable for a Dark daughter. There was the stuffed animal, won for her at a carnival that had come through town when she was sixteen.

  Her fingers found her initials, carved into the side of the dresser. A tinge of shame coursed through her as she realized the destructiveness, remembered the childish glee she’d felt when she placed them here—as if by marring the furniture she could hurt her father.

  She’d spent a lot of time in this room, usually sent here for some infraction of her father’s rigid rules. As she’d grown older, she’d found other places to hide out from her father’s condemnation, places far less appropriate.

  She’d made a lot of bad choices in the impetuousness of youth, and she was sorry her father wouldn’t be here to see the woman she’d finally become.

  “Would you like something to eat?”

  Samantha gasped and whirled around to see Virginia standing in her doorway. The woman moved like a jungle animal, stealthily and without a sound. “No. No, thank you.”

  “Then I’ll be leaving for the night.”

  “Before you go, do you happen to know my sister’s phone number?” Samantha asked.

  Virginia’s features softened. “Of course. She calls nearly every day.”

  “Hang on, let me get a piece of paper and a pencil.” Samantha grabbed her purse and dug around in the bottom to find the required items. Of course Melissa called every day. She’d always been the “good daughter.” “Okay,” Samantha said, pencil in hand.

  Virginia reeled off the number in her dry, unfriendly tone.

  “Thanks. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  With a curt nod of her head, Virginia stole away. A few minutes later Samantha heard the distant roar of a car engine and knew Virginia had gone for the night.

  She stared down at the number in her hand, wondering what Melissa was doing at this moment. The two had never been particularly close, but there had been odd moments in the past six years when Samantha had desperately missed her sister.

  Without giving herself a chance for second thoughts, Samantha sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the receiver of the phone on the nightstand. She punched in the seven numbers and waited.

  It was answered on the second ring as Melissa’s familiar voice filled the line.

  “Melissa, it’s Samantha,” she announced.

  A stunned silence followed. Then, “I wondered if we’d hear from you. Where are you?”

  “In Wilford. At the house. I’m sorry I missed the funeral.”

  “Everyone in town attended. You’d have thought a celebrity passed away.” Melissa’s voice sounded stilted, strained. “How long are you in town for?”

  “I intend to stay.” Samantha wished she could reach back through the years, embrace the little girl who had once followed her like a shadow. But she knew that little girl was gone, shoved aside by a big sister who’d had too much anger in her to cope with a sibling. “I’d like to see you. Maybe we could have lunch tomorrow?”

  Again there was a long pau
se, as if Melissa wasn’t sure she wanted to meet Samantha for lunch. “Okay. I’d like that.”

  Samantha eased her grip on the receiver in relief. “Great. Where shall we meet?”

  “How about the club?”

  Samantha hesitated for a moment. She’d always hated the country club, but she suddenly realized she would agree to meet her sister in hell if that was what she wanted. “Sounds fine. I’ll see you there about noon,” she agreed.

  They said goodbye and Samantha hung up the receiver, her head filled with thoughts of her sister. Tyler had said her sister was separated. Why wasn’t Melissa living here? Where was she living? So many questions. Maybe...just maybe it wasn’t too late for the two of them to become friends.

  Without the interference of their father, maybe they could finally find the sisterly love that had somehow been misplaced through the years.

  She’d never much minded being alone, but now she realized there was a difference between being alone and being lonely. For the last several years of her life, she’d been lonely.

  In her distant memory echoed the laughter of two little girls and their mother. When their mother died, the laughter had gone with her and the two little girls had drifted apart.

  “It’s not too late,” Samantha whispered to herself softly. It wasn’t too late to recapture that closeness she’d once felt with Melissa. It would take time and patience; and while Samantha had always been short of patience, she had plenty of time.

  With memories of her mother still drifting through her head, Samantha left her bedroom and went down the hall to the room that had once belonged to her mother. She opened the door and stepped into the darkness.

  For a moment she imagined she smelled her mother’s perfume, a sweet blend of florals and spices. She breathed deeply, wishing she could forever capture the essence of her mother. When she opened her eyes, she realized her imagination had gotten the best of her and what she really smelled was the stuffy mustiness of a room that had been closed up for too long.