Travis glanced at the desk calendar to see who his next appointment was. On days like today, people tended to run together. And if not for Shana, he recalled with no small amount of gratitude, he’d really be in a bad way because he’d still have his migraine. “As soon as you can would be nice.”
He heard his brother laugh. “That’s what I love about you, Trav. You’re never in a hurry.”
Trevor should talk, he thought. But he chose neutral ground for his response. “Hey, compared to Kelsey, I’m standing still.”
“Compared to Kelsey, a hurricane is standing still,” Trevor said with a laugh. “I’ll get back to you,” he promised.
“You do that,” Travis said, ending the conversation. Hanging up, he slipped Shawn’s business card back into his wallet. It was already getting worn around the edges.
For no reason, an image of Shana flashed across his mind’s eye.
It had to be lack of sleep that made him act like this, he decided. Like some adolescent with a terminal case of overactive hormones. Hell, he thought, even when he’d been a teenager, he hadn’t behaved so intensely.
Although there was that time when he and Trent had switched places, going out with each other’s girlfriends just to see if the girls could tell them apart. Problem was, he’d found himself falling for Trent’s girl. There’d been a lot of guilt involved before he finally confessed his feelings to Trent. When he did, to his relief, Trent told him that he really wasn’t that into the girl.
Trent’s heart really belonged to Laurel Valentine, the girl who, years later, became his wife.
The romance between Travis and Trent’s former girl hadn’t fared nearly that well. It lasted all of three months. Like a flash fire, it was way too hot not to burn out.
But even that hadn’t felt like this, Travis thought.
Of course, back then, he was getting enough sleep, he recalled with a touch of humor.
Glancing at his calendar again, he saw that, mercifully, he only had two more appointments for the day. And, for once, there were no court appearances scheduled in the late afternoon, like yesterday.
He was going home right after the last appointment, he told himself. What he needed before he went to the restaurant was a well-deserved nap. Lucky for him, he could fall asleep pretty quickly.
That was what he needed. Just some sleep and then, although beautiful, Shana O’Reilly would no longer look like an earthbound angel to him.
He leaned forward and pressed the intercom on his desk. “Please send Mrs. Baxter in, Bea.”
He thought he heard her murmur “It’s about time,” but he couldn’t be sure and there was no way he would ask her to repeat herself.
Kate hadn’t raised any stupid children, he thought with a smile as he rose to greet his next client.
Chapter 4
T wilight lightly embraced the parking lot as Travis got out of his vehicle and crossed to the front door of Shawn’s Li’l Bit of Heaven.
He wasn’t sure just what to expect.
A great many restaurants elected to go with a motif, a decor that identified them and defined the way they saw themselves. Walking through Shawn’s heavy oak double doors was like stepping into a sprawled-out country kitchen.
Unlike the cuisine it favored, the restaurant’s decor was neither Irish nor Mexican. Instead, it seemed dedicated to the concept of the perennial family gathering place of old: the kitchen where discussions were held, homework was done and food was prepared and enjoyed.
Rather than the slightly darkened atmosphere that other eating establishments favored, Shawn’s was brightly lit so that people could not only see one another at the table, but were able to make out the faces of the patrons at neighboring tables.
One big, happy dining experience, Travis thought. He looked around the general area, trying to spot either Shawn or his daughter. The restaurant was fairly full, not a bad accomplishment for a Tuesday when most people took their evening meal at home instead of going out.
“You made it.”
The words were uttered behind him. He didn’t have to turn around to know that the melodic voice belonged to Shana. But he turned around anyway, a tiny part of him hoping that she wouldn’t appear quite as beautiful at their second meeting as she had at their first.
If anything, she was even more beautiful.
Her long blond hair worn loose about her shoulders, Shana wore a peasant blouse and a wide, colorful skirt that easily fit into either one of the two cultures associated with the restaurant. Strategically placed on the white blouse was a small pin that identified her in ornate letters as “Shana.” Beneath her name was the title “hostess.”
“You work here?” Travis heard himself asking in surprise. He hadn’t pictured her showing people to their tables. Did princesses have a day job?
Amused by his question, she inclined her head slightly. “I help out when I can. Besides, Dad’s here every night, so it gives me something to do instead of sitting around just watching him.”
He wasn’t sure that he followed her meaning. “Watching him?”
The smile on her lips seemed to grow a shade tighter. “My father doesn’t like to admit it, but he needs help getting around. So I help,” she said simply. “Do you have a preference?”
He stared at her. “Excuse me?”
She gestured toward the dining area. “Your table,” she explained. “Do you have a preference where you want to sit? Some people like to be as far away from the kitchen as possible. Others want to be in the center of the room so they can see everything.”
As long as he could see her, it didn’t matter. “Anywhere is fine.”
“A man who’s easily pleased. I like that.” Sending a warm smile his way, she picked up a menu from the hostess desk and led the way into the dining area.
Music blended in with the voices of the various patrons, weaving a tapestry of noise that was oddly soothing.
Travis was doing his best to focus exclusively on his role as an impartial family lawyer but it definitely was not as easy as he would have liked. When she spoke, Shana became animated, gesturing to underscore her words. And each gesture caused the neckline of her peasant blouse to dip and move, rendering enticing glimpses of soft, perfect cleavage, the sight of which effectively kidnapped him away from thoughts of all things lawyerly.
“This table all right?” she asked, selecting one that was slightly right of center.
“It’s fine,” he told her, his eyes on her, not the table in question. If she’d offered it, he would have agreed to sit on a toadstool.
Get a grip, Trav, or she’s going to think her father’s employing a babbling idiot.
Taking a seat, he accepted the menu from her. Ambition had always been a driving force in his life. It generated the next question he put to her. “How old are you if you don’t mind my asking?”
She studied him for a long moment before speaking. “That depends.”
He felt his breath catching in his throat and he forced it out. “On?”
“Are you asking the question as our lawyer, or as my father’s guest?”
He tried to gauge which was the better answer and which would get him a response, because he had a feeling that they weren’t equal in her eyes. He went with what was safe. “As your lawyer.”
“Then I’m twenty-five,” she told him.
The first thing that registered was that she was two years younger than he was. He forced himself back on track.
“I’m assuming you have a degree.” She seemed far too intelligent to have just floated aimlessly after high school, living off her father.
“I do.” Amusement entered her eyes as she second-guessed what he was getting at. “You think I should be some fledgling barracuda sailing down the fast lane in pursuit of a mega career.”
That was a little blunter than he would have worded it, but she’d gotten the gist of it. “Not exactly in those terms, but I’d think you would be more motivated than this. Don’t you want to forge a career fo
r yourself?”
She seemed to take no offense from his suggestion. “I have a career, Mr. Marlowe. I’m the hostess here. It allows me to meet a variety of interesting people I might not meet at another job. And, more importantly, I am also my father’s caregiver. With me around, he doesn’t quite feel the sting of his infirmities as strongly as he might if someone else was hovering over him, offering to help when his strength fails him.”
Caregiver.
He understood feelings like that. They fit right in with the way things were done in his own family. It was also nice to discover other people valued home and family the way he did.
He found himself being more and more attracted to Shana. It was a definite conflict of interest, he warned himself.
“He means a lot to you, doesn’t he?” Travis asked warmly.
“He means the world to me,” she corrected and then added, “He’s my dad. I’d walk through fire for him—and he’d do the same for me,” she told him with feeling. “We’ve gotten even closer since my mother died,” she confided. “I couldn’t leave him to deal with things on his own, even if I wanted to—and I don’t,” she underscored in case Travis had another comment to offer about her choice of vocations.
If she had a career the way he seemed to think she should, she wouldn’t have been able to devote as much time to her father as she did. And she wanted to spend time with him. There was this vague feeling buzzing around inside her that time was short.
“I noticed he had trouble getting up from the sofa this morning,” Travis acknowledged. He lowered his voice, as if this was something he understood was private and she didn’t have to answer him if she didn’t want to. “What’s wrong with him, if you don’t mind my asking.”
“If I did, you’d probably only go to the source.” Travis didn’t strike her as a man who backed off until he had what he was after. “My father has a number of things going wrong at the same time.” She deliberately divorced herself from her words. If she didn’t, she knew she would tear up and although he seemed very amiable, Travis was still a stranger. “He has emphysema, a result of a cigarette habit he started at the age of eleven and didn’t stop until he turned sixty-five. Plus there’s angina—he’s on heart medication,” she told Travis before he had the opportunity to ask. “There are also a few other minor conditions, all of which keep him from being the dynamic man he used to be.”
Travis thought of the first impression Shawn made on him this morning. “Oh, I don’t know, he seemed pretty dynamic to me.”
Shana smiled fondly. “You should have seen him when I was a little girl. He seemed to be able to go for days without stopping.” She’d worshipped the ground her father had walked on. “I’d come home from school, rush through my homework and then sit by the window, waiting for him to come home. When he did—and I was still awake,” she added with a laugh because there were many nights when she’d fall asleep waiting, “he’d always pick me up, swing me around and ride me around on his shoulders.
“They seemed like the broadest shoulders in the world to me then.” She let a sigh escape, then flushed ruefully, as if that qualification somehow made her disloyal to her father. “Back then I thought he would go on forever. That he was immortal.” Her voice took on a tinge of sadness. “I think he thought so, too.”
“It’s a common feeling,” Travis told her. He had so many clients who had been coerced by their families to get their affairs in order and prepare a will. “Until someone close to you dies.”
She looked at him sharply, catching something in his voice. “Who died who was close to you?”
He wasn’t here to talk about himself. Backing off, he said, “I was just speaking in general.”
Shana looked into his eyes and then slowly shook her head.
“No, you weren’t,” she countered quietly.
He had no idea how she knew. Maybe those luminescent blue eyes of hers allowed her to look into his soul, maybe not. Either way, he saw no reason to pretend that she was wrong. He didn’t believe in lying.
“My mother.”
His answer surprised her. “You lost your mother, too?” It gave them something in common. Without realizing it, she felt a little closer to him. “When?”
Why was it always painful, going back to that time? He was twenty-two years past it. The memory should have healed by now.
“I was five at the time.”
She looked at him with sympathy. She’d felt devastated when she lost her mother two years ago. How much worse was that kind of a loss for a little boy? For a moment, she took a seat at the table, placing her hand on his in silent empathy.
“That must have been terrible for you.”
“It was,” he agreed. He’d made a vow never to dwell on that time, but to acknowledge it and move on. Because, for all intents and purposes, his life had done the same. “But luckily, after several very huge misses, my father struck gold when he finally hired Kate to be our nanny.”
Shana heard the wealth of affection in his voice. Whoever this woman was, she meant a great deal to him.
“Kate?”
“She’s my stepmother. She has been for over twenty years. Even in the early days, before she married my father, Kate made a world of difference to all of us, thank God. I think my brothers and I were destined for juvenile hall if she hadn’t come into our lives and straightened us out.”
“So she was a disciplinarian?” Shana guessed. She tried to picture the man in front of her being a difficult child and couldn’t do it.
“Just the opposite. At the time, she was a child-psychology student with an abundant amount of patience and love.” And then, as if hearing what he was saying for the first time, Travis stopped talking and looked at her in surprise. “How did we get on this subject? I’m supposed to be the one asking the questions.”
The smile Shana gave him told him she was very good at turning the tables on people, usually without them knowing it.
“A little mutual sharing never hurt,” she told him. “Besides, it makes you a little more human and accessible to us.”
He never thought of himself in any other way. Kate had set a very good example. “I’m always accessible to my clients.”
Her mouth curved, more intrigued by what he wasn’t saying. “But are you human?”
“That’s decided on a case-by-case basis.”
Any further exchange between them was cut short. Shawn O’Reilly, smartly dressed in a navy blue jacket, light gray slacks and a very light blue shirt, joined them. His very presence overwhelmed any sense of intimacy that might have been fostered.
Clapping Travis lightly on the back, he happily declared the same thing that Shana had when she first saw him. “You came.” Digging his knuckles into the table for support, he lowered himself into the chair opposite Travis. The chair that Shana had just vacated.
“I already used that line, Dad,” Shana teased, unwrapping his utensils from within a deep-green woven napkin. Without looking, she placed the cutlery on either side of his hands.
“Speaking of lines,” Shawn nodded toward the room’s entrance, “it looks like there’s one forming at the hostess desk.”
Shana quickly glanced over her shoulder. Two separate parties had gathered there. Several of the people were looking around for someone to come and seat them.
“Whoops.” She flashed a quick grin at Travis. “I guess talking to Mr. Marlowe here made me forget I’m still on duty. I’ll leave him in your hands, Dad. I’m sure you can entertain him with your stories.” Raising her hand, Shana signaled to catch the attention of a nearby waitress. Making eye contact, the young woman nodded. “Becka will take your orders and bring you both something to eat.”
“She fusses too much over me,” Shawn confided as he watched Shana hurry back to the hostess desk. His bright blue eyes shifted back to Travis. “I have to admit I like it, though. It’s nice to know that someone cares about you.”
Travis had gotten very good at hearing things that weren’t being
said. It helped when delving into a client’s history, allowing him to coax things into the light of day that might otherwise remain hidden.
“You and your other daughter aren’t close, I take it?”
For a moment, the older man looked just a shade confused. And then he seemed to understand what was being asked.
“Oh, you mean Susan? No, we’re not. Not because I wouldn’t like it,” he added quickly and with a touch of sadness. “That’s Susan’s choice.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Susan has always followed some path that never made any sense to me. And stubborn? She loved flaunting her independence at me. If I said ‘don’t play in traffic,’ she’d grab her ball and head straight for the intersection. She always seemed to get a big kick out of going against everything I said to her.” Reaching for a small loaf of bread, he began to slice it on the miniature cutting board provided. “Turned my hair gray long before its time.” Finished with one slice, he slipped it onto Travis’s bread plate, then turned his attention to slicing a second one for himself.
Travis nodded his thanks. The bread still felt warm when he picked it up. “What about Shana?”
The sadness instantly vanished from Shawn’s face. “Shana turned out to be my saving grace. Definite comfort in my old age.”
Because he felt he should, Travis took a bite of the bread. “Tasty,” he commented. “But no, what I meant was, how does Shana get along with her sister?”
A hint of resigned disappointment entered Shawn’s voice. “She doesn’t.” Realizing how that might sound, he was quick to absolve Shana of any blame. “Oh, Shana would put up with her if Susan was here, even though when she was, Susan always bossed her around. That’s just the kind of girl Shana is. She doesn’t hold a grudge. But Susan’s a whole different story. She always wanted to be free, no ties. No time for anyone in the family. She always acted as if the sun rose and set around her. Never a thought for anyone else. Damn near killed her mother when she—”
Shawn stopped abruptly, as if realizing where he was heading with his words—to a place that couldn’t be exposed yet.
[Kate's Boys 04] - Travis's Appeal Page 4
