“Janie?” she croaked out when her sister-in-law answered on the second ring. “Sorry to bother you, but I need a huge favor.”
Janie Roarke arrived an hour later bearing an armload of groceries and a steaming pot of tortilla soup. She whisked into the house using her spare key and headed straight for the kitchen, tsk-tsking at the piteous sight of Daniela curled up on the living room sofa dressed in her bathrobe, her hair in wild disarray.
“I’m going to have to start charging your family a co-pay,” Janie teased.
Daniela made a face, getting slowly to her feet and trailing her sister-in-law into the kitchen. She slumped into a chair at the breakfast table while Janie set down the grocery bag, then fished out a bottle of flu medicine and passed it to Daniela.
When Daniela had swallowed four teaspoonfuls of cherry-flavored syrup, she shook her head at the pot of tortilla soup now warming on the stove. “What, you always have a fresh batch on hand to feed the sick?”
Janie grinned, walking back to the table. “But of course.” She laid the back of her hand against Daniela’s forehead. “Yep, you’ve definitely got it,” she announced with a grimace. “You’re burning up.”
Daniela scowled. “Why haven’t you caught it?” she demanded, half-accusingly. “You spent just as much time with my mom as I did when she had the flu.”
“I don’t get sick,” Janie stated matter-of-factly, pouring orange juice into a tall frosted glass and handing it to Daniela. “I have ‘Mommy Immunity.’ Looking after the twins through all their childhood illnesses helped build my resistance to viruses.”
Daniela took a small sip of juice, wincing as it hit the back of her sore throat. She set the glass aside. “Speaking of KJ and Lourdes, where are they?”
“With my parents. I dropped them off on my way over here. Mom and Dad are taking the twins to Dave & Buster’s this afternoon, so they were both pretty excited about that. But you’ll be happy to know that your niece and nephew stopped celebrating long enough to send you their love and wish you a speedy recovery—and Mom provided the tortilla soup, much as I’d like to take credit for it.”
Daniela smiled wanly. “Your mother is too good to me.”
“No kidding. She adores you. Every time I see her, she asks me what’s wrong with the men of our generation, allowing a smart, beautiful girl like you to remain single. And then she just looks at me, an indignant expression on her face, as if she fully expects me to answer on behalf of all men between the ages of twenty-one and forty.”
Daniela wrinkled her nose. “No twenty-one-year-olds,” she grumbled. “I have a hard enough time dealing with men my own age.”
Janie laughed, stirring the soup on the front burner. The fragrant aroma of chicken, onion and avocado filled the room, a scent Daniela would have welcomed any other day. Today it only made her nauseous.
Janie turned, and, seeing Daniela’s sickly expression, frowned sympathetically. “Go lie down on the sofa. I’ll bring you a cup of chamomile tea.”
Daniela obeyed, and a few minutes later Janie carried a silver serving tray into the living room and set it down on the cedar coffee table. Daniela emerged from beneath a thick comforter to accept a steaming cup of tea.
“I’m really sorry for taking up your Saturday like this,” she murmured, taking a grateful sip of the hot, soothing brew.
“Girl, please,” said Janie, waving a dismissive hand. “Even if you hadn’t called, I still would have dropped the twins over at my parents’ house. And then I would have gone back home and cleaned the house, washed and folded laundry, sorted clothes to be donated to the Salvation Army, putted around in the garden and maybe grabbed a power nap before picking up the twins this evening.” Her smile was overly bright. “As you can see, it’s not like you interrupted any exciting plans.”
“Where’s Kenny?” Daniela asked quietly.
“Where else? At the office, catching up on paperwork. He left first thing this morning and said he probably wouldn’t be back until dinnertime.”
Daniela fell silent, hearing the pain in the other woman’s voice, a pain she’d tried to conceal from the rest of the family for years. But everyone knew that Janie and Kenneth Roarke were unhappy, that their marriage was in trouble and had been for a very long time. Gone was the carefree couple who’d fallen madly in love when their eyes met across a crowded dance floor one night, the couple who’d once shared such chemistry that anyone within a fifty-foot radius felt singed by it. That couple had been replaced by two polite strangers who shared a big, beautiful house and parenting duties, and not much more.
No one could pinpoint when the change in their relationship had occurred, though Daniela had her own suspicions.
“Daniela, I need a favor from you.”
The quiet request interrupted Daniela’s grim musings. Her eyes snapped to Janie’s face. “Anything,” she said quickly. “Just name it.”
Janie stirred sugar into her tea, then lifted the cup and took a sip. She swallowed carefully, then pinned Daniela with a resolute look. “I want you to help me get a job at the detective agency.”
Daniela’s brows furrowed together. “At Roarke Investigations?” At Janie’s nod, her confusion grew. “Sure, but…what kind of job?”
“Noah tells me you’re going to have another vacancy in the secretary position.”
Daniela nodded, grimacing. “We’ve had rotten luck so far. The first one we hired called in sick every week, the second one couldn’t type a lick, and now…” She trailed off suddenly, gaping at Janie. “Wait a minute! Are you saying you want to be our new secretary?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Daniela blinked, nonplussed. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, lifting a hand to her forehead. “I think this fever is starting to make me delirious. I’m hearing the strangest things.”
Janie chuckled. “You’re not delirious, El, and you heard me right. I want to be hired as your secretary.”
“Why?”
“Why not? This is a family business, isn’t it? Besides, you said it yourself. You’ve had a string of bad luck with the people you’ve hired thus far. What’ve you got to lose by taking a chance on me?”
Daniela rolled her eyes heavenward. “I’m not worried about your competence, Janie. You have an MBA from the Wharton School of Business, for goodness’ sake.”
“And while I earned my stripes,” Janie interjected, “I made coffee, answered phones, typed memos, created spreadsheets, filed papers and did anything else the senior managers demanded. And let me tell you, they were very demanding.”
“They’ve got nothing on Kenny,” Daniela drawled. “Speaking of your husband, do you really think he’s going to agree to having you as our secretary? He’s the one who insisted that you stay home with the twins in the first place. How’s he going to feel about you returning to the workforce—as our secretary, at that?”
Janie made a face. “Now that the twins are in school and involved in so many extracurricular activities, we both know that they don’t need me around nearly as much as they used to. Besides, I could arrange my schedule so that I come into the office early, then leave early enough to pick them up from school. We can make it work.”
Daniela chuckled dryly. “I’m not the one you need to convince. Your husband is, and something tells me he’ll never go for it.”
Janie sat forward in the armchair. “He will if you ask him.”
“What do I have to do with this?”
“You’re the only one he’ll listen to.”
“What!” Daniela exclaimed. “Okay, this time I’m definitely hearing things. Since when does Kenneth Roarke listen to anyone but himself?”
Janie smiled cryptically. “I know you may find it hard to believe, El, but Kenny does value your opinion. Whenever something happens in the family, he’s always worried about what you’ll say, or think or do. Oh, he tries to pretend otherwise, put up a macho front, but I know better. He cares what you think of him.”
Dani
ela scowled. “If he spent less time worrying about my opinion and more time concentrating on your feelings, maybe he wouldn’t—” Seeing Janie flinch, she snapped her mouth shut, but it was too late. Shame engulfed her at once.
Wishing she could take back the harsh words, she said, “I’m sorry, Janie—”
Janie held up a hand, looking grim. “It’s all right. I know there’s no love lost between you and your brother, and I know you blame him for the problems in our marriage. But just remember, Daniela, that there are two sides to every story, and you shouldn’t allow your personal issues with Kenny to cloud your objectivity where he and I are concerned. You’re bigger than that.”
“I know,” Daniela murmured, suitably chastened.
“Want to talk about it?” Janie gently prodded.
An awkward silence ensued, the silence of two people who wanted to move forward but were afraid to take the next step. This was uncharted territory for them. In all the years they’d been friends, they had never discussed Janie’s marriage, or Daniela’s strained relationship with her brother.
At length, Daniela drew a deep breath and prayed she was doing the right thing by speaking her mind. “As you well know, Kenny can be an incredibly selfish person. For as long as I can remember, he’s always put his own needs above everyone else’s. Whenever we needed him, he was nowhere to be found. He caused my mother a great deal of stress and heartache, and I grew up resenting him for that.” She stared into the golden contents of her teacup. “I guess I’ve never really forgiven him. Sadly enough, whenever he acts like a bonehead, it reinforces my opinion of him and justifies the way I feel. I’m not saying that’s right or wrong. It’s just the way it is.”
Janie gazed at her with an expression of gentle understanding. “I think you and your brother have a lot to talk about and work through. Knowing him the way I do, I can tell you that he probably doesn’t have a clue where to begin to make things right between you two. I think he feels a lot of guilt over the way he let you guys down in the past, but instead of facing that guilt, he pretends it doesn’t exist.”
Daniela nodded slowly. “That’s probably true.” She gave Janie a long, measured look. “So you hope that by working in the same office, you and Kenny will see more of each other, giving you a greater opportunity to work through some of your own issues.”
Janie nodded, her eyes dark and earnest. “I love your brother, and I know he loves me. We both have our shortcomings, and God knows we’ve each played a hand in the situation we now find ourselves in. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make sure we don’t lose each other, once and for all. If working as a secretary at the agency helps me save my marriage, then so be it. Will you help me, Daniela?”
Daniela felt a constriction in her throat that had nothing to do with her sickness. “Of course I’ll help you,” she said, gruff and tender.
“Thanks, El,” Janie murmured gratefully.
“Don’t thank me. I only agreed because I was afraid you’d turn into Nurse Ratched if I didn’t.”
The two women laughed, until a violent coughing spasm overtook Daniela. With a tortured groan, she set aside her unfinished tea, then dragged her aching body from the sofa and down the hall to her bedroom.
She climbed into bed, and as she willed herself to sleep, it was an image of Caleb Thorne that permeated her thoughts. The memory of his kiss—the hot brand of his mouth upon hers, the searing possession of his embrace—made her temperature spike several degrees, which was the last thing she needed in her current condition.
She had to get better quickly. It was now a matter of personal safety, because if she didn’t have Caleb soon, she was going to burst into flames.
Chapter 11
Rita Owens had spent the better part of thirty years working for Crandall Thorne. In that time, she’d helped organize birthday and anniversary parties, had chauffeured carloads of youngsters to and from various school functions and had played gracious hostess to visiting dignitaries, politicians and mobsters alike. She’d shamelessly eavesdropped on closed-door conversations, and had refereed more than a few nasty brawls. Twenty-one years ago, she’d witnessed the untimely death of Crandall’s wife, a sweet, tortured soul Rita had grown to love more than her own flesh and blood. The sorrow of that unspeakable tragedy had been eclipsed only by the joy of watching Caleb, who’d been a shy five-year-old when Rita first joined the household, come into his manhood. A finer, more upstanding son you couldn’t find, and Rita took a certain amount of pride in knowing she’d had a hand in that. She’d never married, and the two children she’d birthed had never amounted to much, drinking and cavorting with the wrong crowd until their wild ways landed them in prison up north. As far as Rita was concerned, the only son she’d ever known was Caleb, and that was just fine with her.
Now, gazing out across the rolling expanse of green land that Saturday afternoon, a deep frown marred the smooth line of her brow. “Have you ever seen anything like it?” she murmured, half to herself.
Standing beside her in the large, sunlit kitchen, Ruth Gaylord shook her head. “Never.”
Mounted on a big sorrel horse, Caleb herded cattle through the pasture gate. The brim of his black Stetson shaded his eyes, but his mouth was set in a grim line as he attended to his task. His bare, muscled chest was covered in sweat and grime to the low waist of his filthy jeans. The jeans, along with his mud-caked boots, would never cross the threshold of the main house, if Rita had anything to say about it—which she always did.
The day was winding down, the sun sliding toward the far side of the mountain range and casting the ranch yard into long shadows and tall silhouettes. Most of the ranch hands had called it quits for the day, dispersing to their rustic lodgings for dinner and much-deserved rest.
Only Caleb and the Native American foreman, Wyome, remained behind, corralling the few wayward steers and heifers into the holding pen. In the pasture beyond, the cattle that had been herded in during the course of the long day grazed quietly.
“What are you two gawking at?” Crandall Thorne demanded upon entering the room and seeing the two women huddled together at the bay window.
“Come see for yourself,” Rita answered, with barely a glance over her shoulder.
Frowning, Crandall walked over and deliberately wedged himself between the two women. If they were gossiping about one of his laborers, he’d soon put a stop to it. Gossiping was one of the many things Crandall had little patience for.
The sight of his son astride the sleekly muscled black sorrel made his chest swell with pride. It was branding season at the ranch, and Caleb, his only heir, had arrived to lend a helping hand. To Crandall’s way of thinking, it was a sure sign that his son understood, and accepted, that one day these lands would belong to him.
Now if only he could convince Caleb to claim ownership of the law firm, as well.
As Crandall watched, Caleb shifted in the saddle and urged his mount into a canter, moving as one with the magnificent animal as if he’d been riding horses all his life.
“Well, what’s the problem?” Crandall demanded, dividing an impatient look between the two women.
“He’s been at it since before the crack of dawn,” Rita informed him in hushed tones. “Vaccinating, clipping ears, branding the cattle. Working nonstop, like a man possessed.”
“Hasn’t stopped for more than a water break,” Ruth chimed in. “I know, because I’m the one who took the water to him. Gave him a good tongue-lashing, too, about the dangers of becoming dehydrated and suffering a heatstroke. I don’t even think he heard me,” she added with a sad little shake of her head.
“A man gets henpecked enough,” Crandall griped, “he learns to tune a woman out.” But he, too, was a bit worried about his son, who’d arrived unexpectedly last night, and without uttering a word to anyone, had headed straight for the guest wing of the house, where he resided whenever he spent an extended amount of time at the ranch.
In silence the threesome watched Caleb for
another long moment. “Must be a woman,” Rita concluded.
“I think you’re right,” Ruth agreed, and the two women exchanged looks of unconcealed delight.
Crandall scowled. Though a secret hope sprang to life in his chest, he had to be the voice of dissent. “Thorne men don’t obsess over women,” he informed his meddling housekeeper and nurse in an imperious tone. “Never have, never will.”
Ruth and Rita traded knowing looks again. “Well, you know what they say,” Rita began in a singsong voice.
“Never say never,” Ruth finished smugly.
Caleb spent the weekend at his father’s ranch hoping, through hard, honest labor, to purge the memory of a forbidden kiss. When he arrived on campus bright and early Monday morning, he told himself he could handle the sight of Daniela, could hear her soft, husky voice without wanting to drag her into the nearest janitor’s closet to have his way with her.
But as he would soon discover, his newfound resolve was not to be put to the test that morning.
At first he thought she was merely late for class again. But as the hour progressed without an appearance from her, he found himself distracted as he went through the motions of teaching class, calling students at random to recite cases—all the while taunted by one particular empty chair. As the minutes ticked off the clock and she remained a no-show, he went from feeling relieved to irritated, concerned and then, again, irritated.
When class was over, he detained April Kwan to casually inquire about her friend’s whereabouts.
“I haven’t spoken to her since Friday, Professor Thorne,” the girl informed him. “When I called her at home yesterday, a man answered the phone and told me she was sleeping.”
Caleb kept his expression neutral. “If you happen to see her before Wednesday,” he said in a deceptively mild tone, “tell her she might want to rethink the wisdom of skipping my class as early as the second week of the semester.”
A Legal Affair Page 11
