Tall, Dark...And Framed?

by Cathleen Galitz

  There had been no need for Seb to ply her with liquor to get her to divulge more about her own background than she had intended. Merely by being attentive and interested in what she had to say, he gave the impression that he found her bright and funny and captivating. There was no denying that it was flattering. Indeed, such charm would be hard for the most jaded woman to shrug off.

  Despite the circumstances that had brought her here, Susan was far from jaded. Somewhere deep inside of her still lived the same little girl who had vowed to make the world a better place through her own sheer determination to put the bad guys behind bars and represent those handsome fellows wearing white cowboy hats.

  And yes, she had noticed a cream-colored Stetson dangling from the coatrack in the foyer on her way in.

  Fortunately for her own conscience, Susan had become convinced over the course of the evening that, while Sebastian Wescott might well be a brutal businessman when circumstances warranted it, her attractive host was simply incapable of murder. Someone who named his dogs Pal and Buddy and was cowed by his housekeeper simply wasn’t capable of the heartlessness necessary to take a human life. Was he?

  By the time Susan had exhausted her extensive list of questions, night had fallen. Putting a hand to the small of her back, she stretched her stiff muscles. How inviting that dip in the Jacuzzi sounded when Sebastian offered it, informing her that he had an abundance of swimsuits of all sizes if she happened to be the shy type. The thought of spending any time at all in a hot tub with this magnificent male specimen, whether naked or fully clothed, made her think it would be a whole lot easier to jump into a roaring fire than endure the hot flashes of passion that such images stirred in her.

  Feigning a yawn, she said it was past her bedtime. She scheduled their next appointment into her time-planner before allowing him to escort her to her vehicle. Overhead the sky was a canopy of black velvet sprinkled with precious jewels.

  “I’m afraid you missed your calling,” she said as Seb opened the car door for her.

  He looked perplexed. “What do you mean?”

  “The way you turned the tables on me tonight and had me answering more questions than you did makes me believe you would have made an excellent lawyer yourself,” she clarified.

  Sebastian’s laugh was a wholesome sound, which echoed off the nearby sand hills and resonated in the chambers of Susan’s heart. It had a full-bodied quality that caused her pulse to thrum.

  “Is it so hard for you to believe I just might be interested in you, Susan?” he asked, tilting up her chin so that she couldn’t avoid looking into his eyes. They were the same astonishing color as the stars above. Liquid and as feral as those of a timber wolf.

  When she shivered beneath that predatory gaze, Seb asked if she was cold.

  Feeling the warmth of his breath, Susan shook her head. Actually she was feeling oddly flushed. It was as if some secret part of her heart that had been frozen for a long time was beginning to thaw and sending the message to every nerve ending in her body. Tingling all over, she lowered her lashes in anticipation.

  In anticipation of what? she wondered dazedly.

  A kiss that would violate the sacred bond between a lawyer and client.

  Reminding herself that she could scarce afford such a costly mistake, Susan maintained that she could not possibly be so stupid as to fall for another forceful man, cut from the same cloth as the man who had already left permanent scars on her heart. A man so sure of himself that he would rather rely on his own ability to problem-solve than depend on anyone else for help—hence his evasiveness about his whereabouts on the night in question.

  A man so clearly protective of vulnerable women like her that some might think it verged on being chauvinistic. And so darned endearing it made her sigh.

  Tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, Seb sent shivery sensations the length of her body. “Good night, Counselor,” he said, touching her elbow and gently guiding her to a position behind the wheel of her car.

  Though he paid her lips homage with a lingering look beneath the starlit sky, Seb did not make a move to physically compromise Susan’s determination to remain professionally detached from her client.

  “Good night,” she stammered in return, hoping it was too dark for him to see the disappointment shimmering in her eyes.

  He shut the car door behind her and stepped aside.

  Fumbling for the key she had left in the ignition, Susan prayed that the car, unlike her fickle heart, which had already stalled, would not fail her now. Not when she was so desperate to make a quick getaway.

  Three

  Susan awoke with a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had foolishly tucked herself into bed the night before, believing that everything would make sense in the morning. After hitting the snooze button on her alarm clock for the third consecutive time, she acknowledged that the jury was still out on what kind of traitorous tricks her body was playing on her. Suffice it to say, she hadn’t slept well. A silver-eyed wolf haunted her dreams and kept her tossing in bed most of the night.

  “Okay, Counselor,” she said, recalling how the sound of that same impartial word rolling off her client’s tongue had turned her bones to gelatin. “Time to get up and get a grip on yourself.”

  Dragging herself from the bed to the bathroom, Susan surveyed her disheveled image in the mirror. Last night, with nothing more than a simple look and his sincere interest in her as a person, Seb had made her feel as glamorous as a movie star. This morning the light of day and the mirror on the wall refused to support such outrageous flights of imagination.

  “I’m afraid you are not the fairest in the land, my dear,” she muttered, reaching for a toothbrush and attempting to wash the taste of regret from her mouth. She hated facing her reflection so early in the morning with anything less than minty-fresh breath.

  As usual, her long curly hair was an unruly mess. She grabbed a brush and attacked her mane with womanly vengeance. Susan knew that she was no beauty queen, a point her ex-husband drove home whenever the opportunity arose to compare her to another more-striking woman. Not driven by false modesty to call herself ugly, she was inclined to describe herself as merely ordinary. Her eyes, neither true green nor gray nor brown, were not, in her opinion, particularly noteworthy, and this morning she saw the beginning of worry lines at the corners.

  Who was she kidding? Marriage to Joe might well have made those tiny furrows qualify as worry lines, but to the rest of the world they were nothing more than wrinkles, plain and simple. Hastily she applied a light layer of mascara and blush, chastising herself for wasting even this much time on her appearance. Had the last beautician she’d entrusted her tresses to not left her looking so mannish, to use Joe’s word, she might have taken the scissors to the thick mane herself.

  Acknowledging her golden locks as her only concession to vanity, Susan reminded herself that Joe had found her attractive enough once upon a time. Only after they had been married and she had declared her intention to go to law school had he become so critical of her. Having been raised in a highly traditional family in which his mother catered to his father’s every need, Joe had clearly felt threatened by Susan’s independent spirit. She wished she had spoken up more for herself when they were married. If she had, she supposed it would have been easier for her to remove the poisoned barbs that seemed to have found a permanent home in her psyche.

  Even now she imagined that Joe would have been quick to attribute Sebastian’s gallantry last night to her lack of feminine appeal. The sound of his taunting laughter echoed through her mind.

  “It’s not true,” she told the skeptical reflection staring unblinkingly back at her. “He was simply being a gentleman by respecting my request not to blur the lines between our professional and personal lives.”

  That said, Susan tried to rouse a more genuine feeling of gratitude for Seb for not kissing her. He had, of course, been right in keeping their relationship on a completely professional level. Professi
onal was what she wanted, after all.

  Wasn’t it?

  The most astonishing thing about her reaction to Seb, Susan decided, was that she’d had any reaction to him at all. She had felt dead inside for so long that her physical awareness of Sebastian as a man was nothing short of monumental. Her friends had been telling her that it was past time she started living again. She supposed they were right. Two years of celibacy should be enough to get over her reservations about men in general and relationships with one in particular.

  Regardless of the fact that Seb’s easy self-control only served to underscore her doubts about her own ability to attract such a fascinating man, Susan knew with certainty that it would have been a horrible mistake to have indulged in the feeling of those firm, masculine lips on hers. She suspected the real reason she was feeling so let down was more of a testament to Seb’s lack of interest in her as a woman than to her own good sense. Need she remind herself that she could ill afford to risk losing this case when so much was riding on it?

  She sternly reminded herself that falling in love was a matter of choice. Only teenagers and incurable romantics could possibly believe otherwise. Who but the most naive could buy into the notion that love was an irresistible feeling that happened to you when the mischievous Cupid zapped you with one of his arbitrary magic arrows?

  Falling in love was no different from choosing the right shade of lipstick. Susan picked up her favorite color and applied an even, light layer to lips that, usually full and smiling, now had too grim a set for so early in the day. The lipstick was a soft pink called “Almost There.”

  Too much like her life to be a coincidence….

  Could it be that the universe was sending her subliminal messages telling her to hang in there?

  For the hundredth time, Susan wondered if she really had what it took to make it in the field of law. Was she truly lacking the killer instinct that her adviser had told her was a prerequisite for successful trial lawyers? Was she merely fooling herself, as Joe had insisted? The worst thing about losing her last two cases was not so much the financial strain it had put on her firm, but rather the way it had shaken her faith in herself.

  Fortunately she had far too much to do today to wallow in pity or indulge in self-doubts. Incredible as it seemed, Sebastian Wescott had given her the opportunity of a lifetime, and she wasn’t about to let a bad case of runaway hormones screw it up. The man needed a lawyer who was one hundred percent behind him, and she needed to focus all her efforts on being that lawyer. Needing to believe in her client’s innocence before she could throw herself completely into representing him, she was ready to start dispelling her lingering doubts. Having spent such a pleasant evening with Sebastian Wescott the night before and actually coming to like him as a person, she was anxious to put her own mind at ease regarding his character.

  While she knew many lawyers had no compunction about putting criminals back on the street, Susan was not one of them. If she was going to represent Sebastian, she wanted to be certain in her own mind that he was not guilty of the crime of which he was accused. And that meant she was going to have to prove to herself that her client was innocent beyond a shadow of a doubt, although in court the burden of proof was on the prosecutor and her job was only to establish “reasonable doubt.”

  She might be an idealist, but Susan had to believe her client guiltless. For while she was not utterly in love with her reflection in the mirror, so far she’d had no reason to be ashamed of it. And no matter how much money or fame was involved, she wasn’t about to start compromising her values just to make a name for herself.

  Breakfast consisted of a cup of coffee and an energy bar, consumed while she flipped through her trusty time-planner and cleared her schedule. By the time she finished jotting down notes to herself, Susan wondered whether the United Nations would have been able to complete the “to do” list she had compiled for herself. Not the least of the items was the one to make sure that the next time she took a chance on a relationship, it was with a man more malleable than either her ex-husband or the dangerously charismatic Sebastian Wescott. Someone safer.

  Someone more like his half brother, Dorian.

  Distracted and irritable, Seb hadn’t been himself all day. Everyone from his secretary to the mail clerk to his business associates had commented on it—behind his back, of course. All except for Rosa, who never was one to beat around the bush. Exasperated with his foul mood when he surprised her by coming home for lunch, she shooed him out of her kitchen, suggesting in not-so-gentle tones that he simply put himself out of his misery by phoning the woman who had his “boxers in such a knot.”

  “If anyone but you had the audacity to speak to me that way…” Seb growled, wondering how she could possibly know it was a woman that was on his mind.

  Rosa didn’t bother letting him finish the thought. “Nobody but me knows you like I do. How many people can say they nursed you through chicken pox or saw you take your first steps or watched you running through the house buck-naked?”

  Holding up an arthritic hand to stop him from responding, she exclaimed, “Wait! I really don’t want to know the answer to that.”

  Seb laughed at his housekeeper’s modesty. Since she had practically raised him by herself all those years when his father was off gallivanting around the world with his latest paramour, he wanted to put Rosa’s mind at ease.

  “Not as many as you and half the state of Texas, in particular the gossipmongers who print the society pages, would like to believe,” he assured her.

  “That’s too bad. That business you’re so fond of is no wife to you. A man needs a strong-headed, strong-hearted woman in his bed to remind him what’s really important in life—and to keep his bloodline going. Which reminds me, just when do you intend to start filling this big old empty mansion with sweet-tempered, dirty-faced bambinos who look just like you used to?” Rosa demanded.

  “What is it with everyone wanting to get me married off?” Seb asked in exasperation.

  He was thinking about the bet he’d made earlier with four other bachelor members of the Cattleman’s Club. This year, the dubious honor of heading up their annual Charity Ball fell to him. In a discussion with his friends over drinks, he had suggested that the last bachelor left standing among them by the time the ball itself rolled around would enjoy a “consolation” party. At that time the lucky fellow would get to choose the charity to which all proceeds of the gala event would go. The bet had seemed harmless enough at the time, but in light of the investigation that had cast a pall over Seb’s life, their lighthearted wager suddenly took on dark overtones. Chances were, the last bachelor would be left standing in prison.

  It wasn’t exactly the way Seb wanted to win a bet.

  “Don’t you think it might be wise to clear my name of murder charges before I start planning a family?” Seb asked with more concern than the devil-may-care smile on his face would have led Rosa to believe.

  She clucked her tongue in censure of such an outlandish thought. “Don’t you worry. Anyone who knows you at all knows that you’re incapable of hurting another living creature. This little misunderstanding will be cleared up soon enough.”

  Not wanting to cause her undue anxiety, Seb didn’t contradict her. There was no point in quibbling over words when the difference between a “misunderstanding” and a “murder” was the life of one of his business associates. Finding the scumbag who did Eric in was more important to Seb than simply clearing his own name. Vengeance might be the Lord’s, but Seb wanted Eric Chambers’s killer behind bars for the rest of his natural life. Whatever the outcome of the grand jury’s investigation might be, Seb felt personally obligated to see that justice was done.

  Grabbing the corned-beef-on-rye with hot mustard that Rosa offered him, he headed back to work with renewed resolve to set matters straight. The first thing he intended to do was call Robert Cole and see if any new leads had turned up. Having been led to believe that Cole was the best private investigator in t
he business, Seb was growing impatient with the lack of progress the detective was making.

  When the true identity of the murderer eventually surfaced, Seb—who had devoted much of his adult life to protecting innocents in a world disinclined to defend the defenseless—was not above taking justice into his own hands. As a member of the Texas Cattleman’s Club, he swore an oath to do no less.

  Not that he would ever stoop to murder, however.

  The next item on his agenda was to set up a meeting with Wescott Oil’s legal team. Word around town was that Susan Wysocki’s practice was all but washed up. However, he’d seen too much fire in those beautiful eyes of hers to believe that line of drivel. It never failed to amaze him how eager some members in the legal profession were to devour one another like piranhas. Hardly comforting to one in need of legal services. Nonetheless, while Seb was personally impressed with his lovely lawyer, he wasn’t going to trust gut instinct alone. Not when he had such a wealth of resources at his fingertips to back her up if need be.

  As long as Susan didn’t think he was questioning her abilities, Seb didn’t see what harm could come of bringing in some reinforcements. And if she didn’t know anything about it, he didn’t see how she could possibly object.

  As luck would have it, Seb didn’t have to make another appointment to see the woman who had been occupying so much of his thoughts. When he arrived at the Wescott office building, Susan was waiting outside for him, wearing a pensive look that stirred his protective instincts, and a fragrance that stimulated all his senses.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, fighting the instinct to wrap his arms around her. To assure her that everything was going to work out just fine.