Second Time Lucky

by Debbi Rawlins

  The smiling hostess greeted him by name. It was Peabody. A bit shocked, David disconnected the call and rose to introduce himself.

  “Stan Peabody,” the man confirmed with a firm handshake. “Heard good things about you, Pearson.”

  Good start that Peabody had heard of him. “Call me David.”

  “You call me Stan, of course.”

  “I have your usual table, Mr. Peabody,” the hostess said, holding one red leather-bound menu against her chest, and then led the way to a corner spot oddly close to the kitchen.

  It didn’t surprise David when she laid the menu in front of him. Stan apparently didn’t need one. “Scotch neat,” she said to him, and then to David. “What can I get you to drink, sir?”

  “I’ll have the same.”

  Stan eyed him with amusement. “I drink the cheap stuff. You might want to be more specific.”

  David didn’t know for certain, but he assumed he’d be measured by his response. “I’m not picky.”

  A faint smile tugged at the wrinkled corners of the older man’s mouth. “You heard him, Sally.”

  “Be back in a jiff.”

  “I’ve got to say, David, when you called to invite me to dinner, I assumed you would’ve included Ms. Butterfield. I was looking forward to meeting her.”

  David silently cleared his throat, studied the man a moment. “I’m curious. Why specifically Mia Butterfield?”

  “I have no idea.” Peabody frowned. “Your father and I had this conversation last week.”

  “I apologize. I was away on vacation.”

  Stan Peabody might look like a rumpled old man, ready for his recliner and new flat screen to fill his time, but the shrewd gleam in his eye said he wasn’t fooled. He knew damn well that David wouldn’t be here without being fully informed.

  “Look, Pearson, I don’t have a team of lawyers working for me. It’s me, one associate and my secretary, that’s it. Both of them have been ready to retire for five years, and so have I.” He paused while the hostess set down their drinks and informed them their waitress would be with them right away.

  Stan took an unhurried sip of his scotch before continuing. “This is the last client I have on my books. I gave my word I would continue to administer the estate until a suitable replacement could be found. This client has been with me for thirty-three years. I take that kind of loyalty seriously,” he said, settling back in his chair and looking infinitely tired.

  “I understand,” David said, hope surging. The man was motivated and needed a slight push. “We at Pearson and Stern also value that kind of loyalty. That’s why I wanted to meet you in person and assure you that this account is important to us, and would have my undivided attention. I know my father explained that Ms. Butterfield isn’t an estate attorney, but what we would bill for my time would be in accordance with what she, as a junior associate, would bill.”

  Peabody’s eyebrows drew together in alarmed concern. “Are you saying Ms. Butterfield isn’t available?”

  David seriously wanted to plead the Fifth. Admitting Mia was no longer with the firm would likely end negotiations. “Not at the present time.”

  Peabody slowly shook his head. “I don’t think you do understand. My client wants Ms. Butterfield in charge, period. If that’s not an option, then we’ll go elsewhere.”

  David’s insides clenched. “Would you at least tell me why?”

  “Couldn’t say.” He gave a weary shrug. “Now that business is over,” he said, signaling the waiter, “may I suggest the porterhouse steak and sautéed mushrooms?”

  David’s stomach churned.

  13

  BY THE END OF her third day back in New York, Mia returned to her loft, feeling more overwhelmed than she’d ever dreamed. It wasn’t just that Shelby and Lindsey had both been delayed, or that Annabelle wasn’t around, or even that Mia had spent the day hustling all over Mid-town tying up loose ends and discovering how many more frivolous details had fallen through the cracks. A big part of her problem was that she was distracted and annoyed for making stupid errors that were costing her time and energy. She was usually so organized.

  She refused to think this was a result of the disjointed voice mail David had left yesterday evening. She’d just hit the shower when he called, and because he mentioned he was at a dinner meeting she couldn’t call him back. What had gotten to her though, was the remoteness in his voice. But she’d heard the background noise so she knew he’d made the call in public, which could account for his curtness. As a lawyer she knew better than to make premature assumptions.

  Except she wasn’t a lawyer anymore. Only according to the New York Bar Association, of which she was still a member. The thought kind of depressed her, although it made no sense. She should have felt liberated, anxious to put all the planning and strategizing of Anything Goes into action, and she was eager. She was. But it was weird not having an office full of people to go to, where a stack of pink message slips collected on the corner of her desk. It was even weirder to not see David every day.

  She dropped her purse and keys on the metal-and-wood consoletable where she stacked her mail, and then checked the thermostat. Grudgingly she turned up the heat. It was officially spring, but obviously someone hadn’t gotten the memo. She had a bad feeling it would be another couple of weeks before she could store her sweaters.

  After briefly considering slapping a tuna sandwich together for dinner, she decided it was too late to eat, and she wasn’t hungry enough anyway. She crawled onto her bed and lay on top of the old worn patchwork quilt her grandmother had made for Mia’s fifth birthday. She’d already broken down once and returned David’s call, but that had been midafternoon and she decided against leaving a message. Poor guy had to be in a ton of meetings after being away for so long.

  Her cell rang, and in her current state of mind, she was convinced it was either Shelby or Lindsey, calling about yet another delay. But when she rolled over and grabbed the phone off the nightstand, her pulse leaped when she saw that it was David.

  “Hello?”

  “Mia, I’m glad I caught you.”

  “I just got home, and I can finally breathe again.”

  “I know what you mean. I’ve been in meetings all day.”

  “I figured. Are you still at the office?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He paused, the silence lasting too long, long enough for a slew of bad scenarios to flit through her head, and her heart started to sink. “I miss you.”

  She smiled, briefly closed her eyes. “I miss you, too,” she said softly, feeling the tension melt from her cramped neck and shoulders.

  “I know it’s late, but any chance you’d like to grab some dinner?”

  “Sure.” Her gaze darted to the clock, and then at her old jeans and bulky sweater. “When and where?”

  “Now? Renae’s?”

  Renae’s? She’d only been there once, with David, in fact, and another attorney from Pearson and Stern, but only because they’d taken a client there to be wined and dined. She’d thought then that the setting would have been romantic if the dinner hadn’t been about business. Although she was touched that David had chosen such a fine restaurant, it wouldn’t do tonight. “How about someplace more casual and give me forty minutes?”

  “You got it. Name the place.”

  “Feel like pizza?”

  David hesitated. “From Renae’s to a pizza joint.”

  “You asked.” She carried the phone with her to the closet and sifted through her clothes, looking for a pair of decent slacks.

  “Mea culpa. You have a place in mind? A quiet place?”

  Grinning, she gave him a name and address, hung up and then charged into the bathroom. She needed a quick shower and her makeup refreshed. She wanted to look nice for him, which was ridiculous on so many levels. Not only had he already seen her at her worse, but she was also not supposed to be this excited that he’d called. At this point in her life, it was supposed to be all about the work ahead. She didn’
t care. For tonight, she was damn happy.

  DAVID ARRIVED AT the quaint neighborhood restaurant first, hoping for a secluded table. The place Mia chose was nicer than he expected, quiet and small with about a dozen tables and booths, only half of which were occupied. No hostess was in sight, so he grabbed a table that was far enough away from the kitchen and other diners where he and Mia could have a private conversation.

  He sat facing the door, and loosened his tie. The damn thing felt as if it were going to choke him to death. Not wearing one while he was in Hawaii had felt odd at first, though he’d gotten used to the freedom quickly. But it wasn’t about the tie. His nerves were shot. Even the infamous bar exam that put the fear of God into the most arrogant law student had been a breeze compared to his mission tonight.

  The waitress showed up, and tempted to throw back a double scotch, he ordered a beer he likely wouldn’t touch. He hoped like hell it wasn’t a mistake to bring Mia to a restaurant to make the offer. He’d reasoned that it was as close to keeping the tone as businesslike as possible. Asking her to the office would have been awkward.

  Inviting her to his apartment was out, as was going to hers. This conversation, one he’d sworn last week he’d never have with her, was going to be tough enough, and he needed to stay focused. If she showed the slightest distress, or even hinted that she thought what had happened between them in Hawaii had been a lie, he didn’t trust himself not to pull her into his arms, tell her how much he loved her and damn everything else.

  At least sticking to a public forum gave him a fighting chance to do right by his family and the employees who counted on the firm. Reputations, livelihoods, honor—so much more than his happiness was at stake. Either way though, guilt held him hostage. She hadn’t said the words, but he was pretty sure she loved him, too. The possibility was the only thing that gave him comfort and courage. But at the same time, it was her feelings for him that gave him the power to hurt her. And if he did, he’d never forgive himself.

  The bell over the restaurant’s door signaled the arrival of a newcomer. But he’d been watching intently and already knew it was Mia. Something inside of him went soft as he watched her cross the threshold. Her hair was down, dark and shiny and skimming the shoulders of her red sweater. She spotted him the second he started to rise, and her lips curved into a smile that lit up her beautiful green eyes. He saw love there, whether she knew it yet or not. But did she love him enough to trust him?

  MIA WAS GLAD TO SEE that there weren’t many people in the restaurant. Still, she wished she’d thought quickly enough to invite him over to her loft instead. The best she could’ve done was tuna or grilled cheese sandwiches and the place was a bit messy, but she doubted he would’ve cared.

  He came around the table, smiled and pulled out the chair across from the one he’d been using. “Hi.”

  Something was wrong. His smile seemed strained. And why didn’t he want her sitting in the chair beside him? When he gave her a light, brotherly peck on the cheek, she knew she wasn’t imagining things.

  “Hi back,” she said, trying to keep her tone breezy, even though her brain immediately went to that bad place.

  She calmly sat down and stowed her purse on the vacant seat where her butt should’ve been. Friends, right? From the very beginning, all she wanted was a causal relationship once they’d returned, she reminded herself.

  “What would you like to drink?” he asked as he reclaimed his chair.

  “I think I’ll stick with water.” She eyed his untouched mug of beer, his loosened tie. “I have another busy day tomorrow.”

  “How are things going?” he asked, looking oddly serious. This was his office demeanor, from the staid expression to the polite tone of his voice. He sounded nothing like the man who called her less than an hour ago. The one who’d told her he missed her.

  Disappointment rose in her throat, but she stayed cool. “It’s hectic. But the cavalry arrives tomorrow, so that’ll help.”

  His eyebrows dipped in a puzzled frown.

  “Shelby and Lindsey,” she reminded him.

  “Ah. Aren’t they supposed to be here already?”

  “Shelby is driving from Houston and got slowed down by construction. Lindsey apparently is having one hell of a good time with her new guy.”

  “Not fair to you.”

  “It’s not fair that they have to move all their stuff.” She shrugged. “Everything works out in the long run. What about you? Did you get dumped with a ton of motions and briefs?”

  “Let’s just say I don’t see a vacation in my near future,” he said with a wry smile, and for a moment he seemed to relax.

  “I know what you mean.” She got over her anxiousness long enough to notice that under his tan, he looked really tired, more than usual, as if he hadn’t been sleeping well. True, they’d had a few marathon nights in Hawaii when neither of them had slept much, but there had been long, lazy afternoon naps and time spent lounging by the pool.

  God, she missed those days. The memories alone made her flush with warm pleasure, and she looked into his dark eyes, willing him to remember them, too.

  He smiled. “So, tell me what specifically has been keeping you so busy.”

  She took a long, slow sip of the water that had already been placed on the table. “A lot of running around, receiving office furniture and supplies, lining up inventory. Oh, and trying to get six crummy cabinets installed. You’d think that would be easy, right?”

  “If you can get tradesmen to show up on time, I call that progress.”

  “See, that’s the problem…they’re supposed to actually show up. Silly me.”

  His mouth curved in a reasonable facsimile of a smile, but it wasn’t right. She knew that his real smile was ever so slightly lopsided, hiking up a bit more on the right and deepening the groove in his cheek. His real smile always reached his eyes and made her gooey inside. This one put her on edge.

  “What about you? Anything interesting happening at the office?” she asked, wondering if a case had soured, which would account for his tension.

  He started to shake his head, and then with a wry expression said, “Sam Glasser got cited for contempt for shooting off his mouth, and took a night in jail rather than cough up the ten grand.”

  “Judge Palmer, right?”

  “Who else?”

  Mia bit off a laugh. “But Sam? The guy is always so stoic. Palmer had to have really pissed him off.”

  “Palmer pisses everyone off.”

  “True.” Mia remembered the first time she stood in front of the grouchy old judge. He looked like someone’s doting grandfather but had the bite of an angry pit bull. “He’s got to be close to retirement age.”

  “The guy needs a hobby. He’s never in a hurry to get out of court. If it’s a nice day, you know Lancaster and Silva will be anxious to get on the golf course.”

  Mia laughed, feeling more relaxed. “I’d been at the firm about a month when someone warned me about Palmer. I was so nervous the morning I was going before him, and I walked in, saw this guy who looked like Santa Claus and figured I’d been punked.”

  “He looks deceptive, all right, and he loves breaking in baby attorneys.”

  Mia snorted. “Yeah, and you said he doesn’t have a hobby.”

  At that, David chuckled. For a second, she thought he was going to reach for her hand, but he wrapped his fingers around his mug instead.

  “Yep, Palmer had a good old time with me. Fifteen minutes in, and I seriously wanted to take his head off. I just knew I’d end up fined for contempt, and you would give me my walking papers.”

  “Never would’ve happened.” He looked as if he were about to say something else, but stopped and inhaled deeply. “It seems like a long time ago.”

  “It does.” Mia felt the mood shift again and, desperate to hang on, she asked, “Hey, did Libby finally figure out how to work the new cappuccino machine?”

  David frowned. He clearly had no idea what she was talking about,
and of course he wouldn’t. That sort of office minutia escaped his notice.

  The waitress appeared and described the two specials of the night. While David listened, Mia studied him. His posture was too rigid, his features tight and a telling tic in his jaw betrayed the tension he was trying to hide. If she were to quiz him on the waitress’s spiel, Mia doubted he’d have heard a word.

  “Thank you,” he politely told the woman. “If you wouldn’t mind giving us another minute.”

  “No problem.” The young brunette smiled apologetically. “Just to let you know, we do close in an hour.”

  “Thank you,” he said again, and after she left, glanced at his watch and winced. “Nine-thirty already.”

  “I hope you don’t have to go back to the office.”

  He gave a noncommittal shrug of one shoulder.

  “Oh, David.” To her shame, it finally struck her that his considerable workload had been made worse by her resignation. How hadn’t she gotten that sooner? “Have you found a replacement for me yet?”

  He met her eyes and slowly shook his head.

  “Any candidates?”

  “One.”

  “Good.” She was glad because she hated that he had to take up the slack. But a tiny part of her disliked the idea of being replaced. Knowing it would be someone else working alongside David. She hoped it was a guy. “How far along are you in the interview process?”

  He picked up his beer and took a small sip, his gaze still level with hers. “We want you back, Mia.”

  She blinked, reared her head. “What?”

  “Naturally, there’s a promotion and raise involved.”

  She studied him, her heart hammering her breastbone. “Is this a joke?”

  “No.” He tugged at his already loosened tie. “I’m making you an official offer.”

  “This is insane. I have the new business to—I told you I didn’t want to practice law anymore.” She shook her head, saddened that he could sit there and show no emotion.

  “I understand.” He glanced away. “I thought perhaps a promotion and raise might give you new perspective.”