by Debra Webb
“Yes, he did.” Maguire nodded, but the tension showed on his face.
“The job is Jana’s?” Dylan stepped up next to Maguire. “That’s great. We’ll have to celebrate tonight.”
“No.” Maguire said crossly. “The governor felt, under the circumstances, the constituents would want Camille to serve the final year of his term.” He gave Jana a smile that looked more like a smirk. “The timing just wasn’t right for you, honey. Most believe that as J.D.’s wife Camille earned the right, particularly with the rumors that have surfaced.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Dylan demanded.
Placing a hand on his arm to quiet him, Jana lifted her chin. “Are you suggesting the rumors about Dad are true? I’m quite certain you know better, Sam Maguire. In fact, I’d like to know why you haven’t drafted a press release refuting this rubbish.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Jana,” Maguire protested. “We all know J.D.’s integrity was above reproach. I’ve discussed the situation at length with Camille and the governor and we believe it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie. If we ignore it, it’ll fade away as soon as the next big story comes along.”
“Why wasn’t I included in this discussion?” Jana folded her arms over her chest and glared at the man. “I suppose the timing wasn’t right for that either.”
Dylan wanted to punch him on her behalf.
“Do you really want to do this, Jana?” Maguire asked, his face hard to read now. “Do you want Camille to think you’re upset with her appointment? Your complaints are sounding an awful lot like sour grapes.”
What a manipulator. Dylan barely restrained the urge to kick the guy’s ass.
Astonishingly, Jana smiled. “You’re right, Sam. As always.” She reached out and patted his arm. “I’m very happy for Camille. I would never want her to feel as if I resented her in any way. This is wonderful news. I would very much like to be present for the swearing in so all of Texas will see that she has my full support. After that, I’ll resign to avoid any awkwardness. I’m certain Camille would prefer to put together her own trusted staff.”
“She’ll appreciate your understanding. No one wants to make this any more difficult than it already is.” Maguire glanced at Dylan, his face still impassive. “Be certain you clear anything you remove for the library with Mrs. Clayton.”
“Don’t worry about that, Sam.” Jana shifted from one foot to the other, the first sign of impatience Dylan had noticed. “We aren’t removing anything Camille will need.”
“We’ll just make copies,” Dylan piped up.
Maguire glared at him.
“We’ll be finished and out of the way as soon as possible,” Jana assured the chief of staff.
With a sober nod, Maguire turned for his office on the other side of the reception area. Dylan followed Jana into her office and closed the door behind them. He was ready to show her the key, but stopped short at the furious look blazing in her eyes.
“What was that about?” she demanded, keeping her voice down.
“I gave him something to worry about.” Dylan shrugged. “We’ll see how he reacts.”
“He’s my dad’s oldest friend,” she said in a harsh whisper.
“Some friend. He hasn’t stepped up to spin the suicide or squelch the other rumors. Wasn’t it you who just yesterday called him a bastard? And what’s with the obvious choice crap and the she earned it business?” The guy had made him as mad as hell. Sam Maguire, as her dad’s oldest friend, should want to protect Jana, instead he was acting like an ass.
Jana opened her mouth, and then clamped her lips together as new voices filled the outer office. Dylan recognized Rose’s voice, but not the deeper voice of the man chatting with her.
On a quiet, frustrated groan, Jana moved away from Dylan as the visitor opened her door and walked into her office without so much as a knock.
“Jana, you—” The smile on the man’s face evaporated as he saw and sized up Dylan. “I do apologize. I wasn’t aware you were in a meeting.”
Dylan openly assessed him as well. The file on Jana hadn’t mentioned any romantic ties, but this man gave off definite possessive signals. When Jana failed to make introductions fast enough, Dylan held out his hand. “Dylan Parker. Old college pal of Jana’s.”
“Gregory Atkins,” he responded, shaking Dylan’s hand.
“Gregory is a friend of the family,” Jana explained when the guy continued to stare at them. “What brings you by?”
Gregory moved in on her, but Jana sidestepped and moved around to her desk chair. Gregory didn’t take the hint, coming around to her side and settling a hip on her desk. “Have you heard about the appointment?”
“Sam just told me. Dylan and I were about to invite Camille out for a celebration dinner.”
News to him. Dylan sat down with the philosophy book to watch the show.
“Do that after the swearing in,” Gregory suggested. “We have plans tonight, remember? It’s Friday.”
Jana’s smile wobbled. “It would be best if we rescheduled.”
“Come now, Jana. You need to get out and take a break from all of this. You cancelled the past two Fridays. It’s time to start living again, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart? Dylan bit back a growl of derision. Anyone in the room would recognize that Jana didn’t consider herself this guy’s sweetheart. Who the hell did he think he was?
“Gregory—”
“I made reservations at our favorite restaurant.”
The man took self-absorbed to a new level. Curious, Dylan set the book aside and picked up his cell to skim Jana’s file for any mention of this guy. Nothing. Dylan googled the name while Gregory wheedled and Jana evaded. An attorney, Atkins currently worked in the state prosecutor’s office. From the cursory search, it seemed he had the proper background to run in the same social circles as the Claytons, but he hadn’t made a name for himself yet. Ah, a man climbing the political ladder and looking to land a senator’s daughter.
“All right,” Jana finally caved. “But I’ll meet you at the restaurant.” She cut off his protests, walking him out of her office.
A moment later, she returned with their lunch. She shoved the bag at him, shut the door, and threw the lock.
“You okay?” Dylan asked, taking the food cartons out of the sack. “Salad?”
She nodded. “Good thing, too. Apparently I’m having a big dinner.” She took a seat and flipped open the take-out container. “I assume you’ll drop me off?”
He nodded. And he’d stay to keep an eye on things, but he wouldn’t mention that now. “Why does Atkins think you belong to him?”
She scowled into her salad as she drizzled it with a mere trace of honey mustard dressing. “He wasn’t in the file?”
Her surprise set off warning bells. “Should he be?” Dylan asked.
“I don’t think so.” She stabbed her fork into the greens. “You googled him, didn’t you?”
“Didn’t really need to. He smelled like an attorney.” Dylan took a bit too much pleasure in her burst of laughter.
“Gregory’s a decent guy. Dad and Camille think the world of him.” Her face fell as she apparently realized she should have used the past tense when it came to how her dad had felt.
“Another of those polite and useful political connections?” Dylan inquired, in hopes of drawing her thoughts away from the hurt.
“Yes.”
“What do you think of him?”
Finally, she looked up from her salad, her moss green eyes a little sad. “He’s nice. Well-groomed, socially speaking. Polite. Kind.”
“Sounds like a winner,” Dylan replied “And?”
“And... nothing. He’s a friend who’s worried about me, that’s all.”
“Did you tell him about the letter?”
She shook her head and poked at her salad, moving chunks of tomatoes in line with the olives. Great. Mr. Polite shows up and she’d reverted back to melancholy with no appetite. Although Dylan thought th
e man’s whining could turn anyone’s stomach.
“You’re not going to tell me anything else are you?”
Another shake of her head. “He’s an open book. Anything you want to know is easy to find online.”
“Challenge accepted.”
She didn’t laugh this time. Dylan assumed her reticence meant Gregory fell into one of two categories: former lover or current lover. In her shoes, Dylan wouldn’t be eager to admit to such bad judgment either. “Where’s he taking you tonight?”
“Cavelli’s. The toughest place in town to get a table. It’s my job to be impressed, knowing he called in a favor for the reservation.”
“Are you impressed?”
She gave him a false, toothy smile. “Naturally.”
Remembering the key in his pocket, Dylan changed the subject. “Any idea what this is?” He placed the key on the table between them. “I found it in your dad’s office.”
Frowning, she turned it over, and gave it back to him. “I’ve never seen it before.”
Dylan tucked the key back into his pocket. “I guess this will keep me busy while you’re living it up tonight.” His teasing comment brought the hint of a real smile to her lips. He counted it a victory.
Seeing her smile had become important to him in record time.
Chapter Seven
Through the rest of the afternoon Jana did her best to ignore the way Dylan made her feel as they sorted through the fractured details they were attempting to weave into a viable case for murder. Maybe her mind simply needed a distraction from the ugliness of those details. Dylan’s scent, his every move, somehow disjointed her thoughts and made her feel restless.
No matter how many times she reread the hate mail, it gave her no clues. She understood her dad’s logic behind keeping the hate mail, but she couldn’t come up with a valid explanation for hiding it or the key. Shaped like a safety deposit box key, the number didn’t match the safety deposit box where her dad’s will and other documents were stored.
Her thoughts wandered back to Sam’s announcement. Jana hadn’t really expected the appointment to her dad’s seat, but she would’ve expected better reasons than the idea that Camille had earned it and the timing wasn’t right for Jana. She couldn’t think of a single moment since her dad’s death that would have lead the governor to consider her incapable or Camille the better choice, for that matter. Certainly he’d had no reason prior to her dad’s death to see Camille as the better candidate. The reasoning simply didn’t make sense. While Camille had hidden in her grief, Jana had handled the necessary memorial and funeral arrangements.
How had this happened? All these years she had considered Sam and Camille to be so kind and loving. Both had appeared to admire her dad so completely. As much as she resented this uncaring, greedy side she had witnessed today, she couldn’t bring herself to consider either of the two a potential murderer. She sighed, frustrated all over again.
“You okay?” Dylan asked.
She didn’t bother to look up from the report she was drafting for Camille. “Fine.” As the interim senator, her stepmother would need to catch up quickly. Where Jana should be seeing words, charts, and analyses, the blasted odd shaped key kept popping into her head. Or Dylan’s clean masculine scent would have her breathing more deeply. Focus, Jana! Maybe her dad had kept more than one safety deposit box. “I’d like to stop by the bank on the way home,” she announced, risking eye contact with the man wreaking havoc with her concentration efforts.
He’d asked about Gregory and she’d changed the subject. Her refusal to simply tell him about her past with Gregory made no sense whatsoever. Yet, somehow she couldn’t bring herself to share. He certainly hadn’t shared anything about his personal life. Then again, he wasn’t the client. She was. On some level she understood he needed her to be completely forthcoming to help the investigation. Still, Gregory had nothing to do with the case.
Dylan met her gaze from across the room, his penetrating assessment making the space between them seem much smaller. “We can do that, but shouldn’t Gregory pick up the dinner check?”
“Ha, ha.” She dreaded dinner with Gregory. Keeping him at arm’s length tonight would be particularly challenging since she had more important things on her mind. Why wouldn’t he take no for an answer? The harder she pushed him away, the harder he tried to woo her. And why would he choose now to blow a favor for a reservation at Cavelli’s? He was usually so careful about his decisions. His career came first in every respect. Playing second fiddle to his future political plans had been a huge part of their relationship’s demise—not that it was ever really much of a relationship anyway.
Experiencing a wave of anxiety, she pushed back from her desk and started shoving papers into her briefcase. “Is it a problem for you if we leave now?”
Dylan gave her another long look. “Not at all.” He closed his laptop and set the book on top of her purse.
“Gee, thanks.”
“Not enough room.” He patted his computer bag, and then held out his free hand for her purse. “I’ll carry it.”
“I’ve got it.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t match your boots.”
As they walked out, Rose wished her well on her date and Jana cringed. “Does everyone know Gregory’s taking me out?”
“It’s Cavelli’s.” Rose winked at her. “All of Texas is waiting for Twitter updates,” she teased. “You’re lovely together and you need to live a little. There’s been talk since the two of you were introduced.”
“It was cotillion!” Jana bit back the irritable rant hovering on the tip of her tongue as she left the office. She chose the back stairs, determined to avoid running into anyone she knew.
Her dad had been dead sixteen days and she was expected to move on and live a little? With Gregory? He wanted to marry her, but she didn’t want him. Not like that. “Absurd,” she muttered, fuming until another thought struck her like a blow. She stopped short, trying to get her breath.
Her dad wouldn’t be at her wedding, no matter who she married or when... he wouldn’t be there.
“Easy,” Dylan said. “Not every Texan is talking about your date tonight.”
“Th-that’s not it.” Her entire body quaked and a strange heat rushed up from her toes. Her vision blurred and ringing filled her ears. Suddenly Dylan was easing her down to sit on the steps next to her purse and briefcase.
“Breathe,” he said, crouching in front of her on the step below.
“I am.” Maybe. She was trying anyway.
“Slower,” he amended.
“You better move,” she said, forcing each word past the lump in her throat.
“Are you feeling sick?”
“No. I might cry.” To her astonishment, he chuckled, shifting to sit next to her. He rubbed her shoulders in gentle strokes. When she could get the words past her lips, she blurted. “Dad won’t be at my wedding.”
“You’re engaged? To Gregory?”
She shook her head. “My wedding to anyone.” Swiping tears from her cheeks, she felt the shock easing away with every touch of Dylan’s hand. “Since,” her hands fluttered in the air as if they didn’t know where to light, “his death, I haven’t thought about the future like holidays or... or other milestones.”
“Those things sneak up on you,” he said, drawing her close.
She couldn’t remember anyone else taking this same care with her. Sure friends and colleagues expressed their sympathy, offered assistance, and brought food. But they’d also looked to her to be strong, to make the decisions. That was what Jana Clayton always did. She’d done the majority of her grieving alone.
Leaning into Dylan’s embrace, she inhaled the warm scent that clung to his clothing. “Thank you.”
“No big deal.” He squeezed her shoulder and eased back just a bit, as if testing her balance. “Hard to believe, but I don’t get my bonus if you faint and tumble down the stairs.”
On a shaky laugh, she pulled herself up and decided the wors
t had passed.
“Better?” he asked, clearly ready to catch her if necessary.
She nodded. “Much better.”
He gathered up everything, insisting she use the handrail the rest of the way downstairs. “What’s cotillion?” he asked when they were settled in his truck.
“It starts with junior cotillion, a society thing designed to torture, I mean teach manners and social graces to teenagers,” she explained. “It’s weekly lessons learning how to navigate everything from a shrimp fork to the waltz. Eventually there’s a formal ball, cotillion, where you’re publicly introduced to the who’s who.”
“Sounds barbaric.”
“There were days it felt that way,” she agreed.
“Is that when Gregory proposed?”
She knew he was teasing her, but he should be aware. “The proposal came last month.”
The truck came to an abrupt halt, just shy of the exit gate. “What?”
She stared at him, surprised by his dark expression. It apparently irritated him when she revealed things that weren’t in the background file. “Your agency didn’t miss anything. It’s not public knowledge. Dad didn’t even know. Gregory and I have been on-again-off-again friends for years. Mostly because we were both busy and very focused on work. For the past year or so we’ve had a standing dinner engagement on Fridays. I guess I always thought it was to keep either of us from being alone on a Friday night. As for the unexpected proposal, I’ll be forever grateful Gregory chose a private setting to ask.”
“You said no.” Dylan nudged the accelerator, putting the truck into motion once more.
She laced her fingers in her lap. “I didn’t say yes. The ring’s in a drawer at home. I wanted time and the next thing I knew my dad was dead.” She sighed. “He refuses to take the ring back.”
“Whiny Gregory has a spine?”
“It’s more that he has a vision for his future,” she said. Knowing she was wanted for her connections wasn’t the same as being wanted for herself.
“Why did you need time to think?” Dylan shrugged. “I mean, it sounds like you’ve had dinner with the guy for plenty of Friday nights.”
