by Abby Gaines
She stared. “Of course he didn’t—it just fizzled out. No hearts broken.”
Travis had meant physically hurt, but he let it go.
He knew more than he cared to about Robert Grayson. He had to assume Jonah Merritt lacked the same knowledge. No way would he consider taking on a guy with that kind of secret in his past.
Grayson’s innocent until proved guilty, Travis reminded himself.
They reached their seats as play resumed. “Do you think Grayson’s the right guy to take over from your father?” he asked.
Megan shook her head.
Travis watched the fired-up Pistons work the ball down to the far end of the court. Without looking at Megan, he said, “Is there someone better on your dad’s list?”
She seemed equally intent on the game. “No.”
Two rebounds had the Pistons fans groaning.
“Your sister’s not planning to quit her new job and come back to the firm?”
Annoyance flickered across her face. “No. Dad’s set on Cynthia making judge.”
“So you have no idea who should take over,” he prompted.
At last he distracted her from the game.
“I didn’t say that,” she said shortly. “I don’t think the firm needs to hire someone from outside.”
Now things were getting interesting. “There’s a good internal candidate?”
“An excellent internal candidate.” Her lips—the ones he’d accidentally kissed and could still taste when he thought about it, which he did more than he should—flattened.
Travis felt as if he was wandering in one of Atlanta’s famously thick fogs. Megan didn’t want anyone from outside heading up Merritt, Merritt & Finch, and although there was an “excellent” internal person, she was unhappy…. The fog lifted.
“It’s you,” he said. “You want the job.”
Around them, the crowd stood with a roar of approval. Megan stayed frozen in her seat. “No, I—”
“You want to run the firm.” Travis knew he was right…but he could scarcely believe it. Cynthia Merritt was the daughter destined to run the company, everyone knew that. Megan Merritt was…a top-class lawyer, obviously. But quiet, unknown. Not on anyone’s radar.
Not even on her father’s if her black expression was any indication.
Hell. This complicated things. Travis raked a hand through his hair. The fans settled down around them.
“I don’t want to talk about this,” Megan said.
No argument from him. She clearly had no idea that Travis had sent his résumé to Jonah, that he’d tried to reach the man by phone several times, but couldn’t get past his call-screening system. Travis had concluded the only way he could capture Jonah’s attention was in court. He’d attended one of Megan’s hearings in the hope her father would show up, had hung around in The Jury Room knowing she sometimes met her dad there. After he’d heard that Theo had appointed Megan, he’d badgered Barbara, knowing it was a big enough case for Jonah to take an interest.
Because Travis needed to impress Jonah Merritt. Fast. If he was to steer his life back onto the track he’d chosen years before, the track he’d slipped off when he’d done the wrong thing for the right reasons. Of course, he couldn’t have guessed that choice would end up hurting his parents. Hell, it was hurting a whole town…
He glanced across at Megan, at her pinched expression. Dammit, he wasn’t about to back down, just because she had some beef with her dad. He had to get that job.
CHAPTER FOUR
FAMILY COUNSELING WAS MEANT to be an attempt to save a marriage. Mr. and Mrs. Hoskins were using it as an opportunity to hammer home their respective custody claims.
It wasn’t customary for lawyers to be present during counseling, but when Theo had ranted to Megan about the effect on their two children of his wife’s lies about his drinking, she’d volunteered to come along and caution Barbara. It was above and beyond the call of duty, but the future business she might win from Theo was worth giving up any number of Saturdays. Plus, it might give her some inside information Travis didn’t have.
Jeff Rawlings, the counselor, had asked to see the family in everyday action. The couple elected an outing to Centennial Park. They planned a walk, and then, while Jeff debriefed them, the kids would play in the playground. Megan could tell the counselor was less than thrilled to have her around, but he hadn’t had much chance to voice his disapproval. He’d barely gotten a word in between the warring couple, who pinned smiles on their faces as they calmly fired salvos they hoped would “win” the session. Megan imagined her own parents, both lawyers, had fought with the same lethal precision.
“I admit I’m a busy professional,” Barbara said in response to one of Theo’s loaded comments as they skirted the Gold Medal Garden and headed toward the north pavilion and the ice rink that was set up in the park every winter. “But at least I’m a sober, busy professional.”
“Hey!” Theo’s courteous mask slipped; he grabbed his wife’s elbow and loomed in her face.
“Mrs. Hoskins, any unsupported reference to an addiction may be viewed as defamation by the court.” Megan issued her rapid warning in legalese, so as not to upset the Hoskins’s son—ten years old, according to her notes—and his six-year-old sister. The children seemed focused on the ice rink up ahead, but she knew they would be trained to listen for the slightest discord.
After a long, strained moment, Theo let go of his wife’s arm. “Thanks, Megan,” he murmured, “I don’t know what I’d do without you here. Probably strangle her.”
Mercifully, he spoke too quietly for the kids—and the counselor—to hear, but the last thing Megan needed was her client threatening to kill his wife. She patted his shoulder and said, “I’m entirely at your service, Theo, so let’s keep cool.”
Barbara’s calculating expression suggested she’d try to get her point across another way, one that didn’t brush up against slander. She didn’t succeed, and Megan issued a second warning five minutes later. This time, Theo held himself together. He was so grateful for her help, Megan wished she could whip out a commercial contract right now and ask him to sign on the dotted line.
“That’s it,” Barbara snapped. “You don’t get to have your attorney here unless I do.”
“Folks, this really isn’t an occasion for lawyers,” Jeff protested.
But Barbara was already punching a number into her cell phone.
Twenty minutes later, Travis ambled across the Great Lawn, ignoring the path the city had spent a fortune paving. It was clear he’d dropped whatever he was doing and come along without bothering to change. He wore boots, jeans and a faded blue sweatshirt that might have shrunk in the wash, judging by its snug fit across his broad shoulders. He carried a heavy gray wool jacket.
“Afternoon, all.” He scanned the company, surely absorbing the tense atmosphere. His eyes met Megan’s, then he studied her tailored cream pants and crimson coat. This was a client meeting, so she’d dressed appropriately, though less formally than she would have in the office. Not informally enough, according to Travis’s knowing smile.
This is how reputable lawyers dress, she told him with her refusal to smile back. But he’d moved on to the kids. He hunkered down to their level and stuck out a hand. “Hi, I’m Travis.”
“I’m Marcus.” The boy pushed his glasses up his nose and shook Travis’s hand. “This is Chelsea.”
His sister, in a pink hat, scarf and gloves, offered a shy handshake.
Megan wasn’t good with kids, so she hadn’t tried to talk to them. Now, as Theo slung an approving arm around his son’s shoulders, she felt as if Travis was showing her up. She smiled at Chelsea, and was rewarded with a solemn stare, unlike the smile the youngster had given Travis.
“Travis, the idea is for me to observe the family dynamics in action,” Jeff Rawlings explained.
“Go right ahead,” Travis said. “Megan and I are only here in case any legal boundaries get overstepped.”
She’d alread
y told the counselor that. She shoved her gloved hands into her coat pockets and glowered. The man had no idea how to behave in a business meeting. Though he was, she had to admit, good company at a basketball game.
Her mind wandered as Jeff informed the Hoskinses that at the end of the session, he would talk them through some opportunities for improvement based on his observations. She hadn’t meant to tell Travis so much about her dad’s retirement plans the other night. His lucky guess that she wanted to run the firm had made things awkward between them. At the end of the evening, he’d obeyed her earlier instruction and not attempted any kind of kiss. Thankfully.
Megan ran a finger across her lips, chapped by the cold air. Travis followed the movement, a thoughtful expression on his face. As if he might be contemplating kissing her.
More likely he was thinking about whoever he’d dated, kissed, last night.
He doesn’t have a girlfriend, she reminded herself. She tuned into the counselor again.
He was trying to convince Mr. and Mrs. Hoskins to forget he was there. “Just do what you’d do on a regular family outing.”
“Theo would normally play with his BlackBerry while I deal with the kids.” Barbara’s teasing tone might have fooled Marcus and Chelsea, but everyone else knew it for what it was: a well-aimed missile. Travis winced.
To Megan’s relief, her client behaved himself. Theo pulled a fluorescent orange tennis ball from his pocket. “C’mon, kids, let’s play ball tag.” Without waiting for his wife’s agreement, he jogged across the lawn, the kids close behind.
“Do you plan to join them, Barbara?” Jeff assessed Barbara’s shoes: black pumps, heels probably four inches high. Megan always wore heels to work, but her feet ached just looking at those ankle-breakers.
“Of course.” Barbara dug into her tote and produced a pair of sneakers. “The great thing about shoes is they come off. Unlike Theo’s BlackBerry, which doesn’t have an off button. And that, Ms. Merritt, is not defamation.”
“Nor is it technically accurate,” Megan pointed out. So don’t try saying it in court.
Fifty yards away, Theo gave Marcus the tennis ball, appointing him “it.” Theo grabbed Chelsea’s hand, and father and daughter scampered away.
“He might look like a doting dad right now,” Barbara said urgently to Jeff. “But at home he doesn’t have five minutes for those kids.”
They all watched Theo, whose enthusiasm seemed genuine enough to Megan. He let Marcus’s poor throw hit him, then praised his son. Jeff smiled, nodded.
“Is this what the custody ruling will come down to?” Barbara demanded. “Which of us puts on a better show at tag? Because I don’t do sports.”
Megan sensed the woman’s fear. The same fear she felt herself, when she worried she might inadvertently do something to ruin her chances with her father. She’d been known to snap at Trisha under that kind of pressure.
“I promise, it’s not about tag,” Travis said, with an easy reassurance that defused his client’s panic.
“I love my kids,” Barbara said to Jeff. “I’d die for them. How am I supposed to prove that?”
How am I supposed to prove I can run the firm? By making sure Theo outplayed Barbara in the divorce, then offered Merritt, Merritt & Finch his business, that was how. To achieve that, Megan might have to prove her client was the better parent.
Barbara’s lowered head, her fierce concentration as she stuffed her feet into the sneakers, suggested that if she wasn’t crying, she was on the verge.
“Barbara, I’m not here to judge you and Theo,” Jeff said. Which wasn’t entirely true. The counselor’s report could be used in court to sway a custody argument.
Her head shot up. She was all dry-eyed disbelief. “For our next session, I get to choose the outing,” she told Travis.
“You got it,” he said. Megan opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. She could argue on Monday.
As Barbara trotted over to her family, Jeff moved beneath the shelter of the pavilion. He sat at a scarred picnic table and began taking notes.
Travis perched on the edge of the table, arms folded, watching the Hoskinses. “Wouldn’t it be great if counseling convinced Theo and Barbara to stick together?”
Megan edged onto the seat the other side of the table from Jeff. “I know you have an idealistic view of marriage, but even you can’t seriously think that’ll happen.”
“I said it would be great, not likely.”
Jeff shook his pen, which wasn’t working properly on the rough surface. “If people came to counseling before they started talking to lawyers, they might have a chance.”
Across the lawn, Barbara’s arrival had changed the group dynamic. Even from here, Megan picked up on the stiffening of Theo’s posture, the careful distance Barbara kept from him. If the couple’s allegations about each other were true, then they were both hurting…but neither of them betrayed their vulnerability. Megan didn’t blame them. In law, attack was often the best form of defense.
But when kids were involved, surely the rules should change. Should.
Tag segued into a game of catch, maybe in concession to Barbara’s claimed inability to “do” sports. After a few lackluster rounds, Marcus dropped the ball, earning a tactless rebuke from his dad. The boy burst into tears, no doubt in response to the tension between his parents as much as anything. Barbara stuck her hands on her hips and shot a look at the counselor before she swept Marcus into her arms.
Hovering impotently outside the mother-son embrace, Theo didn’t notice that Chelsea had sat down on the cold grass.
“Do you see what’s going on?” Megan asked Jeff. “Barbara’s using her son to score points with you.” Her earlier sympathy evaporated; she wanted to slap the woman.
Perhaps from the combination of cold and her brother’s distress, Chelsea started to cry, loud, attention-seeking sobs. Theo hurried over to help her up, brushing grass off her bottom. Eventually, the ball game resumed, with both parents on their best behavior, which seemed to dampen the kids’ enjoyment even more.
“Mind if I lighten things up a bit?” Travis asked the counselor.
Jeff shrugged. “Go ahead.”
Travis left his jacket on the table and ran to join the family. He seemed to be explaining some new game.
When he wove a zigzag path across the lawn, Megan realized he’d set up a kind of reverse tag, where everyone else was “it,” and he was the target. The kids aimed the tennis ball at him, shrieking as he danced and dodged among them.
The game wrapped up soon after, and the atmosphere was notably lighter as the Hoskinses served cookies and hot chocolate to the children in the pavilion.
“Nice work,” the counselor said to Travis.
“You’ve played with kids before,” Megan said, trying not to feel miffed that he’d proved more effective with the children.
“My nephews.” Travis batted damp grass from his jeans. “I love spending time with them.”
Hence his desire to settle down and have kids. With a homemaker wife. A shared recollection of that conversation flashed between them.
Megan dropped her gaze to the counselor’s notebook. What had he written about her client’s parenting techniques? She needed to brush up on her upside-down reading.
After the snack, Jeff announced he would discuss his observations with Barbara and Theo, along with solutions to any problems they felt needed addressing. Travis leaned into Megan and murmured, “The chances of this conversation staying peaceful are zilch, don’t you agree?”
His warm breath fanned her face, a distraction that slowed her processing of what he’d said. Eventually, she nodded.
Travis stood. “Kids, how about we go ice-skating?”
Chelsea clapped her hands.
“Cool,” Marcus said.
“Is it okay to take them to the rink?” Travis asked their parents.
“That would be great, thanks,” Theo said. “These guys love to skate.”
The kids took off t
oward the ice, while Travis shrugged into his jacket. “Coming?” he asked Megan.
“Thanks, but I’m needed here.” It was idiotic to feel as if she should have had the idea to suggest skating. Theo needed her here as a lawyer, not a babysitter.
“I’ll be fine,” Theo assured her. “I’d appreciate if you could help with the kids.”
Okay, so her star client did need her as a babysitter. “No problem,” she said smoothly, aware that once again, she’d provoked Travis’s amusement.
At the rink, Travis rented skates for the kids and himself. He turned to Megan. “What size are you?”
“Me? I’m not skating. I’m still bruised from last time, and that was five years ago.” Her hands went to her butt. She wasn’t about to risk giving her client reason to doubt her competence, not even in an activity unrelated to her work.
“Baby,” Travis scoffed. He laced Chelsea’s skates and checked Marcus’s self-lacing. “I’ll catch up to you,” he told the kids, who stumbled over their feet in the rush to hit the ice.
He sat on the concrete bench and pulled off his left boot to reveal a thick, black wool sock. “So, was it your idea to ruin my Saturday?” He shoved his foot into a skate and began threading the laces.
“I didn’t ask you to come along.”
“I have a feeling Theo didn’t ask you, either,” he said. “I think you offered, out of your eagerness to be the best lawyer in town and impress your dad.”
She tugged the lapels of her coat together, hands beneath her chin. “Theo needed me, so I was here for him.” She sounded defensive even to her own ears. Consciously, she let go of her coat, allowing her hands to hang loose. “Besides, it got me away from the tedious task of checking the invitation list for the firm’s Christmas party.”
“Nothing better to do on the weekend than work, huh?”
He was teasing, but it was so close to the truth…. Megan fixed her gaze on the children, messing around on the ice while they waited for him.
“You do realize,” Travis said, “the way to a client’s heart is through his kids?”
