Her Secret Rival

by Abby Gaines

  Brent sucked in a breath and clamped his hand tighter around his beer. “Guys, let’s just have a friendly drink.”

  “And now you’re getting involved with a woman who doesn’t want kids. When are you going to do the right thing, like you always tell us to?”

  Unable to think of an answer, Travis glanced at Brent for support.

  His brother grimaced. “And to think I used to feel guilty when you gave me that do-the-right-thing lecture. For Pete’s sake, Travis, learn from Clay’s idiocy. Dump this Megan chick now.”

  Travis fought the urge to punch his brother in his dimpled chin. Over a woman he wasn’t even dating and he knew damn well was wrong for him!

  “Would this family please butt out?” he muttered. “No wonder Gina doesn’t want to come home.”

  His cell phone rang, and he pounced on the opportunity to escape. He checked the display: Barbara Hoskins’s home number. “A client,” he told Clay, who rolled his eyes.

  Travis picked up as he headed outside. The cold night air socked him the punch he needed to shake off his aggravation. “Barbara, what’s up?”

  “Um, it’s Marcus here,” said a childish voice.

  Travis walked down the wide concrete steps, farther away from the music. The clock tower above the hall read ten o’clock. “Marcus, you’re up late, buddy.”

  “I can’t find Mom.”

  Alarm whistled through Travis like a December wind. “What do you mean?” he asked slowly.

  “Chelsea woke up with a stomachache. She went to tell Mom, but she’s not here. I’ve looked all over. Her purse is gone, but her cell phone’s on the charger.” The boy’s voice had gotten higher with every sentence until he ended in a squeak.

  “Okay, buddy, we’ll find her,” Travis said. “Did you try your dad?”

  “He’s not home, and he’s not answering his cell phone. I left him some messages. Your number is on the wall next to the phone, so I called you.”

  “Okay, good boy.” Travis paced to the sundial in the middle of the quadrangle. Barbara wasn’t the kind of woman to leave her kids home alone. What the hell was going on?

  And what should he tell Marcus? He knew the Hoskinses didn’t have any family in Atlanta, and he was reluctant to have Marcus start phoning his parents’ friends. If Travis left now, he’d be back in Atlanta around midnight…but the kids couldn’t wait that long. Call the police? The media would be all over the scandal like gravy over biscuits.

  “Marcus, I’m out of town,” he said. The boy heaved a sob, which all but broke Travis’s heart. “I’ll call Megan,” he hurried on. It was far from ideal, but at least the kids knew her. There was no chance of keeping this from her anyway, given Marcus had left his dad those undoubtedly terrified messages. “She’ll come and stay with you until we find your parents, okay?”

  If he could get hold of her. In the background, he could hear Chelsea questioning Marcus incessantly. The boy was holding up for her sake, Travis guessed.

  He arranged to call back using a coded ring since Marcus was anxious about answering the phone to a stranger at night, reassured the boy one more time, then said goodbye.

  He hit speed dial for Megan.

  “Hello?” She sounded alert, wide awake.

  “Are you on a date?” he blurted.

  “I don’t believe this,” she said grimly.

  Hell. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I had a call from Marcus.” Quickly, he outlined the situation.

  “Travis, that’s awful. Those poor kids.” He could hear from her voice that she was already on the move. “I’ll go over there right away.”

  “Thanks. Look for any clues as to where Barbara might be. An invitation on the fridge, or a diary note. She left her cell at home, so there’s not a lot else we can do to find her.”

  “I’d better try Theo, too.” She was right, of course. The kids needed a parent, any parent, more than they needed Megan or Travis. “I’ll call you as soon as I have news,” she promised.

  “Thanks,” he said again. “Doesn’t matter how late.”

  After he called Marcus to confirm Megan was on her way, Travis hung around outside, wishing there was more he could do. Twenty minutes later, Megan called to say she was at Barbara’s house, and the kids were fine.

  “Chelsea’s stomachache seems better, so I’ll put them back to bed. Do you think they’re too old for a story?”

  “Borderline, but I’m sure it’ll go down well when they’re upset.” Then, because he wanted to prolong the conversation, he added, “But you realize kids their age need an original story, minimum twenty minutes, featuring them in starring roles, and acted out with costumes by the storyteller. Right?”

  Dead silence. “They’re getting a chapter of Harry Potter. So sue me.”

  He snickered. “You’re the boss.”

  “Damn right,” she said. “I’m going to move Marcus into the spare bed in Chelsea’s room. They’ll both appreciate the company.”

  “Whatever you say.” He saluted, even though she couldn’t see him.

  “So…how’s the Jackson Creek social?” she asked.

  “The usual,” he said. “Drinking, dancing. We’ll probably get to auld lang syne at some stage.”

  A pause. “Who did you dance with?”

  His senses pricked up. Was it possible he wasn’t the only one capable of jealousy? “A couple of girls I went to high school with.”

  “Hmm. I guess they’d be quite old now.”

  “Older than you,” he agreed. “But they still have all their hair.”

  She snorted a half laugh. “You’re an idiot.”

  “I know,” he said with a humility that made her laugh for real. Man, he loved that sound.

  “Stop being cute,” she ordered.

  “I can’t,” he said in the same tone.

  She hung up, leaving him grinning into the phone like a loon.

  Which was stupid. He pocketed the phone as he turned back to the hall. Clay was right. Even Brent was right, dammit, and his younger brother was the last person to listen to on personal matters. Travis had no business flirting with Megan.

  He needed to go back to Atlanta and fight for Jonah’s job with everything he had.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  TRAVIS’S CELL RANG at three in the morning. He rolled over in his half-awake state and grabbed his phone. “Megan?” He heard arguing in the background. “Barbara’s back?”

  “And Theo.” She sounded exhausted, slurring her words. He’d bet she hadn’t slept at all. “They got here at the same time.”

  “Where were they?” Travis sat up in the single bed he’d grown up sleeping in, and pushed the blankets aside.

  “Theo was at a rock concert, he didn’t hear his phone over the music.”

  Way to go, Theo, great time to start reliving your youth. Travis walked to the window. The carpeted floor was much warmer underfoot than his floorboards in the city. He hadn’t closed the curtains, and the pale moon lit the room. “And Barbara?”

  Behind Megan, the arguing intensified. “Just a moment, Travis.” She must have covered the phone with her hand, because her voice was muffled, but not so muffled that he couldn’t hear. “Shut up, you two, you’ll wake the kids.”

  The sudden background silence was probably more shock than obedience, he suspected. Travis grinned at the moon.

  “I’ll take this to the kitchen,” she said, and there was a pause while she moved out of the Hoskinses’ earshot.

  “Barbara did knowingly go out and leave the kids home alone,” Megan said.

  Travis’s heart sank.

  “She’d planned a late dinner with her boyfriend,” Megan continued, “because she didn’t want to go out before the kids were in bed. She had a sitter arranged for nine, but right before Barbara was supposed to leave, the sitter called to say she’d be ten minutes late.”

  “I can guess what comes next.”

  “The kids were asleep, so Barbara figured they�
�d be fine on their own until the sitter arrived.” Her voice sounded low and intimate, as if she’d brought the phone closer to her mouth. Her lips were so clear in his mind, it was as if she was right there with him.

  “But for some reason the sitter didn’t turn up.” Travis rested his forehead on the windowpane. Below, his mom’s garden was in shadow.

  “Her car broke down. She left a message on Barbara’s cell, not realizing Barbara had left the phone at home.” Megan paused. “Barbara’s very upset.”

  “She should be,” Travis said. A tiny sound came down the phone; he recognized it as the peak of a yawn.

  “Travis, Theo has asked me to seek an interim custody order first thing Monday.”

  MEGAN SELDOM SUFFERED from nerves in the courtroom. She made a point of being more prepared than her competition knew it was possible to be, and that was enough to give her confidence.

  Not today. The first test of how well her efforts were serving Theo was also the first time she’d been on the opposite side of a courtroom from Travis. While she was convinced her case was strong, she had no idea what to expect from him. Unlike most of the lawyers she faced off against, he was unpredictable.

  Her father sat in the back of the courtroom, unwittingly ramping Megan’s stress levels sky-high.

  Despite Barbara’s lapse in judgment on Saturday night, Megan was coming from behind, arguing Theo should have custody of the children. Although the courts claimed equal treatment, they still tended to favor mothers.

  She checked through her files for the twelfth time. She had everything she needed. Travis sat at the table across the aisle, immaculate in his dark suit, white shirt, bronze tie. He was sprawled back in his chair, the way he’d been the first day she saw him. He looked as if he was prepared for no more than lifting a finger to order a beer.

  On Megan’s right, Theo flipped his BlackBerry over and over in his fingers. “Can we win this?” he asked, as clients always did when last-minute anxiety attacked.

  She’d never answered that question with a no, and she wasn’t about to now. “We can,” she said. “We will.”

  The mantra steadied her as she rose along with everyone else for Judge Sylvia Teague to enter. Judge Teague was, like Barbara, a mother of two and a career woman. She was also divorced. Megan couldn’t be sure if the judge would come down hard on a woman who had let down her side, or if she would be sympathetic toward Barbara’s attempts to juggle her life.

  Briefly, Megan wondered what kind of judge her sister Cynthia would make. The conflict of interest meant she wouldn’t be allowed to hear Megan’s cases. Just as well—Cynthia was so devoted to her work she’d probably give Megan an extrahard time just to prove she wasn’t favoring her.

  Since Megan’s client had requested the interim custody hearing, she was up first.

  She put Theo on the stand and led him through his testimony, starting with, “Tell the court about the phone calls you received from your son on Saturday night.” She presented her case simply and clearly. That Barbara Hoskins, by going out to meet her lover before the babysitter arrived, had shown herself unfit to care for the children. And that they would therefore be better off with their father.

  Of course, that wasn’t the end of the story.

  Travis stood. “Your Honor,” he began, and Megan’s spine tingled. “I have some questions for Mr. Hoskins.”

  Travis’s cross-examination elicited what they both knew: that Theo had been unreachable because he was at a rock concert, that he’d taken a cab to Barbara’s house because he was drunk or, as Megan corrected him in her objection, he’d exceeded the legal alcohol limit for driving. Thank goodness custody hearings were closed to the media.

  Next, Theo was obliged to admit that last week, when Barbara had been away on business, he’d been unable to have the kids because he, too, was out of town. Barbara had cut her trip short because she didn’t want to leave the kids with a sitter for more than one night. A model mother, was Travis’s implication.

  Maybe it was the lack of sleep as a result of putting together a custody suit at such short notice, but right now, Megan was ineffably weary of the whole case. Why couldn’t the Hoskinses have put a bit more work into their marriage, for the sake of their kids?

  She watched Travis as he questioned Theo. He looked every bit as fatigued as she did, but on him it lent a rugged effect. Typical.

  As Travis spoke to the judge, she sensed that he’d done the same research she had into Judge Teague’s background. The judge was nodding unconsciously as he described the difficulties of carving out some personal time when you were a single mom and how gut-wrenching it was to leave your children with an alcoholic father—

  Megan sprang to her feet. “Objection, Your Honor. Mr. Hoskins has never been labeled an alcoholic by anyone other than the wife who wants custody of his children. He strenuously denies any form of alcohol addiction.”

  “Sustained,” the judge said. “Mr. Jamieson, please confine your argument to the facts.” But her tone said You naughty, handsome boy.

  Travis’s smiling, faux-embarrassed apology didn’t fool Megan for one second. This man was dangerous.

  She forced herself to focus on the argument he presented, and got in a couple more good objections. After the second one, he shot her a look that gave her a greater sense of triumph than many wins she could remember.

  Judge Teague retired to consider the arguments—the urgent nature of the case required an immediate decision. Megan had no idea which way the verdict would go. Her father shrugged. Not clear enough for him to call.

  She and Theo paced together in the foyer. There was no sign of Barbara and Travis.

  The call to return came an hour later. Uncharacteristically, Megan wasn’t sure if a speedy decision was a good sign or a bad one.

  Judge Teague began summing up by complimenting both attorneys on the clarity of their arguments. In an agony of suspense, Megan could only manage a taut smile. The judge went on to list what she considered the most salient points.

  “This is a difficult decision,” she concluded. “But on balance, I find in favor of Mr. Theo Hoskins, and award him full custody of the children.”

  Megan had won! Relief gushed through her, leaving her washed-out and shaky.

  Theo pumped her hand, beaming. “You were wonderful, Megan. This means so much…thank you.” His voice trembled.

  “I’m happy for you.” Megan tried to ignore Barbara’s sobs. Travis put an arm around his client.

  Theo had the grace to look discomfited. “I think I should have you with me when I go pick up the kids tonight.”

  Megan shivered. “Of course.”

  “I need to get ready for them, buy some food.” Theo flicked through his BlackBerry messages as he spoke. “I’ll be ready by five.”

  “Fine.” Megan packed her briefcase. “And, Theo?”

  He glanced up from the BlackBerry. “Hmm?”

  “Do us all a favor,” she said, “and clear out your liquor cabinet before the kids arrive.”

  He reddened. Then he nodded.

  TRAVIS WAS ALSO PRESENT for the hand-over of the kids, which went surprisingly smoothly. If you didn’t look too closely at Marcus’s white face and Chelsea’s confusion.

  By the time Theo pulled away from curb with the children buckled securely into his Volvo, and Barbara closed her front door with a bang, Megan was drained.

  “You realize we’ll have to go through all that again soon,” Travis said. “Barbara plans to appeal.”

  “That figures. I don’t even know if the judge made the right decision. Which is better for the kids, the alcoholic or the adulterer?” Megan headed toward her BMW, parked in front of Travis’s truck.

  “It’s grim,” he agreed. He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “You did a great job for your client in court today.”

  “Thanks. So did you.”

  “But you won.”

  “It was a close-run thing. Even my dad said so.”

  He paused, h
is finger on the button of his remote control. Then he pressed down. The truck’s lights flashed, but Travis stayed where he was, with her. “When did your father say that?”

  “I talked to him before I left the courthouse. He was impressed with your performance.” Jonah had complimented Megan on the win, but he’d also warned her how close she’d come to losing. To Travis.

  Travis gazed into the distance. “Does your victory put you in a better position to get that job?”

  “Are you kidding? Right after he congratulated me, Dad came out and told me I’m still not in the running.” She rubbed her tired eyes.

  “You’re okay with that?” His dark eyes were opaque.

  “Of course not, but it wasn’t unexpected. I still have my plan to get myself on his short list.”

  “And that plan is…?” Travis prompted.

  Too far-fetched to share. She changed the subject. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About your need to get away from PPA.”

  His expression closed over, wiped as clean as one of those peel-back magic slate toys. Did he regret sharing those confidences?

  She looked down at her keys. “Would you like to come to the Merritt, Merritt & Finch Christmas party tomorrow?”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  TRAVIS COULDN’T AFFORD to blow this chance to redeem himself with Megan’s father. He’d started this race from behind, then been put back a lap, thanks to his big mouth the last time he’d met Jonah. Was Jonah the kind to hold a grudge?

  He stayed up most of the night working through every permutation of conversation that might take place between him and Jonah. Primed with coffee, he rehearsed again all the next day, the day of the party, except for a short break to get a haircut.

  He’d just perfected his bow tie in front of his bedroom mirror—Jonah always looked dapper, and Megan’s theory about first impressions was compelling—when his phone rang.

  “You called?” His sister’s voice came down the line.

  “About a hundred times,” he said, irritated that Gina had chosen now to finally get back to him.