Sawyer, Meryl

by A Kiss in the Dark

  David smiled, a slow, tentative smile that was exactly like Val's when she was unsure of herself. "You fell off the horse onto a cactus, and I had to pull two dozen quills out of your jeans."

  Val laughed, or tried to, but the sound was low, bordering on a sob. "Yep. You saved my butt—more than once. We had plenty of good times, didn't we? A lifetime of happy memories."

  David brushed back a tear with his forearm. Paul felt like an intruder and started to move away, but Val caught his hand and gave it a desperate squeeze.

  "Val, I want to explain about Trevor."

  "Don't. It doesn't matter anymore. We have now what we had when we were kids—each other. Mother and Father never cared. They never wanted children, you know. But we loved each other. Everything I did, I did to please you. You were everything to me. A father. A brother. A friend."

  David didn't try to stop the tear that dribbled down his cheek. "And you were everything to me. That's why it was so hard... impossible for me to tell you that Trevor and I had fallen in love. I couldn't bring myself to hurt you. In the end I hurt you even more, didn't I?"

  "It doesn't matter," Val said, although Paul knew it mattered very much. As a child Val had given up on her parents' love, but she'd never expected to lose David's. "I understand what happened."

  "Forgive me. I'm being punished now. Can you imagine what it's like knowing you're going to die? I'd thought, I'd hoped, that time would heal your wounds and we could somehow be close again. I'd counted on you finding someone special." For a moment his gaze met Paul's and Paul saw the suffering in the eyes that were a mirror image of those of the woman he'd always love. "I'd counted on your children, Val. My nieces and nephews. On baptisms and birthday parties and school plays. Piano recitals."

  "Oh, David," Val said, the threat of tears in her voice. "Don't think of what you'll miss; think of what we had. Sunsets at the cabin on the Russian River, the rose trees we planted in your garden out back, the way we'd sit in the window seat, talking and watching the fog creep across the bay, the sound of thunder rumbling over Golden Gate Bridge that sent us under the covers, hugging each other until the storm passed."

  David offered her the suggestion of a smile. "I doubt two siblings have ever been closer."

  "Never," Val assured him. "I love you, darling. I'll always love you."

  "I love you too." His sharp intake of breath sounded unusually loud in the quiet room. "I don't have long, you know. I'm already paralyzed on one side. Soon I won't be able to talk. I don't know what I'll do then."

  Val leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "Don't worry. I'll be here."

  "Promise me you won't leave me. Promise me you'll hold me the way you did when we were afraid of the thunder. I'm afraid, so terribly afraid of dying."

  "I won't leave you, I swear. And when it's over, when you're with the angels looking down on us, I'll take care of

  Trevor."

  "Oh, Val, could you? He's not strong, you know. This will be horrible for him. Mother and Father won't be any help. I need you to do this for me... in spite of what I've done and how I hurt you."

  Val threw her arms around David and cradled him, rocking gently. "Don't worry about me. Losing Trevor wasn't so hard. Some part of me always knew it wasn't real love. It was losing you that nearly killed me. But things worked out for the best."

  She turned to Paul. "I found the love of my life. And I promise you, David, as surely as the sun sets over the bay and your rose trees bloom each spring, we'll name our first son after you."

  She gently laid her brother against the bank of pillows. Obviously, he was very weak now, his eyes half closed, but Paul thought he looked more at peace than he had when they'd arrived. Val pulled his hand to her breast.

  "David, from now until eternity, you'll always be right here—forever in my heart."

  Royce could barely concentrate on the videotape of her interrogation that the defense team reviewed at the end of each session. A secretary had whispered Royce was to report to Mitch's office as soon as she finished. What did he want after almost two weeks of ignoring her? Surely, if he was going to drop the case, he would have done it by now.

  "Two minutes," Mitch's secretary warned when Royce came into his office. "He's scheduled a conference call at four—sharp."

  Royce walked in, crossing the carpeted office that was as large as a football field and stopping in front of his desk. The highly polished walnut stretched out like the deck of an aircraft carrier. Only one pile of papers was on top, along with a telephone and a computer modem, but she knew the drawers must be a mess, the way they were at home.

  Mitch didn't look up until she'd been standing there a full minute gazing down at his dark head, noticing how the hair was a shade too long, dusting his collar in back. Had she'd actually made love to this man?

  Was that what made him so possessive, so irrational? If she hadn't known better she would have thought he was insanely jealous. The depth of his fury went beyond any normal reaction.

  She'd achieved her goal. Brent wouldn't testify. But had she created an insurmountable chasm between herself and Mitch, a chasm that would be impossible to cross? What could she do?

  Mitch stood and tossed his pen aside. "I suppose you expect me to represent you at the trial?"

  "Yes." The word came out like a croak. So, this interview was going to be about the trial—not their personal relationship. Well, what had she expected? An apology? A declaration of undying love?

  He rounded the desk and sat with one leg hitched up on the polished wood, his eyes scouring her body. "Let's get a few things straight." He touched her cheek, running his knuckles up the gentle curve.

  She held herself completely still, not knowing what to expect, but knowing how she reacted—her entire future— depended on getting him to forgive her for kissing Brent. She managed to ask, "What things?"

  His hand was on her shoulder now, warm, firm, thoroughly disturbing. She didn't like the look in his intense eyes. She'd seen it before and knew exactly what he was doing. He was the master of sexual intimidation. Despite all that had happened, and all that was at stake, he somehow knew she still wanted him, that she still lay awake at night dreaming about him, that she'd blocked out the memory of her father for him.

  "You're taking my case seriously, aren't you, Mitch?" she asked, striving to keep this conversation on a professional level.

  "Sure—if we can come to terms."

  "What terms?"

  "I've got what you want. And you've got what I want, right?" His hand cupped her chin, the thumb resting on the full curve of her lower lip. His strong fingers tilted her head upward, so she had no choice but to look directly into his eyes.

  He was staring at her lips. When his gaze met hers, his eyes were so intense, so compelling that she was powerless to do anything but stare back.

  He grinned, playing on the charge of sexual tension between them. Before she could speak, his mouth overpowered hers. There was absolutely no artistry to the kiss. It was hot, hard, wholly carnal.

  It suffocated her cry of protest as the heat of passion seared through her defenses with alarming speed. His tongue probed at the soft interior of her mouth while his hands delved into her hair, holding her head in place for his assertive kiss.

  After the lonely days—and even more lonely nights— without him, she savored the kiss, allowing a tiny flame of response, unwanted and thoroughly aggravating, to ignite. Mitch must have sensed her acquiescence, for he lifted his head, his lips achingly close to hers.

  "Move all your things into my place—tonight—before I get home. You can get domestic if you like and make dinner. But plan on serving it in bed."

  The intercom on his desk buzzed and he turned away from her, not bothering to see if she agreed—just expecting it.

  So that's how it is. Her muddled thoughts cleared as she walked out of his office. Sex. That's what it always came down to with Mitch. She couldn't bank the surge of anger that welled up inside her. She struggled to calm
herself, but couldn't. She wasn't just hopping into bed with Mitch. Not this time.

  The ruckus at the door interrupted Mitch's conference call, and he looked up. Royce was storming in, his secretary trying to keep her out. What was going on? He thought everything was settled, but the mutinous expression on Royce's face reminded him of the way she'd attacked him at her father's funeral.

  He motioned to his secretary to let Royce stay and hoped she'd cool down by the time he finished his call. She hustled around behind his desk, her long hair fluttering against her cheek. She jammed her thumb down on the button, disconnecting him.

  "You've just pissed off four of the most important attorneys in the state." He tried for a joking tone. What the hell was the matter?

  "Tell me you understand why I went to see Brent."

  Christ! He didn't want to discuss this. That photo of Royce kissing Brent had surprised him. Okay, okay, he'd been blown away. Against his better judgment he'd forgiven her. "Yeah, I understand," he stated in a smart-ass tone that clearly said he was clueless and always would be.

  "Don't joke, Mitch. Explain why you were so angry about it."

  He sensed there was a lot at stake here. Don't screw up by being a wiseguy. "We agreed that I was in charge of the case, right? But the first chance you got, you went off half cocked. You're damn lucky it turned out so good. Ingeblatt's photo could have ruined all the work we've done to improve the public's image of you."

  "I had to take the chance. I had to keep Brent off the stand. You were the one who told me how negatively the jury would view me if he testified."

  He studied her, recalling with aching clarity his own bout with being helpless, feeling trapped. Of course, that had been years ago, but sometimes it felt like yesterday.

  "I don't blame you for doing it," he said, not because he'd totally forgiven her, but because he realized he had no choice. She was asking for understanding, trying to make a connection. He had to give in even though the thought of her kissing Brent made him want to put both hands around her slim neck and squeeze.

  "You're saying I did the right thing?"

  "Yeah." He choked out the word.

  She actually smiled, a satisfied, sincere smile. "You understand that Brent calls me every night and I'm going to talk to him. Since the Farenholts refuse to discuss the case with anyone, I might learn something from Brent."

  Now she was pressing her luck. Why did she need to talk to Brent? Mitch knew only too well that the cocky little prick had a talent for charming women.

  "Brent's convinced you and I aren't involved. I don't want him to be suspicious, do you?"

  "No," he reluctantly conceded. "Did he ask about me?"

  She hesitated a fraction of a second; Mitch had cross-examined enough witnesses to know when someone was withholding information.

  "Brent thinks you might be the one framing me."

  That shit! He was at it again. "What do you think?"

  This time Royce didn't hesitate. She leveled those smoldering green eyes on him. "I think you're the only person I can count on."

  He wanted to kiss her, but he didn't. He'd relied on sex too long already. He needed to communicate with her on an intellectual level. It was hard as hell because he didn't have much experience at it. And he'd missed her so damned much that he welcomed any excuse to take her into his arms.

  "Why did you kiss him?" Jesus! Had he really asked that?

  Though the question was spoken softly, it was deadly. She sensed her answer would alter the course of their relationship. "If I didn't kiss Brent, I thought he'd be suspicious about my relationship with you." She hesitated and he knew she was again withholding something. "And I wanted to find out if I felt the same way I did when I kissed you."

  He stifled a gasp with the adroitness of a man accustomed to concealing his deepest feelings. Sure as hell, she'd cold-cocked him with that one. What was she trying to tell him? "Well, what happened?"

  Now her expression was mischievous. "When you come home tonight, I'll tell you." She adjusted the knot in his tie, then lightly kissed his cheek. "And be ready to tell me the whole truth about you and Brent Farenholt."

  CHAPTER 21

  Royce sipped a glass of the Chardonnay that Mitch had brought home for dinner and waited for him to explain about Brent. Was she going to have to bring it up herself? Probably. So far he seemed content to make small talk while they waited for dinner to cook. She smelled the osso bucco and hoped it wasn't burning.

  "Brent called just before you came home." Home? Had she really said that? She'd done what Mitch had asked and moved her things into his house. But living in his house, cooking him dinner implied a level of intimacy that merely sleeping with him did not.

  She wasn't quite comfortable with the idea. What would her father have said? How would Wally feel if he found out? She'd reconciled her own feelings, deciding there was little difference if she lived in Mitch's apartment or in his house. Once they'd begun the affair there was no turning back, and she didn't mind. The week Mitch had been angry with her had been longer and lonelier than any other time in her life. With the trial looming over her like a guillotine she needed Mitch's strength, his confidence.

  Mitch's expression was dead serious. "You're positive Brent doesn't know anything about us?"

  "Positive, so don't be surprised if he calls—at all hours. He often phones late at night, -assuming I'm alone."

  "Be sure he doesn't suspect anything. The last thing you need is to have Ingeblatt smear you again."

  "It wouldn't do your career any good either." She knew Mitch valued his reputation. He was a maverick in a lot of ways, an attorney who often used unorthodox methods, but he went overboard to keep his image pristine. Was he planning a political career? She couldn't help wondering.

  "I don't trust Brent." Mitch put his glass down on the black onyx coffee table with a bang. "I never have."

  "Do you think he's behind this?"

  "No. What possible motive could he have? Besides, I watched him as they arrested you. The wimp was embarrassed as hell. Ward let him have it." He hesitated, measuring her for a moment. "We agreed my past was off-limits, remember?"

  "I'm not asking about your childhood. I'm asking if something happened with Brent that might have bearing on my situation."

  "You have a right to know," he conceded, but he didn't look thrilled about it. "Brent hated me from the moment he found out I was getting better grades than he was. He never lost the opportunity to let me know I was a hick and would never be part of his circle of friends. I didn't give a damn. I'd been through too much to care what some rich prick thought of me. I just wanted to get a good education.

  "I met a girl who was a lot like me. Poor. Working to put herself through school. I didn't mean to fall in love with Maria. My timing couldn't have been worse—I couldn't even afford to buy her a Coke—but it happened."

  So he'd been in love. Royce experienced a twist of her heart that she hesitated to label as jealousy, but she was stunned at how much his words hurt. Even after all these years there was still a hint of fondness in his voice, a softening of his expression that said Maria had meant a lot to him.

  Perhaps she'd been the first person to love Mitch. Suddenly Royce was glad Wally was investigating Mitch; she needed to know more about him. Without learning about his past would she ever understand him?

  "We planned to get married and live in Salinas near her family. Maria's parents were Chicano farm workers, and she was determined to join the California Rural Legal Assistance so she could help her people. I loved her and trusted her completely. When she and Brent were assigned to the same contracts class, I wasn't concerned."

  Royce knew, without being told, exactly what happened. Maria had fallen for Brent. His charm, his money, his sophistication, would be a powerful aphrodisiac to a poor girl. All Mitch had to offer was his love.

  "I didn't suspect a thing until Maria told me she had gone home for the weekend and I found out she'd been with Brent. I confronted her
and she admitted she loved Brent."

  Royce tried to imagine how hurt Mitch must have been. He was an insular man; even now he wasn't close to many people. Maria had been his friend and his lover. Since her arrest Royce had experienced a sense of loneliness that almost reduced her to tears at times. Life was meant to be shared. When you were isolated it was like living in an emotional straitjacket.

  "Things got worse. Maria was pregnant. I knew the baby wasn't mine. I'm always very careful, I'd never desert my child and let him live a life of hell. A child needs his father. You can't always count on your mother."

  The conviction in his tone and his intense expression stunned her. Obviously, Mitch's father had deserted him and something bad had happened with his mother. She was even more anxious now to hear what Wally learned.

  "Brent insisted it wasn't his baby—that it was mine."

  "Wouldn't a blood test have proved—"

  "Back then blood tests were expensive. I didn't have the money. Naturally, Brent didn't volunteer to take a test. The dean called us into his office. Ward Farenholt was there, reminding everyone how much the Farenholts donated each year to the school. Of course, he insisted Maria was a fortune hunter who'd do anything to force his son to marry her."

  Royce easily imagined Ward intimidating everyone. How devastated Maria must have been. Had Brent really cared for her, or had he pretended to in order to get even with Mitch? Royce would have sworn she knew Brent, and that he would never have done anything like this. But then, she wouldn't have believed he'd desert her when she'd needed him the most.

  She decided Brent was a weak man, a man who wanted to be liked, a man who wanted to please a father who could never be pleased. But was Brent so spiteful that he would deliberately have made a play for Maria? Probably not. More likely, he'd fallen for her only to have his parents condemn him for loving a woman whose social and racial background they felt was inferior to theirs.

  "I got lucky," Mitch continued, refilling his wine glass. "One of the professors on the review committee volunteered to give me the money for a paternity test. When Ward saw I couldn't be bullied into marrying Maria, he agreed to give her a cash settlement rather than put everyone through the public embarrassment of a test."