by Theresa Weir
The carefully executed ploy worked perfectly, and Kevin was thoroughly knocked off the T, far away from the prime spot on the court to wait for the next serve. With a triumphant shout, Drew smashed the ball past Kevin’s reach, but well within the court, and won the match. He pumped his first in victory.
He’d never played squash against Kevin, but in their firm of Wright-Davis, Benson and Carey, Kevin was his only competition for the coveted partner slot that had recently become available.
When their boss, Roger Wright-Davis, had called Drew at the crack of dawn and told him to get his ass-kicking clothes on, Drew had been groggy and confused until he learned that he and Kevin would be competing for a case on the squash court. It was unorthodox, but Drew wasn’t going to argue. When one of the partners called and told him to appear, he didn’t keep him waiting. Wright-Davis was the founder of the company and the head honcho. Drew didn’t know what case was on the line, but as the top billable lawyer in Mergers and Acquisitions, Drew was sure it would be worth a hefty chunk of bonus money.
The fast track wasn’t for wimps and complainers. All he had to do was keep impressing the partners. And he’d just beat out his stiffest competition. He grinned at Kevin as they shook hands.
“Way to dominate the T, Hudson, you bastard,” Kevin growled. He took the loss in stride and exited the court with a salute of his racket. Roger waited outside, sitting on one of the benches people used to wait for an open court.
Drew grabbed up a towel from his gym bag and mopped his face.
“Good job, Hudson. You are my top billable guy.”
Drew nodded as his breathing got back to normal. “What is this case, anyway?”
“First of all, I need your word that none of this information makes it to the public or will be mentioned around the office.”
“You have my word.” Drew was vibrating with anticipation.
“I want you to get Brooke Palmer of Pawlish to settle out of court.”
“Polish?” Was Roger speaking gibberish?
Roger lifted his hand and waggled it in explanation. “No, Pawlish. You know, as in dog paw? It’s a dog grooming salon my wife used to frequent until that damn toy poodle of hers got a bad cut and had to get therapy. If you ask me, she’s just pissed because the Palmer woman refused to put up with her crap.”
“Dog therapy? She’s suing a dog grooming salon? Why?” Had he heard this right? From the look on Roger’s face, he had. This is the case Roger was assigning him? His hand fisted on the soft terry of the towel, heat forming in the pit of his stomach, tightening his chest. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a joke. He’d worked his ass off for the firm, and to be assigned a small-potatoes case against a dog salon was insulting.
“Well, the dog was slated for competition, and one of the employees at the place botched the cut. I can’t blame the poor girl. That is one annoying, spoiled, fidgety dog.”
“But you intend to go through with this suit.” Drew was hoping Roger would say, “Ha ha, just kidding,” and give him the real case.
“Don’t look at me like that. You’re not married, so you wouldn’t understand. Kristen won’t let this drop until she gets what she wants. I tried to talk her out of it. She wants this woman ruined. But I do not want this to go to court. It’s embarrassing enough that we’re even filing this, especially since that TV show broadcast it all over freaking Times Square.”
Roger really intended to pull him off multi-million dollar mergers to handle a suit against a dog salon. And what the hell was a dog salon anyway? “If I’m successful, I get the partnership. What if I’m not successful?”
“I don’t like failure. Figure out a strategy and get it done.”
“It’s a slam dunk.”
“Make it so.”
“Who gave her the idea to sue in the first place?”
Roger snorted and rose. “A dog psychic. Now, hit the showers and get to work.”
On his way to the showers, Drew shook his head at the ridiculousness of this assignment. Dog psychics and traumatized poodles. Geezus. His phone rang. He fished it out of his bag and answered.
“Hello, big brother.”
He smiled, suddenly feeling lighter. “Emma. Hey, kid,” he said his voice softening. “How have you been? How’s school?”
“Good, but I’m getting anxious to finish.”
“Hang in there. You’ve only got five months to go.” He couldn’t believe his baby sister would be graduating from college in the spring.
“I need to see you today. Can you meet for lunch?”
“Today?”
“Yes. It’s important. You’ve cancelled quite a few times.”
He had cancelled frequently because of work. He shuffled his feet. Emma did deserve his time. He had totally been involved in working his tail off so Emma could go to Princeton, and so they would be secure. It had been his father’s deepest wish that both his children would attend Princeton. Drew wasn’t about to fall short of his father’s dreams.
“All right. Give me an hour. Where?”
“How about a place on Lex so you will be close to work? I wouldn’t want you to go into withdrawal,” she said, her voice filled with sarcasm.
“Very funny.”
“I’ll meet you at Black Shack Burger in an hour.”
Black Shack was known for their sweet potato fries, and he had ordered them and a cheeseburger by the time Emma walked through the door…followed by a tall, bohemian-looking male with shaggy dark hair, wide-set grey eyes, and a diamond stud in his ear. He had musician written all over him. Startled, Drew watched as the guy put his hand to his sister’s lower back and steered her through the crowd. Immediately his big-brother protective instincts popped up like soldiers holding the line.
A smile broke across Emma’s face when she saw Drew, and her sisterly love for him shone out of her deep blue eyes. His heart skipped a beat as he realized how much she looked like their mother, right down to the blonde hair and soft braid draped casually over her shoulder. A lump lodged in his throat when she threw herself at him as he rose from the booth to greet her.
“Drew. I’m so glad to see you,” she said as they hugged each other tightly. Finally, she broke the embrace and turned to the man behind her, saying, “This is Ben Cross. Ben, my brother and hero, Drew.”
Her comment warmed him inside, but he didn’t think he was anybody’s hero. “I don’t know about the hero part, but I am her brother.” Drew took the hand Ben offered for a firm shake.
“I’ll order, honey, so you can catch up with your brother.”
Emma slid into the booth, snatched up one of Drew’s fries, and popped it into her mouth. “Wow, you look all corporate lawyer in your five hundred-dollar black striped suit, accessorized by the latest pink shirt and maroon tie.”
“It’s actually a thousand.”
“Oh. Big spender. Well, I guess you’re worth it.”
He smiled indulgently at the teasing in her eyes. He turned to glance toward Ben waiting at the counter and then back at her. He lifted his brows. Emma smiled that “I’m-in-trouble-but-you-love-me-anyway, right?” smile that never failed to make him crazy. “What’s up that you had to see me today?”
“Cuts right to the chase.”
“He looks like a musician.”
“You sound like Dad with that disapproving tone.”
“For all intents and purposes, I am more of a father to you then a brother.” He’d been the one to help her through her teenage years, the heartache over boys, the prom, the unruly teenage angst. He’d been there for it all. He’d had to be tougher than a mere brother would ever think of being.
She sobered. “And it wasn’t fair. I was only twelve. It put a lot of strain on you.” She reached out and covered his hand, her eyes full of memories.
“It couldn’t be helped and, look at you. You were worth every sleepless night.”
“And you worked hard to get through college and law school. You supported me every step of the way, eve
n when I was a bitch, and I will eternally be grateful. I can now pursue my dreams because you gave up yours.”
“I didn’t give up my dreams, Emma.” This topic made him immediately uncomfortable.
“Yes, you did. You would have pursued a different path, if you hadn’t had to make a living to support us.”
“What path do you think I would have taken?”
“We both know you are more interested in justice and would have used your law degree for something other than acquisitions and mergers.”
He shrugged. “I made goals and achieved them. That’s what is important.” But she was right, that rage was still there in his gut and solidly locked in the back of his mind. The bastard who had killed his parents hadn’t paid enough. That had formed his goals back when he was young and naïve. He’d wanted to save the world. Now he was dedicated to saving his little piece of it.
“You must love your work because you’re always so busy.”
“Mergers and acquisitions is a cutthroat, dog-eat-dog business. You have to become top dog to compete. That takes a lot of hours.”
She nodded and looked away towards the counter. Her eyes softened with tenderness when they settled on Ben. The light caught something bright on the ring finger of her left hand. His heart twisted in his chest as he looked down at the ring.
“You’re getting married.”
Her head snapped back up and she looked down at the ring. Holding it up, she smiled softly, her eyes filled with joy. “I guess this rock does give it away.”
“This is what you wanted to tell me?”
“Yes. But I wanted to wait to tell you in person. I wanted you to meet Ben so many times, but you cancelled.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“Yes. I’m so in love with him, and you don’t have to worry about me anymore. He’s a very rich violinist, old family money, and has an offer from the New York Philharmonic. Ben is graduating from Julliard in December, and I’m opening up my own art gallery this summer in SoHo.”
The genuine emotion in her eyes made him suddenly remember that little girl who had fallen to pieces the night their parents had been killed. When had she grown into this beautiful, confident woman?
Ben came back to the table and set down the food. He eyed Drew. “She told you.”
“Not really, I saw the ring.”
“Emma, there was a reason I wanted you to take the ring off. I planned to ask your brother’s permission before you broke the news.”
“But I didn’t want to take it off. It’s a symbol of our love.”
Ben smiled indulgently.
He had no words to describe the strange sense of loss that had settled into his bones, but he had to put a grudging tick in the pro column for this guy as a brother-in-law. He looked at Emma and the hopeful expression on her face. He sighed. “I give you my blessing.”
She smiled and pulled Ben into the booth. “Now it’s time to talk wedding preparations.”
Drew groaned. Speaking to Brooke Palmer would just have to wait until tomorrow.
* * *
“Doggies don’t get apple cinnamon muffins, Roscoe. That wouldn’t be good for your finicky digestion. You get…” She pulled out one of her homemade dog treats like a magician producing a rabbit from a hat and gave it to her beloved dog with a flourish. Although bulldogs were known for their strong jaw and bite, he accepted it delicately. He collapsed on the floor and started to crunch into the “margarita.” She’d made the treat in the shape of a rounded margarita glass, used yogurt coating and vegetable coloring to make the green-colored drink complete with simulated salt around the rim. “Just don’t turn me in for contributing to the delinquency of a canine.” She chuckled. She cracked herself up.
“Now you be a good boy, and when I get back, I’ll take you for a quick walk before I go to work.” He stopped long enough to cock his head at the word walk. She bent down and stroked his silky head with affection. “You are the cleverest boy.”
Roscoe had been with her ever since she was thirteen. He was so much a part of her life. She couldn’t imagine him not in it.
“I’m going to take these muffins and this casserole next door.” Roscoe continued to crunch on his treat. Her next door neighbor was going in for surgery, and Brooke had made a few things to tide the family over until she returned from the hospital. Her neighbor’s husband was not very good in the kitchen. Brooke went next door and knocked. When the door opened, she stepped inside just as the elevator dinged and the door began to open.
* * *
Drew Hudson searched the floor for the correct apartment number. No matter how many times he’d called the woman for an appointment, she hadn’t called him back. She’d already been served with the lawsuit papers, but hadn’t contacted the law firm to discuss the particulars.
When he found the correct apartment, he knocked and the door gave way. “Hello,” he called out, but there was no answer. “Anyone there?” Still no answer. Concerned, he pushed the door a bit wider and glanced inside.
The apartment drew him in like he was coming home. An oversized couch decorated with quirky pillows that were made out of different textures caught his eye. The tenant of this apartment knew how to add warmth and character to her living space by adding a few simple, well-chosen elements.
Before he knew it he was inside the foyer, and the smell of apple and cinnamon hit him then, sharp and poignant, evoking memories of coming home from school to his mother’s apple cinnamon cookies. The memory was so strong he could see his mother in his mind’s eye, only to have his heart twist with the memory of losing her. He pushed away the memory, but the feeling remained, that feeling of safety and home, something he’d unknowingly craved for a long, long time.
“Hello? Anyone home? Ms. Palmer?” He was so close to the partnership. All he had to do was get this woman to settle out of court. Of course, if he’d had his way, he would have achieved it with hard work. Taking the easy way didn’t sit right with him. He could control what he did, but controlling Brooke Palmer would mean manipulation. He wasn’t squeamish about that either. He’d learned the techniques from the finest lawyers around him. Did he like it? Well, sometimes to reach a goal meant making small sacrifices in his own principles and moral code. Life was stark and raw. He’d learned that the hard way.
He was drawn deeper into the room, and it opened up to a kitchen on the right and a hall probably leading to the bedroom to the left. He called out again, but there was still no answer. He headed for the kitchen and noticed a sheaf of papers on the counter. Google calendar pages, one for each month for the next six months. Damn, talk about offering him up an advantage before he’d even met the woman. He snatched the calendar off the counter, folded it and stuffed it into his pocket.
He heard footsteps in the foyer and turned towards the noise, then behind him he heard the soft growl. Damn, the woman had a dog. He should have thought of that since she did own the dog salon. He prayed it wasn’t a Doberman.
“Who are you?”
The soft voice belonged to a woman who stood in the hallway leading to the kitchen. For a moment Drew couldn’t speak. There was a no-nonsense look in her eyes of luminous brown—eyes that hit him like a punch in the gut. The simple white blouse with a striped blue blazer and a pair of jeans that hugged her curvy hips and tapered down to…whoa, hot, high-heeled boots. Everything went with that no-nonsense look, except those boots. They weren’t no nonsense at all. She had that whole librarian/dominatrix thing going until he took in the pixie face, the glasses with the black, studious frames. She wore her dark hair parted in the middle and the silky mass flowed over her shoulders and down her back.
Her eyes darted to the dog behind him, who was barking menacingly. He glanced over his shoulder to discover a squat, powerful-looking bulldog. The dog lunged and Drew couldn’t move away in time. The pressure at the front of his thighs and the pull at his waist told him the dog had a hold of his pants. He tried to dislodge the beast, but it only growled mor
e ferociously. Drew heard ripping, then the next thing he knew he fell forward as his pants gave way. He careened into the woman, and she half caught him as her back slammed against the wall, the air whooshing out of her.
Cool air wafted against his buttocks. He turned to find the bulldog still growling with the remnants of the pants in its mouth.
The pixie’s eyes narrowed as she pushed him off her. As fierce as Joan of Arc, she grabbed up an umbrella and brandished it like a sword. “You better answer me, mister, or I’ll sic my dog on you, and this time he’ll be after something more important than the seat of your pants.”
Struggling not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, Drew wondered if he’d somehow ended up in a Twilight Zone episode populated with warrior pixies, neurotic poodles, vigilant bulldogs and umbrella-shaped weapons of mass destruction.
Before he could identify himself, the umbrella slammed down on his shoulder, and the demented pixie continued hitting him. The dog went ballistic and started barking and running around him, nipping at his pants legs.
He grabbed the umbrella and said, “Lady, I found the door open. I’m looking for Brooke Palmer. I’m here about the lawsuit and the remnant hanging out of your dog’s mouth is part of a thousand-dollar suit.”
She jerked the umbrella out of his hands and shot her dog a wry look. Looking Drew up and down, she smirked. “Typical.”
“If we could take a deep breath and start all over, I think that would be helpful. What’s typical?”
“You look like a corporate mouthpiece. Did they send the prettiest Goldilocks in the firm? If you think you can threaten me because your suit is ruined, think again. You entered my apartment uninvited, and in my book that’s breaking and entering.” She slipped the umbrella back into the stand and folded her arms across her chest. “This whole thing is simply ridiculous. Since you so easily found your way into my apartment, I’m sure you know the way out, so don’t let the door hit your…”
He turned around and the words died in her throat.
She giggled. He was annoyed enough that he failed to see any humor in the situation. At all.
