When Lightning Strikes Twice

by Barbara Boswell

“Mommy!” A joyous smile wreathed Brady’s little face. “Mommy go!”

  Quint felt himself turn a revealing, embarrassing color of crimson. “That was low, Sarah.”

  “Call her, Quint,” Sarah advised. “All she can say is no.”

  “She can say plenty more than that,” muttered Quint, thinking of Pedersen and the Tildens.

  “Go for it, Quint.” Matt gave him a bolstering pat on the back. “I was nervous the first time I called Sarah, but I made myself do it. What if I’d just sat back and didn’t make that call, huh? Think about it.”

  God, they were giving him a pep talk! Quint was aghast. Did they see him as callow as a middle-school kid trying to work up the nerve to call a girl for the first time in his life or an aged retiree who’d been without female companionship for decades? At the moment, he felt like a bit of both.

  And now Brady had Mommy on his one-track mind. “Mommy, Mommy,” he repeated, then demanded.

  Sarah and Matt departed. “Call her,” she leaned out the window to shout as they pulled away. “Brady’s the perfect excuse.”

  Quint carried Brady into the house. He was going to do it, he realized. He was going to use his child to get next to a woman. He’d never before considered doing anything so manipulative, and the fact that Sarah had been the one to plant the idea in his head did not absolve him. He was guilty on all counts.

  Appalled by his own actions even as he proceeded, he called directory assistance and got Rachel’s phone number. That it wasn’t unlisted seemed prescient, and he immediately dialed it. He put Brady on the phone whenever he heard Rachel’s voice over the line.

  “Say ‘Hi, Mommy,’ ” Quint coached. He was a conniving, underhanded snake, and he braced himself to hear Rachel say so.

  “Hi, Mommy!” Brady exclaimed.

  “Brady!” To Quint’s infinite relief, she sounded pleased to hear his son’s voice. “Hi, Brady.”

  “Hi, Mommy,” Brady repeated. Losing interest in the telephone, he spotted his toy truck across the room and began to struggle to get down.

  Quint set the child on his feet and took over the conversation. “Hello, Rachel.” There was a momentary silence. “You didn’t really believe that Brady called you up on his own, did you?” He gave a slight laugh. “The kid is smart, but he’s only two.”

  “It’s not beyond the realm of possibility,” Rachel said softly. “My niece knows how to speed-dial me.”

  “Smart little Snowy. Not to lessen her accomplishment, but your number must be programmed into their phone, Rachel.”

  Rachel knew the moment he said Snowy’s name, thus proving he’d been listening and actually remembered their conversation last night, that she was going to accept whatever invitation he issued in Brady’s name.

  “Brady wants you to go to McDonald’s for dinner with us.” Quint cleared his throat. “I realize that isn’t exactly a—”

  “Tell Brady I’ll have dinner with him.” Rachel didn’t let herself take the time to reconsider. She felt as if she were stepping off some metaphorical cliff. But she’d been so miserable all day, plagued between flashbacks of last night’s passionate embrace and the haunting doubts set up by Wade’s own suspicions. “Katie, would you know if Dana is dating Quint Cormack?”

  “We’ll be right, over—if you’ll give me directions to your place?” There was a smile in Quint’s voice that had a profound effect on every one of her senses. Rachel shivered.

  And gave him directions to her apartment.

  8

  “You take this for immediate, short-term relief.” Bob Sheely handed Dana two white tablets she was supposed to chew. “And this for slower-acting, extended hours of relief.” He gave her a small pill to take with water and watched her consume the medication. “Bangladeshi restaurant, hmm?”

  “The food is spicy. Very, very spicy.” Dana turned to her father. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “I guess Rich doesn’t like places that serve things like roast chicken or spaghetti,” he mused.

  “He likes gastronomical adventures, Dad.”

  “Must have a helluva digestive track,” Bob Sheely said thoughtfully. “He’s one lucky guy. You can set your watch by him, too.”

  Dana groaned aloud. “I think I’ll go to my room and read for a while, Dad.”

  The doorbell rang and moments later, they heard Mary Jean Sheely exclaim in delight, “Wade! You must have ESP. We got a letter today from Tim and Lisa and they sent along the latest pictures of the children. I know you’ll want to see them.”

  “Yes, definitely, I’d love to see them,” said Wade.

  Dana sneered. He probably thought he sounded charming, not smarmy. Ha!

  And then, Wade’s voice again, “Is Dana here?”

  She caught her father’s arm. “Dad, trap him with the pictures while I sneak upstairs,” she whispered urgently.

  “You don’t want to see him?” Her father looked surprised.

  “No, I—I’m sick of him, Dad. He’s a pest. If he wants to hang out with a Sheely, it can be Tricia. Or Katie or Emily or one of the boys. Anybody else but me.”

  She heard her parents proudly regaling him with the latest photos of their grandchildren as she crept up the stairs and took refuge in her room. She turned on her CD player and reached for her book, Bergin on Personal Injury Litigation, a classic in its field.

  She could still hear the faint sound of voices, so she turned the volume higher and determinedly studied the chapter on the trials of burn cases.

  Her powers of concentration had always been first-rate and she was so engrossed in the theory of derivative liability that she jumped when a knock sounded on her door. Before she could call either “Come in” or “Go away” to whichever sibling was out there, the door opened.

  And it wasn’t a Sheely, but Wade Saxon who stepped into her room.

  She gasped and sat up, dropping the book to the floor. “What are you—”

  “I’m a pest?” Wade was indignant. “I should hang out with Emily or Anthony or Brendan?”

  Dana blushed. “I can’t believe Dad told you that,” she muttered grimly.

  “I can’t believe you said it. I don’t understand why.” He crossed the room and sat down on the edge of her bed. “What’s going on with you, Sheely?”

  Dana immediately scooted over to the other side of the bed and tucked her legs under her. She was wearing a pair of plaid boxers and one of her oldest T-shirts with a faded Carbury College logo on the front. A long-ago reject of Wade’s.

  She’d scrubbed off all her makeup, pulled her hair back into a short pony tail, and knew she looked Emily’s age—except Emily invariably tried to glam herself up to look older. Then she remembered that she didn’t give a damn what she looked like around Wade—or she shouldn’t. She hadn’t until yesterday, but hearing that comment of Tricia’s had upended her entire world, and she still hadn’t figured what to do about it.

  “Get out of my room, Saxon.” To Dana’s relief, she sounded normal. Grouchy, but normal. “Mom and Dad—”

  “Sent me up to see you. Your mother is stunned that you consider me a pest and your dad just looked confused. So, are you going to tell me why you’ve suddenly decided that I make you sick?”

  Dana frowned. Her father had quoted her a bit too accurately, the traitor! One small positive note was that if her parents had sent him up to her bedroom, they definitely hadn’t heard Tricia’s supposition about lust.

  Her parents did not permit bedroom visits by the opposite sex to bedrooms, no matter what the hour, a rule high-schoolers Brendan, Anthony, and Emily were forever howling about. They claimed they wanted to listen to music with mixed groups of friends in their rooms after school, that this was perfectly innocent and allowed by every parent in the United States with the unreasonable exception of the Sheelys. The response remained a firm “No!”

  “I thought you knew all the answers to everything, Saxon.” Dana scowled at him. “So you’d better leave while you’re still alive ‘cause I might kil
l you in a PMS frenzy and even get acquitted. A hormonal defense actually works with some juries.”

  “Okay, I apologize for the PMS jokes,” Wade gritted through his teeth. “Now, can we just forget it and move on?”

  “Fine. Whatever. Now go home. I have some reading to do. Dammit, where’s my book?”

  Wade picked up the book from the floor and leafed through it. “Personal injury suit, hmm?”

  She nodded. “I’m driving up to Sagertown in north Jersey tomorrow and visiting our new client in the hospital.”

  “Cormack is such a slave driver he makes you work on weekends?” Wade’s teasing grin invited one from her, which Dana was on the verge of giving. Until his face abruptly turned cold. “Is he driving up there with you to visit your client?”

  “Aren’t you carrying professional rivalry a bit too far?” Dana shot back. “I know John Pedersen’s decision to use Cormack and Son for his new pension plan bothers you—and maybe rightly so—but there is no reason for you to expect every personal injury suit in New Jersey to be taken to Saxon Associates.”

  “Like I give a damn about Cormack and Son’s new personal injury suit!”

  “You would, if you knew how big this one is going to be!”

  “What were you saying about professional rivalry, Sheely? Seems to me that you’re the one afflicted with a walloping case of it.”

  “I have to admit, it did kind of sound that way.” Dana smiled reluctantly. “It’s just that Quint and I really like our client, it’s a truly worthwhile case, and how often does that happen?”

  “I’m sure that according to the acclaimed Quinton Cormack, every case he takes is truly worthwhile. I bet he’ll manage to convince you that Misty the Lap Dancer deserves every penny of the Tilden fortune.”

  “Former lap dancer, and she isn’t getting every penny of the Tilden fortune, just what Town Senior willed her. Don’t waste your sympathy on the Tildens, Saxon. Each one of them has their own trust fund and a big fat salary from Tilden Industries, even if they don’t work for the company.”

  “You’ve done your homework on the Tildens.” Wade frowned thoughtfully. “Which means that Cormack has, too.”

  “Believe it, Saxon.”

  “Rachel thinks this new will Misty’s come up with is bogus. She and Aunt Eve are both certain that Cormack is bluffing, that it’s all a ploy to get the Tildens to agree to an out-of-court settlement to avoid tying up the—”

  “Saxon, why would Quint draw up a bogus will?” Dana interrupted incredulously. “That happens to be fraud and it’s illegal. We paralegals learned that early on, but maybe you missed the class on deceptive practices and the consequences thereof in law school?”

  “I was there for the class, Sheely. But maybe your boss wasn’t.”

  “Quint plays by the rules, and he’s not about to jeopardize his career for Misty Tilden or anybody else.” Dana regarded him with a mixture of concern and impatience. “The will is valid, Wade. I know it is, because Quint included me in on it every step of the way. He wanted me to learn how to draw up an ironclad will, and that it is. You’d better convince Rachel and your aunt, or they’re going to end up looking like idiots in court.”

  “You called me Wade.” He appeared thunderstruck.

  Her cheeks pinked. “I had to get your attention somehow. I’m trying to make a very crucial point about the legitimacy of that will. Have you finally gotten it?”

  “God!” Wade leaned back against the headboard and stretched his legs along the length of the bed. “Do you know how much I didn’t want to hear that, Sheely? As if this entire day hasn’t been bad enough, now I get you swearing that Misty has a bona fide case. Please be honest, are you trying to psych me out like Quint’s doing to Rachel and Aunt Eve?”

  “I wouldn’t try to psych you out, Saxon,” Dana said quietly. “Our friendship predates my job, remember?”

  “Yeah, it does.” Impulsively, he reached over and caught her hand in his. “And I appreciate the warning, Sheel. It didn’t seem very likely to me that Cormack would come up with a faux will, but Rachel and Aunt Eve are so adamant about it, I just went along.”

  Dana carefully removed her hand from his and got off the bed, walking to stand by the window at the other end of the room. She folded her arms in front of her chest, acutely aware of her lack of a bra. Her eyes swept over Wade lying on her bed in his striped sport shirt that emphasized his muscular arms and khaki trousers that accentuated his narrow hips, his flat belly, and long legs.

  Suddenly, she felt as if her whole body was on fire, her skin burning with heat, rivers of flames licking deep within her. Beneath her shirt, she felt her nipples harden into taut beads that poked against the worn cotton. The stimulation was almost painfully intense. She closed her eyes and turned her back to him, wanting to cry out a protest.

  No, it couldn’t be true!

  But she knew it was. She was lusting for Wade Saxon, fully aware of what she was feeling, unable to deny it.

  “Hey, Sheely, listen to this.”

  She could tell by the nonchalant tone of his voice that he did not feel the same way she did. When she turned her head slightly to steal a peek at him, she could see for herself that he didn’t He was staring at the ceiling, his arms pillowing his head, blathering on about his cousin and his aunt and that wretched Tilden will.

  No, he was completely unaware that she was aroused and aching for him to touch her. For one brief moment, she wondered what he would do if she were to climb on top of him and kiss him senseless. It was a satisfying bit of fantasy, but she knew it would stay a fantasy.

  Furious tears pricked her eyes. If Tricia was correct and Wade really was subliminally lusting for her, he remained completely oblivious to it. And being introspectively challenged, he always would. Dana visualized her future, endlessly playing her customary role of sister-pal, listening to him alternately rave and complain about the current women in his life, while she suffered with this syrupy melting warmth that made her yearn to touch him, to feel him touching her …

  The current women in his life. Dana suddenly remembered his date tonight with Jennifer Payne. “What are you doing here, Saxon?” she demanded, turning on him like a virago. “Where’s Jennifer? Why aren’t you—”

  “Sheely, have mercy!” He held up his hand, as if to physically ward off her words. “I told you I’ve had a thoroughly abominable day, and now you throw Jennifer ‘let’s-go-to-Club-Koncrete-and-dance-to-the-radical-music’ Payne at me?”

  “You went to Club Koncrete?” The notion was diverting.

  “Go ahead, rub it in. You warned me, I should’ve listened to you and broken the date. Idiot that I am, I didn’t.”

  “The date didn’t go well?” Dana didn’t even try not to sound delighted.

  “That smile of yours is chilling and cruel, Sheely. No, the date didn’t go well! From the moment Jennifer hopped into the car, she insisted that Club Koncrete was the only place to be on a Friday night. Then she checked out my CDs and wasn’t quite so perky. I think she started asking herself how she’d ever ended up in a car with a guy who listened to Tony Bennett.”

  “Poor Jennifer.”

  “Sheely, your sympathy is misplaced. I’m the victim here. I had to suffer through the longest hour of my life in techno-hell. The alleged music they play there is made on computers and electronic gadgets instead of—God forbid—conventional musical intruments. All these blue-and-white lights kept flashing—you’ve heard of ‘blinded by the light’? Well, that place could cause permanent retinal damage. I think there’s a potential gold mine of a personal injury suit just waiting to happen there.”

  “Did you dance?”

  He leaped off the bed and crossed the room in just a few aggressive strides. “Now you’ve gone too far, Sheely.”

  She laughed, dodging him by adeptly sidestepping him, and the more she laughed and kept slipping out of his reach, the stronger his competitive instincts grew until he couldn’t have simply given up and ceded her vic
tory.

  “You’re doing some pretty tricky dance steps now, Saxon.” Dana teased, still moving, still laughing. “Too bad Jennifer isn’t here to appreciate your moves.”

  “Laugh while you dare, Sheely. Because—” He seized both her wrists and held them fast, bringing an end to her strategic retreat. “Because—”

  He forgot to continue. He was suddenly struck by the provocative proximity of their bodies. His eyes sought hers and instantly, the lighthearted atmosphere in the room changed, turning heavy and thick with tension. Too late, Wade realized that not only his competitive instincts had been roused.

  Feeling half-dazed, he studied her face, the white porcelain smoothness of her complexion, the subtle, classically lovely features. Especially her mouth. Somehow, he’d never noticed how beautifully shaped and temptingly sensual her lips were.

  His eyes collided with hers again, and he waited for her to look away. To his surprise, she held his gaze. He spied apprehension there that mirrored his own, but he also saw something else reflected in the steady blue warmth of her eyes. Affection, curiosity, and … excitement.

  Unresolved sexual tension vibrated fiercely between them. Neither moved or even tried to.

  “Is that what this is all about?” he whispered, awed.

  “I—don’t know what you’re trying to say, Saxon.” She could guess but didn’t dare. Not if there was a chance she could be wrong.

  “Have you ever wondered what it would be like … between us?”

  That note of wonder was still in his voice, and Dana smiled slightly. It was so obvious that he hadn’t considered the possibility at all, until just a moment ago. Of course, she wasn’t exactly eligible for any prizes in self-awareness herself. Until Katie had quoted the Tricia Doctrine yesterday, she’d been as clueless as Wade.

  And she was still too uncertain of him to offer much encouragement. “I might be a little curious,” she hedged.

  “A little curious,” he echoed. It seemed safe enough to admit, though he was experienced enough to know that this little game they were playing—if that’s what it was—was as far from safe as he’d ever been.