When Lightning Strikes Twice

by Barbara Boswell

  “Dana won’t take a call from me anyway,” Wade said darkly. “I talked to her once and then I was told she wouldn’t accept any more calls from me.”

  “By their dragon receptionist-secretary,” Eve surmised. “I was also told by Commandant Helen that no calls from Saxon Associates were to be put through.”

  “Shunned by Cormack and Son.” Wade shook his head. “How the mighty have fallen and all that.”

  “We haven’t fallen,” Eve insisted. “This is merely a—professional setback.”

  “And the trouble in Northern Ireland is just a little spat among friends,” mumbled Rachel.

  The trio walked to the reception area, where young Katie Sheely was busily typing away on her computer keyboard.

  “Katie, what are you working on?” Wade asked, after he’d recovered from the shock of seeing her so thoroughly engrossed in any kind of office function.

  Katie didn’t look away from the screen. “I’m in an X-Files chat room. You wouldn’t believe how outrageous this one guy’s theory is! I think he might be an alien clone himself.”

  Eve opened her mouth as if to speak, then swiftly turned and headed back to her office without saying a word.

  “Considering everything, Aunt Eve has shown remarkable restraint today,” Wade murmured to Rachel. “I mean, contrast her attitude this morning to last week, when she was ready to take us apart, piece by piece. And you should’ve seen how infuriated she was in the police station Saturday morning! When she went over to talk to the chief after the Tilden meeting, I had visions of her being charged with felonious assault.”

  “I’m worried. It’s unlike Aunt Eve to be so—so mellow!” Rachel frowned.

  It was confusing, this role reversal being played by her aunt and cousin. Instead of being laid-back by the threat to their firm, Wade was actually concerned, while Aunt Eve seemed to have adopted ‘Que Será, Será’ as her official motto. Whatever will be, will be.

  “Not mellow,” countered Wade. “More like fatalistic. Whatever Spagna said to her really made an impression. Well, he is an intimidating guy.”

  “Aunt Eve wouldn’t be intimidated by any man, Wade.”

  “Then maybe he makes one helluva convincing argument. Remember, he was a homicide detective in Newark, so he’s gotta know how to make others take him seriously. After dealing with murderers, Aunt Eve probably wasn’t even a challenge for him.”

  “You could be right. Maybe Chief Spagna shouldn’t be underestimated.”

  “Of course, we’re good at that, Rach, at underestimating people,” Wade said ruefully. “We sure did it with Quint Cormack, didn’t we?”

  She nodded slowly. “Yes, we did. But we shouldn’t underestimate ourselves, either, Wade. Saxon Associates can’t simply give in and give up!”

  Rachel repeated it like a mantra during the drive to Quint’s office. She practiced what she would say to him and how she would say it, professionally, politely, as one attorney to another. By the time she pulled into the parking lot—a train was roaring by, shaking her car so hard that her CD player skipped—she had worked herself into a state of throat-closing anxiety.

  Sitting in her car, she tried to bolster her confidence by putting aside her rehearsed arguments to Attorney Quinton Cormack, legal opponent and relentless competitor, and focusing on the other Quint. Her lover.

  Last night he had held her in his arms, he had filled her body, ferociously seeking pleasure for her as well as taking his own. They had touched and tasted every inch of each other’s bodies, getting to know each other in the most intimate ways possible. The mark on her neck had faded but she had secret ones in places that made her blush just remembering. And she’d branded him, likewise.

  She thought of their sexy whispered confidences, the soft words in the dark, the shattering intimacy that bound her to him in a bond she knew she could never experience with anyone else. It had to be the same for him. Last night, she would’ve bet her life on that certainty.

  But now, as she walked into the grimly utilitarian offices of Cormack and Son, the twin devils of doubt and insecurity sprang back to life to plague her. Quint had mentioned the necessity of separating their professional careers from their personal lives several times; he’d stressed that the two were disparate and distinct.

  Suppose the professional Quint refused to see her, in keeping with his Saxon boycott? Rachel’s heart thundered in her chest. Despite Quint’s warnings, those two separate spheres had converged for her, and she knew she would take his snub personally, as a rejection by her lover.

  She wasn’t ready to deal with the loss and the pain of that particular trauma. Would she ever be?

  Helen, seated at her desk sorting through a stack of mail, no longer looked like a kindly grandmother, she appeared somewhat … well, commandant-ish.

  Nervously, Rachel squared her shoulders and approached the older woman’s desk, a tremulous smile in place. “I’d like to see Quint, please.”

  “Miss Saxon.” Helen stared at her curiously. “I know he isn’t expecting you.”

  Rachel’s smile grew brighter. She realized she was aping Laurel’s irresistibly adorable smile and felt a twinge of shame. Which swiftly disappeared when Helen smiled back.

  “I’ll let him know you’re here.” Helen hit the intercom button. “Quint, you have a visitor. Rachel Saxon is here.”

  Two doors opened at the same time. Dana Sheely stood in the doorway of one, Quint in the other. Rachel saw them look at each other. Neither spoke as they watched her walk toward them. She realized that they both knew why she was here. The element of surprise had already been lost to Aunt Eve’s and Wade’s desperate barrage of phone calls this morning.

  Dana retreated into her office and closed the door. Quint remained in the doorway until Rachel stood before him.

  His expression was enigmatic, even his normally expressive dark eyes gave away nothing. Rachel couldn’t tell if he was glad to see her or annoyed that she was here. She had no idea if he would honor or refuse her request to meet with the Tildens at Saxon Associates office.

  Did he think she’d crossed the line by coming over here to ask him? At least, he had agreed to meet with her. She wished he would say something, but it was clear that he was waiting for her to speak first.

  The last time she’d seen him, a few hours ago, she had been lying in bed, watching him get dressed to leave. She’d been satiated from making love, too drowsy to reach for the sheet to cover her nakedness. He had done that before he left, kissing her tenderly and tucking the sheet around her.

  Now she was wearing her tailored gray silk suit and dark plum-colored blouse—conservative, serious clothing and colors to endorse her professionalism, not meant to entice or excite.

  “Good morning, Quint.” Her voice shook. Her clothing seemed to be serving its purpose. He didn’t look at all enticed or excited.

  Rachel felt the tremors rock her body, felt the weakness in her knees and the fluttering in her stomach, all the tangible signs of her awareness of him. Of her need for him. The sexual heat between them was fierce, but her feelings for him went so much deeper, to the elemental part of her.

  She realized in that moment that he had become as essential to her as her heartbeat. It was a revealing yet depressing insight because she knew it wasn’t reciprocal.

  Quint had compartmentalized his feelings for her and openly admitted it. Lawyer in one place, lover in another. That was convenience, not elemental need.

  And here they were, the legal eagle and the woman-in-love, who had both escaped from their respective compartments.

  Rachel gulped. “I—guess you know why I’m here.”

  “Why don’t you come into my office and tell me, so I won’t have to guess?”

  He placed his hand between her shoulder blades to usher her inside.

  15

  Quint locked the door behind them. Of course, he knew why she was here. The mighty Tildens were pulling strings, jerking around Saxon Associates like marionettes cont
rolled by tyrannical puppeteers.

  But their script was more ludicrous than the Punch and Judy show at the Renaissance Festival. Without consulting him, the Tildens and Saxons had decided he must be present for a meeting at the Saxon Associates office this afternoon. They hadn’t bothered to inform him until this morning when Eve called, demanding his presence. Their arrogance—or was it idiocy?—took his breath away.

  He had rejected the summons every time Eve Saxon phoned, finally directing Helen not to put any more of her calls through to him. Anticipating their next move, he’d instructed Dana to refuse when Wade tried to use their friendship to advance the Tilden-Saxon agenda.

  “I know the guy’s a good friend of yours, so feel free to make me the heavy,” Quint told Dana shortly before Wade Saxon called her. “You can tell Saxon that I go psycho if somebody asks me for a favor, that my standard reply to any request is ‘No.’ Say whatever you want.”

  “Sorry, Wade,” was what he’d heard Dana say, quite glacially, to Wade Saxon when he called with his predictable request. “I can’t get involved. Anyway, I don’t want to.”

  Which wasn’t what Quint thought she would say when he made his offer to get her off the hook with her dear old pal. Dana didn’t seem to care if she angered Wade Saxon or not, which implied something about their friendship. Exactly what, Quint wasn’t sure.

  Even odder was the call he’d received this morning from Nick Spagna.

  “Those Tildens are a real pain in the ass but Eve Saxon is one classy lady,” Nick said in his rough-edged voice. “I think you should give her a break and go to that meeting today, Quint.”

  Quint had been so astonished that Nick knew about the meeting that he hadn’t thought to ask how the chief had found out about it. And then the call was over, as was the chance to ask. He puzzled over it though. Chief Nick Spagna calling him to suggest a favor on behalf of Eve Saxon?

  Dana didn’t get it either, when he’d told her about the chief’s strange call.

  “Wade was worried Chief Spagna would end up arresting his aunt this weekend. He said she was as crazed as an animal-rights activist confronting someone wearing a Siberian tiger fur coat.”

  “So she started out crazed and ended up a classy lady?” Quint and Dana exchanged glances. “Hmmm.”

  It seemed inevitable that Rachel would make an attempt to get him to that infernal meeting. Which he had no intention of attending, no matter what, no matter who tried to coax, threaten, or weasel him into going. His mind was made up.

  He prepared himself for Rachel’s call, to tell her that he would not, under any circumstances, go to the meeting. He would remind her not to take his refusal personally, that their professional adversarial roles had nothing to do with Quint and Rachel, the couple.

  And they were definitely a couple. He stared blindly at a client’s will he’d been drawing up, and the printed words blurred as sensual images played before his mind’s eye.

  He saw his hands on her soft silken skin, saw her lips parted and moist and swollen from his kisses. Desire surged through him, but he knew the need was emotional as much as physical. He didn’t even try to kid himself that what was between them was strictly sexual.

  Not after spending time with her and the children and watching her lovingly care for Brady and Snowy, not after observing her kindness toward his little brothers. She understood his obligations to them and to Carla and he appreciated that. He admired her own concern for her small niece and rebellious sister, her willingness to step in and try to help.

  He enjoyed her company. She was bright and outspoken, and once she dropped her rather formidable guard, warm and funny. Last night, she had definitely lost it all with him. For him.

  Would refusing to attend the meeting if she asked—when she asked—rebuild the barriers between them? He found that prospect unacceptable, yet knew that a no-show by him today might very well cost Saxon Associates the Tildens as clients.

  Professionally, he shouldn’t care, Quint reminded himself. The internal workings of a rival law firm might make for interesting gossip but really didn’t matter to him. Shouldn’t matter to him.

  But it did, if it meant hurting Rachel. A frowning Quint recited his pledge to keep their professional and personal lives separate; he reminded himself it was absolutely necessary, like the separation of church and state was vital to the country.

  He might’ve been able to pull it off if Rachel had subjected him to an obnoxious harangue by telephone or barged into his office imperiously demanding compliance with the Tildens.

  But she hadn’t called, she’d arrived quietly and when he saw her walking toward him, her eyes huge with uncertainty and fear, his firm resolve was suddenly as squishy as a plate of Jell-O.

  He didn’t want her to be afraid and unsure of him. That was a professional plus in the courtroom but not what he wanted in an intimate relationship. Especially not after last night, when she had trusted him so completely, so openly.

  A civil war raged inside him. Quint-the-cut-them-off-at-the-knees attorney on one side, and Quint-the-man on the other. Suddenly, the difference between profession and person wasn’t so clear-cut. But he wasn’t ready to call a truce.

  Strive for professional distance, Quint silently asserted. Keep it cool, impersonal. He gave it his best shot. “We’ve been fielding calls all morning from our esteemed colleagues at Saxon Associates. I figured it was only a matter of time till you checked in.”

  Rachel saw her courtroom nemesis standing before her, the skilled smooth operator who delighted in making a fool of her. When she remembered the warm tone of her thoughtful, tender lover of last night, her eyes filled with tears. Mortified, she tried to blink them away. This coolly detached Quint might accuse her of trying to manipulate him with her tears.

  “I can’t do this; I shouldn’t have come here,” she said jerkily, pulling on the doorknob. She realized that the door was locked at the same moment Quint put his hand over hers, preventing her from springing the lock.

  “Rachel, stop.” He cupped her chin with his other hand and lifted her face to him.

  She kept her eyes lowered, avoiding his. “I want to go, Quint. Coming to your office was a mistake.”

  “Look at me, Rachel.”

  As he spoke, she felt the almost-tangible pull of his dark eyes and looked up at him, although she was aware of the power of his gaze. It melted her will, her sense of self. She felt an almost-painful awareness that if he chose to take her right here and now, she would let him. A spark flared from her heart to the juncture of her thighs. She would even welcome it!

  “You have to understand that I will not compromise my client’s legitimate financial interests and judicial rights. I legally represent Misty Tilden and I am the executor of her late husband’s estate.” He stroked her cheek, her neck, with his big hand. “I have a legal and an ethical obligation to her, and I can’t betray that, Rachel.”

  She nodded her head. “I know. I wouldn’t expect you to.”

  Their fingers had become intertwined on top of the doorknob.

  “And there is another reason why I intend to remain Misty Tilden’s attorney and look out for her best interests, Rachel. A practical one, a monetary one. Being executor of Town Tilden Senior’s estate will provide the firm with a high six-figure sum, and there are three children whose financial support is solely derived from the income of this firm.”

  “I know that, too, Quint,” Rachel said quietly, thinking of Brady and Austin and Dustin. Carla, too. Even the loathsome Frank Cormack. They were all dependent on Quint.

  “Good. Now that we’re both clear on that”—Quint cleared his throat—”there is no reason why I won’t cooperate when a colleague makes a reasonable request. I always try to spare my clients a court fight and if meeting with the Tildens today at the Saxon Associates office could result in a valid out-of-court settlement, I’ll be there.”

  Rachel stared at him. “You will?”

  He watched her teeth close over her lower lip an
d expelled a deep breath. He wished he were the one nibbling on that sweetly luscious lip. Arousal had gripped him hard and fast the moment he’d seen her in the hall. And now, simply looking at her, simply being near her had incited an erection that was becoming so potent he found it difficult to stay on his feet.

  “Yes.” He nearly groaned the word.

  “But I didn’t even ask you to be there.” She was too stunned to be tactful. “You volunteered first.”

  A sardonic smile crossed his face. “It isn’t polite to gloat, Rachel.”

  “I wasn’t gloating.”

  She saw the physical effect her presence was having on him and a responsive moistness flowed between her thighs. She took a deep breath and his scent filled her nostrils. He smelled like sex to her, masculine and virile. It was an aroma that should be bottled and sold, one that would be an instant hit, with no insanely pretentious cologne commercials needed.

  “Quint, thank you.” She raised her arms and linked them around his neck, fitting her body to his. “Thank you so much.”

  His arms surrounded her and his lips brushed her crown. “Is this the part where you reward me with sex?”

  She leaned back a little and smiled up at him, her eyes bright. “This is the part where I say you didn’t have to agree to that meeting to be rewarded with sex. You’d have gotten it even if you had said no.”

  His lips played with hers. “Now she tells me!” He traced the shape of her mouth and she opened to him, meeting his tongue with hers.

  “After last night I should be satisfied for a long time,” she whispered the words against his mouth. “I shouldn’t want you this much, I shouldn’t need you again so soon after …” She sighed and their breaths mingled. “But I want you even more, Quint. I need you so much it hurts.”

  “Ohhh, baby, I know.” He groaned. Her words affected him as powerfully as the feel of her soft curvy body in his arms.