Shared Secrets

by Pam Mantovani

  Ten minutes later, after Rebecca and Reverend Whitfield left, Taylor wished for the luxury of some time alone. It was times like this that she hated being a defense attorney—when she had to ruthlessly go after someone who, in many respects, was as much a victim as her client. Her heart ached for the girl. The raw misery on Rebecca’s face and in her slumped position in the chair told Taylor as much as the words used to describe the agony and pain of the brutal attack.

  When she walked outside into the sunshine, she stood on the steps for a minute and let the heat chase away the chill in her soul. She watched as two women, obviously young mothers, as they pushed their strollers and chatted on the sidewalk in front of the drug store. Two elderly men sat on a park bench beneath the shade of an oak tree in front of the county library. A trio of young boys rode their skateboards down the sidewalk, nearly running over a man in a suit talking on a cell phone.

  Others went in and out of stores, some speaking or at least nodding a greeting. The sense of community was hard to escape. These were not casual acquaintances, political contacts, or business associates. These were people who cared about what happened to someone they considered one of their own, who knew a hundred and one small details about your life and respected your character. Taylor felt a whisper of longing crawl up her throat as she left for her next interview.

  Everyone she questioned spoke of Micah as an outstanding young man and regarded Lucas with the utmost respect. All were surprised by the turn of events and openly questioned Rebecca’s motive. A few went so far as to bluntly call her a liar, while two speculated whether or not the girl was hiding a consensual relationship from her father.

  None of which Taylor could use in court.

  Arriving home, she had to come to an abrupt stop when she drove up the driveway too fast. Otherwise she would have plowed over Lucas and Micah. They, however, never broke stride as they faced one another, each gauging and trying to predict movement. She cut the engine, and the basketball sang as Lucas dribbled it on the concrete slab.

  “C’mon, son,” he challenged. “Can’t you keep up with an old man?” Something about his tone of voice led her to believe the description is what had prompted this battle.

  Micah wore a white T-shirt, the tank style popular in the fifties. His arm and chest muscles looked rock hard. Taylor paused, remembering Rebecca’s comments about being held in place with one hand while being raped.

  Lucas, on the other hand, wore no shirt. A thin layer of dark hair matted his chest and arrowed down to his stomach. His jeans hung low on his hips, revealing a tantalizing strip of untanned skin. If she’d had any doubts about the boy she’d known having becoming a man, she had evidence in front of her.

  Getting out of the car she spotted Stephanie sitting on the deck, watching the contest. Taylor walked over and set down her briefcase and the bottle of wine she’d picked up at the grocery. Unsure if Stephanie was still giving her the cold shoulder, she balanced a hand on the chair and asked, “Who’s winning?”

  Stephanie shifted away slightly—a move Taylor pretended she didn’t notice. At least she answered the question without malice. “Lucas is kicking butt.”

  Taylor turned back in time to watch Lucas feign to his left, pivot to his right, and shoot the basket. The ball slipped through the net without a swish.

  “He shoots, he scores. He wins,” Lucas cheered.

  He pumped his fist up and down, did a little victory dance, and Taylor couldn’t help but smile. Then in a move natural and easy, Lucas wrapped a proud arm around Micah’s broad shoulders as they walked toward the deck. Envy hammered at her so violently that she had to tighten her grip on the chair.

  “Good game, Son.”

  “You’re just saying that ’cause now I have to mow the lawn.”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Double or nothing,” Micah proposed and then grinned. “I figure I have a better chance at beating you now that you’re not only old, but tired.”

  “In your dreams.” Lucas looked up, caught and held Taylor’s gaze. She shook her head in answer to his silent question—she didn’t want to discuss the case right now. “At least not without help. How about if you and Taylor take on me and Stephanie?”

  Stephanie snorted. “Please. Adams do something physical?”

  Micah jeered at her. “I’d rather have her for a partner than someone as skinny as you.”

  Without a word Taylor slipped out of her shoes as she shook off her suit jacket. The silk blouse she wore underneath already stuck to her damp back. After pulling it free of her waistband, she leaned down to roll up the cuffs of her slacks to mid-calf. Aware of everyone watching her, she searched through her briefcase for the slippers she always kept for those nights when she worked late at the office. Of course, they weren’t designed to withstand the beating of a concrete slab, but they would do for the time being. It would be worth the replacement price to wipe that smirk off both Lucas and Stephanie’s faces.

  She looked at Micah. “The two of us?” she repeated. “Losers do dinner dishes.”

  He grinned. “Works for me.”

  “What if I don’t want to play?” Stephanie complained. “Oh, that’s right, I don’t have a say about anything in my life.”

  Taylor stared at her, challenging her daughter in much the way Lucas had challenged her and Micah. “Afraid I’ll beat the pants off you?”

  Stephanie’s chin instinctively lifted. “What if I’m on the winning team?”

  “You get your cell phone back. For two hours after dinner.”

  “Deal.”

  There was immense satisfaction in seeing the shock on Stephanie’s face—and the delight on Micah’s—when Taylor took the first toss and made a lay-up basket.

  “I don’t,” she told her daughter as they set up for the next throw in, “spend every minute of every day sitting behind a desk. And I don’t like to lose.”

  “I don’t either.”

  No answer could have delighted Taylor more. She eyed the way her daughter handled the ball. “One of is going to be disappointed.”

  The game was hard fought. While the exertion had her skin shimmering with perspiration, there was also the physical contact with Lucas. Her shoulders rubbed against his bare chest as she tried to maneuver around his guard. His arms circled her as he tried to break her dribbling—much as they’d done years earlier when he guided her hands in his workshop. The smell of him—more than simply the sweat of effort—filled her mind with images of another type of physical activity. Once when they collided, his hands balanced her to keep her from falling, trapping her against his chest. For a long moment she froze, staring into his dark eyes. If not for Stephanie’s whoop of delight at sinking the stolen ball, Taylor might have followed instinct and risen onto her toes and taken the hard line of his mouth.

  In the end, it came down to the two of them. With the score tied Lucas dribbled the ball. Taylor waited, keeping just enough distance between them. When he feigned to his left, she moved to the right, anticipating him. She blocked his shot, caught the rebound, and sank the ball.

  Micah whooped and then lifted Taylor by the waist to run a victory lap around the makeshift court. Her pleasure and laughter died when Lucas slung an arm around Stephanie’s shoulders.

  “Wash or dry?” he asked.

  “Dry.”

  He grinned. “Great, then you also have to put them away.”

  “I can’t win for losing.” But she had a smile on her lips and in her eyes.

  Taylor patted Micah’s shoulders as a sign for him to put her down. “Tell you what, Stephanie.” She had to drag in a breath—more from the image in front of her than the exercise. “Since you’re being such a good sport, I’ll let you have your phone for an hour.”

  Stephanie stared at her—until Lucas nudged her and said in a stage whisper, “Say ‘thank you, Mom’.”

  Taylor took comfort in the fact that Stephanie didn’t hesitate and there was no disdain in her voice, even if she didn’t use the
more affectionate name.

  “Thanks, Adams.”

  Lucas slowly eased a wide plank of dark walnut through the jointer. The dust collection system roared as it sucked up the shaved wood chips while the overhead fan competed with the hum of machinery. Padded ear protection deadened the sounds, and safety glasses protected his eyes.

  He knew the exact moment Taylor stepped inside the workshop.

  He leaned down to shut off the jointer. Slowly he lifted his safety glasses to the top of his head and lowered the ear protection to loop around his neck. “What’s up?”

  Taylor looked at him with a mixture of hesitation and nervousness. He hated she felt that way. He would always hate the reason why she’d come back into his life, but he also couldn’t deny he’d had thoughts about her staying. Two days ago, at practically every point of the impromptu basketball game, it had been all he could do to resist lifting her into his arms and carrying her upstairs. Then there’d been the laughter and companionship during dinner. An empty spot inside him had filled at the image of the four of them sitting around the table he’d made, teasing and talking.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked when she remained silent.

  She lifted a hand to brush at her bangs, a sure sign something was bothering her. “I was just talking with Stephanie.”

  “Did the two of you have another fight?”

  “No, surprisingly enough. She talked, and was actually excited. I haven’t seen her like that in quite some time.” Taylor blew out a breath and lowered her hand. “She was taking pictures.”

  “Okay,” he answered, not sure why she sounded so perplexed by the statement. “Then why aren’t you happy?”

  “Stephanie doesn’t like photographers. She never has, even as a child she never liked them taking her pictures.” Taylor grimaced. “Sometimes, during a campaign, it created problems for Stephen.” Her gaze shifted, colliding with his. “She said you let her use your camera.”

  “She asked.” He shrugged. “I never use the thing. I wanted a simple use camera to catalog photos of my work. But Jimmy is a friend of Micah’s, and he was just opening his photography shop, so I bought that one to help him out. I got a digital a few months back that I like much better.”

  “Lucas.” Taylor took a step closer. “Stephanie has no experience using this kind of professional camera.”

  “So?”

  She growled at him, actually growled low in her throat. He tucked the tip of his tongue against the inside of his cheek. He much preferred these flashes of emotion to that cool, aloof front she ducked behind from time to time.

  “It’s expensive,” she stated as if he wasn’t aware of how much he’d paid for the thing. “You can’t let someone like her play around with expensive equipment simply because she asked.”

  “What do you mean ‘someone like her’?”

  “A bored teenager.”

  “Well.” Now he took several steps closer. God, she smelled wonderful, clean and fresh. “If she’s so bored, then this’ll give her something to do.”

  “What if she breaks the camera?”

  “Then I’ll put her to work out here until she pays it off.”

  “This is crazy.” Taylor moved around the room, annoyance and impatience evident in every step she took. He let her rant a little, enjoying the way she moved, before he finally snagged her arm. He pulled her as close as he dared. Her mouth shut mid-sentence as she stared at him.

  “Do you have any idea how many projects I mangled when I first started woodworking? Or still do more often than I like to admit for that matter?” She slowly shook her head no. “Not everyone is as brilliant and capable as you, Taylor. Some of us have to learn by our mistakes.” She blinked, as if absolutely stunned by his words. “I bet you won the first case you tried.” She nodded.

  “Then why can’t you believe Stephanie might succeed if she gets this chance? Why do you assume she’ll screw up and do something wrong?”

  Taylor paled. “You’re right. It’s a bad habit of mine.” She smiled, but there was no humor in the curve of her lips. It was the equivalent of an emotional shrug, and an acceptance of the way things had been at one time in her world. “Another by-product of Stephen’s career—always expect the worst so you’re better prepared to deal with it.”

  “What did he do to you?” Lucas asked, keeping his voice softer than the roar in his mind. “Never mind,” he went on rather than risk hearing her defend her husband. “I can see for myself. He damn near killed your spirit, Taylor. How the hell could he have loved you enough to marry you and then spend all those years molding you into his image of the proper wife?”

  He cupped her face in his hands and stared deep into her green eyes. “How could he not see what a treasure he had in you?” Compelled, he lowered his mouth to hers with a gentleness he never would have managed all those years ago.

  He savored her, the taste and texture. She responded in kind, with a sweet, near-innocent manner that tugged hard at his heart. This was more than physical release or need. There was no rush to completion, and no thought of ending or avoidance.

  “Lucas.”

  “No.” He silenced her with another long kiss. “I can handle anything but regret.”

  “How can I regret this?” she asked when he finally released her mouth. “How can I wish away something that’s made me feel more alive than I have in months? Years?” She touched her lips to his. “Yes, I have regrets. You have them too,” she added before he could protest. “But being with you has never been one of them.”

  “I want to be with you again, Taylor.”

  “I can’t deny that I want to be with you,” she admitted. Her hand moved to rub massaging circles at her right temple. “Life is so much more complicated now than it was before.”

  She paused, biting down on her bottom lip. “I need a little more time.”

  Once again here was a different Taylor from the impatient young woman he’d known. Still, he’d already lost so many years that he wouldn’t risk losing yet more by pushing her too hard.

  “When you’re ready, I’ll be right here,” he said.

  Chapter 8

  Lucas watched from the back door as Stephanie goaded Micah into posing for a picture. He’d rarely seen her without the camera since she’d asked him about using it four days ago. He knew Micah had taken her into town to meet Jimmy, to get a few pointers and lessons on staging and focus. With each day Stephanie had become more relaxed and engaging. She laughed and talked nearly nonstop—very different from the sullen teenager who’d argued with her mother at every opportunity.

  While Lucas might not share Taylor’s concern about Micah and Stephanie being together, he was also aware of just what could happen when two teenagers spent as much time together as these two did lately. He made a mental note to speak to Micah.

  “Quarter for your thoughts.”

  At the sound of Taylor’s voice, Lucas felt his lips curve. “What happened to a penny?”

  “Inflation.”

  His smile still in place, he turned around. And felt as if he’d just been struck hard in the gut with a two-by-four. A young Taylor in slacks or jeans had always fired his imagination about how her legs would feel wrapped around him. Today in a soft violet sundress, she gave him an alluring picture of shoulders bare except for wide straps and the whisper touch of her hair, the swell of breasts peeking out over a demure neckline, and the long, lovely line of her legs.

  “You look wonderful,” he managed.

  She ducked her head, as if embarrassed by the compliment, and slipped a manila envelope onto the table. “Well, it’s not my usual style.” She ran a hand over the slender skirt. Lucas nearly groaned as he thought of that hand reaching for him, stroking him. “But it looked so pretty hanging in the store window. Stephanie suggested I try it on and then convinced me to buy it for today’s party.”

  “Taylor?”

  She looked up. “Yes?”

  “Will you ride to the party with me?” Not giving
her a chance to turn him down, he stepped forward. “Micah can drive Stephanie in your car.” He reached for her hand. “They can drive in front of us so we’ll be able to keep an eye on them.”

  Lifting her hand, he kept his gaze on hers as he pressed his lips to her palm. Then to her wrist. Her fingers curled tight around his as her eyes darkened. “Please.”

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  Micah tried to act nonchalant about the driving arrangements, but Lucas knew he was thrilled to have control of the sports car. Stephanie cast a suspicious look at her mother but said nothing.

  “You’re quiet,” Lucas commented once they started toward Miss Mamie’s house. He had his right arm stretched along the back of the seat, his fingers itching to touch her bare shoulder.

  Taylor continued to stare out the windshield. “I’m thinking about all the work I should be doing for Micah’s case.”

  “If I know you, you’ll spend part of today questioning people about Micah and Rebecca.” Though she kept her profile to him, he saw a smile curve her lips. “Besides, you’re delivering the papers you did for Mr. Halperson.”

  “That was personal,” she stated, fingering the corner of the envelope. “It’s been a while since I did that kind of work.”

  “Just like it’s been a while since I had a pretty girl riding in my truck,” Lucas said. “Back in high school you used to sit here beside me.” He lowered his arm to pat the spot next to him.

  “There are seat belt laws in this state, Lucas.”

  “Just as there were then, but that never stopped you. When you think about it, it’s probably a good thing there are people who break the law.”

  “What do you mean?”

  His hand moved to punch down the release button on her seat belt. “Otherwise you’d be out of a job.”

  “Lucas—”

  He grabbed her hand, preventing her from refastening the seat belt. He tugged her to his side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Her skin felt cool and smooth beneath the rough pads of his fingers. He glanced down and saw the skirt of her dress had ridden up to show off a good portion of her thigh. Taylor primly shoved the hem lower, but the damage to his system had already been done. Lucas cleared his throat and prayed his voice wouldn’t sound as strained as his slacks felt at the moment.