Cathleen Galitz – Tall, Dark...And Framed? (страница 4)

Susan quickly amended that particular choice of words, fearing it might color her perception of whether Sebastian Wescott was actually capable of the crime of which he was accused. But before she could ascertain anything so monumental, she needed to figure out a way to get her own capricious hormones under control. Right now the way this man was looking at her was making her feel hot all over.

Decidedly uncomfortable.

And every bit a woman.

She blinked hard. Twice. Then finally succumbed to the urge to turn her gaze to the floor, where she pretended to study the toes of her sensible navy pumps. Susan knew herself to be plain and unsophisticated compared to the kind of women “Seb” was used to.

Seeing the flicker of pain in Susan’s eyes, Seb felt a protective pang deep in his heart. A heart some people liked to think was as hard and black as his father’s, but in truth was much more susceptible to weakness. As much as this woman wanted to come across as some stereotypical thick-skinned lawyer, he recognized the vulnerability she was trying so hard to hide.

And was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

As a member of the Texas Cattleman’s Club, he had pledged his very life to protecting innocents. The innately honest aura surrounding this woman stirred his sense of old-fashioned chivalry—which struck him as ironic, considering that at the moment she was the one offering to save him. Seb was surprised by the intensity of the protective instincts welling up inside him. He didn’t hold lawyers in high esteem. As a rule, he thought them far more concerned about lining their own pockets than in genuinely pursuing justice. For some reason he couldn’t bring himself to lump this fascinating blond creature in with such parasites.

He suspected Susan Wysocki would be shocked to discover they had much in common. Leadership, Justice and Peace were the words burned into an iron-studded plaque hung in a place of honor at the Texas Cattleman’s Club. More than just a motto, they were the tenets by which the members lived. Even if Seb were to allow this lovely lady to represent him in a court of law, he doubted whether she would be able to understand that, come what may, he was duty bound to keep his whereabouts the night of the murder a secret. Protecting the club and the nature of the assignment that had taken him away that night was every bit as important as protecting his own life.

If it wasn’t, this would be an open-and-shut case, and he could merrily go on with life as he knew it without so much as missing a beat.

And he would never have had the chance to make the lovely Ms. Wysocki’s acquaintance and become so enamored by her amazing hazel eyes. It was the only upside Seb could find to the miserable predicament in which he was mired. That she was trying to hide the nervous flutter of her hands by rearranging a stack of papers on an otherwise clean desk struck him as inexplicably endearing. He noticed that her left hand was devoid of a wedding ring.

In light of the fact that the chemistry between them was anything but businesslike, Susan’s prim and proper attitude seemed utterly incongruent. Women threw themselves at Seb all the time. Oddly enough, none of their bold sexual advances had half the effect on him as had Susan’s simple handshake. Accompanied as it was by the widening of those big hazel eyes, he knew for a fact that she had felt something, too.

Like a tremor.

The kind that precedes an earthquake.

And changes one’s life forever.

Indeed, fate’s little aftershocks were still playing havoc with rational thought. Surely that alone caused the words to tumble out of his mouth of their own volition.

“If you’d like to go over the particulars of the case, I’ll be glad to meet with you later this evening—at my place, over drinks.”

Given the condition of her office furniture, Seb would have expected Susan to jump at the opportunity to make some real money. Thus, her reaction to his invitation both surprised and disconcerted him. That she appeared less than thrilled at the prospect of spending the evening with him was an understatement. She looked downright aghast.

Something both scared and needy glistening in those hypnotic eyes was all that kept him from being insulted by her lack of enthusiasm.

“Seb,” she said in her most coolly detached lawyer voice, all the while the intimacy of his pet name on her tongue sending a delicious shiver up her spine. “Surely you understand that I have to maintain a professional relationship with all my clients.”

Unused to being rebuffed, Seb was quick to make light of her presumption. “Were you thinking along any other lines, Ms. Wysocki?” he taunted. “I have a meeting later this afternoon at the Cattleman’s Club that I can’t miss. This evening is the only time I have to go over the specifics of the case. That is, if you’re still interested in representing me.”

If she was still interested!

Only a crazy woman would turn down an offer like this one on any level—professional or romantic—though Susan knew she had ruined any chances of the latter with her uptight reproach to a simple request for an after-hours meeting. Seb’s straightforward response had left her feeling like a complete idiot. Lord knows, she had worked around other clients’ schedules on more than one occasion.

Susan was spared an immediate response by the timeliness of Dorian’s interruption. For a moment she had almost forgotten he was in the room with them. Clearly thrilled that his big brother was actually considering accepting his gift of her legal services, he jumped into the conversation feetfirst. “If you’d be more comfortable with me present, Ms. Wysocki, I’d be glad to be there, as well.”

It was all Susan could do to keep from rolling her eyes. Dorian must have read the hesitancy in her body language and come to the conclusion that she was frightened of being alone with Seb. He was right, of course, but not for any of the reasons she suspected were running through his mind at the moment. For heaven’s sake, she was no shy virgin afraid of being compromised by a big bad wolf lurking in the woods. As much as she appreciated Dorian’s concern, she did not need his protection. Even though Sebastian was accused of murder, she certainly didn’t get any creepy vibes from him. If the truth were known, she suspected that more women accosted him than the other way around. Many of her own girlfriends would undoubtedly claw their way around her for the opportunity to spend an evening alone with such a man.

What Susan was really afraid of was her own reaction to being alone with a man who, by his very presence, reminded her that beneath her professional pin-striped suit jacket beat the heart of a woman very much longing for more than business aspirations to fill the void in her life.

“That won’t be necessary,” Seb assured Dorian with a black glare that lingered long enough for him to get the hint.

“Oh, I forgot,” Dorian exclaimed, snapping his fingers and donning a hearty grin. “I have someplace to be tonight, too. Wouldn’t want to break the little lady’s heart by standing her up, you know.”

Susan winced. The ploy was so patently obvious that she couldn’t help but wonder why she had ever thought Dorian subtle. Clearly he was more enamored of the prospect of pleasing Sebastian than he was of her. Not that he shouldn’t feel more allegiance to a brother than a complete stranger, she reminded herself.

Susan wished she could rationalize away her fears as easily. Maybe Sebastian really did have a meeting at the Texas Cattleman’s Club. Maybe it really was more important than clearing his name of murder. And maybe she was imagining that predatory interest in his eyes. All Susan knew for sure was that such heavy-handed tactics were reminiscent of the way her ex-husband used to manipulate her.

She smiled sweetly at her new client, the one who just might be the answer to her prayers if she played her cards right. Reminding herself that she was indeed a big girl and capable of separating past hurts from present opportunities, she tamped down her resentments. As long as she promised not to involve her heart in the case, there was really no reason to turn good fortune away from her doorstep.

“What time do you want me to be there?” she asked.

Two

It seemed fitting that Susan arrive at Sebastian Wescott’s estate on April Fools’ Day. She felt very foolish indeed waiting for the heavy wrought-iron gates to swing open and admit her. Feeling rather as if she should be placing an order at a fast-food joint, she spoke into the intercom to announce herself. A few minutes later she was parking her late-model Taurus behind a shiny new Porsche and making her way to the front door of a truly magnificent home. For a minute there she’d been afraid a valet was going to rush out and tell her to move “that piece of junk.”

Unlike Jack Wescott’s stone mansion, which was prominently displayed atop a hill overlooking Royal, his son’s ranch was more secluded and, Susan observed, far less ostentatious. A stately driveway wound its way through parklike acres of manicured lawns and mature trees. Redbrick privacy walls beckoned visitors to enjoy the world of the privileged, if only for a short time. Sebastian’s home itself was a country-style Georgian colonial, white with dark-green eaves, tiles and shutters. One could catch only a glimpse of the tennis courts, swimming pools and stables tucked neatly behind the spacious home. How a multimillion-dollar estate managed to exude an air of country coziness was enough to make Susan give silent praise to the architect who had designed it.