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She turned back to her sisters, not surprised that they were staring at her. A hint of a smile lifted the edge of Janna’s mouth.
“Well, well, well, Macy, I think someone has been holding out on us. What do you think?”
“I think you’re right and if Ms. I-Don’t-Have-Time-for-a-Man doesn’t start talking soon, I’m going to have to give her one of my famous back-in-the-day beat-downs.”
Heat rose to Iris’s face. She quickly lowered her head and cut into her T-bone steak, shoving a chunk into her mouth. “So, how’s your pasta?” she asked Macy.
“Don’t you dare try changing the subject.” Janna leaned across the table and whispered, “How do you know Nash?”
Iris sighed, knowing her sisters weren’t going to let the subject drop until they had some details. Though she hadn’t officially agreed to take on Tania’s case, she was seriously thinking about it. That, at least, gave her the excuse that she couldn’t give much detail. “He came to see me about a legal matter.”
“Well, it looks like he’s interested in changing it to a personal matter.” Macy grinned and lifted her wineglass to her lips.
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Why not?” Janna asked. “He’s suave, he’s the sweetest man I know, he’s wealthy and apparently he’s interested in you. What’s the problem?”
Iris narrowed her eyes at Janna. “Even if I were interested, which I’m not, I wouldn’t consider hooking up with him, knowing that you two have a history.”
Janna frowned. “I’ve never dated Nash. We’ve done a few magazine ads, a voice-over gig together, and he was my escort for one of Victoria’s Secret Angels events, but outside of that—” she shrugged “—nothing. We’ve never kissed, unless you count a kiss on the cheek.”
Iris scrutinized her sister. Though she believed her, she couldn’t imagine Nash Dupree not being attracted to Janna. She was a supermodel, for God’s sake. Men had always clamored for her attention, even when they were kids. Because of their nine-year age difference, Iris could remember how different her little sister’s high-school social life had been from hers. Then, Iris couldn’t pay a popular guy to give her the time of day, whereas Janna had actually complained about all the attention she received.
“Iris, he’s not the playboy the media make him out to be. Sure, he’s been seen with various women—”
“Not just any women,” Iris interrupted, “but famous, ridiculously gorgeous women.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. The same as it doesn’t mean anything when the paparazzi snap pictures of me and my dates or escorts. Ninety-nine percent of the time, it’s business, and I’m sure that’s the case with Nash. He could have dated a few, but it likely wasn’t serious. He has to be in the public’s eye to promote his nightclubs and all of his other business ventures, including his new clothing line. Iris, he’s nothing like how the media paint him.”
“How do you know?” Iris asked. If Janna hadn’t ever gone out with him, how could she be sure he wasn’t a playboy who tossed women aside like old newspapers?
“I know. Though we never dated, when we worked together, conversation came easy for us. So I know him. We’re friends. Now, don’t get me wrong, he loves women, but he’s not the type to lead women on or to be seriously involved with more than one at a time.”
“Face it. You have no excuse not to go out with him,” Macy chimed in.
“He hasn’t asked me out,” Iris said, more to herself than her sisters. If Nash’s playboy reputation, despite Janna’s reassurances, wasn’t enough to make Iris steer clear of him, the fact that she might represent his niece was all the more reason to slow her roll and this line of thinking.
Nash Dupree was as popular as a rock star, and he captured female attention wherever he went. Why was she even entertaining these thoughts? She shook her head. What is wrong with me? He would never be interested in someone like me.
* * *
Nash Dupree glanced across the semicrowded restaurant at Iris. He had a clear view of the table where she and her sisters were dining. He and Nigel Montgomery, chief operating officer of Dupree Enterprises and Nash’s best friend, were at a trendy restaurant in Midtown Atlanta to hear an internationally known jazz group perform. Nigel had insisted on his hearing them before the group left to go on a two-month European tour promoting its latest CD. The COO wanted the group to play at the grand opening of Platinum Pieces–Buckhead, Nash’s fourth jazz club, which was scheduled to open in four months. This location would also include a fine-dining restaurant. It was his second club in Atlanta, adding to a total of four; the other two were located in L.A.
Nash stole another glimpse at Iris while Nigel took a phone call. She must have felt his gaze on her because she glanced over at him. He grinned and a shy smile graced her lovely lips before she quickly looked away. What were the chances he’d get to see her twice in one day? And if he thought she was fine back at her office, tonight she was absolutely stunning. He could tell by the number of men who had stopped at the sisters’ table that apparently he wasn’t the only one who had taken notice. Granted, some of them had stopped to talk with Janna, but Iris, wearing a low-cut dress showing off her long, graceful neck and tempting breasts, was receiving her share of attention. She didn’t come across as a woman who would be caught in a tight-fitting garment, but he’d be damned if she didn’t have the perfect assets to fill it.
“She’s a beauty,” Nigel said, following Nash’s line of vision when Iris stood and walked across the restaurant toward the restrooms. “Do you know her? You’ve been staring at her for the past ten minutes. Why don’t you do what you usually do and go over and ask her out?”
“I would if she wasn’t possibly going to be Tania’s lawyer.”
Nigel’s eyes grew large. “That’s the defense attorney? Hold up. That tall, curvy, celestial being is the one who might be representing Tania?” Nash chuckled at his friend’s facial expression. “Hell, she doesn’t look like any attorney I’ve ever seen.”
“How you gon’ be ogling a woman as married as you are?” Nash tasted the martini that he hadn’t touched. “What would Dawn say?”
Nigel and Dawn were the poster couple for happily ever after. Married for ten years, the two were always stealing kisses, holding hands or sharing naughty looks. At times it was almost nauseating to witness their public displays of affection, but on the other hand, it was nice to see two people so very much in love.
Nigel took a swig of his beer. “I might be married, but I’m not dead. There’s no harm in looking. Besides, the woman is kind of hard to miss. Actually they all are,” he said, referring to Iris and her sisters. “And isn’t that Janna Morgan, the supermodel, at their table?”
“Yep, they’re all sisters. The other one is a doctor.” Nash looked over again just as Iris returned to the table. He still couldn’t get over how good she looked in the skintight red dress. She definitely didn’t look like a defense attorney tonight.
Nash turned his attention back to Nigel. “So when is this group going to perform? Today has been a crazy long day and this mess with Tania has made it even longer.”
“Well, I hate to break it to you, but I think your day is about to get worse. Don’t look now, but your ex, the not-so-lovely Eve Vanlough, just walked in.”
Nash glanced over his shoulder and groaned. If he didn’t know any better, he would think she was following him. They broke up over two months ago and lately Eve surfaced at the most inopportune times, claiming her sudden appearances were a coincidence. He didn’t believe in coincidences. It was time to nip this nonsense in the bud once and for all.
Eve stopped at their table. “Well, funny meeting you—”
“Cut the crap,” Nash growled and stood. He gently grabbed her by the elbow, pulled her out of the main dining room and didn’t stop until they were in the atrium. “I don’t know what the hell you’re up to, but I suggest you back off. If I go to one more place and you show up, I’m getting a restraining order.”
“Oh, Nash, sweetie, aren’t you being overly dramatic?” she said in that whiny tone that always grated on his nerves. She moved in closer, straightening his tie before running her hands down his chest. “I can’t help that we like the same restaurants. I’m here meeting a friend and I just happened to see you and your shadow in there.” She nodded toward the table where Nash had left Nigel. “I figured the least I could do is go over and say hello. Besides, I’ve missed you.”
He grabbed hold of both of her hands and backed her into the corner, away from the entrance. “Eve, when are you going to stop playing these games? This is one of many reasons why we’re not together. You don’t know when to back off.”
Her heavily made-up face screwed up in anger and she jerked out of his grasp. “If you break up with me, you’re going to be sorry!”
“Excuse me?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m the last person you want to threaten, and for the record, we broke up months ago. Apparently you haven’t grasped that fact yet.”
She glared at him as if her little five-foot-six self could intimidate him. That lasted a whole five seconds before she changed her tune.
“I’m sorry.” She pulled a tissue out of her purse and dabbed at her invisible tears. “This breakup has been really hard on me. I thought we had something special, that we would one day get married.”
Nash relaxed his shoulders and sighed. She had to know her tears no longer affected him, but maybe if he tried a different approach she’d finally get the message.
“Listen, Eve, I didn’t mean to hurt you, but you knew going in that I wasn’t interested in anything serious. I was up-front with you from the beginning. I’m not looking to get married to you or anyone else.”
Thanks to his college sweetheart, Nash had promised himself years ago that he would never allow a woman full access to his heart again. He and Audrey had dated their first year at UCLA, and talked about getting married upon graduation. During their last year of college, Audrey dumped him for the school’s star quarterback, whose family came from old money. She told Nash she wanted to marry rich, instead of marrying someone who had the potential of being rich.
He would never forget how she took his love and his heart and stomped the hell out of them. The only thing good that came out of the experience was that it spurred him to work his butt off to become a successful multimillionaire.
“Nash, honey, I know you said you weren’t interested in marriage, but I thought...”
He placed his hand against Eve’s cheek, suddenly feeling sorry for her. She leaned into his touch, shutting her eyes and then reopening them as she met his gaze.
“I’m sorry, Eve. I hate things turned out the way they did, but I can’t do this anymore.” He dropped his arm and turned to walk back into the restaurant, but flinched when a camera flash blinded him.
“Mr. Dupree...Mr. Dupree...Mr. Playboy Dupree. Is this your latest victim who you’re kicking to the curb?”
Damn. Nash ducked his head, put his arm up to block any additional photos and hurried back into the restaurant. This was the second time in the past couple of weeks that he’d been bombarded by some paparazzo mentioning him being a playboy. Now that he thought about it, Eve had been there then, too.
* * *
Hours later, Nash sat in the office at Platinum Pieces–Midtown, his first Atlanta nightclub. To get his mind off women, he was catching up on paperwork. He sifted through documents and reviewed report after report from his business managers, hoping to make a dent in the pile.
“Okay, boss, all the patrons are out and everything is locked up,” the club’s manager said from the doorway. “We’re going to head out. You coming?”
Nash glanced at his watch, noting the late hour, and then glanced at the short stack of file folders on his desk. “Nah, I have about an hour of work left. You guys go ahead and I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”
His manager hesitated. Tall and burly, he looked more like a wrestler than a club manager. “I can stick around for another hour. Just holler when you’re ready to leave.”
Since one of the female servers had been mugged late one night when leaving the club, Nash had instituted a policy: no one, regardless of gender or age, left the building alone after closing time. While spending most of his days and evenings at the new location, he’d temporarily forgotten the rule. Nash wasn’t too concerned about his safety. The club, located in Midtown Atlanta, had good exterior lighting. Growing up in Compton, California, he had learned at an early age how to take care of himself, but he didn’t want to be the one to start breaking rules.
“Actually, give me fifteen minutes to wrap things up.”
Nash should have been done with his paperwork hours ago, but his mind kept drifting to Tania—and Iris. This couldn’t have been a worse time for Tania to get into trouble, not that there ever was a good time. Nash was swamped with getting the new club and restaurant open, and the last thing he needed was to be worrying about her at juvenile detention. And then there was her lawyer. Iris. Even her name was sexy. How was a man to concentrate when visions of her took up so much space in his mind?
Always a sucker for a beautiful woman, he couldn’t help but wonder about the alluring defense attorney. Meeting her earlier at her office and then seeing her again at the restaurant was like experiencing two different women. One minute he was dealing with a reserved attorney and the next, a voluptuous babe.
That’s how Nash envisioned the lovely Iris Sinclair—a stuffy professional by day, fighting for her young clients, and a sex goddess at night, taming her man with her lasso of truth before wearing his ass out. Oh, yeah. Nash grinned at the thought. He leaned back in his seat, swiveling his chair back and forth, enjoying the mental visual until his cell phone rang.
Unknown caller. He started to let the call go to voice mail, but thought better of it, in light of Tania’s being in detention.
“Hello.” He adjusted the single-lightbulb desk lamp away from his face.
“Hi, Nash.”
Nash dropped his shoulders and let his head fall back against the leather headrest of the office chair. Why me?
“Eve, why are you calling? Especially this time of night?” What was it going to take to get her to move on?
“I couldn’t sleep and knew you were probably up working. I was thinking that maybe you could stop by and put me to sleep like you used to.”
“Eve, the days of me stopping by your place, for any reason, are over. You have to figure out a way to move on. I have.”
“How can you say that, Nash? We dated for eight months and now you’re saying it meant nothing to you.”
“I’m not saying that at all. Eve, you knew going in that I didn’t want anything serious.” Nash felt like a broken record. They’d had the same conversation for the past few weeks and he didn’t know what else to say to make her understand.
“I know what you said, but we had something special. You can’t tell me that the sex wasn’t good.”
Nash would admit it had been good at first. She was an attractive, sexy woman who had a wild, adventurous side. It was everything else about her that he couldn’t deal with. Her jealousy and accusing him of seeing other women was a huge turn-off. Until she came along, he hadn’t dated exclusively since Audrey. Two months into dating her and he remembered why. She constantly complained about him not spending enough time with her and she showed up at his place of business demanding his attention. That was enough to drive a sane man crazy. The last straw had been when she talked about them getting married and alluded to sending Tania to a boarding school. Now that’s never going to happen.
“Eve, you and I are over. Besides, if I remember correctly, we only were dating for four months, and eighty percent of that time was me dealing with your childish behavior and your insecurities.”
“I can change,” she said, her high-pitched whine grating on his nerves.
Even if she could, he wasn’t interested. He wasn’t looking for anything serious with any woman, especially someone like Eve.
“You might be able to change, but I’ve moved on, and I suggest you do the same.”
A beat passed before she spoke. “If you think you can use me until you’ve had enough and then kick me to the curb, you have another think coming. We’re not over until I say we’re over,” she screamed.
Nash cursed under his breath. “Eve.” When she didn’t respond, he called out to her again before he realized she had hung up. Damn. Please don’t tell me I have a psycho on my hands.
Chapter 3
The next morning, Tania Dupree sauntered into the small meeting room at the detention center. She wore a long-sleeved T-shirt and a pair of worn, fitted jeans, looking as if this was just another ordinary day. She hugged her uncle and then moved around him to get to Iris.
“Hi, Attorney Sinclair. It’s a pleasure to meet you, and thank you for coming.”
Iris shook her hand, pleased with Tania’s manners and assuredness. This young lady oozed poise and self-confidence, so unlike Iris when she was that age. Tall and thin, Tania, like most teenagers, suffered from a mild case of acne over her caramel complexion. She had an easygoing demeanor, but her hazel eyes assessed everything and took it in.
“I didn’t think you would come,” Tania said, “but I knew that if anyone could convince you, it would be my uncle.” She glanced at Nash, giving him a crooked grin.
Iris didn’t bother telling her that, though her uncle’s persistence played a small part, it was mainly Iris’s curiosity about Tania, and just maybe, her desire to see Nash again that was the deciding factor.
Iris gestured for her to have a seat on the opposite side of the table. “Tania, why don’t you explain to me why you were willing to spend the night in detention when you didn’t have to, and why you insisted on seeing me.”
“I’d like to hire you.”
Iris was a little taken aback by her take-charge attitude, and stole a glance at Nash, who didn’t appear surprised at all.
“Someone is trying to frame me. I have never done drugs and have no interest in starting now. And I definitely had no intent of selling or delivering marijuana like the officer accused. I know the State of Georgia has a low tolerance for people who have anything to do with drugs, and the penalties for possession of more than an ounce is a felony and can get you one to ten years. The amount of weed on me was less than an ounce, but it wasn’t mine and I need your help in proving it.”
Iris sat back, stunned but impressed. She glanced at Nash, who just shook his head and shrugged.
“That’s why I need you as my lawyer. I saw you on the talk show Atlanta Right Now a few months ago. You had a cool, dark gray pinstriped suit on, with a pair of fly gray shoes that had a strap around the ankle. I was like...” She stopped and shook her head. “Anyway, you mentioned that most of your clients are my age and I got the feeling that you really cared about them.”
“You’re right.” Iris smiled, amused by the young woman’s recap of her attire and pleased with her insight. “I care very much about my clients and do everything I can to prove their innocence.”
“Cool,” Tania said and grinned.
Iris pulled a file out of her briefcase and laid it on the table. “Since I’ll be representing you...” She let the rest of her statement hang out there for a moment, and didn’t miss the pleased look on Nash’s face. “Let’s talk about what you can expect when we go before the judge. Based on what you and your uncle told me, I assume you’re pleading not guilty.”
Tania nodded.
“Though you had a run-in with the law a few months ago, and caused all types of drama here yesterday—” Iris raised an eyebrow at Tania “―I think the judge will go easy on you.”
“Why won’t this go to trial? I want to prove that someone planted those drugs on me.”
Iris studied her for a moment. “Tania, do you know where the drugs came from? Do you know who might have planted them on you?”
Tania hesitated. “No, but I want to find out. I plan to start my own investigation into the matter once I’m out of here.”
“Hold up,” Nash said in that deep voice that made Iris want him to never stop talking. “I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but don’t think about doing something crazy. I don’t want you confronting anyone, or worse, accusing someone. You’re in enough trouble as it is, and I’m not planning on going through this nonsense again. If you end up in jail, I’m going to insist they keep you.”
Iris explained the best-and worst-case scenarios to prepare Tania and Nash before they faced the judge. “The police officer you gave a hard time to yesterday referred the case to juvenile court. When we go in for the arraignment hearing, you’ll enter a plea agreement and the judge will probably place you on probation, recommend some type of counseling or have you perform community service. I will inform the judge that this is your first offense and request that the charges be dropped. Since they found less than an ounce of marijuana on you, this is considered a misdemeanor. Hopefully you’ll receive no more than probation and possibly a small fine.”
“I know twenty percent of the cases referred are usually dismissed or handled informally. What if this case has to go through formal proceedings? Will you still represent me if it goes to trial?”
