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“Excuse me?”
“You need an attorney willing to do what you’re in no condition to do for yourself. I’m writing down a name and number.”
How did she tell him that her finances were complicated right now, that Trey had locked her out of their checking and savings and had changed the passwords on their money market account? She had funds to secure a divorce attorney, but a top gun to go after the scum that was hurting her child? That was a different matter entirely.
Her silence apparently spoke fathoms to Dylan.
“Let me cover whatever retainers you need.”
She couldn’t believe he would make such an offer, let alone not recognize what a paper trail that would leave. “I’m sorry,” she said abruptly, “but I need a minute.”
Without giving him an opportunity to protest, she disconnected, and with her insides roiling for the second time today, E.D. sought and found the bathroom and became physically ill. The day’s events were taking their toll and the only good news was that her stomach was mostly empty, which made her discomfort thankfully short-lived. Unfortunately, after she washed her face and rinsed her mouth, she was left back where she’d started—gruesomely aware of the long journey ahead, a journey full of traps and pitfalls regardless of the route she chose to take. Like her day job didn’t provide plenty of that.
Worried that Dylan would assume the worst and charge over here, she forced herself to key his number. Once again he answered immediately.
“You do know how to keep a guy’s attention. Better now?”
He spoke with a suspicious calmness and E.D. had the strongest urge to go to the window to make sure he wasn’t parked outside. “Ask me in six months…more likely a year.” God have mercy, she thought, please don’t let it all take that long. But it probably would—or longer yet—and Dylan’s failure to contradict her told her that he believed much the same thing.
“The good news is that often cases like your daughter’s have a tendency to settle out of court,” he said at last. “As to the other, let’s hope his attorney will see what prolonging the divorce would do to the kids.”
“We both know what his divorce attorney is thinking,” E.D. replied. It had nothing to do with their children’s well-being and everything to do with her willingness to pay to keep this out of the press as much as possible. Since both attorney fees would, inevitably, be coming out of her pocket there was no thought of hiring a private judge to assure that. “I’m heading toward the office and the fax machine. That said, as much as I appreciate your input, please know your offer is out of the question.”
Not surprisingly, her tone had him pausing again. Finally, he told her, “I’m only keeping my peace because I want you to continue talking to me.”
She wanted to. Their profession kept her busy and she knew many people, but trust was hard earned and allegiances too easily bought—and sold. Real friendships were priceless. That didn’t mean she didn’t feel the need to keep warning him off. “You should have clued me in on your predilection for gut-stomping punishment.”
“Takes one to know one.”
He had her there, she thought, flipping on the light switch in his office. “All right, moving on then. Give me a second to figure out how this thing works. Wait—we have this model in our office.” She turned on the machine. “Assuming you have a separate line for this, go ahead.”
After only a half minute the motor hummed to life. A single sheet printed in Dylan’s strong handwriting slid into the tray. E.D. narrowed her eyes on the name. “You can’t be serious?” Ivan Priestly. “He’s the Mount Rushmore among attorneys. Good grief, he’s as old as Rushmore!”
“Don’t let that unruly mane of white hair fool you. He’s only seventy-two.”
“Meaning if he hasn’t retired, he’s bound to at any minute.”
“Correction, he’s discriminating about what cases he takes. He’s fit for his age and enjoys fishing too much with the grandkids to accept every request that comes along,” Dylan informed her. “And trust me, he still gets plenty of them.”
“Yet another reason why this isn’t a good idea.” With defeat looking increasingly probable, E.D.’s tone exposed her plunging spirits. “This sleazy dilemma is going to be a turn-off to someone so esteemed. I need a snake masquerading as a fox, and you’re proposing a cross between Moses and Peter Pan.”
Dylan laughed. “He’s exactly who isn’t expected. Though you’re right about his bringing gravitas to the table. Between the two of you, whoever ends up the sitting judge for the trial will damned sure check his law before allowing any nonsense from the other side.”
She could feel herself blush. “That’s undeserved flattery for me. I’ll need to wear slacks to court every day for fear my knocking knees will disrupt the sessions. Please—” she barely caught herself from blurting out his name “—you know this is impossible. He’ll never say yes.”
“You won’t know unless you ask him.”
“Which I won’t do. It would be an indignity, an insult to his reputation.”
“Apply that same conviction to yourself. Someone has dared to compromise your dignity by using your child. Your reputation demands the best.”
E.D. closed her eyes against the wealth of emotions rushing through her. This was why she kept his number in her directory. He was so compassionate and good. He was her ideal on virtually every level.
“Do you trust me?” he asked quietly.
With all of my heart.
But she had no right to think with it. It was her daughter’s future she needed to focus on. “Hold on. I’m shutting off the machine.” The request was a pitiful feint; however, it bought her the precious seconds she needed. Slumping into the plush leather chair behind his desk, she flung the sheet of paper with Ivan Priestly’s phone number onto the spotless blotter.
“I can hear you breathing.”
His words couldn’t remotely be called chiding, but E.D. hid her face in her hand nonetheless. “You should do yourself a favor and say good night.”
“Is that a serious request or more self-derision?”
Was he kidding? She was partly being so hard on herself because she was afraid of when he did hang up and left her alone to deal with her own mind. There were thoughts buried deep behind walls and under thick floors constructed to never allow what he was making her feel or fantasize…those thoughts would want air. Free will.
“If you’re going to make me work this hard at reading your mind,” Dylan said, his voice gruff, “I should at least be allowed to see your eyes.”
His tender complaint sent a new delicious trembling whispering through her, one she didn’t have the energy or desire to repress. Ridiculous, she thought in the next instant. She was a married woman, eyebrow-deep in scandal—besides, surely he had someone, the proverbial significant other in his life by now…?
“You can’t come out here.” She didn’t need a mirror to know she looked like death warmed over, the last of her makeup just washed off, her eyes bloodshot from strain as much as from fighting tears the entire day. Dylan would be a dangerous mix of gentle strength and undeniable masculinity. Too tempting.
“All right. Not tonight…if you’ll promise to have a hot bath and go to bed. Whether you sleep or not, your body needs to stop,” he continued as though sensing her protest coming. “You’re too exhausted to reason clearly. You’re aware of that, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Good. We can debate things further tomorrow if you insist, as long as you understand that I am serious about being there for you. Try not to file that away under D for denial, okay?”
“Getting Mount Rushmore’s support could be a coup,” she said, feeling a need to give him some ground.
“Who were you considering to handle your divorce? Or do you see the potential for reconciliation?”
E.D. almost choked. “That’s not remotely funny.”
“Stranger things have happened,” he said with no inflection whatsoever.
“Well, it won’t here.”
The anger in her voice made her wince, but on the heels of that rushed certainty: her marriage had been suffering for a good while. She’d been delaying looking at the possible reasons, aware that inevitably she’d contributed to some of the problems between her and Trey. But his conduct was offsetting any guilt she had been willing to accept.
“Have you heard of Alyx Carmel?” she asked. “She’s risen to be one of the best divorce attorneys in the South.” And as luck would have it, they’d belonged to the same sorority at UT. E.D. hoped that would help her to negotiate some financial compromises as she worked out her financial bird’s nest.
“I’ve heard of her,” Dylan replied. “Didn’t she win a tough suit a few months ago for some widow-real estate heiress?”
“Benton versus Benton, that’s right. The stepkids were so power hungry they attempted to even dig into assets derived by the stepmother’s first husband.”
“Unusual. There wasn’t a trust? Those are difficult to invade.”
“That bottom line fell just below the requirements. And thanks to the new and ferocious generation of legal minds, many previously solid wills are considered breakable.”
Dylan sighed. “Dare I hope you don’t have to navigate those tricky waters?”
“Who knows what else Trey has up his sleeve? Let’s just say that imagining the attorney fees reminds me that I’m in the wrong side of this business.”
“Your problem is that you were never a bottom line person, though I must admit it’s another thing I admire about you. After you talk to Mount Rushmore, call me.”
“All right.” E.D. wanted him to know one thing. “You’re wonderful, you know that?”
Before he could reply she disconnected.
Energized by his support, she reached for her cell phone.
Chapter Three
E.D. waited for the phone to start ringing. Dylan was right; she was the wronged party and she knew of no judge who would look into this situation and not wonder, “Why?”
Almost immediately Trey came on the line with a curt, “You shouldn’t be harassing me.”
E.D. opened her mouth to define exactly what harassment he deserved, then considered that he might have a recording device handy. Editing herself, she replied, “It’s barely past eight, Trey, and you know we have things to discuss. But first I’d like to speak to the kids.”
“You know how restraining orders read. You can’t.”
“How you managed that I don’t know, but understand this, you are doing more damage than you can imagine.”
“I’m only protecting my daughter and son.”
“Our children, Trey. And you know damned well I know nothing about this mess with Dani. If anyone should, it’s you, since you see her more than I do.”
“How long does it take to negligently sign something she shoves under your nose?”
His condescension made her empty stomach burn. “I told you last night that I did nothing of the kind, and when that hack photographer is ordered to produce my signature in court, your apology won’t be enough. The fact that you so easily believe him over me is beyond insulting.”
“I believe my daughter.”
That was what had made her physically sick earlier, the assertion that Dani supposedly claimed E.D. had signed the document. Tonight, she was desperate to determine why her child would say such a thing. “She couldn’t possibly have said that.”
“Oh, stop pretending. You haven’t been a wife or mother in longer than any of us can remember. I had no choice but to conclude you were so preoccupied with your career that you’d approve anything just not to be bothered.”
E.D. cringed. She had shortchanged her kids due to her workload. But unlike her kids, Trey had no business judging her. “Has the reason for that crossed your mind? How else are the bills to be paid? We can’t both sit at home and languish in a fantasy world.”
“Smart move insulting my misfortune.”
“Dani is the only victim in this house. No one owes you a writing career. Either you produce something people want to read, or you face reality and get a day job like everyone else. The kids are old enough to manage on their own an hour or two after school. Good grief, with Dani’s dance lessons three times a week, she’s already under adult supervision.”
After a slight pause, Trey taunted, “Want to go for the full strikeout?”
His smug tone was inflaming her long-repressed resentment and E.D. could barely contain herself. If only she’d put her foot down sooner. If only she’d listened to the small voice in her head warning her that if she waited too long, her marriage would be a weight that could sink her in more ways than one. Hindsight was going to prove as bitter a pill as the rest.
Drawing a deep breath, she forced herself to ask calmly, “At least tell me if Dani ate something today?”
“She tried, she couldn’t keep anything down.”
Her poor baby. “Please call Dr. Warren if things aren’t better tomorrow. What about Mac? How’s his asthma? He was pretty upset after he heard us last night.” E.D. had come home late yet again and at first had assumed all was well and that the kids were in their rooms doing homework or visiting with friends. Within minutes that assumption had been shattered, and by the time Trey had stormed off to bed, it was obvious that all of their lives were changing forever.
His silence brought her attention back to the present. “I’ll hold. Please go check on him. Do it, Trey.”
After another hesitation, Trey muttered, “Okay.”
His acquiescence surprised and worried her. Did this mean he’d not seen Mac for hours and only now remembered him? Their son was the true introvert, a quiet soul who could get lost in his projects and painstaking study forgetting everything including the need to breathe.
“He’s fine.”
Startled at Trey’s abrupt bark, E.D. took a second to regroup. “He has his inhaler? There haven’t been any episodes?”
“I said he’s fine. Don’t start acting like I don’t know what I’m doing. Everyone in the neighborhood knows that I’ve been holding down the fort for years. Now if you’ll excuse me—”
“Trey, wait!” E.D. hated the sound of desperation in her voice, but she hadn’t nearly covered all that she wanted to. “Just do me the courtesy of answering one or two more questions. Please.”
“What?” he snapped.
E.D. wrapped her free arm around her waist. The ache there warned her that if she didn’t reduce the stress and intense emotions in her life, she would soon be fighting an ulcer. “Has that Web site you mentioned that has Dani’s pictures on it been shut down?”
“Uh…I don’t know.”
What did he mean he didn’t know? “Every hour it’s up has to be an unbearable humiliation for her, Trey.”
“I’ve been busy!”
Doing what? Figuring his options after he finished taking her to the cleaners? “What do the police say? Have you hired someone to take on this photographer? If you haven’t, please don’t. I’m working on—”
“It’s too late for you to try to insinuate yourself into this,” Trey interjected. “You’ve done enough damage.”
E.D. barely held back an expletive. Insinuate? Dani had acted with lightning speed on this modeling opportunity and had ignored their one conversation where E.D. had voiced her reservations and refusal to commit without more information and a meeting with the photographer.
“Just give me the Web site address,” she pleaded.
“I don’t know it offhand. Do you think I have the stomach to look at it?”
“Take an antacid because the longer you allow it to stay up, the more perverts and testosterone-flooded schoolboys will be drooling over our daughter.”
“I didn’t say—it’s being looked into,” he amended sullenly.
“By whom? Damn it, give me names. That’s what my office is for!”
Instead Trey hung up on her.
Breathless, impotent with fury, E.D. stared at the dead phone. Last night when he’d declared their marriage was over and that she was to blame for Dani’s troubles, she’d been too dumbstruck and horrified for her daughter to really take in what was about to happen. Today with the restraining order and the appearance of her luggage, he’d humiliated her. She’d stood by and taken it, mostly because she had a case to finish, but nonetheless, she’d done nothing thinking it was all a bad dream that could somehow be worked through for the sake of the kids. But this…this set her free.
