Wrangling with the Laywer (19 page)

The subject slowly disintegrated in her thoughts as they neared the office and Gabe came more clearly into view. It had been six months since she’d seen him that night in his apartment. Six months since they’d had the explosive exchange that had ended their contact. She took in the sight of him hungrily; the dark, intelligent eyes under low brows; the broad shoulders, so
perfectly framed in his crisp white shirt and vest and tie; the lingering smile, always on the cusp on breaking into deep amusement as he warmly listened to his friend. She missed his laughter suddenly; how had they ended up so at odds?

He looked straight at her
as he opened the door. His expression fell serious. He brushed a hand down his tie in a gesture so familiar that she watched it almost lovingly. She had to frown against the emotion. She flicked her eyes back up to his gaze, trying to smile and also trying not to frown too deeply. Unfortunately emotion was starting to rear its messy head inside of her again. As she looked into his eyes, all she saw was the work he must have done over the last six months to bring Davidson down. She couldn’t even imagine how many favours he must have had to call in. It overwhelmed her senses. Had he done this for her? Because of her? Or just because it was right. She was terrified to imagine she might have had anything to do with it, but at the same time, that conclusion seemed inevitable. It didn’t make any sense.

She stopped at the door as
he closed it behind them. Both men were watching her, waiting for her to say something. She was rigid with control; she knew if she opened her mouth to speak that they’d hear the emotion. She couldn’t think of anything more mortifying that starting to cry with gratitude in the middle of Gabe’s office among these urbane men.

Don
broke the silence, gently touching the middle of her back to guide her to the sofa. “It’s been quite a rollercoaster morning,” he explained, like a patient parent.

She took a deep breath. Nodding, she sat down, and then took another deep breath.

Gabe came forward. He slipped in hands in his pockets. The morning sun was directly behind him, creating a halo of light and casting him into silhouette. Her eyes narrowed on his face. He seemed to loom much larger than usual from where she was sitting.

“So, we’re still got a lot of work to do,” he started, his achingly familiar low voice like a soothing balm on her senses.

She nodded again. Finding her voice, she added, “Sure.”

“This is my case, but I could use your help, obviously. All of you.”

She looked at Don, who nodded at her. “Whatever you need,” she filled in.

“Good.”

“We should probably discuss this in more detail after we know what’s happening with the civil suit,” Don cut in, ever the pragmatist. “There’s going to be so much conflict there.”

“Will you push to settle?”

“Well, obviously I can’t discuss the case with you,” Don returned with an air of teasing amusement. He paused. “That would be the least painful option for everyone, but we’ll discuss it with Harper.”

Gabe sat in the armchair across from
Harper. His face came more clearly into view; he seemed to be considering her. Eventually he turned to Don, his hands loosely clasped on his lap. “I’m going to request jail time. I don’t think he deserves anything less given the additional details I’ve learned about the case in the last month or so. I also think there’s the subject of remuneration to be discussed.” He turned back to Harper. “As I understand it the civil suit won’t cover much more than limited court fees once the settlement’s shared out, so... I’d like you to think of a reasonable sum to cover the full costs over the last six years, both to you and the studio. You can probably add fifteen percent to that for damages.”

Never for a second during this process had
Harper imagined that she might recoup any of the money she’d poured into the case. Her aim had been to keep her company operating, to safeguard the livelihoods of her employees, and to keep their research and development active. She’d written off everything else, the other millions, as expenses. She tried to comprehend what Gabe was telling her, but she couldn’t quite grasp it yet. She nodded again. “I’ll work on it.”

“In return, once the conflict between the cases is resolved, we’d very much appreciate full access to your case files, to the company’s records, to employee witness
es. Anything you can give us, really.”

“You can have whatever you want, Gabe.”
Don laughed merrily. “I’ll craft you rocket with my own hands to blast him off to hell if you need it.”

Harper
glanced at him, smiling now.

“I don’t want to keep you all too long,” Gabe cut in smoothly, coming to his feet. His expression was eclipsed into shade again. “I just wanted to make contact. Make sure we’ll all on the same page. I’ll let you go celebrate, or whatever it is you want to do.”

Harper looked over at him. She realised achingly she was right where she wanted to be.

Gabe let himself into his apartment wearily that night, tossing is jacket against the stand in the foyer. As usual he checked on Alice first before retreating to the kitchen to forage in the fridge. Too tired for options, he picked up an apple and wandered through to the den, flicking on the television and muting it. His eyes wandered over the reruns of Davidson’s arrest that morning, still making headline news. He had the feeling the headlines wouldn’t change for some time as the case progressed. A deep sense of satisfaction and excitement gripped him as he pictured the months ahead. He was relishing fighting this case. It was going to be the toughest case he’d ever fought, but also the most significant, and the most important. It was as if he’d spent the last ten years of his life wandering aimlessly, only now remembering why he’d even wanted to become a lawyer in the first place. He’d forgotten that it wasn’t about status or position or financial reward alone. It wasn’t about winning. It was about making a positive difference in the world.

His mind immediately moved from this realisation to
Harper, as it always did. His body stilled. Putting the apple aside, he laid his head back on the sofa. Seeing her today had been like drinking a long, cool glass of water after months in the desert. There was no way she could have known how important she’d become to him during these last months, even if she’d seemed disquieted during the meeting. He wondered what her reaction would be if he told her that she’d been his inspiration for all of this. Every time he’d met a brick wall, she’d come to him in his thoughts and forced him to find another way. He’d never – not for a second – doubted that it was possible, simply because he knew she believed it was. The notion of disappointing her had been so abhorrent that he’d had no choice but to push ahead and make it happen.

He’d disappointed her enough, after all.

He sat up, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his face. Just thinking about that last meeting in his kitchen made him itch all of over with humiliation. Talk about misplaced emotion... he actually laughed to himself quietly in the dark room. He’d been a mess. He hadn’t known whether to grab her and shake her or seduce her. All his frantic efforts to control his life had thrust him into chaos, pure and simple. He’d been running blindly from anything that smacked of long-term commitment, anything that might force him to change his path. He shook his head, covering his face again. He’d been unfulfilled and vacant, on a path to nowhere, and he’d blamed her for making him dare to want more than that. Now, with everything he had that made his life so rich and so meaningful, he realised he had her to thank for this, but she was the last person who wanted his thanks.

He recalled her stiff, quiet form in the meeting this morning, his chest constricting with regret. He’d treated her abominably; he couldn’t blame her for not wanting to have anything to do with him again. He only hoped this case would bring her some closure finally. Though it wasn’t his primary goal, he’d do everything he could to make sure she got her life back. It was his personal goal. He had so much peace in his life now, with his family and his career. She was the only remaining area that urgently required his attention. He wouldn’t rest until he’d made her life better. He wouldn’t rest until he
’d shown her he wasn’t that selfish, distracted man any more who’d so carelessly wasted his chance with her. Until he did this, nothing else would be totally right.

Getting up slowly, he wandered back through to make a final check on Alice’s sleeping form. He lingered by the door a while, realising he’d never really gotten to the bottom of that drama around her hospital visit and the kids’ party at
Harper’s house. Karen had been clueless about the origin of the invitation to the party, and Gabe hadn’t had time to go searching around afterschool playgroups for information. It seemed unlikely Harper would have invited his daughter without checking with him or Karen first. It also seemed unlikely that she wouldn’t have admitted making the invitation directly. He watched the tiny figure in the bed, sleeping so soundly and so innocently. It seemed hard to imagine she’d go to the trouble of engineering something like that... surely that was too complex a ruse for a five year-old? Besides, why would she do it? She saw Finn every Friday at the playgroup, so it couldn’t have been because she was missing her new best friend.

He hated an unsolved mystery, but he let it go as tiredness gripped him again. Walking slowly down the hallway, he decided he’d check with
Karen again in the morning.

Harper was late arriving at the first strategy meeting being held at Gabe’s offices the next morning. Two of his associates were chairing the first round of meetings; Gabe’s absence was acknowledged but not explained. They were told he’d catch up with them later in the morning.

“Where’d you get to?” Don asked her as they helped themselves to coffee during a recess. “Not like you to be late.”

“I ran in to an old school friend from Brown.”

“Anyone I know?”

Harper grinned. “Natalie Van der Sar.”

“Ah... the delectable Natalie...”
Don’s eyes shone. “Is she still single? I’ve always had a crush on her. She’d be the perfect woman if she wasn’t so scheming and ambitious.”

Laughing,
Harper nudged him playfully. “Considering how scheming and ambitious you are, I would have thought that was a prerequisite in your perfect woman.” She sipped her coffee, her eyes warm on him. “She’s having another one of those charity auctions the week before Christmas. She’s somehow roped me into purchasing a table. Now I have to find six available friends and a willing date to fill it with.”

“I’m not dating you again,
Harper. I only date women once platonically, and you’ve had your date-”

“Who said I was going to ask you?
” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, she also wanted to know if I knew of any interesting eligible bachelors out there she could auction a date with.” Her brows lifted as her tone dropped. “I figured you fill at least a third of that description.”

“Count me in.” He leaned next to her on the buffet table, whispering in her ear. “Not only do they pay for the meal, I’ve heard it on good authority that you quite often get a decent roll in the hay, too.”

Her lips parted. “That’s practically prostitution.”

“There’s no exchange of cash, so legally it’s not prostitution.”

“Who told you that?”

He seemed nonplussed. “I’m fairly well acquainted with criminal law-”

“About the roll in the hay, not prostitution laws...”

He grinned. “I can’t remember. Maybe Gabe? He was one of the lots of a few years back, anyway.”

Her mood dipped. “Well, since he’s off the market, you’re the only one I could think of suggesting,” she told him uncharitably. “She said she’ll give you a call.”

“Excellent. If I have my way she’ll be bidding for me herself before the end of the night.”

Harper got up and gave him a suffering glance. “She’ll only date you if she can trace your ancestry back to some kind of aristocracy, you know. She doesn’t waste time on nouveau riche charmers like you.”

Now it was his turn to look shocked. He kicked her playfully in the shin, but barely grazed the surface of her skin. “I’ll have you know my grandfather was one of the first traders on Wall Street to practise modern portfolio management. That’s how he made and kept his millions.  In this economic climate, that’s as good as aristocracy.”

She gave him a teasing smile, turning away when she heard the conference door open. The rest of the occupants in the room had split into small groups, but over the tops of their heads she saw Gabe entering. He was looking straight at her. She had the sensation he’d been watching the playful exchange between her and Don on his approach. As soon as she met his dark gaze, he turned away, approaching his associates with a controlled expression.

Leaning on the buffet table again next to Don’s comforting form, she absorbed the dismissive glance into the already cushioned layers of hurt and regret Gabe had build up in her over the
recent months. She barely even felt the dent. “The man of the hour’s arrived,” she commented uncharitably under her breath.

Don cast a pointed look. “I thought we were all on the same side.”

“We are.” She attempted to hide the defensive tone in her voice. She kicked herself mentally for the slip; if she was going to be assisting in the initial investigation for this case she would have to get over this lingering resentment fast. She didn’t want Don or anyone else suspecting anything, not when she and Gabe had done so well at keeping their disastrous coupling secret all this time.