When Lightning Strikes Twice (4 page)

And took no time informing his dear friend Dana Sheely.

Rachel slid a covert glance at the paralegal. Dana had the red hair, blue eyes, and fair skin that characterized all the Sheelys but the throw of the genetic dice had given her finer, more delicate features than her brothers and sisters, making her pretty rather than merely cute.

According to Wade, Dana was smart, too, an ace paralegal who would’ve made a talented lawyer had she gone to college and law school. Instead she had taken paralegal training following her high-school graduation and landed a
job in a Philadelphia law firm, where she’d worked until Quinton Cormack hired her last year.

Wade had wanted Saxon Associates to hire Dana, Rachel recalled, but Aunt Eve had vetoed the idea, claiming their firm didn’t need a paralegal’s services. Saxon Associates’ mistake, according to everybody, not only Wade. Dana Sheely had proven herself invaluable to Cormack and Son, her expertise in bread-and-butter legal cases freeing Quinton to pursue more difficult, lucrative ones.
Like the Pedersen and Tilden cases!

Perhaps acknowledging her lapse, Aunt Eve had agreed to Wade’s suggestion to hire young Katie Sheely when the Saxons’ longtime receptionist Mavis Curran retired six months ago. Rachel still missed the extremely reliable, efficient Mavis. Katie was personable enough but could be extremely scatterbrained, a truth not even disputed by Wade, a longtime Sheely loyalist.

“Quint, Rachel Saxon is here,” Dana said, opening a nicked, scratched door without a name on it.

“Miss Saxon, come in.” Quint, seated behind an atrocious metal desk that looked like a government-issue reject, stood up.

He was wearing a dark blue suit and he looked both professional and respectable, like he belonged in a law firm with plush Oriental rugs and antique mahogany desks and a distinguished client list instead of this seedy place. Rachel’s heart seemed to come to a complete stop, then start again at a frantic rate.

“Can we get—” Quint began.

“You can get a grip on reality,” Rachel cut in. Since she was without a game plan and forced to wing it, she might as well immediately go on the offensive, which would stick him with the less desirable position of defense. “Before things escalate beyond your control.”

“Get a grip on reality,” Quint repeated lazily. “Are you suggesting that I’m delusional?” He did not seem at all disturbed by the charge.

“Either delusional or criminal. You’re one or the other
if you think you’ll get away with this latest hoax.”

“I sense a veiled threat, Miss Saxon. Or is it panic? Maybe both, hmm? Well, go on, I’m curious. What brings you down to the wrong side of the tracks this morning?”

“As if you didn’t know.” Rachel folded her arms in front of her chest and subjected him to a severely disapproving glare. She waited for him to acknowledge the bogus will he’d messengered to her this morning.
Marked personal!

“I don’t know.” Quint shrugged. “I’m afraid you’ll have to enlighten me. Why did you race over here in a panic to make accusations and threats? If you’ll give me a few clues, I’ll try to guess if you want me to. I’m fairly skilled at deducing—”

“Let’s not go through with the rest of this charade,” Rachel cut in tightly.

She was dismayed but hoped it didn’t show. Quint’s counterstrategy had turned the tables on her, putting her on the defensive, making her look impulsive and somewhat hysterical. She could only be thankful they weren’t in a courtroom with a judge and jury observing this unfortunate turn of events.

Rachel heaved an impatient sigh. “You know very well I’m talking about that absurd version of Town Tilden’s supposedly newly discovered will. The one that you and Misty Czenko have dreamed up in hopes of getting my clients to agree to an out-of-court settlement.”

“Since Town Tilden Junior is very much alive, I assume you’re referring to the will of the late Town Senior. And to my client, Misty Czenko
Tilden.”
Quint arched his brows in that sardonic way of his, which had its usual effect on Rachel.

It made her want to choke him.

“You know I am. And stop trying to stall with a deluge of trivial details.”

“I was being accurate, Miss Saxon, not trivial. It’s very important to have each and every fact validated.” His placating smile didn’t cancel the sting of his words. “You see,
accuracy and specificity can mean the difference in the verdict of a case.”

Rachel wildly resented being addressed like a dim-witted first-year law student at a third-rate law school, and his blatant reference to the Pedersen case made her burn even hotter.

“I’d’ve thought we would schedule an appointment to discuss the Tilden will, but hey, I’ve got some time this morning, so we can talk now.” Quint seemed the soul of congeniality, but Rachel wasn’t fooled. The man was as congenial as a rattler whose rock had been overturned. ‘Tm willing to be spontaneous, just like you are.”

“I am not spontaneous!” No one had ever accused her of that!
“I’d’ve thought we would schedule an appointment to discuss the will.”
Of course that was the usual protocol. To have Quinton Cormack, of all people, point out her unorthodox behavior was mortifying.

“You could’ve fooled me.” He had a definite gift for subtext, managing to sound both scornful and sincere at the same time. Irritated, Rachel wondered how he did it and wished that she could, too.

“Dana, would you mind getting us some coffee?” Quint turned to his paralegal.

Rachel whirled around, suddenly remembering Dana’s presence. Since entering this office, she had been aware of no one but Quinton Cormack. It was as if the two of them were alone in some peculiar universe.

“And tell Helen to hold my calls during Miss Saxon’s visit.”

Rachel was unnerved. She was always so acutely attuned to everything going on around her. Her hypervigilance was practically a family legend. How could she have completely forgotten Dana Sheely’s very existence when the younger woman had been standing only a foot away from her? “I—I don’t want any coffee.”

“Hmm, you’re right,” Quint eyed Rachel assessingly. “The last thing you need is more caffeine. You’re so wired right now you’ll probably short-circuit after a couple sips
of coffee. And we don’t want you bouncing off the walls. This isn’t a rubber room, after all.”

Rachel bristled and tried to think of an appropriately insulting rubber-room retort. None came to mind, which only rattled her more. She knew what he was doing. Keeping her on the defensive, enhancing his position with a personal attack. She should ignore it, she knew that too. Yet here she was, doing exactly what he’d set her up to do, taking issue with his insulting allegation. His ridiculous allegation.

“I am NOT wired, Mr. Cormack.”

“I beg to differ.” Quint’s grin of satisfaction only underscored her mistake.

Rachel balled her fingers into fists and breathed deeply. It was definitely time to regroup. “Let me explain my position in the simplest terms, which even
you
can understand. I don’t want any coffee because I didn’t come here to socialize. I do not want this visit to bear even the slightest trappings of a social call.”

“And drinking coffee would elevate your visit from a business meeting to a social call? Hmm, that’s interesting. Maybe you could fill me in on proper Lakeview etiquette, Miss Saxon. I’ve only lived here a little over a year and I’m not completely familiar with all the local nuances. What exactly constitutes a social call in this town? Give me the specifics.”

Quint moved from behind his desk to walk toward her, his pace unhurried. “Is a social call something like a
date?
” He exaggerated the inflection, his expression one of mock comic horror.

Once again, the object of his derision was her, Rachel noted darkly. Perhaps deservedly so? She was aware she must seem psychotically uptight, and he had no qualms calling her on it. She winced.

Dana looked amused. “I’ll run up the street to Starbucks and bring you a large Kona, Quint. You want it black, right?” He nodded, and she headed to the door. “Be right back.”

“Remember not to bring anything for Miss Saxon, Dana.
Not because she’s as wired as the Tasmanian Devil on speed, but because—”

“We wouldn’t want anyone to think this was a date.” Dana rolled her eyes. “Got it.” She left the office amidst Quint’s laughter.

Rachel knew she should do the same. Laugh. Act blasé. Ignore the fury roiling through her. Wade was right; Quinton Cormack was trying to psych her out, and she shouldn’t let him. Determinedly, she attempted a blithe smile.

“Are you in pain?” Quint stepped directly in front of her. “Your face looks ready to crack.”

Rachel’s false smile was instantly erased and she glowered balefully at him. “Being forced to deal with you is painful, all right.”

“Because I whipped your pretty little butt in the Pedersen case?” There was laughter in his eyes. “Are you still holding a grudge against me for that?”

He smiled at her, a genuine smile, not one of those infuriating smirks that made her want to smack him. Rachel’s breath caught. He was incredibly appealing when he smiled like that, his face alight with humor.

Involuntarily, she found herself studying his face. He had interesting, strong features. A sharp blade of a nose, a well-shaped mouth, a dimple in his left cheek that she’d never actually noticed until today. Until right now. It also occurred to her that he was what her mother and sister would call “good-looking.” In fact, on second glance they would probably upgrade that description to “very good-looking.”

Her heart gave a peculiar little flutter. Disconcerted, Rachel sought an explanation. It certainly could not be attraction! She had proven her immunity to “good-looking” men for years by repeatedly rejecting each one that her mother and sister attempted to set her up with. In her experience, handsome men were fully aware of their appeal, trading shamelessly upon appearance and the predictable effect upon the opposite sex.

“Just because John Pedersen is the owner and boss of the Pedersen Car Shoppe doesn’t mean he can bully his
employees,” Quint said softly, his legalese totally at odds with the warmth in his gaze. “Bullying by an employer is as taboo as sexual harassment. In fact, the highest incidence of workers’ compensation lawsuits currently under litigation include stress, embarrassment, and humiliation in the workplace.”

“And—And sharpie that you are, you managed to convince the jury that John Pedersen caused William Dumond stress, embarrassment, and humiliation at the Car Shoppe.” Rachel scowled at the very idea.

“Because I had a truckload of evidence to prove it. Your case was a dog, Rachel. It was unwinnable. Your side’s big mistake was in not convincing Pedersen to settle.”

Was he trying to console her? By excusing her performance in the case while enhancing his?
Rachel was outraged. And more than a little bewildered. “Pedersen’s case was winnable. Don’t flatter yourself, my aunt Eve would’ve won it. I—I lost because I … because you …”

Words failed her. She’d spent hours obsessing over the details of the case yet now, given the chance for a rebuttal, her mind seemed to have crashed like an on-line service on overload.

Her gaze flew to his dark brown eyes and expressive black brows. In her worst dreams, she saw him directing contemptuous glances at her client during the Pedersen trial. Rachel was convinced those potent eyes and arched brows of his had been invaluable visual aids for his verbal arguments, winning a unanimous jury verdict along with a sizable cash compensatory award for his client.

“Aunty Eve isn’t Super Lawyer. I guarantee she would’ve lost that case, too,” Quint said firmly. “Anyway, it’s all in the past now. What do you say to wiping the slate clean and starting over?” He smiled
that
smile, the one that was practically a force of nature.

Part of her wanted to smile back at him. It would be so easy … A reaction to his own particular, disturbing magic? Rachel’s mouth was actually tilting upward at the corners
when her steely control reasserted itself, reminding her exactly who she was dealing with.

Quinton Cormack, the enemy. The man was a slick, smooth operator, out to bilk the Tildens,
Saxon Associates’ most important clients
, out of God-only-knows-how-much. His power couldn’t be dismissed, not after the way he’d prevailed over the Pedersens.

Well, she was not about to fall under his spell! The break in her guard was only momentary. Rachel stiffened and did not smile.

At that precise moment, she realized that he was standing far too close to her, just as he had in the courtroom that fateful day. His proximity violated the rules of personal space governing social acquaintances and business colleagues. He had thrust himself into the special zone designated for intimate family or friends.

Not Rachel’s intimate family and friends, of course. All who knew her well, knew to maintain a certain physical distance from her. She was not the touchy-feely type. If someone mistakenly came too close, she subtly backed away, creating the needed distance herself.

She backed away now, but her movements were certainly not subtle. Her anger abated somewhat, displaced by the almost-overwhelming urge to turn and run. Only her fierce Saxon pride prevented her from indulging
that
catastrophic whim! She could imagine the gales of laughter her hasty retreat from him would evoke, were she foolish enough to make one. And she’d had more than enough of him laughing at her.

Rachel squared her shoulders, determined to put this smug, overconfident clod firmly in his place.

“I know what you’re doing.” She adopted her stentorian courtroom tone, and her voice boomed throughout the small office.

“Do you?” He stared down at her. “Then maybe you could fill me in because I sure as hell don’t.”

And now he was playing the part of befuddled male, needful of a wise woman’s guidance. Oh, he was a crafty
one! Rachel met his eyes. An almost-tangible current sizzled between them. “This game of yours isn’t working, Mister Cormack.”

“No? Well, since I’m clueless as to what game, it’s a good thing you’re here for a play-by-play analysis, isn’t it?”