"I see," he replied, holding her gaze. "Then tell me, what happened between us a few minutes ago—would you also describe that as a 'random, if poor, choice'?"
She lowered her lashes, stared at the floor. "A very poor choice, yes. Random? No." For a long moment she said nothing. Then she raised her head, and Zach could see her struggling for composure. "I don't know what happened out there. Memories. Attraction. Both. I'm not sure. I'm not sure of much since last Saturday. My whole world is out of whack. But one thing I am sure of. I can't have an affair with you. And not only because of what I'm going through with Audrey. I just can't."
There were a hundred things Zach wanted to say. There was one thing in particular he wanted to do. But she was at the end of her rope. He wouldn't push her further. At least not tonight.
"Let's call it a night," he said lightly, returning to his bed making. "You have work to do and you're falling off your feet. I tell you what. I'll put up the five a.m. coffee. I'm closer to the kitchen than you are. And I drink twice as much coffee as you."
A tired, strained smile. "Thanks." She ran her fingers through that beautiful, glossy black hair. "Good night, Zach." A brief hesitation. "I really am grateful for your concern and your help. I just don't think we should misconstrue what's happening here."
Zach's gaze was steady. "We're not."
* * *
15
Thursday, April 20
6:02 am.
Like every meeting at the Hope Institute, this one was cloaked under the protective veil of attorney-client privilege.
The last member of the disinfection team hurried toward Conference Room A. He had an important tidbit to report today. A tall guy had been hitting on Victoria Kensington. The guy's appearance was a mixed bag. Hopefully, it would keep her occupied with something other than the Institute. On the other hand, it would be a helluva lot harder to tail her with her new boyfriend showing up at odd hours, hoping to get laid.
Well, he'd leave the decision on how to handle things to the powers that be.
He edged into the room, nodded at the rest of the group, and shut the door behind him.
"You're late," the team leader pronounced. "And put out that cigar. I'm not going to remind you again. This is a hospital."
6:30 a.m.
Victoria had assumed she'd be the first one in. She was the last.
As she approached the door of London,- Kensington & Stone, she could see a shaft of light shining from beneath it. And, when she inserted her key, it was to find that the door was already unlocked.
Obviously, Meg and Paul had gotten her message. And just as obviously, they were worried—worried enough to get here before dawn.
Sighing, she stepped inside the office, massaging her aching temples. She wished she hadn't opted to skip her morning run. The adrenaline rush might have done her some good. But she'd never have gotten by Zach to take her jog alone, so the whole idea was out.
How she was going to pull off this day was anyone's guess. First the meeting here, then the one at her father's office, followed by a court appearance—and then Zach.
All when she was running on empty.
True, she didn't need much sleep, but last night she'd gotten none. She'd been too wired from dinner, from being followed home by Mr. Cigar, and from whatever temporary insanity had occurred between her and Zach. Then, to top it all off, he'd spent the night in her apartment, sleeping on her sofa.
Just knowing he was out there had made falling asleep an utter impossibility. Victoria had gotten up at four and was showered and dressed by the time five o'clock rolled around. Still, she hadn't beaten him to the kitchen. True to his word, he'd brewed a pot of coffee and was sipping a cup when she walked in.
They'd hardly spoken. He'd looked worn out and rumpled, as if sleep hadn't come easily for him either. And the shadow of a beard on his face had brought too many memories tumbling back to her—memories of other, more intimate mornings spent together.
They'd left the apartment by six.
Zach had hailed a cab, escorted her to work, and made arrangements to meet her at the end of the work day for a drink. He wanted to hear about any information she'd picked up at her father's office, and discuss a convenient time to show up at her apartment.
To sleep on her sofa again.
Boy, was she going to need that drink. This time, she might just polish off the whole bottle.
"Victoria, is that you?" It was Meg's voice, coming from inside the conference room.
"Yes," she called back. "It's me. Is Paul with you?"
"Yeah, I'm right here." Paul stepped into the outer office, frowning as he studied Victoria. "Are you okay?"
"Fine." Victoria locked the front door behind her. Not that she was expecting anyone at six-thirty in the morning. Still, this conversation was going to remain private, even from the maintenance staff.
She made her way through the narrow outer office to where Paul was standing in the doorway of the room that doubled as their library and conference room.
"Come in and talk." He gestured for her to precede him.
Victoria walked inside the spacious conference room, pacing about because she was too antsy to sit down.
The room's decor was simple and sparse—plain tweed carpet, a long oak table, eight matching chairs, and floor-to-ceiling bookcases. The only personal touch was a window-box of plants that Meg had added after weeks of grumbling that a conference room wasn't supposedto scare off clients by looking more sterile than an operating room. And while Meg's plants weren't nearly as magnificent as Clarissa's, Victoria had to admit that they did add some life to the place.
Her friend was nervously misting the plants right now. But she turned when Victoria walked in, her features tight with concern. "What's going on, Victoria? Why did you want us here so early and why couldn't I call you back about it last night?"
"Because I wasn't home until late. And because I wanted to talk to the two of you together."
"Well, we're together now," Paul announced without prelude. He shut the door, folded his arms across his chest, and waited only for Meg to put down the spray bottle before he addressed Victoria. "Now talk. Is this business or personal?"
"Both." Victoria stopped pacing and perched behind one of the chairs. "Paul, I'll bring you up to date with what Meg knows. Then I'll fill you both in on the rest."
She did just that, not stopping until after she described how hard she'd worked to find the Hope Institute, and what her suspicions had been after leaving.
Paul let out a low whistle. "Your father would go to those lengths to keep Audrey's whereabouts a secret?"
For a long moment, Victoria didn't answer. Then she spoke quietly and without emotion. "Under the right circumstances, yes. And these were the right circumstances."
"That sounds ominous. Victoria, what is it you think Audrey's suffering from?"
She'd expected the question. And she knew how to answer it. Candidly. Ensuring both Audrey's safety and the classified status of Zach's investigation took precedence over personal secrets.
This portion of the truth had to be told. Besides, these weren't strangers; they were Meg and Paul. Audrey would understand.
Victoria wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. "I've never spoken about this before. I'd appreciate your keeping it in confidence."
"Of course."
"You have our word," Meg assured her.
Another weighted pause. "Audrey has bulimia," Victoria admitted at last. "She'd had it since her teens. I'm sure you can guess who drove her to it. You've met my father. Anything that deviates from his idea of perfection is unacceptable. Audrey fell short. Not that she didn't try. She wanted to please him so much it made my insides churn. She never managed to do so. Finally, she gave up."
"Is that when she decided to travel abroad?" Meg asked gently.
"Um-hum. Her decision suited my 'father just fine. With Audrey gone, so was the risk of embarrassment if anyone found out about her illness. For him it was out of
sight, out of mind. But not out of his control. Oh, no. He still wanted that. He arranged it so that Audrey was dependent on him financially and emotionally—no matter how coldly he treated her."
Paul looked thoughtful. "So you're saying that if she became ill enough to be hospitalized, it would be your father she'd call."
A sad nod. "He convinced her that he and he alone could control whatever happened in life. So, yes, she'd call him. She'd probably beg for his help. And he? He'd be horrified at the potential scandal. He'd do exactly what I feared if it meant keeping things quiet."
"Is this pure speculation? Because, from the way you're talking, it sounds like you know it for a fact."
"My father admitted it to me yesterday. Audrey left me a message the previous night on my answering machine. She tried to put my mind at ease by assuring me she was fine. She didn't sound fine. She sounded really out of it. So while I was relieved to hear from her, I didn't feel a whole lot better than I had before. Anyway, she said something about calling me because my father had told her I was worried."
"Which means he'd spoken with her."
"Spoken with her and seen her," Victoria corrected.
"He told you that?"
"When I confronted him, yes. He couldn't very well deny it. Although he did deny that Audrey was in any danger whatsoever. He said the Hope Institute was the best private medical clinic in Manhattan and that, thanks to their superior care, Audrey was improving every day. But they have strict confidentiality requirements. No one but my father is even supposed to know Audrey's there, much less try to see her. She's allowed no visitors, no phone calls, no outside contact except for him. I'm not even permitted to consult with her doctor. Institute policy."
Victoria paused. She'd laid the groundwork, explained the unusually severe policies of the Hope Institute. Now she had to drive home the extent of her anxiety over Audrey's well-being. After that, she'd lead into her commitment to their law firm. She had to create a believable enough scenario so that Meg and Paul didn't question why she'd feel compelled to take the drastic step she was about to take— one she'd never mentioned contemplating. They couldn't suspect anything dire. No criminal activities, no FBI investigation, no drug ring.
She had to pull this off—for everyone's sake.
Here goes, she braced herself silently.
"In my opinion, their rigid privacy policies are too extreme. They make me feel totally cut off, helpless, and filled with unanswered questions. Is Audrey sicker than my father realizes? Are the doctors at the Hope Institute as reputable as he believes? Is there some logical reason why I can't get special permission to see her?"
Victoria's voice choked and, with a sick sense of irony, she acknowledged to herself that the fears she was verbalizing were real.
"The bottom line is, I'm still worried sick," she concluded, recovering her composure. "In some ways, more so. My imagination is working overtime. I've got to get inside the Hope Institute and see for myself that Audrey is okay. I'm her sister. She needs me. My father might be able to remain unemotional about this, but I can't. Nor can I make him understand my position. So I'm going to keep my mouth shut and bypass him—just as I did to begin with." A swift glance at Meg. "Remember, I got the initial information about Audrey from ray father's phone bills. I'll find whatever else I need the same way."
Meg's brows drew together in puzzlement. "You're going back to search your father's study?"
"No. I'm going to search his office. That's where I'll find out more about the Hope Institute and Audrey's admittance records. The office is where my father keeps his personal correspondence and documents." A hint of a smile. "Which brings me to an interesting twist. The way I manipulated things, I'll be spending a fair amount of time at Waters, Kensington, Tatem and Calder. In addition to getting access to information on Audrey, I'll be helping boost our firm's income."
"You lost me."
"Yeah, me, too," Paul concurred.
Very deliberately, Victoria met their gazes, intent on showing them how sincere she was—at least with regard to what she was saying. Guilt by omission rather than commission, she thought ruefully. "My father has his agenda, I have mine. I used his to accomplish mine. After he closed the subject of Audrey, I made a decision to carry out a plan I've been toying with for a while now. The timing was perfect. I simply took advantage of it."
"What timing?" Paul demanded. "What plan?"
"I bit the bullet and asked my father if Waters, Kensington, Tatem and Calder would refer corporate clients to you," she informed Paul. "He agreed—conditionally. In return for his cooperation, he said he'd expect me to serve as counsel to his firm. Two days a week, for three months. I accepted his offer. It's the perfect solution—one that gives me exactly the opportunity I need, to help our practice and Audrey."
"You accepted?" Meg asked incredulously. Victoria had always been adamant about not working with her father—in any capacity.
"Yes. It wouldn't have been my choice, had circumstances been different. But they're not. Audrey's being kept in that clinic, and London, Kensington and Stone needs a jump start. Speaking of which, my father and I worked out a retainer, just as I would with any new client. I negotiated a lot of money for us—forty percent of whatever I bill out for Waters, Kensington, Tatem and Calder plus whatever income is generated by the clients they steer our way. It's a win-win situation. Still, given the amount of time I'm committing and who I'm committing it to, I wanted to let you know right away." Victoria fell silent, gazed expectantly from one of her partners to the other, and held her breath as she awaited their reaction.
"Wow." Meg reacted first, sifting her fingers through her hair as she spoke. "This is quite a crusade you're taking on. I understand why you're doing it, but are you sure it's the right way to go about things? You'll have the pressure of ransacking your father's files without getting caught and the pressure of having him in your face, doing everything in his power to coerce you into staying on as a junior partner. Three months is a long time, Victoria."
"I realize that. So does my father. He's counting on that time working in his favor. But I know otherwise. And so should you. I'd never walk away from London, Kensington and Stone. I need you to believe that."
"We do," Paul said at once.
"Of course we do." Meg let out a slow breath. "This isn't about doubting you. I'm worried about you."
"Don't be. I've handled my father for twenty-eight years. I can handle him now." Victoria laced her fingers tightly together, summing up the situation in a few terse phrases. "My loyalties lie here. They always will. But I've got to find a way in to Audrey. I'm getting nowhere fast. I need your help. And your trust."
"You've got both." Paul adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose, his mind clearly racing. "Your father actually agreed to refer clients to me?"
"Yes. I'll get the process rolling next week."
"Is that when you're starting?" Meg asked.
Victoria glanced at her watch. "Officially, yes. But I'm due over there at seven-thirty for a breakfast meeting. That's the other reason I was so adamant about wanting to talk with you guys now. I wanted to explain the situation to you before I walked through my father's doors to be paraded around like his prized thoroughbred." She sighed. "I'm not naive, Meg. What you said is true. My father sees this as his golden opportunity to mesmerize me with his world, to persuade me to stay. But I see this as a chance to get a handle on the Hope Institute, check for myself that Audrey is okay, and boost Paul's reputation and our firm's income. I'll do my snooping as expediently as I can. The sooner I gel to Audrey, the better. As for my business association with Waters, Kensington, Tatem and Calder, in three months it will be over, no harm done." A rueful smile. "Who knows? After that, maybe my father will finally accept who I am and leave me alone."
"I wouldn't hold my breath," Meg muttered.
"Nor would I," Paul agreed. "But I've got to tell you, this opportunity is great. Finally, a chance to sink my teeth into some high-profile clie
nts. This could make all the difference in the world." He shot Victoria a grateful look. "Thanks for thinking of me. You won't be sorry."
Meg's head jerked around, her startled gaze finding Paul. "You sound as if this course of action has occurred to you."
"It has." Paul dropped into a chair, draped an arm across its back, and looked Meg straight in the eye. "I'm not going to lie to you. I was getting nervous—really nervous. I don't need lots of money, but I need to eat. And yes, I thought of asking Victoria to talk to her father. I held off, hoping business would pick up on its own. But it hasn't—not at my end. That doesn't mean I'm happy about what's going on with Victoria; I'm as worried about her sister as you are."
He angled his head toward Victoria. "I hope it doesn't sound like I'm capitalizing on your sister's predicament. I'm not. I'm just relieved at the thought of some potential clients and income."
"I understand," Victoria responded. "And it never occurred to me. If you were so eager to cash in on my connections, you would have asked me to talk to my father a long time ago."
"I know how you feel about him," Paul acknowledged. "So I'll handle this magnanimous gesture of his with the utmost respect." A self-conscious clearing of the throat. "I'll call him today, and I'll set up a thank-you lunch—at his convenience."
"Great," Meg murmured in disgust. "Just what the man needs. To realize how indebted Victoria's partners are."
Paul scowled. "I'm not brownnosing; I'm just doing what's right. What's your problem with this, Meg? Kensington is just sending clients through our door. It's up to me to make them stay. And you know I've got the skill and the drive to do that."
"Stop, please." Victoria waved away the budding argument. She wasn't up for any more friction right now, no matter how benign. Besides, she knew both her friends. Meg thought with her heart, Paul with his head. But that didn't matter. When it came right down to it, they'd both be there for her in a heartbeat.
"I understand where you're both coming from," she declared, "and I appreciate each of your perspectives. Paul, do whatever you're comfortable with. But don't worry about sufficiently thanking my father. You're an amazing lawyer. When he hears his clients raving about your abilities, it's he who will be thanking you. Meg's only worried that you'll be feeding his ego and giving him more ammunition to sway my loyalties in his direction. You know—be part of the winning team? The truth is, nothing will alter his game plan. He already believes he's in the power seat. He always does."