Microsoft Word - 49A4C18A-1A2A-28B97F.doc (15 page)

Jane blinked rapidly, then nodded. “I’m okay. Thank you for rescuing me.”

“I’m sorry,” Eve said, touching her arm. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I was just concerned.”

She smiled. “I’ve never known you to do something so bold.”

“Yeah, well…I guess I learned my lesson,” Jane murmured. Her inner wild child had

turned around and bitten her—hard.

“Did you confront this Brewer guy?”

“Yeah. We were having breakfast. He denied he was after the money, of course, but that

became a moot point when the waitress announced that his credit card had been declined.”

“Ouch.”

Yeah…ouch.

Eve frowned. “Wait a minute—you really like this guy, don’t you?”

“Past tense,” Jane assured her.

“Well, maybe today’s show will help.”

Jane gave her friend a playful shove. “Yeah, pretty coincidental.”

Eve lifted her hands. “What can I say? I’m here to help.” Then she checked her watch.

“Speaking of which, I guess we’d better get this show on the road.”

After Jane did the guest’s makeup—a professed former bad boy who was a little past his

prime—she watched the show while she cleaned her tools.

The way to get over a bad boy, it seemed, was to convince yourself that a relationship with

a stable, if boring, man was more conducive to a long, happy life.

Jane pursed her mouth. Apparently, toe-curling orgasms and longevity were mutually

exclusive.

It was a testament to Eve’s professionalism, Jane acknowledged with admiration, that she

could pull off a great show even when she was having a bad personal day.

Because despite what Eve had said, Jane knew that Liza’s reappearance made her nervous.

Their estranged friend was such a loose cannon. And unfortunately, anything Liza did to retaliate would end up reflecting badly on the show.

So, later that day when Eve called her, Cole, Zach, and Nicole into her office, Jane knew

something was wrong. With a grim expression Eve passed around individual letters for them that had been couriered over by the lottery commission.

“We have a little problem,” Eve announced curtly. “And her name is Liza Skinner.”

Cole Crawford made a distasteful noise in his throat. “What does Liza have to do with us

winning the lottery?”

“She’s contesting it. She insists that she should get an equal share.”

“On what grounds?” Zach demanded.

Eve told him about the original arrangement between her, Liza and Jane. “We each chose

two numbers to play. When Liza left and the three of you joined, Jane and I gave up one of our two numbers and one of Liza’s. Liza says the fact that we were still playing one of her numbers means that we were including her.”

“But she didn’t put in any money for the winning ticket. Her money ran out a while ago,”

Nicole exclaimed.

“I know,” Eve said. “Don’t worry, we’ll fight this.” She glanced at Jane. “This time, Liza’s

not going to get away with steamrolling over people to get what she wants.”

“So what does this mean?” Jane asked, skimming the multi-page letter of legalese.

“I’m having an attorney take a look at it,” Eve said. “But basically, the lottery payout will be held in escrow until the suit is either settled or dropped. Or time runs out and we forfeit winning altogether.”

Groans sounded around the room.

Panic flooded Jane’s chest—between the hotel, the clothes, the gambling, and the

souvenirs, she’d spent over ten thousand dollars in Vegas. She’d expected to pay off those bills within a few days.

Now what was she going to do?

The group disseminated with a distinct cloud of gloom hanging over their heads, each of

them too absorbed in the problems Liza’s lawsuit would create in their own lives to offer comfort to anyone else.

Jane drove home in a daze, grateful that she hadn’t gone out and bought a new car. When

she pulled into the parking garage, she pounded her hand on the steering wheel. What’s-her-

name’s little red sports car was in her parking place, next to Perry’s giant SUV.

Furious, she pulled into visitor parking, marched up the stairs to their floor and banged on

his door.

The door opened to reveal him standing there in slacks, dress shirt, and tie.

Her senses went haywire just being close to him.

“Hi,” he said cautiously, his dark eyes questioning.

“Your girlfriend is parked in my spot again,” Jane said without preamble. “I’m calling a

tow truck in ten minutes.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize. I’ll have her move it right now.”

“Thank you,” she said in a clipped tone, then wheeled toward her own door.

“Jane,” he called behind her.

She turned back long enough to say, “Perry, you and I have nothing to talk about. Don’t

even try.”

Feeling his heated gaze on her back, she unlocked her condo door and walked inside,

flipping on lights out of habit.

Another date night with the television, she thought morosely. Over a salad that she threw

together, she perused the complicated letter she’d received today, cursing Liza under her breath, and conceding that she’d love to have an attorney explain it to her in layman’s terms.

She turned her head in the direction of the wall she shared with Perry. But before she could

fully form and discard the idea of asking him, noises sounded on the other side of the wall.

Sexual noises.

Jane set her jaw. Surely not.

But yes, the noises coming through the wall were definitely of the carnal variety. She sat

like a stone, listening to the sound of him making love to someone else. The woman’s voice

began as a low murmur, but over the next several minutes, her noises—screams, actually—

increased in volume until she climaxed in a wall-shaking crescendo.

Jane tingled all over—thighs, breasts, stomach—because she no longer had to envision

what he was doing to the woman to make her shriek with abandon. She knew firsthand.

She felt wetness on her cheeks, and wiped it away angrily. If she needed any further proof

that Perry Brewer was a womanizing jerk, she had it. Was he over there with that woman right

now talking about how gullible Jane was and having a good laugh?

Because that was the most humiliating part of it all—the fact that he’d gotten her to admit

that she was falling for him.

And now she couldn’t even move. She was doomed to have to listen to him have sex

whenever the mood struck him.

And while she sat there, apparently the mood struck him again. Jane went to bed early,

with one pillow to cry on, and one to hold over her head.

“Congratulations,” Theresa said, handing Perry a cup of coffee as he came in the front

door.

“Thank you,” he said, suddenly exhausted now that the adrenaline from the past couple of

hours had waned. The judge had ruled in his client’s favor Monday, but they’d been made to

wait two more torturous days to learn the amount the judge would award for damages.

“So how does it feel to have won the largest medical judgment in Georgia history?”

Theresa asked, hands on hips.

“It feels…good,” he said, allowing that the enormity of the decision hadn’t completely

sunk in. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined the judge would award such an

astronomical amount of money to Thomas Kendall. But it was just, considering the man’s

lifespan had been radically shortened by Deartmond Industries through sheer negligence.

“There you are,” Theresa said excitedly, pointing to the television and reaching for the

remote control.

“A landmark judgment today in the case of Thomas Kendall versus Deartmond Industries.

In his job as a security officer in a guard shack, Kendall was exposed to decades of emissions from the plant’s exhaust system. When Kendall developed lung disease and applied for long-term disability, he was fired.

Today, a judge ordered Deartmond Industries to pay Kendall three hundred million dollars

in damages, and in a rare judicial move, Deartmond will not be allowed to appeal. Kendall’s

attorney, Perry Brewer explains why.”

The camera cut to Perry in the press conference. “The judge believed, as do I, that

Deartmond Industries has done everything in their power to drag out this

lawsuit in the hopes that Mr. Kendall would succumb to his disease before they could be

held accountable. The judge showed great character today when he took steps to ensure that Mr.

Kendall will be able to get the medical care he needs to have a reasonable quality of life for his remaining years.”

The clip cut back to the reporter. “By the way, an engineer testified that diverting the

emissions from Mr. Kendall’s guard shack twenty years ago, the time Mr. Kendall first

complained, would have cost the company about two hundred dollars.

“And a footnote to this story—Mr. Kendall told me that his attorney, Perry Brewer, is his

hero. Mr. Brewer took on the case when no one else would, and has been working nonstop for

free for nearly two years in order to get to this historic day.”

Theresa smiled wide. “You’re a hero.”

Perry shook his head. “I’m no hero. I’m just relieved and grateful that it ended as well as it did.”

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” she said, angling her head.

“You had the right to. I know it’s been stressful around here, robbing Peter to pay Paul.”

“By the way, did you get things smoothed over with your lottery girlfriend?”

He frowned and rubbed at the pain under his breastbone that ached every time he thought

of Jane. “She’s not my girlfriend, and no, I’m not sure things can be smoothed over. I pretty much made a mess of things from the get-go.”

She gave a little laugh. “I don’t believe it. This woman, she’s gotten under your skin,

hasn’t she?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I ruined things. Besides, I need to concentrate on getting the firm back on its feet.”

Theresa held up a stack of message slips. “Based on the phone calls I fielded today after

the news broke, I’d say that you’ve got your pick of work for the next year or so.”

A good feeling to be sure, he conceded. But he still had this nagging sensation of a big,

flapping loose end in his life that he’d never be able to tie up. He simply hated the idea of Jane Kurtz thinking that he’d meant to hurt her…both times.

The flash of the Lot O’ Bucks lottery insignia on the television caught his attention.

“And now another story about millions of dollars,” the news announcer said.

“Last week we introduced five coworkers on the locally produced talk show Just Between

Us who had the winning Lot O’Bucks ticket for a thirty-eight million dollar prize. Monday, a

former coworker came forward claiming that she is entitled to an equal share of the money. As a result, the lottery commission has frozen the payout until the dispute can be settled.”

“Hmm,” Theresa said, shooting him a look. “Sounds like she could use some legal advice.”

Perry pulled on his chin, worried for Jane. No doubt she was kicking herself for spending

so much money in Vegas. She’d joked that if the lottery money fell through, she’d have to get a second job to pay for everything.

He grimaced, remembering that he’d encouraged her to buy things, to gamble recklessly.

Hell, it was his fault in the first place that she’d gone to Sin City.

Perry pushed to his feet and reached for his jacket. He would offer to help Jane. Then he’d

get the hell out of her life before he messed up something else.

JANE SET DOWN a bag of groceries to open her condo door. It had been a lousy couple

of days—and nights—and according to the attorney that the station had provided for them, things didn’t appear to be getting better anytime soon.

Liza, it appeared, had a legitimate case.

And Perry, it appeared, had a legitimate case of the hornies. Last night again, his noisy

escapades had driven her to bed early. The only upside was that the yodel-like screams of his partner were now so burned into her brain that they’d almost replaced the memories of their time together in Vegas.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway made her hurry. She managed to get the door open

just as Perry walked up. He stooped and picked up the bag of groceries then handed them to her.

“Hi,” he said tentatively.

“Hi,” she said, taking the bag from him.

“Look, this is awkward, but I heard about your lottery payout being challenged.”

She didn’t respond, just waited.

He cleared his throat. “So, I feel bad about egging you on to spend money, and I wanted to

offer you…a loan.”

She raised her eyebrows. “A loan?”

“Just until your case is settled.”

She shifted her bag of groceries, willing away the visceral response to his nearness. “And

how are you going to make me a loan?”

“I won that big case I was working on,” he said. “My commission will be…healthy.

It’s the money I’ve been banking on to build my firm.”

Another con…a loan, in hopes that she’d be grateful enough to let him back into her life—

her bed—until the lottery business was settled? “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Jane—”

“Perry,” she cut in. “I don’t need or want your help. Goodnight.” She pushed open the

door, then closed it, leaning against it heavily, trying to remember how to get over a bad boy, then cursing because once again, she’d forgotten to buy ear plugs. If she didn’t get some sleep soon, Eve would fire her.

She’d fallen back into her old routine at work—chinos, polo shirts, sneakers, and a

ponytail. She had officially put her inner wild child on time-out. Her urge to do something bad had had disastrous results.

At times during the day, a snatch of something Perry had said or a look he’d given her