Zoe looked up to find Lena Henderson, a brassy redhead with a personality to match. She hated Zoe and took every jab she could get in. She was also the reporter who had turned the front page into a Marks bashing.
“Guess not,” Lena said.
“Go to hell, Lena,” Zoe said and pushed to her feet. Without another glance at the other woman, she headed to her boss’s door, ignoring the fact that it was shut as she pushed it open and entered his office.
Frank sat behind his desk with some new guy reporter she vaguely remembered being introduced to sitting across from him. She ignored the new guy, focusing on Frank. “We need to talk.”
After a murmured dismissal of the visitor, Frank gave his attention to Zoe. She shut the door. A firm thud that said she meant business. Turning to face him, she leaned against to wooden surface and pinned him in a hard stare. “Why the hell do I not know about the front page before the rest of the world?”
“I have to report the news.”
“I didn’t say you didn’t, but I’d appreciate some warning.”
Short, bald, and incredibly intuitive, Frank had been her boss for three years. “He didn’t tell you.” It was a simple statement rather than a question. One that said he’d been sure she already knew.
She let out a breath. “No.” Then softer. “He didn’t tell me.”
Frank studied her a minute. “He probably hoped he’d make it go away before the press got hold of it.”
“Right,” Zoe said, feeling embarrassed and betrayed. True, she and her father didn’t talk a lot, but she was close to her oldest brother, Mike, and he worked with her father. Mike should have talked to her. Hell, her father should have talked to her. Somebody. Anybody. She shouldn’t be finding out like this.
“Go see him,” Frank said. “Get lost. Deal with this how you need to.”
Frank looked out for her when he didn’t have to. She’d told him that a million times. “No. I have an interview to write and turn in.”
“And you will. You’ve never missed a deadline. That doesn’t mean you don’t need some time.”
“I don’t need time.”
He considered her words. “I think you do.”
She didn’t want time. “I—”
“You do. Get out of here, deal with this, and then don’t miss the deadline. Consider it an order.”
Zoe took in his so-called “order” and decided he was right. She was in a bad place and she needed to find a way to get out of it. Having Lena gloating over her shoulder wasn’t the way. “Okay. Fine. I’ll go.”
Without another word, Zoe turned and walked to her desk. She ignored Lena’s questioning gaze, murmured a few replies to questions from various people, and made a quick escape. But by the time Zoe found herself on the street walking, she didn’t know what to do next. Go home? Go see her father? She almost turned around and went back to work. If only her mother was still alive. No way would she have allowed Zoe to be surprised like this. Then again, maybe her mother would have been just as shocked as Zoe was that her father could be charged with anything illegal.
Her thoughts were jumbled. She didn’t know what to do. And she felt almost…needy. It was a horrible thought. One she didn’t want to feel. It had begun even before the news over her father. Declan had really gotten to her. Made her want to see him again. Yet, he’d said goodbye, kissed her at her door, and left. No talk of another date. Zoe laughed and forced her feet to walk in the direction of the Marks offices. At ten a.m. and the humidity was already thick. Her navy silk blouse, which matched her skirt, wouldn’t endure much heat. But walking felt like an outlet. One that might destroy her high heels, but still, a needed release. Now as her feet scraped the pavement, she reminded herself sex was not a date. Who was she kidding? But it, her encounter with Declan, had felt like more than just physical intimacy and she didn’t know why. Of all people, she knew sex meant nothing. Yet, something about the way Declan had not only demanded her submission but also made her free to give it, had really gotten to her.
To come to work already feeling out of sorts, and out of control, and then find this out about her father, really was messing with her head. And as hard as it would be, she had to get answers. Her father hated to be bothered at work, but then so did she. He would have to fit her into his schedule.
That thought lasted until she hit the street corner at which time she flagged a cab and gave them the address of Carlson Advertising to see her best friend Lucy. She knew Lucy was working, but Zoe really needed to talk.
Fifteen minutes later, after sitting at the same red light ten minutes, Zoe managed to make it to the Carlson lobby. She started pacing, unable to sit when Lucy appeared in the lobby with a newspaper in her hand. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a French twist. Her suit was pressed and perfect. Zoe, who prided herself in looking her best, felt like a sticky, rumpled mess in comparison.
“I just read the headlines,” Lucy said.
Zoe felt the instant comfort of her friend’s understanding. Without saying the words, Lucy had already extended her support. It was in her voice as well as her face. Without another word, Zoe followed Lucy to her office. And it was there, with the door shut, that Zoe cried for the first time in years.
Because Lucy wouldn’t judge her or call her weak.
Instead, Lucy hugged her and told her everything was going to be okay. And for just a few minutes, Zoe didn’t have to be strong. She could just let it all out.
* * * * *
Declan sat behind his desk staring down at a file he wasn’t really seeing. He’d slam-dunked his plea bargain that morning, dealt with the press, and then planned to move on to the next case. But productivity had been elusive. Zoe lingered in the back of his mind, distracting him. Something he’d dealt with the entire damn day.
The sun was fast disappearing into the horizon, and he’d struggled with focus from the moment he’d arrived. It didn’t help that he’d stayed at Zoe’s until after seven. And though he’d had to make a mad rush home to shower and change, he still could swear he smelled her scent on his skin. Seductive and soft. Teasing him with its presence.
This was so unlike him. Women were not distractions. They were fun and they were trouble. With his father’s health failing, he was taking over more and more of the leadership of the firm. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. As it was, his father fought the need to take on less. Declan hoped to prove he could handle things so his father would rest. It would be good for his mom to see his dad more too. Lately, she’d seemed pretty withdrawn about his father and Declan wondered if there was trouble. He’d questioned both of them, but neither would talk.
“Guess who just called wanting our services?”
Declan looked up to see Michael Wright entering the room. Nicknamed “Pretty Boy” by the press for his classical good looks, he had a nasty way of winning all his cases. Declan should have liked him for that. There would have been a time when he would have.
Michael settled into a visitor’s chair, making himself at home. In reality, Declan had mixed feelings about Michael. Maybe because Michael reminded him a little too much of himself in his early days in law. Michael would do anything to win. He made choices that got him attention, not justice. Choices his father condoned and Declan didn’t. That part about his father was hard to swallow. He justified everything as supporting the system. The system protects the people. To some degree, Declan believed this as well. But a bad case had turned him to the truth. Fame. Money. Success. It wasn’t worth letting killers walk free. Nor was it worth his self-respect. He’d learned that the hard way. A bad case that still burned him inside out had made him see the light. Hell, he’d almost left the years he’d invested in law behind.