Evening Hours. Mary Baxter Lynn
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and momentum in her agency, and as a result, Kaylee had gotten nationwide recognition.
“How did it go?”
Shaking her head, Kaylee smiled, then gestured for Sandy to come in and sit down. “It didn’t.”
“Ah, so they took the Fifth.”
“That’s about the size of it, even though I spoke to them separately.”
“Good move,” Sandy said, sitting down, then neatly arranging a stack of folders on her lap. “Too bad it didn’t work.”
“None of the three would budge.” Kaylee shook her head. “I just don’t get it.”
“Neither do I.”
A silence ensued during which Kaylee absently rubbed her quad on the bad leg, feeling a bit of relief in that sore muscle. She longed to be home soaking in a hot tub of water with bubbles up to her neck.
Suddenly the image of Cutler McFarland joining her, naked, popped into her mind.
Where had that come from?
Feeling her face turn crimson, Kaylee ducked her head before Sandy noticed anything amiss.
“So how do you want to play this?” Sandy asked.
“I’m open for suggestions.”
Sandy shrugged. “Continue to ignore it.”
“That’s what I’m leaning toward, but—” Kaylee broke off, her mind getting ahead of her words.
“But what?” Sandy pressed.
“What if it, whatever this is, continues to simmer until it blows up?”
“Then we’re screwed.”
“My thought exactly.”
“So tell me what you want me to do,” Sandy said. “If anything.”
Kaylee thought for another long moment. “Talk to the other girls, see if any of them knows what’s going on.”
“Do you think they’ll rat?”
“No,” Kaylee said, “but it’s worth a try, especially since this group seems to be so competitive.”
“If that fails?” Sandy left her sentence open-ended.
“We’ll have to go to plan B?”
Sandy leaned her head sideways. “And that is?”
“Let’s just say I’ll know when the time comes.”
Sandy gave the thumbs-up sign. “Works for me.”
“Meanwhile, just keep your eyes and ears open.” Kaylee’s features turned grim. “If they have done anything to hurt this agency’s reputation, then I won’t hesitate to give them their walking papers.”
Cutler took another sip of his coffee, then looked at his watch. He should’ve already been in his office preparing for his first court appearance of the day. He was dead tired and had needed some down time, so he’d indulged himself and was out on the balcony of his River Oaks high-rise apartment with his feet propped up, a full cup of freshly dripped coffee in hand.
He deserved this moment of respite, didn’t he?
Not when he had more to do than was possible to get done, he told himself with a smirk. He’d been in tight situations before—in fact, he performed better when he was under the gun. But with the upcoming election, fast turning nasty, and his high-profile caseload, he felt as if his insides were in a meat grinder.
Even sitting there with a bee buzzing around his head, he couldn’t unwind. He figured that if he didn’t win a second term, perhaps he could get used to lollygagging, but he knew with a deepening smirk that would never happen. He had far too much energy. Hyperactive had been his mother’s term for his inability to stop moving.
Mary McFarland, unlike her son, had the patience of Job. He bet he’d almost driven her over the edge more times than she would care to count. Not only had he always been on the move, both physically and mentally, but he’d been inquisitive and had always demanded answers. He never stopped until he had them.
And he’d been argumentative to boot.
“Son, you’ve definitely chosen the right career,” his mother had told him in her firm but sweet voice. “You’ll make a perfect attorney.”
He had his doubts about the perfect part, but he’d done his best. For the most part, he had never been sorry he’d chosen his profession, although dealing with scum on a daily basis worked on him, especially lately when he had to deal with postpartum women who murdered their kids. Those kinds of cases cut him to the core. Even so, he had to push his personal disgust aside and see that justice was served.
And that was what he intended to do, no matter how repugnant or controversial. He’d nail the “haves” as quickly as he would the “have nots.” Class, gender, finances or the lack thereof made not one whit of difference to him. If someone broke the law, he wouldn’t stop prosecuting until they paid.
Such hard-line tactics had made him a lot of enemies.
It had gained him a few friends, too, or at least he liked to think that. Time, and the election, would prove that one way or the other. In the meantime he’d best attack the stack of folders on top of his desk.
He had just drained his cup when his cell phone rang. After checking the name on the caller ID, he frowned but flipped the lid anyway. “Morning, Julia.”
“Are you at the office?”
“Nope.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yep.”
A short silence ensued, followed by a sigh as if his one-syllable answers irritated her. “Is something wrong?”
“No. I’m just moving slow.”
Julia laughed. “That’s a first.”
“Actually, I’m on my way out the door,” he said, even though that wasn’t quite the truth.
“I just wanted to remind you about dinner tonight. Remember, I’ve asked several other couples to join us.”
He winced, having forgotten. “I don’t know, Julia. I—”
“Don’t do this to me, Cutler. Just bear in mind these particular friends can help you politically. They all have deep pockets. Besides, you promised.”
He doubted that, but he must’ve made a commitment of sorts. Damn, but that was the last thing he wanted to do, the last place he wanted to go. “How ’bout I call you later in the day?”
“All right, but call me on my cell. I’ll be out of the office showing houses all day.” Julia paused, then added with emphasis, “I’m counting on you not to let me down.”
“Later, okay? I gotta run.”
Once his cell was back in his pocket, Cutler picked up his cup and stared at the empty bottom. He tried to come up with a viable excuse to skip tonight even though his conscience pricked him. He’d much rather be working, which was not a good sign.
When it came to women, he needed to be more social. The old adage was true: all work and no play made for a dull guy. He didn’t think he was in the dull arena yet, but he was getting close despite Julia’s efforts to the contrary. Maybe he should bow out of that relationship, take a breather, so as not to give her hope that wasn’t there.
If the invitation had come from Kaylee Benton, he wouldn’t have hesitated to jump at her beck and call. He had never met a woman he wanted immediately. But he wanted Kaylee. That was an emotion he hadn’t