Travis's Appeal. Marie Ferrarella
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accepted the light-green business card that Shawn held out to him, tucking it into his wallet.
“What about our next appointment?” Shawn asked.
Travis flipped through several pages on his desk calendar, searching for an empty block of time. “How’s two weeks from tomorrow at ten sound?” he asked. Fully expecting the man to agree to the date, Travis picked up his pen and was about to write in Shawn’s name when the man stopped him.
“Don’t you have anything sooner?” Shawn prodded. “I’d like it sooner than later,” he added, then explained, “I’m really not a very patient man and when I make up my mind, I like to see things start moving. You understand how it is.”
It was a perfectly plausible explanation, one Travis felt confident was used by countless people every day. Impatience was a by-product of the present fastforward, fast-track world. Yet for some unknown reason, Travis couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Shawn was leaving something unsaid. That the man’s motivation for the request and his desire for speed was driven by something other than just impatience.
Travis didn’t push the subject.
But it did make him curious.
Travis worked his way backward through the calendar, starting with the slot two weeks in the future. Every space seemed to be taken. Business was good, he thought, but by the same token, it did make things difficult if he wanted to get O’Reilly in earlier.
He decided to give up his lunch. “How about two days from today, at noon?” he suggested. “Does that work better for you?”
“Don’t you ordinarily eat lunch around then?” Shana asked.
Travis dismissed the question. “I can send out for a sandwich later on,” he told her. “No problem.”
“Or, I can bring you something from the restaurant,” Shawn offered. “We’ll be here,” he said, confirming the appointment. “And in the meantime,” the man went on, “you come on by the restaurant tonight. Say, around eight? Unless you’ve got other plans.” His expression, though amiable, challenged him to come up with an acceptable excuse for not showing up at his restaurant this evening.
Travis did have other plans. Communing with his pillow and catching up on some well-earned sleep before he drifted into the land of the zombies. But he couldn’t very well turn down the enthusiastic invitation. For whatever reason, having him drop by to see the restaurant seemed to mean too much to his new client.
He wondered if Shana would be there.
“No,” Travis answered, “no other plans.”
Shawn immediately beamed in response even though, from his behavior, the outcome was a foregone conclusion to the man.
“Good, then we’ll see you there.” He nodded.
Hope bubbled up inside of him. Travis shifted his glance to include Shana before asking, “We?”
“Shana’s my right hand,” O’Reilly told him with a great deal of pride. “In more ways than one.” He groaned at the end of the second sentence as he attempted to get up from the sofa. Instantly, Shana tucked her arm through his, providing the leverage and support he needed to rise. “Couldn’t run that without her, either.” He took a deep breath, like someone who had just made it to the top of a mountain and then shook his head sadly. “Don’t get old if you can help it, boy. There’s little dignity to it.”
“Don’t talk nonsense, Dad. You’ve got enough dignity for two people. You’re just a little creaky right now, that’s all,” Shana comforted simply.
Her arm still threaded through her father’s, she gently guided Shawn to the door. Opening it, he stepped across the threshold and was out in the hall when Shana suddenly remembered that she’d left her purse on the sofa.
Reentering the room, she flashed a conspiratorial smile at Travis who was about to follow them out. She’d left her purse behind on purpose, wanting the opportunity to get the attorney alone for a moment.
“You don’t have to come if you have other plans,” she told him, lowering her voice. “Dad tends to overwhelm people a bit. It’s the Texas in him,” she added with a laugh.
Her laugh was like music, Travis thought. Spellbinding music. It took him more than a second to shake himself free.
“That’s all right,” he assured her. “I really don’t have any plans.” And even if he had, he wouldn’t have passed up this opportunity, not if she was going to be there.
“No more midnight-oil burning?” Shana asked innocently.
Her eyes were smiling. He liked that. They seemed to highlight her entire face—making it even more perfect.
“I try not to do that two nights in a row,” he told her as he reached for the still-cold coffee on his desk. “It makes me a little sluggish mentally in the morning.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get to bed early,” she promised.
He’d just raised the coffee cup to his lips and taken a sip. Hearing her comment caused the coffee to slide down the wrong way. He started coughing.
Instantly alert, Shana quickly crossed over to him and began to pound him on the back. Still coughing, Travis held up his hand, signaling that he was all right.
“Excuse me?” he finally got out, albeit rather hoarsely.
Shana replayed her last words, then grinned. If she realized how he’d interpreted the line, she gave no further indication.
“Dad has a tendency to do a lot of buttonholing at the restaurant. Sometimes he doesn’t know when to stop. He’s got a thousand stories to tell,” she explained. “I’ll just make sure you go home at a decent hour so you get some sleep.”
“Oh.”
The single word echoed simultaneously with enlightenment and just a touch of disappointment. For a moment there, he’d let his mind drift and her words conjured up an image he’d found both infinitely pleasing and damn arousing.
Of course that was what she meant. He knew that. What was the matter with him? “That’s all right,” he told her. “I come from a large family. I know how to make an exit without hurting anyone’s feelings.”
“Then I’ll look forward to seeing you tonight,” Shana said. “We’re right in the middle of the block. You can’t miss us.” Humor curved her lips and then she winked. “We’re the ones with a shamrock in the sign.”
With that, she left the room and joined her father. Travis heard them walking away, their voices growing fainter as they made their way down the hall to the elevator.
Shana’s wink had repercussions. Travis felt as if he’d just been shot with another arrow. Unlike the ones that had assaulted his temple earlier, this one had a soft tip and went straight to his heart.
He slid bonelessly back into his chair.
To the best of Travis’s recollection, he’d never responded to a woman like this before. Oh, there’d been attractive, even beautiful women who had crossed his path, but he couldn’t recall a single one making him feel as if he’d been struck by lightning. And been happy about it.
Shifting to slip his hand into his pocket, he pulled out his wallet and took out the card Shawn had handed him. He stared at it, committing the address to memory just in case he lost the card between now and this evening. It was a date he intended to keep. For a number of reasons. And humoring a client was way down on the list.
“You’re checking out another restaurant?” Even over the phone, Trevor’s voice sounded incredulous when Travis called him later that afternoon.
“Not checking it out, I’m seeing a client there,” Travis explained.
So far, Travis hadn’t been able to get to the crux of why