Fixed Up with Mr. Right? Read online

  She could remember back when she was much younger, when money for Nikki and her mother was in scarce supply. She vividly remembered the concerned look on not only Maizie’s face, but Nikki’s, as well. Only people who had money could afford to be blasé about it.

  “Okay,” she recapped, “so far we’ve established that you have to check the surveillance camera footage. Have you tried running background checks on your employees?”

  “All Republic National Bank employees have background checks done on them before they’re hired.”

  But Kate shook her head. “Recent background checks,” she emphasized.

  As far as he knew, it was only done once. “What are you getting at?”

  He was right, Kate thought. Ten thousand wasn’t all that much—unless it meant the difference between life and death and there was a bookie or a loan shark involved. “Someone could suddenly be living beyond their means, or is held captive by the same malady as your brother: they’re addicted to gambling, to the rush that comes from winning.”

  He never could understand that. The so-called rush from winning didn’t begin to balance out the sick feeling in the pit of a person’s stomach that losing huge sums of money had to have generated. Pitting himself against the “house,” whatever the house might be, had never held any allure for him.

  “I’d need to have the investigation done off the books,” he told her.

  Kate nodded. “That was my thinking.”

  He considered the matter for a moment. “That means I can’t use the bank’s investigators.” He looked at her. “Would you know anyone to recommend? Maybe someone your firm uses?” he suggested hopefully.

  Kate didn’t have to think before answering. “Yes—and no,” she answered.

  “Come again?”

  “I know someone you can use, but it isn’t anyone affiliated with my firm. To be honest,” she told him, “I think you’d be better off with an entirely private investigator.”

  The reference brought back memories of far less complicated days and made him smile. “You mean like Thomas Magnum or Sam Spade?” he asked, naming two popular fictional characters.

  “Yes, except real—and female,” she qualified.

  Jackson looked at her a little uncertainly. “A woman private investigator?”

  Some things still took time to change, she thought. This was one of those last frontiers. “Don’t look so skeptical, Jackson. Women can ask questions that men can’t, and people just chalk it off to idle curiosity, nothing more.”

  That made sense, he supposed. He didn’t care if the investigator was male or female, just thorough—and good. “I want this investigation to be kept strictly confidential. Is this someone you can vouch for?”

  That was an easy one to answer. She grinned. “Absolutely. We grew up together. I have complete faith in her. If there’s a secret life being led, Jewel is the one to find it for you. If she can’t, there’s nothing to be found,” she assured him with feeling. “I’ll give her a call and if she’s free, I can bring her around tomorrow.”

  Now that he’d decided on a course of action, Jackson was anxious to get started. “This afternoon would be better. I want this resolved as quickly as possible.”

  She didn’t blame him. “No one wants this kind of thing to linger,” she agreed.

  Opening her purse, she took out Jewel’s business card. She knew Jewel’s personal cell number by heart—God knew she called it often enough. But Jewel’s business phone was another matter. She’d never had to make use of it. Before now.

  After tapping out the numbers on her cell-phone keypad, Kate listened to the phone on the other end ring. And ring. Finally, the voice-mail feature kicked in.

  A melodic voice told her, “You’ve reached Parnell Investigations. Sorry, I’m on a case and can’t answer your call. Leave your name and number after the beep and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

  Kate waited for the appropriate signal before saying, “Jewel, it’s Kate. I’ve drummed up some business for you. One of my clients has need of your very particular set of talents as soon as possible. Call me when you get this.” She snapped the phone closed and dropped it back into her purse. “I’ll put her in touch with you the minute she calls,” she promised.

  That out of the way, Kate took a breath. “Now, do you want to review the papers extending the terms of Jonah’s trust fund?” she asked. “I haven’t filed the final paperwork yet, but that should just be a simple formality. I just wanted to review things with you in case you’ve had a change of heart.”

  “Why would I have a change of heart?” Jackson questioned.

  She’d always believed that anything was possible. That was why God had created optimists. “Maybe Jonah suddenly had a life-altering experience and is now capable of being master of his own destiny,” she suggested. Admittedly, the suggestion was more tongue-in-cheek than anything else.

  “If that ever even remotely happened, I’d be calling up your mother to throw another party. A huge one,” he emphasized. “No, from where I stand, I’m afraid that is never going to happen.”

  Meeting Jonah had allowed her to form her own opinion of the man. He’d struck her as harmless, but, unlike his brother, rather shallow. Kate tried to imagine what that had to be like, dealing with someone like Jonah on a regular basis. It must have been very trying for Jackson.

  “I guess it’s kind of like constantly dealing with Peter Pan,” Kate speculated, raising her eyes to his to see if her comparison struck him as being on target.

  “Yeah, except that Peter Pan’s actions never threatened to bankrupt Tinker Bell or the Lost Boys,” Jackson commented.

  Kate knew he was serious, but she couldn’t help being amused by the reference.

  “Good point.” Leaning over, she drew the briefcase closer to her and snapped the locks open, then took out the papers that were intended for Jackson’s in-depth perusal. “Here.” She pushed the pages into Jackson’s hands.

  Jackson quickly skimmed through the packet, occasionally pausing to reread something. From start to finish, it took Jackson all of five minutes.

  Kate watched him, impressed. It had taken longer to gather the papers together than for him to review them. “Let me guess, you’re a speed reader.”

  Jackson nodded. “In the interests of not being buried under huge stacks of paperwork, I took a course,” he admitted.

  If she’d read that fast, not a word of it would have stuck. “And you retain everything?” she asked Jackson skeptically.

  He had the kind of mind that could call things up at will. Whether it was a face or a passage, he only needed to see it once and it was forever a part of him.

  “If you have your doubts, you could quiz me,” he offered with a hint of a smile.

  The questions she wanted to pose had nothing to do with his skill or any legally binding statements. Her questions would have been far more intimate in nature.

  You’re slipping again, she chided herself. You remember what’ll happen if you do. Right now, he doesn’t seem to have any flaws, but he will. Disappointment’s just right around the corner.

  Her mouth quirking in a fast smile, she dismissed the offer.

  “Maybe sometime when we both have nothing else getting in the way,” she told him. She could see by his expression that he thought that an odd choice of words. That made two of them. But the undercurrent of electricity that was, even now, humming between them would definitely get in the way.

  She glanced at the packet on the desk before him. This was what she had to focus on, nothing else. “So, is it satisfactory?”

  It was hard to drag his mind back on the topic. Her perfume swirled around him, causing his thoughts to drift toward things that had nothing to do with his work. It took effort to bank down the grin that the images running through his head coaxed to the foreground.

  Taking a breath, he nodded at the papers. He had to remember that this was important. Jonah’s future depended on it. “Looks great. You�
�re sure that it’ll hold up in court?”

  She wondered if nerves had prompted him to ask, or if he actually thought that she was capable of doing a slapdash job. “Yes, I’m sure it’ll hold up. You’re thinking that Jonah’s going to contest it?”

  If he were a betting man—and he wasn’t—this was what was known as a sure thing.

  “Damn straight. The last two weeks Jonah’s gone out of his way to let me know how much he’s really counting on this money. My guess is that he’s got most of it, if not all of it, already accounted for and, most likely, spent.” This despite the fact that the trust fund came to a considerable amount.

  Jackson was instinctively bracing himself for the outraged assault, alternating with expressions of genuine hurt, all of which would come to pass within a few minutes of Jonah’s learning that the original trust fund was being resurrected. This despite the fact that, at bottom, his brother had to know that this was all being done with only his best intentions and welfare in mind.

  Since Jackson had just given his approval, she needed to move on to the next step.

  Kate rose to her feet, tucking the papers back into her briefcase. There was still enough time to get down to Civic Center Drive where the courthouse was located.

  “All right,” she said pleasantly, “if there isn’t anything you want to change or add, I’ll go down to the courthouse to file this. In the meantime, I’ll be waiting for Jewel’s call. I’ll let you know the minute I hear from her.”

  Jackson nodded, telling himself that looking forward to her phone call shouldn’t be at the top of his list of priorities. But even a man completely dedicated to his career had to look forward to something outside the box.

  “Fair enough.”

  Kate began to leave, then stopped. She put her own interpretation to the expression on his face. “Don’t worry, Jackson,” she assured him. “We’ll get whoever’s behind all this.” Even if Jewel wasn’t her friend, she wouldn’t have felt any hesitation in assuring him, “Jewel is very good at ferreting things out.”

  He had no doubt of this. Unfortunately, he couldn’t offer her the same courtesy. He had a feeling that she might not appreciate the fact that, for one fleeting second, he’d let his mind indulge in a torrid fantasy of her.

  “I was just thinking about Jonah,” he told her. As he spoke, he switched gears. The rest was easy, because his mind had gone in this direction earlier. “Wishing things were different.”

  This had to be really difficult for Jackson, Kate thought. She knew how she’d feel if there was a schism between Kullen and her. Hurt, devastated and angry. She’d come out of her corner swinging, furious that he would allow something as cold as money come between them.

  “Maybe he’ll surprise you and still come around,” she said encouragingly. “Your brother could be one of those late bloomers. You know the type. Just as you give up on them, they suddenly become mature and responsible in the second half of their lives.”

  Even though he desperately wanted that to be true, Jackson knew better.

  There was a smile in his eyes as he asked, “And do you believe in the Easter Bunny, too?”

  There wasn’t a second’s hesitation on her part. “With all my heart,” she told him with the kind of conviction that swayed juries and convinced reluctant participants in civil suits to come around.

  Her enthusiasm gave him an iota of hope. The light in her eyes warmed him.

  He asked before he could think better of it. “Kate, are you busy tonight?”

  When she wasn’t in the office burning midnight oil, her evenings were pretty solitary these days. But evenings at home were few and far between. “Well, I’m going to be trying to get hold of Jewel again once I file these papers.”

  Damn it, why was her pulse jumping around so much. He wasn’t asking her out. And even if he did, she really couldn’t accept. Lines would wind up getting blurred.

  Would? she mocked herself.

  Out loud, Kate asked, “Why? What did you have in mind?”

  He watched her face as he told her, “Dinner.”

  “Dinner’s always good,” she said noncommittally, her mind racing, drawing up a chart of pros and cons. She tried to add weight to the pros even as she knew she should be doing it to the opposite side.

  His eyes on hers, Jackson half asked, half suggested, “Have it with me?”

  “A working dinner?” It was a straw, but she grasped it. Inclining her head after what was supposed to appear to be a debate, she said, “Sure, why not?”

  He didn’t want to talk business tonight, at least, he didn’t want to plan to talk business tonight. “I was thinking more along the lines of—”

  Kate cut him short. In order to alleviate her conscience, she had to put the situation in a certain light. “A working dinner.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

  He knew better than to press the point. She’d obviously worded it the way she had for a reason. Whatever it took to get some time alone with her, he was on board.

  “A working dinner it is,” he echoed. “I’ll pick you up—”

  Again she contradicted him. “I’ll meet you there,” she told him. It would be safer that way, less tempting for her to go home with him and really sample those lips she’d been looking at so intently.

  “We’ll meet at the restaurant,” he agreed without missing a beat. Then his curiosity got the better of him. “Any particular reason it has to be that way?”

  “You’re a new client,” she reminded him. “Appearances are important.”

  He wasn’t all that into appearances, but he could understand how she might be. Was she worried about the way things looked to the senior members of the firm she worked for, or was she concerned about the way the people who worked for him would perceive things?

  “I suppose you’re right. Would you like to know which restaurant?” he asked, amused.

  “Might make it easier,” she allowed, a smile shining in her eyes.

  He mentioned the name of a restaurant that prided itself on its variety of meat and potatoes dishes, Swift’s. It had been around since way before he’d moved up to San Francisco. In his estimation, it might be interesting to find out if the food there was still as good as he remembered.

  “Swift’s,” she repeated, nodding. Again, she lingered. “And you know, my offer still stands.”

  He found the reference a little unclear. “What offer’s that?”

  “I can review the key points of the new trust fund with Jonah.” There was a reason for her suggestions. “He might not rage at a woman.”

  Jackson laughed shortly. “No, ordinarily he wouldn’t. However, since you’re also the lawyer who put all this in motion, he just might make an exception.”

  She wasn’t intimidated. She’d been in the middle of battles between outraged family members and survived. “Still, if you find it hard to tell him, that’s what I’m here for.”

  Oh, he could think of a lot of other uses for her that had nothing to do with sensitive older brothers who felt betrayed.

  Rousing himself, Jackson said, “I’ll see you at six. Unless you hear from your friend earlier.”

  She nodded. “Six,” she repeated, then echoed, “Unless I hear from Jewel.”

  And with that, Kate forced herself to cross the threshold and finally leave—before she came up with another reason to stay.

  Chapter Nine

  “If this is a working dinner, exactly what is it that you think you’re working?”

  The question was directed from Kate to Kate, or at least to the image she saw reflected in her wardrobe door mirror.

  The bed behind her looked as if it was sagging under the growing weight of clothes in her hunt for the perfect outfit. So far, she’d found fault with each one she’d tried on.

  What she was currently reviewing with a super-critical eye would have never found its way into the work place—unless “work” involved squiring upscale clients who had a large wad of disposable cash to waste by investi
ng it in a single evening’s “entertainment.” High priced, but still a lady of the evening.

  “You don’t want Wainwright getting the wrong idea,” she told the reflection sternly as she began to snake the outfit she had on down her hips. When it hit the floor, she picked it up and flung the garment onto the pile accumulating on the bed.

  Standing in sky-blue lingerie, Kate frowned. At this rate, she would either have to cancel dinner, falling back on the age-old cliché that she had nothing to wear, or she would resort to something her mother used to refer to as a “party dress.” The term dated back to when she was eight years old.

  “Of course, you could always wrap yourself up in cellophane,” she quipped. “Or go naked.”

  Her palms were damp, she realized. This was ridiculous.

  Why was she so nervous? Kate upbraided herself. This wasn’t a date, this was just a meeting with a client that happened to take place over cutlery and selected cuts of beef, nothing more. That he happened to be gorgeous, well, that wasn’t her fault. That was just an extraneous fact.

  Determined to regroup, Kate sank down onto the only tiny corner of her queen-size bed that wasn’t littered with discarded clothing.

  She knew damn well what was at the bottom of all this. While professionally she had a sharp legal mind coupled with keen instincts, the instincts she had in her private life left a little to be desired.

  Who was she kidding? They left a great deal to be desired. A great deal, she emphasized. The same woman who could succinctly read a jury, an opposing counsel and the most poker-faced of judges suddenly had the in-depth instincts of a pet rock when it came to reading a man in her private life. And she had the scars to prove it.

  That was the only explanation for not picking up any of Matt’s warning signs. Matthew McBain, a dashing, top-flight criminal lawyer who had single-handedly turned sleeping around into an art form. There’d been whispers about his extracurricular activities and, though it hadn’t been easy for him, Kullen had come right out and told her what Matt was up to. But she, Pearl Pure-heart, had refused to believe it.