Journey in Time (Knights in Time) (5 page)

The Beamer driver gave Alex a one-finger salute as he pulled ahead. Alex laughed and waved goodbye.

To the Vauxhall and Volvo, the silver Lamborghini would look like a low flying fighter jet. It was the reason he chose the titanium metallic finish. Specs claim the car topped out at over two hundred miles-per-hour. He never tested the statistic. He didn’t know of a safe road to try it. One day though. Once he left Ian’s and entered the backroads to his country cottage he planned to open the car up. She’d reach sixty miles-per-hour in 3.2 seconds, and he’d only be in third gear.

First things first, he needed answers from the Lady of Badger Manor, Miranda.

***

The door opened. "Alex, this is a surprise." Ian stepped back to let him in and then shut the door. "How are you?"

"It's been an interesting week. Is your wife around? There's something I want to ask her."
 

"She’s on the deck. Go on out, I'll grab a couple of Wadsworths and join you in a second."
 

Miranda looked up and smiled as Alex stepped through the French doors. She wore a red and white checked blouse tied at the waist and cut-off shorts as she worked at a flower cart. Her skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat and escaped strands from her ponytail stuck to her neck. He adored her as much for herself as the happiness she brought Ian.

"Hi, how’s it going with you and Shakira?" she asked and went back to planting. She worked the edge of a clay pot, pressing the soil down around the flower. "Did you see her at the office Monday? She hasn't called and I'm dying of curiosity."

Alex sat and stretched his legs out. "Funny you should ask. I did." Ian came from the kitchen and set a beer on the table in front of Alex. "Did you know she doesn’t date clients?" He brought the bottle to his lips but didn't drink.
 

"I don't know anything about her policy regarding clients," Miranda said, matter-of-factly. "Why? What difference does it make? She’s not your solicitor." She removed the garden gloves, brought her tall drink and sat at the table. Her eyes widened with sudden insight. "Did you hire her? What happened? I thought you were going to dinner.”

"Originally I planned to take her to dinner and discuss the case a bit. One minute I was explaining the suit so she’d hear the truth from my side and the next I agreed to her representing me."

“How? It’s not like you to let things spin out of control.” Ian said.

Alex shook his head. "The scenario in my head morphed into something completely different. I told her about the lawsuit and asked her opinion. I was curious. She’s a lawyer and a woman, I’ll get another perspective. That’s where it went to hell. She assumed I inquired because I wanted her to represent me.”

He slumped back in the chair and drew lines with his fingers in the sweat of the cold beer bottle. "It’s water under the bridge now, anyway."

"Once she told you she didn’t date clients, couldn’t you have asked out of the agreement? Explained you’d rather see her socially than professionally?" Ian asked.

"By the time I found out, she’d already given me the option of using a more experienced attorney in the field and I declined. I was afraid changing my mind would hurt her feelings.” He couldn’t tell someone with blind faith in him their faith wasn’t reciprocated. “She’d interpret my reversal as a lack of confidence in her abilities."

Miranda placed a hand on his arm. "I know Shakira’s interested in you. Once your case is settled everything will work out."

"She’s worried about an ethics issue. Do you think she'll stick to her guns on this?"

Miranda took a long swallow from her drink and seemed to give the question some thought before she answered. "I’d be surprised if she didn’t."

"You sound pretty sure."

“Her career is important to her,” Miranda explained. “Influential law firms, like Wickersham and Longleat, only recruit the top one percent of law school graduates. She knew she wanted the Cambridge name behind her. She knew where she had to be by graduation and burned up the books to make the top group.”

“She’s achieved her goal. I don’t understand how that affects the current situation,” Alex said.

"The firm might be the fly in the ointment. How big a fly I don’t know," Miranda said.

"What do you mean?”

"The senior partners are pretty puritanical, like--stick up bum, puritanical. All the employees are required to sign a contract with a Morals Clause."

"Sounds Dickensian. What are the specifics?"

Miranda shrugged. "I’m not sure.”

“I’m not asking to be her pimp.”

“I understand. My point is there may be a prohibition against consortion between their employees and clients outside of professional contact."

"We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. I have to get her to go out with me first."

"Be patient."

Ian added his take on the matter. "I suspect if you give Shakira time, she'll come around soon enough. You’ve a persuasive tongue.”
  

"An empirical test, should be interesting," Alex said and finished his drink.
 

Chapter Seven

Shakira clapped her hands in silent applause as she viewed the DVD and website information. After weeks of interviews and depositions, she had a decent break in Alex’s case. At her suggestion, he’d agreed to use the private investigator her firm kept on retainer. She worked with the detective on two prior cases. She never delved too deep into how he obtained his information. She’d heard rumors. The most exciting and least credible had him as a former MI-5 agent, who resigned in lieu of termination due to scandal. The second and most likely to be true had him as a medically retired Inspector from London Metropolitan Police. Either way, his resources were numerous and his results remarkable.

                                                           
              
***

          
Alex closed the office door and walked over to the coffee tray. "Mind?"

     
"Feel free."

     
He lifted a cup her way and Shakira nodded. She sat on the edge of the small couch, jiggling a leg while she waited for him to join her.

     
"Okay, what's the good news? It is good news isn't it?" He set her cup on the table.

     
"It's not bad news. Our investigator discovered a low-budget pornography site on the internet. It’s our plaintiff lap dancing in an outfit smaller than a postage stamp." Alex opened his mouth. She waved her hand to keep him from interrupting. "Let me talk. There's more, it shows her taking money and going down on her boyfriend and his friends."

     
"Do you have actual documentation or just what was posted via the site?"

     
"Oh, we have a physical DVD. Her boyfriend is selling copies on the website."

     
"This has to be great for my case, right?" Alex sat up and put his coffee down. "It has to be. You did it, darling."

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her till she broke away and gasped for air.

     
"How long do you think it’ll be before they withdraw the suit once her solicitors see the DVD?"

The anticipated but dreaded question, she hated to throw a wet blanket on his hopes. "The material is very helpful," she cautioned. "But I doubt there’s enough to get them to recant or for us to move for dismissal."

"Only very helpful?" Disappointment replaced excitement.

     
"The DVD is a good tool for impeachment, but it doesn't take you off the hook. We need witnesses to the conspiracy, which is what I believe this is. She and her boyfriend have hatched a simplistic scheme to extort money from you. They’re not expecting you to fight the accusation. I’m banking on finding an independent wit. These types of low grade criminals usually like to brag."

     
Alex drank another swallow of coffee and seemed to mull over what she said. "What if no one comes forward, then where are we?"

     
Shakira laid her hand on his arm to reassure him. "We're exploring other angles too. I asked the investigator to look into a past pattern of accusations and possible payoffs. Don't lose heart. It's not over until it's over."

     
A thin smile touched his lips. She felt terrible. Maybe she should've referred him to another attorney. What if she lost this case? Would he be so disappointed she’d never see him again? She refused to go further along that train of thought.

Alex said something and she missed it. "Sorry?"

     
"I said I have every confidence we'll win." He ran his finger down her cheek. Goose bumps raised the length of her arms. "Let's change the subject, shall we? I have a proposition."

     
Those brown eyes softened and she knew whatever he proposed would probably be wonderful and probably require her to say no.

     
"I'd like to take you to Deauville for a couple of days. With August almost over most of the tourists are gone, just a few Americans and Italians still about." Alex sat forward and put his cup down next to her untouched coffee. "I know a charming hotel you’d love. It’s a converted old Norman tavern on the outskirts of town, steps from a quaint bistro. The locals come every night. They sing opera arias, or show tunes, some dance.” His finger slid along her jaw and stopped under her chin. "Say yes."

     
The romantic picture he painted filled her head. She imagined the rough-hewn stones of the inn and an archway the coaches passed under over the centuries. She saw them dancing, playing in the surf, perhaps even renting one of those small sailboats. They’d walk on the beach. They’d kiss on the beach. In her mini fantasy, he kissed her until she turned to liquid fire and poured herself over him. In
her
version, he, Alex Lancaster, begged
her
for mercy. The voice of temptation screamed. Agree. Take his offer. You may never get another. The voice of professionalism fell to a whisper. Then, the tiny voice of reality whispered two words in her ear,
tourist camera
. One British tourist with a camera, one celebrity stalking paparazzi snapping a photo of Alex with her--

     
"Shakira?"

     
"Yes." She blinked, and the daydream dissolved.

     
"Yes, you'll go?"

     
"No," she said. "No. I-I'd love to, but I can't."

     
"Why? It's nowhere near London, and not posh enough to attract any of your toffee-nosed senior partners."

     
"One photo, Alex. If one tourist recognizes you and the picture gets out--well, you can imagine the result. The tabloids sell copy by any means necessary. Who knows what ugly spin they’d put to the picture."

     
He rose and brought her up with him. "I won’t argue right now. But, know this, I've watched as the music took you away, as you gave yourself to the song. I share your passion for music. There are other passions to share. Sooner or later, you’ll say yes. I'm working on sooner."

He kissed her. The teasing touch turned heated. Her lips parted and he sucked the air from her lungs. His hands slid to her waist to press her against him while his thumbs worked circles of magic on her hipbones. He kissed the corner of her mouth and along her jaw to her ear. "Come with me." Warm breath caressed her cheek.