Let's Make It Legal (2 page)

Kara Montgomery was ten years old, and like the boy in a precedent-setting Florida case, had been a ward of the state of Texas for nearly eight of those years. Her birth mother—Shanna Montgomery—had never been able to care for her, and her father was unknown.

For the first two years of her life, Kara lived with her grandmother, but then her grandmother died, and she’d been in several foster homes ever since. For the past four years, she’d lived with the same foster parents and during that time had had little to no contact with Shanna. Her foster parents, George and Lottie McKinsey, were an older couple who adored her and wanted to adopt her.

At first, Shanna Montgomery had given her permission for the adoption, but then she’d changed her mind. She was getting married again, and she wanted Kara back. Kara did not want to go back. She loved the McKinseys and wanted to live with them forever. The McKinseys were ordinary people who didn’t have a lot of money, but when they came to Sydney and asked her to take the case, she didn’t hesitate.

The case would not earn the firm much money, but that didn’t really matter. Winning a high-profile case such as this one would bring recognition and prestige to Folger & Hubbard. It would also bring many more clients—clients who
would
earn the firm a lot of money. The senior partners had been in complete agreement when they approved Sydney’s request to represent Kara.

“All right, now let’s go over the experts,” Sydney said when she’d finished briefing him. “The first one—it should be the top folder—is Dr. Alan Hawthorne, the state psychiatrist who did the initial evaluation of Kara. He will testify that, in his opinion, removing Kara from the first stable home she’s ever had would be extremely damaging to the child.”

For the next twenty minutes, Sydney gave John the background on each expert. When they’d covered all seventeen, she said, “Now you’re clear on what I want you to do today?”

“I think so. I’m to call each witness, be sure they know when they’re supposed to go, double-check that their exhibits are in order, remind them of relevant portions of their depositions, make sure they’ve got everything straight as far as where they’re staying, et cetera.”

He sounded confident enough, she thought. “Any questions?”

“Not yet.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

Sydney had to admit she was impressed by his knowledgeable, businesslike attitude. Perhaps the day would turn out to be less of a disaster than she’d first thought. “Fine. Then let me show you to your desk.”

Throughout the rest of the morning, as Sydney and her team worked in the War Room, she would periodically walk down the hall to check on John. Each time she approached his desk, he was either on the phone with a witness or quietly marking a file.

Each time, he would look up and smile. He seemed to be doing just fine. There was no need for her to worry.

She finally relaxed and concentrated on her own work.

* * *

By noon John regretted his impulsive decision not to inform Sydney Wells of his true identity. He wasn’t sure exactly what his thought processes had been when he’d gone along with the false information conveyed by her secretary.

He guessed he’d had some kind of idea of getting back at Sydney for her rudeness. He smiled ruefully. Yeah, he’d been ticked off by the way she talked to him, and he’d thought it would serve her right to string her along, but now he knew it had been a stupid thing to do.

He wished he could tell her the truth.

Unfortunately, it was too late for that. She would be furious with him for deceiving her, and he couldn’t blame her for that. In her place, he’d be furious, too. It didn’t matter that she’d behaved badly. She was obviously under a lot of pressure and feeling the stress. He could see that she was not only overworked, but a high achiever. A person who placed impossibly high standards on herself and expected others to live up to them, too.

She reminded him of the way he used to be.

Of the way Andrea used to be.

The thought of Andrea—of what he’d lost when he lost her—threatened to mire him in sadness and those almost overwhelming feelings of grief and loss that had just about done him in that first year after her death.

John gave himself a mental shake. Grief was self-indulgent. It was a luxury he could no longer afford. Not if he hoped to build a happy life for his children—one that made them feel safe and loved and secure. He had vowed, after Andrea died, that he would put Emily and Jeffrey first. That he would no longer spend the majority of his time concentrating on his career and making money. Andrea’s death had shown him that the time he spent with the people he loved was more important than anything else.

That’s why he’d given up his law career.

That’s why he was working in an office in his home—so he could be there for his children.

That’s why he found himself here today working for Sydney Wells.

It amazed him that he’d had no idea this woman his employees referred to as The Shark was a passionate children’s advocate. True, he had lost touch with the movers and shakers of the legal community and didn’t keep up with who was representing whom, but you’d think he’d have heard
something
about Sydney Wells’s specialization.

This fact alone was enough to earn his grudging admiration, even though he had a feeling her tough exterior was a facade she effected, probably because she was a female in a male-dominated profession.

He grinned to himself. Sydney Wells had certainly done everything in her power to turn attention away from her femininity. Today—and John was sure today was no exception—everything she wore was designed to blend in with her male colleagues: severely cut gray suit that fell below her knees, plain white blouse, utilitarian black watch, plain black pumps, hardly any makeup. Even her hands, which were slender and well-shaped, were unadorned, and the nails were filed to a medium length and unpolished.

But all her attempts to deemphasize her gender hadn’t worked. Each time she walked into the vicinity of his desk, he was very much aware of her as a female. An attractive female. Even that scowl that appeared much too often couldn’t detract from her appeal.

He watched her walk away—back toward the conference room that had been designated as the War Room. She was tall. He guessed about five foot nine or ten. Andrea had been tall, too. John smiled, remembering how at one time he’d thought he liked his women tiny. Andrea had changed that misconception. Andrea had changed a lot of things in his life. Sydney had nice legs, too, he thought. Actually, they were gorgeous legs, what he could see of them. Too bad he couldn’t see more. John was definitely a leg man. He wondered what she’d look like in a short, red dress and maybe some red stiletto heels—something that would complement the brilliant blue of her eyes and the honey-blond highlights of her hair.

He shook himself. Better get back to work. Sydney Scott Wells wasn’t paying him to daydream. And certainly not to fantasize about her. He couldn’t help grinning. She’d probably have more than a few choice words for him if she had any idea what he’d been thinking.

Not that she ever would. Because after the way he’d deceived her today, the best thing he could do from now on was stay completely out of her orbit.

* * *

At three o’clock, Sydney left the War Room and headed toward her office. She beckoned to John to come inside. “I’ve got a couple of other calls I want you to make.”

They had just sat down when there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” Sydney called.

Doug Farrell, like herself one of the newer partners, opened the door and poked his head inside.

Sydney suppressed a groan when she saw him. She couldn’t stand Doug, not only because he was the type of person who would cut your throat if he thought it would further his career, but because he was one of the most conceited, chauvinistic men she’d ever met.

The phrase “He thinks he’s God’s gift to women” had probably been coined with Doug in mind. He hated her because she’d brushed off every overture he’d ever made in her direction and because she made no secret of her disdain for his behavior.

“Hey, Sydney,” he said, strutting in with what Sydney secretly termed his peacock walk, “thought I’d find you here.” He looked curiously at John, who glanced up and met his gaze. “Who’s that?” he said, cocking his head toward John.

“A temporary paralegal, filling in for Gerri,” Sydney said curtly, not that it was any of his business. “What can I do for you, Doug?”

Doug’s grin expanded. “There are lots of things you could do for me, Sydney, baby, and you’d probably enjoy them all if you’d just loosen up and let yourself go for a change.” He winked at John.

Sydney counted to ten and drummed her fingers on her desk top. “I’ve heard this all before,” she said through gritted teeth, “so could we skip the comedy routine?”

“Hey,” he said innocently, “can’t you take a joke? That’s what’s wrong with women like you. You have no sense of humor at all.” He gave John a conspiratorial smile.

“Just what is it that you wanted, Doug?” Sydney avoided John’s eyes. Bad enough she had to put up with a sleeze like Doug, but to have John witness his baiting and her impotence in the face of it was humiliating.

“I need you to take a depo for me at four o’clock. Gotta witness coming in and I’m scheduled to tee off with Oscar Farrington at four-fifteen.”

Sydney seethed inside. “Look, despite what you might think, I actually have something important to do for the rest of the afternoon.” Under her breath, she muttered, “Unlike you.”

His handsome face hardened. “Golfing with clients is important. All you have to do is look at how much business I bring to the firm to know that.”

Sydney sighed. “Yes, yes, I know. You’re wonderful.”

“Are you always this much of a bitch, Sydney?” Doug snarled. “Or is it that time of the month?”

Sydney slammed her hand down on her desk. She could feel her face heating and knew she probably looked like a lobster. “I could bring you up on charges if you keep making those kinds of remarks, Doug.”

His eyes widened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I only meant
because you’re in the middle of billing time
... ”

Sydney stared at him. “Find someone else to do your work,” she said.

“Up yours,” was his parting remark. Then he slammed out of her office.

Sydney’s heart was beating too fast. She looked at John. “I suppose you think I’m a bitch, too.”

“No, frankly, I was thinking something entirely different.”

Sydney felt oddly flustered by the expression in his dark eyes.

He smiled. “I was thinking, if I were you, I’d have been tempted to punch that creep right in the middle of his costly nose job! ”

Something soft and sweet slid into Sydney’s stomach as John Whipple’s warm brown eyes met hers, his gaze admiring and entirely without censure.

She shrugged. “I’m used to Doug. Unfortunately, he’s not the only one around here who thinks the way he does. He’s just the most obnoxious and blatant.” She couldn’t help the note of bitterness that had crept into her voice. “The others talk behind my back.”

“Don’t pay any attention to them. They feel threatened. The only way a lot of guys know how to relate to a strong, aggressive female is to put her down. Before my wife died, she ran into the same kind of thing with some of the lawyers she dealt with—” He broke off, grimacing. “Sorry. I’m talking too much.”

Sydney finished giving him her instructions, then he left to go back to his desk. She bent her head to her work, but she couldn’t stop thinking about John Whipple.

What was a man like him doing working as a temp? He was obviously well-educated, and he was certainly presentable and attractive. He’d said his wife was dead. Wonder what happened? She must have died awfully young, because Sydney was sure John was still in his thirties. And he’d said his wife had dealt with lawyers. Had she been a paralegal, too?
Dealt with,
he’d said. Not
worked for.

For the next two hours, curiosity about her temporary paralegal kept Sydney from concentrating as hard as she needed to. When the small clock on her desk chimed the hour, she realized it was five o’clock and time for John to leave for the day. She got up and walked out to his cubicle. He was closing the files and stacking them neatly. He’d put on his suit coat again.

“I might need you again on Monday,” she said. “If I do, I’ll call the agency.”

He looked up quickly. “They might have another assignment for me.”

Sydney knew that Folger & Hubbard was Appleton Legal Temps biggest client. If she wanted John Whipple again, she’d get him. But all she did was nod. “Were you able to reach all the experts?”

“All but Reba Morrison, but her sister said she’d be back in town on Sunday and that she was ready for the trial.”

“Good. Is there something I have to sign before you leave?”

He gave her a look of chagrin. “I forgot to bring a time sheet. I’ll mail it to you.”

“All right.”

He stuck out his right hand. She took it. As his warm hand enfolded hers, shaking it firmly, she was once again consumed with curiosity.

“I enjoyed working with you today,” he said, smiling.

Sydney smiled, too. “Sorry I was so rude this morning. I was just—”

“No apologies necessary.” He released her hand. “Good luck with the case. I’ll be watching your progress in the newspapers.”

“Thanks.”

He turned to go, and Sydney suddenly had to ask him the question that had bothered her for most of the day. “John...”

He turned, his eyebrows raised in question.

“Can I ask you something?” she said.

“Sure.”

“What’s a man like you doing working as a temp?”

He looked at her for a long moment, then said, “It’s hard to explain. Let’s just say circumstances dictated it.”

Sydney couldn’t have said why his answer didn’t sit right, but long after he’d left the office, she was still convinced that he had been evasive.

The question was why?