Promise Her (8 page)

At least she’d had George meet her here instead of picking her up.

George bent his head toward her, giving her his total attention. She looked into dark brown eyes almost glazed over with longing.

She’d met George on one of her assignments. It was against the rules to date a client while working a job, but when she'd finished, George had called the office and asked for a date.

They’d gone to dinner. He’d been a perfect gentleman. But he wanted more—she couldn’t give more. She’d only asked him here tonight because she was pissed at Douglas. She wanted Douglas to see her through another man’s eyes.

She turned to George, and gave him a thousand-watt smile.

On his way to his seat, Douglas stopped in his tracks. Who was the guy putting the make on Lisa? When she smiled, the guy looked as if he wanted to grab her and run.

He’ll have to go through me first.

The thought was less brotherly and more primal than he expected. He knew Lisa must have a love life. She was too gorgeous not to. But suddenly, he realized he had never seen her with anyone other than TJ and the family. Why hadn’t he noticed that before?

Even at TJ’s and Donovan’s wedding, she’d come alone. She was full of fun, had flitted from one dance partner to another. It never occurred to him to ask why she didn’t bring a date.

When the guy tried to put an arm around Lisa’s shoulders he saw her tense. Did the casual affection make her uncomfortable?

Someone nudged Douglas in the back. “Need to get by.”

“Sorry,” he said, stepping down the ramp to join Lisa and her friend.

The crowd roared as horses and riders entered the arena. The Grand Entry was underway. Lisa tried to make introductions, but couldn’t be heard over the din.

Douglas took his seat next to Lisa, stared out at the arena without seeing a thing. Lisa was in real trouble, but she projected nothing but strength and confidence. And sexiness.

All he had to do was lean a few inches her way and that silky mass of hair would tickle his nose, just as the sweet scent of her did.

When the guy she was with moved close, took her hand in his, pointed to something of interest in the arena, Douglas felt a stab of irrational anger. What was it about Lisa that made things so difficult?

He bent to speak close in her ear. “I’m going to see if I can find anyone who will talk to me. Catch you in about thirty.”

When she turned to smile and nod, he felt the full force of that smile like a punch to the stomach. Then, she forgot all about him as she laughed at a remark from the jerk next to her.

Douglas got out of there as fast as he could.

He had a job to do. Needed to tend to business and forget these strange feelings. They were unsettling to say the least.

It wasn’t easy to forget Lisa was sitting next to a guy who looked as if he wanted to devour her. Or take her to bed.

As he made his way through the noisy throng, he realized his heartbeat was faster than normal—his anger at a perfect stranger irrational. Whatever was going on, he had to get over it. Lisa needed his help now. If HPD persisted in their belief she was guilty of murder, he’d have his hands full.

Right now, keeping his mind clear of anything but proving her innocence was off the table.

Looking around, he wondered whom he should approach. He didn’t know the regulars as Lisa did. He hadn’t considered she’d be with a date. He’d thought she would point out the players and he could ask questions. How had he so entirely misread her offer of tickets? Tickets! Plural. She had left him two tickets and mentioned he could bring someone.

Like everyone else, Lisa thought he dated dozens of women.

He knew many, but they were more friends than anything.

Now he stood there with a stadium full of strangers, wondering what he was going to do next.

Chapter Six

Lisa waited a full thirty minutes after Douglas left before she made an excuse to go to the ladies room.

George nodded as she scooted out of her seat and hurried out, wishing again she hadn’t acted so hastily. He would hound her for another date and, as nice as he was, this was their last.

Several of the regulars stopped her, wanting to know how she was doing, when they really wanted to know if she was going to jail.

She smiled, made a quick getaway, and looked for Douglas.

It took a very long five minutes before she saw him.

Ignoring the familiar leap of her heart at the sight of him, she headed his way. Earlier irritation slid away. He was here to help her. She could at least be appreciative.

In his Stetson, boots, and jeans, he looked the cowboy he’d been before he turned into a city lawyer. Just looking at him made her weak in the knees.

Though she’d vowed to keep her options open, Douglas was in her heart. Maybe forever.

He caught sight of her, then headed her way.

“Thought you were busy,” he said with a frown.

“Thought you wanted to interview some of the folks,” she countered.

“I do.”

She didn’t miss his scowl, but doubted it was because of George. “So, where do you want to start?

The crowd parted, allowing her to see a couple walking across the hall toward the arena. Harold and a blonde. The same woman she’d seen him with the night the cops took her in. The creep. His wife wasn’t cold and he was screwing around already.

She grabbed Douglas’ arm, pointed discreetly in their direction. “That’s the second time I’ve seen them together. I’d like to know who she is.”

“Let’s find out.”

Deep in conversation, the couple didn’t see Douglas as he plowed his way toward them, Lisa in his wake.

“Mr. Wheatley,” he said extending a hand. “My name is Douglas Callahan, attorney. Sorry to hear about your wife.”

“Thanks,” Wheatley said without slowing his pace. “It’s been a shock. But I have my own lawyer.”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

The blonde turned away, as if she didn’t want to see or talk to anyone.

When Harold saw Lisa his face closed in anger. “Are you her
attorney? If so, we have nothing to talk about.”

Lisa bristled and stepped forward. Douglas restrained her with a gentle hand on her arm.

“How dare you tell everyone I hurt my wife?” Wheatley turned on her. “I’ve a good mind to pull your credentials so you can’t compete.”

“That wouldn’t look good,” Douglas said.

“Not good for her, you mean?”

“Not good for you.”

“Then I suggest you tell your client to stop spreading lies. The longer this chatter goes on, the more upset I get.”

“I’ll do that,” Douglas said.

Lisa supposed a loud offense was his way of deflecting guilt. If so, it was working. Curious onlookers were hanging on his every word.

“I had nothing to do with my wife’s death,” Harold said, his eyes clouded with tears. He glanced at the blonde as if to see if she were still there.

Lisa followed his gaze. Though the blonde’s back was turned, something about her was familiar. Lisa tried to get a better look, but the woman didn’t turn around.

“Trust me, Harold. I had no reason to hurt Tempest.”

“Other than latching onto her to take advantage of her wealth and influence?”

Lisa lunged forward. Douglas grabbed her arm and held tight.

“Sounds more like what folks are saying about you,” she growled.

Harold’s face turned crimson. “Watch it, Ms Kane. You’re treading on very thin ice. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business to tend to.”

Lisa turned on her heel and headed back to her seat.

Douglas fell in behind her.

They wove their way through the denim-clad crowd until Douglas steered them to a semi-quiet spot.

“That went well,” Lisa griped. “Harold is a prick. And who is that bimbo with him and his wife isn’t even in her grave?” She pulled out her cell phone, dialed. “Patty, would you e-mail me the pictures you took at the rodeo the other night?”

She listened a minute. “I’ll call you when I get home. We can discuss it then. And thanks.” As usual, Patty had a problem she wanted to discuss. It would have to wait.

Shutting off the phone, Lisa looked at Douglas. “I snapped several pictures of the blonde. I’ll see how they came out.” She hoped against hope the pictures were clear enough so Bernie could identify the mystery woman.

Looking at her watch, she realized she’d been gone too long. She didn’t want George to think she’d run out on him. He was a nice guy even if he wasn’t Mr. Right. “I’ve got to get back,” she said.

Douglas nodded. “I’ll see if I can learn anything out here before I head home. You might want to keep your distance from our friend Harold.”

Lisa fumed as she made her way back to her seat, her thoughts jumping between Harold and Douglas.

Why didn’t Douglas suggest she ditch George and go with him? Not that she’d do it of course, but she’d be tempted. Either the man was as dense as a block of cheese or she wasn’t Douglas’ type. Fancy city, society, career women were probably more to his liking, not cowgirls who grew up at rodeos and chased financial frauds for a living.

Her head down, her mind engaged in the futile task of ridding her brain of Douglas Callahan, she almost ran into Mike.

“Hey, Cowgirl. Slow down.”

His smile was just as sweet, his concern just as genuine as always. It made her feel better.

“How ya’ doing?”

“I’m hanging, Mike. That’s all, just hanging.”

“Tomorrow’s the big night.”

She nodded.

“I’m up in a while, better git.”

“See you tomorrow. By the way, do you know the blonde Harold is escorting around? I’ve seen her with him a couple of times now.”

Mike shrugged. “Got me.”

“Okay. Keep your ears open.”

He tipped his hat and left.

Back in her seat, she tried to concentrate on the action in the arena, but couldn’t. Did Harold kill his wife because of the blonde only to brazenly show her off? Lisa shuddered at the realization that the finger of guilt wasn’t swinging his way. It was pointed right at her. She had to find out more. So far, she’d come up with nothing concrete that would make HPD look at Harold. She had to find something. Soon. Her life depended on it.

For the first time in memory, the rodeo performance didn’t bring its usual thrill. In fact, she couldn’t wait until it was over and she could rid herself of Mr. Nice Guy.

Finally, the last horse and rider left the arena. She stood, told George goodnight. Guilt over inviting him in the first place made her turn up the charm an extra notch.

Before he left, he asked for a dinner date. Lisa made the excuse that she was too busy with the rodeo and wouldn’t be free for weeks. When he leaned down for a kiss, she gave him a peck on his cheek before taking two steps back. As he walked away, she sighed. He was the type who would call again. She vowed to be more honest with him the next time. It wasn’t right to do otherwise.

She scanned the dwindling crowd hoping Douglas was still there. When she didn’t see him, she spent an hour or so with her buds, who were more than concerned over the suspicions swirling around her. Knowing she had people rooting for her didn’t begin to make up for the knowledge that Douglas would never be hers. But it helped. She included the Callahans in that group. They checked on her every day, TJ more often. They would be at the show tomorrow night. For a quick moment she felt better. Now it was time to get home and take a look at those pictures.

Two hours later, a thirty-minute conversation with Patty behind her, Lisa finally had the chance to look at the photos.

Not bad considering how far away she’d been when she snapped them.

She forwarded them to Bernie Peters, asking him to see if he could find out who the woman was, and anything else he could come up with. That accomplished, Lisa used a computer program to enlarge the images. At that size, along with the cowboy hat pulled low on her forehead, the images yielded no more clues.

Though the woman looked familiar, Lisa couldn’t place her.

Giving up, she went to bed. Just as she was drifting to sleep her senses came alive with the knowledge she’d see Douglas again tomorrow. The thought both warmed and tormented her. Why did she have to fall for a man who thought of her as his kid sister? She wanted so much more, his arms around her, his lips on hers.

She turned over, punched the pillow.

She was desperate to find out if a romance was possible. But if he rejected her, then what would she do? Wasn’t it better not to take the risk? Not to know?

Just the thought that the two of them would never get together made her stomach ache.

****

As Douglas drove home from the stadium, his thoughts meandered from Lisa and her date to her troubles. As far as he was concerned, the date could disappear. And the police? They didn’t know what a sweet person Lisa was or how kind and considerate. Even though those blue eyes, blond hair and curvy figure could make you forget your own name, she was just as beautiful inside. He’d never heard her say an ugly word about anyone. Nor had he ever heard one spoken against her, until now.

She spent a lot of time with Patty. Not many people would. And Patty was crazy about Lisa. He sighed. Who could blame her?

Thoughts of Lisa were making him uncomfortable. As he took his exit off the freeway, he forced his thoughts back to the rodeo.

When Lisa went back to her date, he’d managed to introduce himself to quite a few of the cowboys and cowgirls who worked behind the scenes to make the performance a success. Most of them knew Lisa—some knew Tempest. Most of them laughed at the rumors that Lisa had poisoned Tempest to become the next Mrs. Wheatley. Most said they didn’t remember ever seeing them together. A couple of them reminded him Lisa had been in the president’s box the night his wife died. He didn’t bother to tell them why she was there.

He’d seen Harold, without the blonde, in the arena area just before he left. It occurred to Douglas that Harold could squelch those rumors with only a word. Since he didn’t, Douglas wondered why Wheatley would want such a tale to swirl around him. It didn’t make sense.

Maybe they took the spotlight off his own actions, making him appear less guilty and Lisa more so.