Someone Like You (5 page)

“You have messages,” the gray-haired dispatcher said as she thrust several pink pieces of paper into his hands. “You can ignore the ones on the bottom, but the top three are important. How'd it go in court?”

“Good.”

He'd managed to keep one bad guy behind bars for
a couple of years. That had to count. He glanced down at the notes as he kept walking.

“The mayor called?” he asked, knowing that couldn't be good.

“Uh-huh.”

Wilma had to take two steps for every one of his. She barely came past his elbow and, according to legend, had been around since before the earth's crust cooled. She was a tough old bird and one of the first of his staff he'd known was a keeper.

“Mayor's calling on behalf of the pier centennial committee. They want a temporary alcohol permit to serve beer at the car wash.”

Mac stopped in the middle of the room and glared at her. “What? Serve beer? High-school kids are going to be doing the work.”

“The mayor said the beer was for the patrons.”

He felt his blood pressure climbing. “He wants to serve beer to people who are going to get back in their cars and drive around town? Of all the stupid, ill-conceived, ridiculous, backward—”

“I said you wouldn't like it,” Wilma told him. “But he didn't listen.”

Mac had already had a few encounters with the mayor and he hadn't enjoyed a single one. “Does he ever?”

“No.”

He swore. “Fine. I'll call him back and tell him there's no way he's getting the permit.”

“He won't be happy.”

“I don't care.”

She grinned. “That's one of the things I like about
you.” She poked at the messages in his hand. “You also have a call from someone named Hollis Bass. The boy sounded like nothing but useless trouble. He's not a relative, is he?”

Mac flipped through the notes until he found the one with Hollis's number. “No. Not a relative. A social worker.” Just what he needed—one more thing. “What else?”

“Slick Sam is getting released on bond today and someone needs to go tell the judge's daughter not to get messed up with the likes of him.” Wilma wrinkled her nose. “Slick Sam is proof our criminal law system is in serious need of an overhaul. Want me to give her a call for you?”

Mac glanced at the big clock on the wall. It was barely twelve. He'd promised Emily he'd be back for her by one. There was still time to drop by Jill's office and warn her about Slick Sam.

“I'll do it in person,” he said. “Then I'll call the mayor and the social worker from home. Everything else can wait.”

Wilma's hazel eyes widened slightly. “I figured you had to know Jill.”

“We go way back.”

“Her father may have retired to Florida, but he still stays informed.”

Mac grinned. “I'm going to warn her about a potentially difficult client, not seduce her.”

“It always starts with conversation. You be careful.” With Jill? He doubted it was necessary. She might
be gorgeous, sexy as hell and recently single, but she was also the daughter of the one man who'd practically been a father to him. No way he would betray that relation ship by getting involved with Jill.

“You can stop worrying about me, Wilma. I have everything under control.”

“That's what those lemmings always say right before they jump off the cliff.”

 

“I
HEARD ABOUT
what happened with Lyle,” Rudy Casaccio said in his low, smooth voice. “I can arrange to have him taken care of for you.”

Jill winced, then switched the phone to her other ear. “I know you didn't mean that the way it sounded and if you did, I don't want to know.”

“You've provided excellent service to our organization, Jill. We believe in rewarding that.”

“You send a fruit basket at Christmas. That's more than enough. As for Lyle, I'm going to handle him my self.”

“How?”

“I haven't exactly worked that out yet, but I'll come up with a plan.” She glanced at the résumés spitting out of her printer. “Maybe I'll go with that old standard of living well as being the best revenge.”

“Are you staying in Los Lobos?”

“No. I'll let you know as soon as I land with another firm.”

“Good. In the meantime, we want you to continue to handle our business.”

Real corporate law, she thought wistfully. Wouldn't
that be fun? “You need to stay where you are right now,” she said regretfully. “I don't have the resources to handle your concerns.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, but it was sweet of you to offer.”

Rudy chuckled. “Not many people call me sweet.”

She could imagine. Rudy was one tough businessman, but he'd always been good to her.

“Are you sure about Lyle?” he asked. “I never liked him.”

“I'm beginning to think I shouldn't have, either. Thanks, but don't worry. I'll be fine.”

“If you change your mind…”

“I won't. I'll call when I'm with a new firm.”

“You do that, Jill.”

Rudy said goodbye and hung up. Jill did the same. She allowed herself exactly two minutes of pouting over what Lyle had cost her, then went over to check the printer.

Her résumés looked great, and the content was even more impressive. Rudy was a man of his word, so she knew she could bring him over to whatever law firm hired her. The senior partners would appreciate the extra three million a year in billings.

A knock on her closed door made her turn. It couldn't be Tina—for one thing, the woman never knocked. For another, she'd disappeared shortly before noon.

“Come in,” she called, then caught her breath when Mac strolled into her taxidermy aquarium.

“How's it going?” he asked.

“Great.”

The single word was all she could manage. Man oh man did he clean up good, she thought as she took in the dark tan uniform that emphasized broad shoulders and narrow hips. She had the sudden urge to throw herself on her desk and pretend to be a music video slut.

“Nice,” he said as he glanced around the office. “I don't think I've been in here before.”

She wrinkled her nose. “It's hardly the sort of place you'd forget. Welcome to fish central. If you see one you like, let me know. I'm thinking of having a yard sale.”

Not that she would, really. The fish belonged to Mrs. Dixon and, until Jill talked the widow into reclaiming her property, she was stuck.

Mac turned in a slow circle, then slowly shook his head. “Generous offer, but no thanks.”

“Figures. I bet I couldn't even give them away. Are you here officially? Should I ask you to sit down?”

“Do I only get to sit under certain circumstances?”

She laughed. “Of course not.” She circled around her desk and waved at the leather visitor chair. “Be careful not to get caught in the net there.”

“Thanks.”

He sat and looked at her. Jill felt his gaze settle on her face with a connection so intense it was nearly physical. She wanted to ask him if he saw anything he liked. She wanted to lean closer so he could replace his gaze with his fingers. She wanted to know if he thought she was beautiful and sexy and irresistible. She settled on checking to make sure her hair was in place.

“It's straight,” he said, motioning to her head.

“Thanks to the miracles of modern hair-care pro ducts, yes.”

“It looks nice, but I like it curly better.”

A piece of information she would file away for later. “I'm going to guess that's not why you're here.”

“Nope, I'm here to give a friendly warning. Slick Sam was arrested for passing bad checks. He got out earlier today and may come looking for representation. You probably want to tell him no.”

Her back stiffened. “Why is that? Do you think I couldn't handle a criminal case? I assure you I'm more than capable of defending my clients against any number of charges. Furthermore, I don't appreciate you judging me. You don't know one thing about my legal experience. For all you know I could have—”

One eyebrow rose as he leaned back in his chair.

“What?” she demanded.

“Go on. You're doing all the talking.”

“I…” She pressed her lips together. Okay, maybe she'd overreacted. She cleared her throat and straightened the papers on her desk.

“So why did you want to warn me about Slick Sam?”

Mac grinned. “I thought you'd never ask. The last lawyer he hired, also a woman and also very attractive, ended up letting him move in with her, where he made the moves on her teenage daughter, trashed her house, then took off with her cash, her credit cards and her car.”

Mac thought she was attractive? How attractive? Could she ask?

Not in this life, she told herself, then laughed. “I appreciate the advice and I'll be sure to be out when he calls. But I have to tell you, I'm tempted by a client willing to steal my car.”

J
ILL ARRIVED
home shortly after five. As she was used to working until at least eight or nine every night she wasn't cooking for Lyle, she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do with an entire evening. What did people who worked regular hours do with their lives? Was this why they had hobbies? Would
she
like a hobby?

“How was your day?” Bev asked as Jill walked through the front door. “Any dents on Lyle's car?”

“I didn't go by and check. I thought I'd do that in the morning.”

She set her briefcase by the coatrack and wondered why she'd bothered to carry it home. There wasn't any work inside.

She leaned forward and kissed her aunt's cheek. “I have high hopes, though. A nice high fly to the side door would make my heart beat with joy.”

Her aunt smiled. “I'm so happy for you, dear. How was work?”

Jill thought of Tina, the fish, and the hundred-year-old fence dispute. “You don't want to know.”

“That bad?”

“Technically, there's very little I can complain about, so I won't.”

“Dinner will be ready in half an hour. You have time to change.”

Jill hugged the woman who had always been there for her. “I love you taking care of me, but I didn't come here to invade your life. I'm going to start looking for a place of my own tomorrow.”

Bev shook her head so hard, her long red hair flew back and forth like a flag in the breeze. “Don't you dare. I know you're not moving back to Los Lobos permanently, but I want to be with you for the time you're here.”

“Are you sure? I'm not crimping your social life?”

Bev rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You know I don't date. I have to worry about the gift.”

Ah, yes. The gift. Bev's psychic connection with the universe that allowed her to
see
the future. As her aunt had explained many times, the gift came with responsibilities—one of which was to stay pure…sexually.

“Don't you ever get tired of being alone?” Jill asked, because whether or not she believed in her aunt's gift, for the most part Bev lived as if
she
believed it. There had been very few men in her life and no long-term relationships.

Bev smiled. “I've been rewarded for my sacrifice. Over the years I've helped many people and that's a great feeling.”

“Sex can be a great feeling, too.” She thought about her own pathetic sex life with Lyle. “Or so I've heard.”

“We make choices in our world. Staying pure for the gift was mine.”

Jill raised her eyebrows. “You mean semi-pure,” she teased.

“Well, there were one or two occasions when things got a little out of hand, but as they weren't my fault, they didn't count.”

Jill grinned. “I like your rules. I always have.”

“Good. Now go get changed before dinner. Oh, Gracie phoned about an hour ago. I gave her the number at the law office. Did she catch you before you left?”

“No,” Jill said, disappointed to have missed the call. “I'll try her right now.”

She hurried up the stairs and into the airy guest bed room she'd claimed as her own. After peeling off her suit and pulling on shorts and a T-shirt, she flopped onto the bed and grabbed the phone.

Thirty seconds later she heard Gracie's answering machine and left a message. When she hung up, she closed her eyes for a second, wishing her friend had been home and they could have talked. She needed to connect. So much had changed in such a short period of time, it seemed as if her world had started spinning out of control. Gracie had a way of keeping things in perspective.

“Tomorrow,” Jill whispered to herself and headed downstairs.

She found her aunt in the kitchen, fixing a salad. “Let me help,” she said as she moved to the sink to wash her hands. “I smell lasagna, which means you worked hard this afternoon.”

“Gracie not home?”

“No. We'll talk tomorrow. So what happened today with Emily? What's she like?”

“A sweet girl. A little unnerved by all the changes in her life.”

Jill dried her hands on a dish towel, then crossed to the island and picked up a cucumber and a knife. “Mac's worried about them bonding.”

Bev nodded. “She's been living with her mother for the past couple of months, so being with her father is strange.” She sighed. “There's so much pain inside of her. I can feel it. She dresses monochromatically. Today was all purple. Shirt, shorts, socks, everything. And she'll only eat the color she wears.”

Jill stared at her. “What?”

“I know. It's a silly way to express her pain, but she's eight. How many choices does she have? Mac wasn't happy when he explained the problem to me, but I didn't mind. It made making lunch much more interesting.”

“What did you do?”

Bev's green eyes twinkled. “I cheated. I had some beef stew in the freezer, which I defrosted for lunch. While she was setting the table, I mixed a little of the liquid with beet juice and put it in a white bowl. Of course it looked completely purple. Then I asked Emily if the color was all right. She said it was. I served lunch in colored bowls so she couldn't tell it wasn't purple. We agreed that bread was neutral, so that was good. Oh, and we made sugar cookies with purple icing.”

“Smooth move.” Jill sliced the cucumber. “Aside from the color thing, what was she like?”

“Friendly. A little sad and confused, but good-
hearted. Smart, too. We read some this afternoon and she's a couple of grades ahead.”

Jill dumped the cucumber into the salad bowl. “You didn't do her cards or anything, did you?”

“Of course not. She's a child. Besides, I'd ask Mac first.”

“Good idea.” She could only imagine what he would say if his baby-sitter wanted his permission to read his daughter's future in tarot cards.

“You'll meet Emily tonight. Mac's dropping her off in a few minutes. He has a meeting with the social worker.” She sighed. “I hope he can handle it.”

“Mac? Why wouldn't he?”

“There's a lot of pain there,” Bev said as she shook the bottle of dressing. “That man needs to be loved.”

“Don't look at me. I'm not interested.” Jill smiled. “Okay, so maybe I'm a little interested, but not in something serious. Could we substitute sex for love? Be cause then I'd sign right up.”

The phone rang before Bev could answer. Her aunt glanced at Jill. “It's for you.”

“You just do that to creep me out, don't you.” She walked to the phone and picked it up. “Hello?”

“Jill? What the hell do you think you're playing at.”

Lyle. She wrinkled her nose. “You never did see the value in common courtesy, did you, Lyle?” she asked, more resigned than annoyed. “That was always a mistake.”

“Don't you talk to me about mistakes. You had no right to take the car.”

“On the contrary, I had every right.”

“You really pissed me off.”

“Huh. Thanks for sharing. Do you want to talk about all the things
I
have a right to be angry about? Because that list is a whole lot longer than a car.”

“You're playing a game, Jill, but you won't win. By the way, the new office is really great. I can see the bridge.”

Bastard. He had her office and her junior partnership while all she had was a stupid car and a bunch of fish.

“Was there a point to this call?” she asked, holding on to her temper with both hands. “I've filed for divorce. You'll be served tomorrow. Except for the property settlement, this is long over.”

“I want my car back.”

“Sorry, no. You drove it for a year, now it's my turn. Community property, Lyle. You remember that, don't you?”

“I
will
get it back and when I do, there better not be a single scratch on it. If there is, I'll make you pay.”

“I doubt that. I've always been the better lawyer. If you want to discuss anything else with me, do it in e-mail. I don't want to talk to you again.” She hung up without saying goodbye.

Her insides shook a little, but other than that, she felt okay. Not great, but not crushed, either. Still, she wished he hadn't called.

“He wants his car back,” she said as she turned back to face her aunt.

“I gathered that.” Bev turned off the oven and pulled
out the bubbling lasagna. “He isn't going to play fair on the divorce. Have you protected yourself?”

“Yeah. I did all that before I left town. I transferred half of our savings into my own account, canceled all the credit cards in both our names, that sort of thing.”

“Is he really being served with papers?”

“You bet. They're coming to his work. I almost wish I could be there to see the whole event.”

Her aunt poured a glass of red wine and handed it to her.

Jill took it. “After what happened with the brandy yesterday I was going to lay off liquor for a while, but maybe not.”

 

M
AC ARRIVED
with Emily exactly at six. Bev let them in, which gave Jill a chance to brace herself for yet another close encounter with the guy next door. He didn't disappoint when he entered the kitchen. Gone was the sexy uniform from earlier. Now he was dressed in a sports shirt and slacks. He looked like a powerful man ready to close the five-billion-dollar deal over drinks at an exclusive club.

Which only went to show how active her imagination had become where Mac was concerned. He was going to be nothing but trouble, she thought as she turned her attention to the little girl behind him.

Emily was small and slight, with big blue eyes and short blond hair the color of champagne. A beauty, which made Jill instantly dislike the girl's mother. No doubt another stunner. But then, when had Mac ever dated a female who wasn't gorgeous?

“Hi,” Jill said as she smiled at Emily. “I'm Jill, Beverly's niece. Nice to meet you.”

The girl smiled shyly back. “Hi. Bev told me you're a lawyer. That you make sure people are following the law.”

“On my good days.”

Mac touched Bev's arm. “Thanks for doing this for me. I'll keep the appointment as short as possible.”

“Not to worry. Emily and I had a brilliant time together this afternoon. Tonight will only be more fun. Isn't that right?”

The eight-year-old nodded.

“Great.” Mac glanced at his watch. “I'm running late. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

Jill trailed after him as he walked to the door. “Are you eating dinner?”

“Maybe later.”

Typical guy. “Good luck with the social worker. If you decide you need any legal advice, let me know.”

He paused on the threshold. “You're a corporate lawyer. This isn't your area of expertise.”

“True, but if I can't research it, I'll know someone with the answer.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

 

M
AC ENTERED
the county services building at 6:28 p.m. and walked to the stairs.

The reception area on the second floor was typical government issue. Formica-covered countertop with a couple of desks behind. A shelving unit held dozens of different forms while posters reminded pregnant
women they needed prenatal care and kids that it wasn't cool to smoke.

Most of the overhead lights were off, but he saw light spilling into the hallway and he stepped behind the counter to head that way. He stopped in front of a name plate reading “Hollis Bass” and knocked on the partially open door.

“Come in,” a man called.

Mac pushed open the door and entered.

Hollis Bass's office was as neat and prissy as the man himself. Two large plants sat on top of gray file cabinets in the corner. The paperwork in the open shelves had been neatly stacked and perfectly centered in each cubbyhole. The folders on the desk lined up with military precision and the pens and pencils rested in a perfectly straight row.

Hollis looked as if he'd never outgrown that adolescent awkwardness of too-long arms and legs. He was tall, thin and painfully tidy, wearing creased khakis and a long-sleeved button-down shirt fastened up to the collar. Small, round glasses made his brown eyes appear close-set.

Lord, he was a kid, Mac thought as he shook the man's hand. Maybe twenty-four, twenty-five. Great. Just what he needed. Some fresh-out-of-college, idealistic, save-the-world little prick determined to prove himself against a big, bad grown-up.

“Thank you for dropping by,” Hollis said as he motioned to the folding chair in front of his desk. “I'm sure you're very busy.”

“I didn't know the visit was optional.”

“It's not.” Hollis settled behind his desk and carefully folded his hands together on the blotter. “Mac…may I call you Mac? I prefer to be less formal on these visits.”

“It's your party,” Mac told him.

“Good. Mac, I want to give you a feel for how this process is going to go.”

They had a process?

“The court mandates that you and I meet every other week for as long as you have Emily. I may also arrange more frequent meetings if I deem them necessary. While I will do my best to accommodate your schedule, these meetings are mandatory. If you skip even one, I will notify the judge, and your daughter will be returned to her mother within twenty-four hours.”

“I'm aware of that.”

“Just so we're all clear. Now, you are welcome to re schedule. I would imagine in your line of work, your time isn't always your own.”

Mac had been in law enforcement for over a decade and he'd learned a lot about people. One thing that had been easy was spotting those who didn't approve of what he did for a living. Just his luck—Hollis was one of them.

“I appreciate your flexibility,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

“It's part of my job.” The corners of Hollis's thin mouth turned up, but not in a friendly way. “In addition to our meetings, I'll want to speak with Emily from time to time. I won't make appointments for that. I'll simply drop by.”