As soon as Diana had stepped inside, Gail firmly closed the door behind them.
“I heard you got the Pearce case.”
“Ronald gave it to me a couple of weeks ago when you were tied up in that trial on the coast,” Diana confirmed. “He told me Earl said the case conflicted with another one he had.”
“What the case conflicts with is his drive to become a junior partner,” Gail said, the irritation thick in her tone as she circled her desk and plopped onto the chair.
Yes, Diana had figured that as well.
With Gail’s smarts, experience and expertise, she should be a shoo-in for the junior partner slot that the Kozen brothers had dangled before her eyes to get her to join the expanding private law firm of Kozen and Kozen.
But Earl Payman was vying for the position as well. Although Earl possessed not one tenth of Gail’s talent or experience, he wore Armani suits, had finagled a membership in the private club the Kozen brothers belonged to and always said the politically correct thing. Gail wore a size fourteen bought off the rack, never played golf and often made the mistake of speaking her mind.
That latter failing was one Diana shared with her friend.
“You shouldn’t have let Ronald dump the Pearce case on you,” Gail said.
Diana snorted in amusement as she slipped onto Gail’s guest chair. “You think I had some choice when our beloved senior partner charged into my office, dropped the file on my desk and said, ‘You need to take over this court-appointed defense case that goes to trial in two months, so get up to speed’?”
Gail exhaled heavily. “I’m sorry. Of course, you didn’t have an option. I’m only mad at the unfairness of seeing this happen to you.”
“Don’t be,” Diana said as she stretched her arms above her head, trying to encourage some circulation back into her shoulders after sitting hunched over for so long in that pointless meeting. “I know Ronald only gave it to me because everyone else probably ran the other way when they saw him coming. But I’m glad I’ve got it.”
Gail rested her elbows on the desk, regarding Diana gravely. “When I was in the prosecutor’s office last year and the sheriff’s reports landed in my in-basket, I was salivating in anticipation of taking the case to trial. A prosecution like that can make a career, which is why Staker grabbed the case right out from under me. Diana, the evidence is so overwhelming there’s no way you can come out looking good.”
“The case may not be as open and shut as everyone thinks.”
Gail’s eyebrows climbed her forehead as she inched forward in her chair. “You know something that no one else does?”
A knock came on the door. Gail looked decidedly put out at the interruption. “Come in,” she called out.
The door popped open and Kelli, the firm’s receptionist, poked her head inside.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Kelli said, oddly out of breath, “but Mr. Knight is waiting at my desk. Do you want me to show him to your office?”
Diana’s eyes went to her watch. Startled to see the time, she shot to her feet. “No, Kelli. I’ll see him now.” She headed for the door. “We’ll talk later, Gail.”
“Make that sooner,” Gail said. “You can’t keep me hanging like this.”
Chuckling at Gail’s frustrated look, Diana followed Kelli toward the reception area. She was looking forward to getting Gail’s opinion on several sticky aspects of the case. Having worked both sides of the legal fence, Gail was a wealth of insight.
But first Diana had to get things moving on Connie Pearce’s defense, which meant this meeting with the private investigator couldn’t be delayed. Still, the second she saw the man waiting for her, she came to an immediate and startled stop.
He was in his early thirties, over six feet, wearing a deep-blue, hand-tailored suit that emphasized his wide shoulders and long legs. His thick, dark hair had been sculpted, not cut. His Technicolor blue eyes, wide-screen smile and leading-man features could easily stop a female heart at fifty feet.
Dear heavens, it was Jack Knight. No wonder Kelli was so breathless. White Knight Investigations had sent her an actor!
Diana cursed to herself. What in the hell was she going to do now?
JACK FOLLOWED DIANA as she led the way to her office, his smile broadening. Well, well. The lawyer he’d be working for was a knockout—despite a formless gray business suit and no makeup—and she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. This had to be fate.
No, not fate, he corrected. Opportunity. He didn’t believe in fate, but he sure as hell believed in opportunity.
He caught a whiff of her scent, something cool and sweet he couldn’t quite place. She was maybe thirty and at least five-eight. Her gleaming black hair was gathered with a silver clip at the nape of her neck and fell to the middle of her back.
The way the light caught the curves of her face, highlighted her hair and settled in the soft centers of her eyes was absolutely arresting. She had what in the business was called “screen presence.” He knew stunningly beautiful actresses who worked for years, and for naught, to try to attain what came naturally to Diana Mason, Attorney at Law.
Jack took a quick look around her small office as they stepped inside. Well-used law books lined the shelves that covered every available inch of wall space. Dozens of pieces of scrap paper stuck out of them marking passages. Several rather high but neat stacks of paper covered the beige metal desk.
Her functional office confirmed what Jack had already surmised. She was about substance, not show. The only personal touch was the half-dozen pots of geraniums, full of pink blossoms, that adorned the south-facing window-sill.
He sat in the offered guest chair as she slipped onto the chair behind the desk. Scooting forward to the desk’s edge, she rested her elbows on the small space of available surface and regarded him silently.
He smiled.
The expression on her face changed slightly, but not in a way he anticipated. He wasn’t used to this kind of reaction to one of his smiles. The lady was something less than overjoyed to see him.
Ah, a challenge. Jack loved challenges.
“Frowns like the one you’re wearing can leave permanent marks on a guy’s delicate ego,” he said projecting the faint hint of pain designed to amuse and maybe even elicit a defensive apology.
“I was counting on working with your brother, Richard,” she said with such absolute candor and no hint of defensiveness that he almost laughed.
“Not to worry,” Jack said. “I come with a sixty-day warranty and a money-back guarantee.”
Her frown did not abate. “Your brother cleared up a very sticky case for me that another investigator had badly bungled. He came through on two other difficult cases as well. I trust Richard.”
“Really?” Jack said, feigning surprise. “When we were kids, he used to put his spinach on my plate and tell Mom he’d eaten it.”
“This case demands the best,” she said pointedly.
He was disappointed that all his efforts to lighten her up weren’t working. A good sense of humor in a woman always added to her sex appeal. Still, he could be serious with her if absolutely necessary.
“Fortunately for you, the best is here,” he said, straight-faced.
An eyebrow raised on her forehead. “Are you always this modest?”
“Modesty is a false cloak when it covers competence, wouldn’t you agree?”
“If