An older gentleman stepped forward to stand next to Cole and glanced pointedly at his watch.
“Gordon Bentley, this is Marni Rodgers. We‘re old friends,” Cole said casually. Too casually.
We were more than old friends, she wanted to say, but kept silent. No sense dredging up the past. No good would come of it.
“Gordon‘s my attorney,” he told her.
Marni extended her hand to the lawyer. “Pleased to meet you.” She hoped neither of them noticed the shakiness of her voice.
She welcomed the man‘s intrusion and shook his hand, thankful for the reprieve. Cole had left a burning imprint on her soul and one look at him, one simple touch, was enough to scorch her still. How could he be so dangerous to her sanity and her heart after all these years? He‘s not, she told herself. It‘s only the shock of seeing him again.
Gordon interrupted her thoughts. “I‘ll meet you inside, Cole. Miss Rodgers, it was a pleasure.” Marni nodded and watched him disappear into the courthouse. She hadn‘t even noticed the man‘s initial approach. But Cole had always had that affect on her. His nearness could cause her to forget the world existed. But not any longer. Not after the way he‘d hurt her when he married Elizabeth Wakefield. Regardless of Marni‘s bargain with the devil, she knew she‘d been young and foolish and wrong. Horribly wrong. Thirteen years of loneliness had taught her just how mistaken she‘d been in accepting Carson Ballinger‘s offer.
“I should be going.” Her senses were under siege. She had to get away from him. He‘d given her a shock and she needed time to recover.
Cole glanced at his watch. She couldn‘t help noticing how large his hands were. Manicured, yet strong. “Look, I‘ve got to get inside. Would you meet me for a drink later?”
Marni forced herself to settle down. The blood pounding in her ears deafened her. “It‘s not a good idea.”
“One drink, Marni. Surely you can fit an old friend into your busy schedule?” He studied her with an intensity she found unnerving.
“Cole, really, I–” Her thoughts trailed off when he gave her that lopsided grin she‘d always loved so much. The light winter breeze ruffled his dark hair, and for a split instant they were kids again. Young, innocent and free of Carson‘s influence.
“One drink.” He was obviously determined. Cole could be relentless when he set his mind on something.
“I‘m sorry.” Marni moved to step around him, anxious to be away before she gave in to him.
“Marni.” He sounded almost desperate. When he laid a hand on her arm to prevent her escape, a twinge of excitement raced through her. What was wrong with her? She hadn‘t seen Cole in years. It was ridiculous to react this way.
Marni chewed her lower lip. If she had that drink, maybe she could find out what he knew about Jenna, if anything. Besides, what harm could one drink with Cole Ballinger do? She was a grown woman, not a kid with stars in her eyes and dreams of happily ever after. The Ballinger wealth couldn‘t hurt her anymore. Cole was no longer a part of her life. Seriously doubting her powers of reason, she agreed. “Okay. One drink. Muldoon‘s at five-thirty. It‘s on the corner of Sixth and Spring.”
Before she could change her mind, she pulled away from him and ran down the concrete steps of the courthouse. She didn‘t stop until she reached her car. Unlocking the door, she slipped in behind the wheel of the Honda Prelude and tossed her attaché on the passenger seat. The lock unhitched and Marni glared at the old briefcase. “I‘m buying a new one. Tomorrow.”
* * *
WITH COLE OCCUPYING her thoughts, Marni drove across town to her office. He hadn‘t told her how long he‘d be in town. Was he only here as a witness or would he be attending the trial on a daily basis? She‘d have to find out which judge was hearing his case. Marni had always made a point of having a good rapport with all the judges’ clerks, and now it was about to pay off. She could easily ask for the estimated length of the trial without raising suspicion. With as much time as she spent at the courts, she supposed running into Cole would be inevitable, but the thought of seeing him on a daily basis was almost more than she could bear.
She guided the car into her assigned parking slot and killed the engine. Leaning back in the seat, she closed her eyes and rubbed the throbbing ache in her temples. Why had she agreed to meet him for a drink? Stupid, Marni. Real stupid. She‘d have to call Jenna and let her know she‘d be late.
The thought of Jenna got her moving. She collected her things, making certain the latch to her briefcase was secured.
A group of attorneys and secretaries stood waiting in the lobby when she entered the dingy county offices. A resounding cheer went up when she closed the door behind her. Marni couldn‘t help but laugh. She‘d worked hard to win the Kendell case, and now, because of her, one less killer roamed the streets of Los Angeles. And no matter how corny that sounded, the thrill of prosecuting such an important case was heady. Still, she‘d better keep her feet on the ground. There were other dangers in her life now.
Her secretary, Peg, stood to the side of the group, holding a dozen latex helium balloons secured with colorful curly ribbons. Someone popped open a bottle of champagne and shoved a glass in her hand. Before Marni realized it, she was regaling her colleagues with the finer points of the murder trial.
Her boss, Walter Dorlan, approached. “You‘re the lead story on tonight‘s news.”
Marni smiled. “Mack Henley wants to know if I‘m being assigned to death row.”
Walter may have been an active prosecutor at one time, but now politics were his mainstay. His term as D.A. would be over in another year, and rumors were already circulating that he was seeking the governor‘s office. Walter grinned, his pale blue eyes twinkling. “Sure, if the butterflies you get waiting for the juries to come in don‘t kill you first.”
Marni‘s teasing tone evaporated. “Walter, are you serious?”
The D.A. took a sip of champagne, then nodded. “I‘ve been thinking about it. No one‘s taken over on a permanent basis since Jackson left. You could handle the responsibility for a while.”
“I don‘t know what to say.” And she didn‘t. Despite her euphoria over winning the case, did she really want to send people to their deaths, no matter what she‘d told April Burnell? She pushed the unwanted thought aside.
“Don‘t say anything, Marni. Just do your job.”
“Rodgers!” someone called. “Telephone.”
Marni excused herself from Walter and the group. They didn‘t need her to continue the celebration. Drinking and raising hell were two things attorneys did extremely well.
Marni took the call in her office. She plopped down in the squeaky leather chair and cradled the receiver between her ear and shoulder. “Marni Rodgers,” she said absently as she looked at the stack of mail on her desk. Her secretary sorted her mail into separate folders according to importance. Even junk mail had its own file.
“Mom?”
“Jenna. Hi, sweetie. What‘s up?” Marni opened the folder for junk mail and emptied the contents in the trash bin under her desk.
“I saw you on the news!” Jenna‘s exuberance vibrated through the telephone.
Marni could picture Jenna standing in their cozy kitchen, her jade green eyes sparkling with excitement. Her thick, waist-length sable hair, so like her father‘s, would be pulled back into a ponytail. Marni would kill for hair like Jenna‘s. Her own blond hair hung in unruly curls just past her shoulders. She usually kept it pulled away from her face in a tight French braid.
“Everyone‘s gonna be talking about you tomorrow. My mother the celebrity. I‘ll be famous.”
Marni