“Tell me now.” Cara dropped the load of metal from her arms to the butcher-block counter. The clanging bounced off every wall. “Did something happen at the wedding?”
Something about six-feet tall with dark hair and an expert set of hands. “I was there for a job and I did it.”
Those knowing eyes narrowed. “Why don’t I believe you?”
“Because you prefer to think the worst of me.” Forget the fact Cara usually was right to go that route.
“That’s called experience.” Cara blew out a long breath. “Look, Katie.”
Oh, not the “look” conversation starter. Katie could tolerate anything but that.
“I didn’t do anything illegal. Just worked the wedding and chatted with the guests.” Katie decided the word ‘chatted’ was sufficiently vague enough to cover her wedding activities. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”
“You promised me you were going to turn your life around. Start working, go back to school.” Cara ticked off the ideas on her fingers. “Focus.”
Katie thought about rolling her eyes but refrained. “I am twenty-five years old.”
“And?”
“I am doing everything I told you I’d do, but it all takes money.”
“Which is why I offered you the job.”
“And I’m grateful.” Perpetually grateful.
“I don’t want any other surprises.” A dark sadness fell over Cara’s eyes. “After Bill…well, I’ve had enough. I need to concentrate on growing this business and raising Ashleigh. Josh and Deana trusted me with a huge responsibility. Their wedding, for heaven’s sake. I really need it to turn into more work.”
Guilt snuck up out of nowhere and smacked Katie right across the cheek. She’d spent the years since her parents’ deaths as the ultimate screwup. Cara did everything right. Katie got most everything wrong. Irresponsible and difficult, she’d heard all the comments teachers and relatives whispered behind her back and into Cara’s ear. The years from eighteen to twenty-three were a blur of partying and waste. But that was over. She worked for Cara now. She watched Ashleigh. She registered for night classes that would begin in the summer session. She’d made a few extra bucks reporting back on Eric.
Eric.
Yeah, that brought Katie spinning back to Cara and the guilt thing.
“Okay.” Katie grabbed her sister’s hands and willed her to calm down before the thumping blood vessel in her forehead burst. “Listen to me. The wedding job went really well. You’re going to get lots of new business from it, and I’ll be here to help out. It will all be fine. You’ll see.”
Cara bit her bottom lip. “Promise?”
“Yeah.” Katie nodded. For a second, she even believed the words coming out of her mouth. “Let’s forget all about the wedding and start getting ready for that insurance conference you’re catering in two days.”
And she would forget all about one Eric Kimura, those hands, and the e-mail report she’d sent as a requirement of her paycheck after the wedding. The same one that left out any mention of the extracurricular bathroom activities. After all, some things were private. Stupid and self-destructive, but private.
“Anything else?” Eric pushed back from his kitchen table and headed for the coffeepot. A two-hour evening meeting on political strategy with his friend and campaign manager was enough to dull the senses for a month.
All Eric wanted to do was run for the job of prosecuting attorney, a job he currently held on an interim basis since his boss had left the position. Eric understood the office and saw what needed to be streamlined and what needed to be eliminated. Working his way up through the ranks gave him an insight that the guy he was running against, Howard Gunnery, a former military lawyer, didn’t have. In Eric’s view, that should have been enough, but he had to convince the entire island of Oahu, or at least the majority of it, to agree and vote for him.
“I hate to bring this up.” Kevin Willis traced his finger down his water glass. Didn’t look up. Didn’t joke or smile.
Eric knew from experience that whatever he was about to hear was going to be bad. Kevin wasn’t an avoid-eye-contact kind of guy. He was an attorney in private practice and politically connected. If anything, people viewed him as harsh. Right now, he looked like he had eaten bad Chinese food off the floor of a sewage plant.
“Just tell me,” Eric said.
Kevin finally looked up as he leaned back in the chair. “The rumors about Deana are kicking up again.”
Everything always came back to her. Eric was sick of it. “Why can’t people believe we’re over?”
Kevin cleared his throat as he pushed the papers in front of him off to the side. “Not those.”
As far as Eric was concerned there was nothing else. “What then?”
“There’s a suggestion out there about Deana and her nephew and questions about your integrity on the job.”
Eric had expected half-baked crap about his being in love. This theory came out of nowhere and brought a kick to the stomach with it. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m just going to ask straight out.”
“Do that.”
“Did you give her nephew special treatment during his murder case?”
The only other person guaranteed to put Eric in a bad mood: Ryan Armstrong, Deana’s nephew. A spoiled teenager and a heartless killer. Instead of taking every opportunity handed to him by his wealthy family, he took the easy way out and managed to drag Eric down with him.
“The same nephew who is jail for murdering his parents, Deana’s brother and sister-in-law?” The memories crashed in on Eric. Hell, he’d lost Deana over the entire disastrous case. “I recused myself, built a complete wall around the matter in the office so I wouldn’t be involved in the trial or the investigation. No one talked to me about it, and I stayed out of it.”
“I know.”
Eric heard his friend but yelled right over him. “The idea was to act like a boyfriend instead of a lawyer, but we all know how that worked out.”
Deana had wanted him to step in and save Ryan from prosecution. Eric refused. He knew the evidence against the kid was strong, knew she didn’t see him for the spoiled psychopath he was. Knew Ryan was headed for jail, and when he went, she would blame Eric for everything. That’s exactly what happened.
Well, almost.
“You went to the wedding,” Kevin pointed out. “Your photo was in the paper.”
“I went to keep the gossip at a minimum. I thought it would take away the ammunition.” Really, he went to prove to himself that he could take it. “Guess that didn’t work.”
Kevin started taking notes. “You’ll need to make a statement.”
“No.”
The pen dropped. “Eric?”
“Deana and my private life are just that. Private.” Eric dumped the cold coffee down the drain. Looked like caffeine might not be strong enough to help him get through this night.
“There are some folks out there who smell a story. They’re going to keep digging until they find it. Even if there’s nothing there, the searching and all the assumptions that come with it can be devastating to a political career.”
“They should find someone else to piss on,” Eric said. Preferably someone who didn’t have anything to do