Once the grateful couple moved off, he removed his sunglasses. As his gaze collided with hers, the warm fuzzies exploded into sizzling sparks. She stared openly, helpless to pull back from the most piercing blue eyes she’d ever seen. It was as though he looked straight into her soul. She’d felt simultaneously intrigued and challenged. Her pulse had skittered into high gear.
In a blink, his intense stare had been camouflaged behind a polished charm. A single dimple winked from his left cheek. He’d extended his hand and introduced himself in the same deep, powerful voice now pouring through her phone. Long distance didn’t diminish the voice’s effect one darn bit.
“It is urgent that I speak with you. A few minutes of your time, and we can put the whole matter to rest. Please contact me immediately.”
He paused, then quickly rattled off his office and cell numbers. Shayna expected him to hang up. He always hung up after repeating his numbers. But the voice continued, his baritone plunging lower. “Ms. Miller, you can’t keep running from me.”
“Wow.” Lindy enthused when the room was silent again. “Does he look as good as he sounds?”
“’Fraid so. Nearly six feet, broad shoulders, stunning blue eyes, sun-kissed blond hair. Your basic California pretty boy.” Okay, that wasn’t quite true. There was nothing basic about his looks.
“Sounds yummy. Who is he?”
“An attorney from Beverly Hills.”
“Ooh la la. What’s he want with you?”
“I’m not exactly sure. He said Dr. Walker hired him to ‘contain the Patty Hoyt issue.’” Her fingers wiggled air quotes. “Then he started spouting some legalese about contracts and compensation, but I told him I had no part in Patty’s plans, and I certainly wanted nothing to do with a hypocritical scumbag like his client.”
“You didn’t!”
“I did, but luckily my cab pulled up before I could say anything really nasty. I just told him to consider the issue contained and hightailed it out of there.”
“Are you going to call him back?”
The answering machine’s message-waiting light flashed red, like a danger signal. “No.” She pressed the erase key. “I’m not interested in anything Dr. Walker or Kyle Anderson have to say. Too little, too late.”
Despite the frustration boiling through his bloodstream, Kyle Anderson carefully returned the phone to its base. He had a hard-earned reputation as a cool cat here at Thomas, Peake and Moore, and he wouldn’t dare let his guard down.
“Foolish girl.” He chuckled for effect, knowing his boss, Roscoe Thomas, expected it. “She’s playing hard to get.”
“If she’s avoiding your calls, why not pay her a visit like you did the mother? No one’s better in person than you, Anderson. Especially with the ladies.”
Kyle rolled his eyes. “The mother was easy.”
“We already knew that. If she weren’t, our client wouldn’t be in this predicament.”
He smiled again because it was expected. He sure as hell didn’t see any humor in the situation. Years of hard work and sacrifice, and now his goal of becoming the firm’s youngest partner hinged on the whims of a stubborn hick from Nowheresville, Tennessee? Not funny at all.
“I meant, Patty Hoyt was only after money. Her kind’s easily dispensed with. Besides, the daughter has already left town, which makes me think she’s got something bigger in mind.”
“Like what?”
“This girl grew up dirt-poor while Walker’s legitimate kids had every advantage money can buy. Judging by her bank records, she’s still barely scraping by. Sounds like a recipe for revenge to me.”
The glint of humor in Roscoe’s eyes turned to steel. “Then stop her. Immediately.” Still intimidating at sixty, Roscoe stood. “This is your chance, Anderson. Steven Walker pays a lot of salaries around here. He wants this matter resolved quickly, and the partners want him happy.”
Kyle stood and crossed his arms. At a sniff under six feet, he had to cock his chin to meet Thomas’s icy stare, but he dialed back the aggression with a cocky wink. “Leave Shayna Miller to me. Like you said, I’m good with the ladies.”
“We can’t afford to lose Walker.” Thomas’s voice turned as cold as prison bars. “You want a lucrative future with this firm, then do whatever it takes to get this girl on board before the press gets wind of any potential scandal.”
Kyle kept his lips from snarling until after Thomas swaggered out of his office. He resented the ultimatum, but he didn’t blame the old guy. Dangling the partnership as bait was a strong, strategic move, but damn, he hated occupying the weaker position.
He settled back into his high-backed leather chair and glared at the phone. After learning that Walker didn’t intend to deliver the quick score she’d hoped for, Patty Hoyt had gladly provided Kyle with her daughter’s number. He’d left Shayna Miller six messages since letting her slip away from the hotel. The annoying woman hadn’t returned a single one.
The tiny doe-eyed girl he’d encountered in that hotel lobby couldn’t have been further from what he’d been expecting. Unlike her overprocessed, overpainted mother, Shayna’s skin had been naked and clear, a glossy peach lipstick her only ornamentation. She’d smelled like sunshine. After years of being assaulted by manufactured fragrances on women, the purity of her aroma had been intensely sensual. Most arresting, though, had been her wide, amber eyes. Clear, unguarded, welcoming.
All that had changed the instant he’d introduced himself and explained his connection to Steven Walker. She’d closed up. Her smile, her eyes, her attitude. Everything went blank, as if she’d flipped a switch and turned off her inner light.
He’d gone to that hotel for the very reason Thomas had just suggested. He’d intended to force the issue, do whatever it took to obtain her cooperation. But he’d failed. Not only had she fled before he could outline the lucrative details of Walker’s offer but watching the wary distrust that replaced her initial shy smile had thrown him off his game.
Now, as he drummed a pen against his desk’s blotter and plotted his battle plan, he once again cursed himself for squandering his opportunity to get a handle on Shayna Miller.
The longer he thought about that encounter, the more convinced he became that she’d been playing him. Complete lack of emotion was a learned skill, the kind of thing a calculating daughter would learn-or possibly inherit-from a calculating mother. The nut didn’t often fall far from the tree.
So why the hell did his gut keep insisting he was misjudging her?
“It’s just the voice,” he assured himself as he flung the pen down and spread the Walker file out on his desk. That sexy southern accent had been playing on a continuous loop through his brain for nearly a week now.
Damned if he’d be swayed by slow vowels and exaggerated syllables. His future hinged on getting Shayna Miller to consent to the agreement Steven Walker was paying the firm megabucks to secure. And he didn’t intend to fail.
He might not like his reputation as the office lady-killer, but he had been the one to negotiate Patty Hoyt’s lump-sum payment-contingent upon her daughter’s cooperation-in exchange for never bothering their client again. Ever.
So what if he despised this whole case? So what if he felt Walker’s requests-both of the firm and the child he’d walked away from over two decades ago-skated ethical and moral lines. Personal feelings aside, his job was to satisfy the firm’s most influential client, and until he made partner, that was all that mattered.
After he had his name on the letterhead, then he’d have the luxury of turning down clients who made his skin crawl, who reminded him of the human trash he’d grown up with. For now, he was one assignment away from achieving his professional goals and moving on to the next stage of his life plan: attractive trophy wife, two kids, a beach house in Malibu. By then, he hoped to hell his success would obliterate the image of the scrawny, unwanted street punk who still stared back at him in the mirror every morning.