of other children ill. What if that had been the Stockton triplets? Those motherless newborns who’d needed a whole chain of volunteers to help care for them? The RSV outbreak could have had much more dire consequences—something that Walker might be trying to overlook but that she refused to ignore.
“Counselor,” he said with a little nod.
“Mr. Jones. Nice to see you again.” The conventional greeting rolled off her tongue before she could recall it. Some kind of masochistic automatic response. It wasn’t nice to see him again. Not one bit.
Lani smirked as she placed a beer in front of Walker. “Here you go. Want me to run a tab?”
“Thank you, and yes, please do. I think I’ll stay a bit.” He sent the last remark in Lindsay’s direction.
She still had a nearly full glass of wine, but no way was she going to sit at the bar next to him. Lindsay fished in her pocket and handed her sister some bills. “Thanks, Lani. I’ll see you around.”
As Lindsay went to leave, Walker placed a hand on her arm. A momentary touch, nothing more, but it seemed to sear her skin. “Don’t go because I’m here. Surely we can coexist in a bar full of people.” He looked around. “Or rather, a bar full of eleven people.”
“Are you always this exact?”
“Are you always this hard to make friends with?”
She scowled. He was making it seem like this was all her fault. “We don’t need to be friends. We’re on opposing sides.”
“In the courtroom. Outside of that, we can at least be civil, can’t we?”
“Well, of course we can be civil.” Damn it. Somehow he’d turned her whole argument around. Geesh. Maybe he should have been the lawyer.
“That’s all I’m asking. So stay.” He gestured toward her bar stool. “And pretend I don’t exist.”
“My pleasure.”
That made him laugh. He had a nice laugh, dark and rich like a great cup of coffee in the morning. “You are not what I expected, Ms. Dalton.”
“And you are not what I expected.” She fiddled with the stem of her wineglass. “Frankly, I was expecting your father.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.” He grinned. “I’ll try not to do that again.”
She almost said, “Oh, I wasn’t disappointed,” but caught herself. Good Lord, what was it with this man? Was it his eyes? The way they held her gaze and made her, for just a moment, feel like the most important person in the room? Was it the way he’d touched her, his muscled hand seeming to leave an indelible impression? Or was it the way he spoke, in that deep, confident voice, that a part of her imagined him whispering to her in the dark?
He was the enemy. An evil, irresponsible man who only cared about making a buck. Except nothing about his demeanor matched that description. Maybe he was one of those distracted, charming millionaires who didn’t care where his money came from as long as it ended up in his bank account.
Still...he seemed nice. Friendly, even. How could that be the same man who ran a shoddy day care chain?
“And with that,” Walker said, picking up his beer and giving her a little nod, “I think I shall leave you to your wine. Have a good evening, Ms. Dalton.”
He crossed the room, and took a seat at one of the empty tables, draping his coat over a second chair. When a group of twenty-something girls came into the bar, ushering in the cool evening air and a whole bunch of laughter, Lindsay’s view of Walker was blocked, but that didn’t stop her traitorous mind from wondering what he’d meant by I’ll try not to do that again.
Because she had a feeling Walker Jones was the kind of man who rarely left a woman disappointed. In any way.
Walker didn’t know why he’d stayed. Or why he lingered over his beer. Or why his gaze kept straying to Lindsay Dalton.
He told himself it was because he was so surprised to see her in ordinary clothes—jeans, cowboy boots and a blue button-down shirt with the cuffs rolled up to her forearms. The jeans hugged her thighs, outlined the curve of her butt and in general made Walker forget to breathe. He could imagine her wearing the dark brown cowboy boots and nothing else.
Okay, not productive. She was the opposing counsel in a lawsuit vital to the future of his day care centers. They may only be a small piece of the large pie that made up Jones Holdings, Inc., but that didn’t matter. Walker was not a man who liked to lose. Ever.
The bar began to fill, and he noticed people glancing at him, either because he was a clear outsider or because word got around. There were friendly greetings for Lindsay but a definite chill in the air when it came to Walker. Clearly, the people of Rust Creek Falls were circling the wagons around one of their own.
Walker had debated flying back to his office in Tulsa after court ended today, but with the trial just a few days away, he’d decided to stay in town. It might be good to get to know the locals, get a feel for how things might sway in court and maybe make a few friends out of what might become a lynch mob if Lindsay Dalton had her way.
The best way to do all that? Alcohol, and lots of it.
Gaining the goodwill of the locals was merely part of Walker’s overall plan. He would obliterate Lindsay Dalton’s case, then leave the town thinking he was the hero, not the devil incarnate she’d made him out to be.
Walker strode back up to the bar, sending Lindsay a nod of greeting that she ignored. He put a hand on the smooth oak surface. “I want to buy a round,” he said to the bartender.
The woman, slim and brunette, looked similar enough to Lindsay that Walker could believe they were related. Especially in a town this small. “Sure, for...who?” she said.
“Everyone.” He grinned. “New in town. Figured it’d be a nice way to introduce myself.”
“You mean try to convince people you’re a nice guy?” Lindsay said from beside him.
“I am a nice guy. My grandmother and third-grade teacher said so.” He grinned at her. “You just haven’t given me a chance.”
“And you think a free beer will change my mind?”
He leaned in closer to her, close enough to catch a whiff of her perfume, something dark and sensual, which surprised him. Oh, how he wished it was as simple as a beer to change her mind, because if they had met under different circumstances, he would have asked her out. She was fiery and gorgeous and confident, and he was intrigued. “If it would, I’d buy you a case.”
“I’m not so easily bought, Mr. Jones.”
“Then name your price, Ms. Dalton.”
“An admission of guilt.” Her blue eyes hardened. “And changes in the way you run your business.”
Well, well. So the lawyer liked the fight as much as he did. There was nothing
