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“In a firm this size, we can’t keep avoiding one another.”
“Really?” Jane said. “I thought we were getting damn good at it.”
Matthew laughed. Then sobered quickly. “Not that I ever wanted to avoid you. I hate that you were stuck in the middle of this.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“There are some who would disagree.”
“I can’t believe she actually spied on you.” Jane covered her mouth. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. But it’s just so wrong. You’re the most honest person I know.”
“I appreciate that. But I’m not sure it’s true. In fact, I know it isn’t.”
“Really? Who have you ever lied to?”
“The most important person.”
“Your wife?”
He shook his head. Despite her accusations to the contrary, he’d never deliberately told Gillian anything but the truth. His deceptions had gone much deeper than that.
“Myself.”
Hard to imagine a more glamorous life than being an accountant, isn’t it? Still, CJ Carmichael gave up the thrills of income tax forms and double entry bookkeeping when she sold her first book in 1998. She has now written more than twenty-five novels and strongly suggests you look elsewhere for financial planning advice.
Matthew’s Children
C.J. Carmichael
MILLS & BOON
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This book is for my youngest daughter, Tessa,
who is leaving home to start university this year.
I could not love you more, or be more proud.
Thanks To:
My writing friend and lawyer Elizabeth Aspinall,
Constable Chris Terry
and criminal lawyer Simon Lord
for taking the time to talk to me about
their areas of expertise.
Chapter One
IF JANE PRENTICE HAD SEEN Matthew Gray in the elevator, she would have taken the stairs. But as she stepped on board, she was reading case notes and didn’t spot him until the doors were gliding shut behind her.
“Hi, Jane.”
That voice. It still had the power to remind her she was a woman first. Lawyer second. She stuffed her papers into a side compartment of her briefcase, then looked at him. And away.
“Matt.”
An awkward pause followed. At least they weren’t alone. Two men in business suits flanked her, neither man familiar. When the elevator stopped at the twenty-eighth floor, only she and Matt stepped off.
“Going to the partners meeting?” Matt asked, as they headed in the same direction.
She nodded. Crap. Obviously, so was he. What was going on? Over the past year they’d become adept at avoiding each other. She’d requested an office on the opposite side of the building from his. By tacit agreement they’d begun attending alternate partners meetings. And she and Matt both avoided places they used to go together, like Sully’s Tavern and the deli downstairs.
Everyone at Brandstrom and Norton was in on it; even the managing partners no longer assigned them to the same cases.
A year ago the rumor had been everywhere. Matthew’s marriage is in trouble. And Jane’s the other woman…
“Russell dropped by my office this morning,” Matthew explained. “He made it pretty clear my presence was mandatory today.”
“I wonder why.”
“Some new case he wants me to work on.”
Jane sneaked a sideways glance at him. The year had taken its toll, adding some lines and a few gray hairs, but he was still handsome in that intellectual, Robert Downey, Jr, way of his.
“I was sorry to hear about you and Gillian.”
“Were you?”
She hadn’t expected him to challenge her, and wasn’t sure how to respond. A part of her was sorry, naturally. Matthew didn’t deserve what had happened. He was a good man, honorable in the old-fashioned sense of the word.
Yes, he’d spent too much time at work. Yes, he’d neglected his adolescent son and much younger daughter.
He wasn’t perfect.
But who was?
They rounded a corner, and the open door to the conference room was now in sight. Matt’s voice became coolly professional. “By the way, congratulations on the Laskin case.”
She could feel her cheeks grow hot. They may have avoided each other the past year, but he’d kept tabs on her. “I was lucky with the judge.”
“You’re too modest. The story in the Hartford Courant was pretty complimentary.”
The admiration in his voice was contained, yet unmistakable. She tried to meet his gaze again without losing her composure. But she couldn’t.
So she made her way into the room, where she headed for a vacant seat next to another of the junior partners at the firm. “Hi, Susan. How was your weekend?”
While Susan chatted about her three kids and husband, Jane organized her papers and located a pen.
“…and then Jeremy tells
