big family with lots of happy, rowdy kids would have been more to her liking than Jack Barrett. From the look on his brooding face, she’d gotten the impression he’d wanted to either clamp his fingers around her neck or kiss her.
Shivering at the thought, she reached over and switched off the lamp at the head of the bed, then slowly undressed in the darkness. She had to forget about the man. Tomorrow was going to be another long, tiring day. She had to be rested and ready.
The next morning Jack’s secretary, Irene, answered his call on the fourth ring.
“What in hell are you doing?” he barked into the receiver. “Eating bonbons?”
“No, trying to seduce one of your clients. But he hightailed it out of here after the third ring. You have rotten timing, Jack. Besides, what are you doing calling the office? The doctor wanted you out of this place for a while, remember?”
Heaving a weary sigh, Jack tilted his head back far enough so that he could get a view of the house next door. Early this morning, before he’d cooked himself breakfast, he’d watched Grace carry an armload of books and a straw tote bag out to the car parked in the driveway. Her black hair had been down on her shoulders and the sea wind had whipped strands of it across her face and tugged at the tail of her long flowered skirt as she’d lowered herself into the little compact car.
Moments later she’d driven off in the direction of Gulfport, and so far she hadn’t returned. Nor had anyone else stirred around the big old house.
“I’m not in the office, Irene. I’m merely talking to you.”
“I don’t know why. You said you didn’t give a damn if you ever saw this place again,” Irene reminded him. “You said you never wanted to hear another phone, alarm clock, radio or TV. And you especially didn’t want to hear a judge’s rulings, a witness’s testimony or a client whining for a larger settlement.”
“That’s true,” he said curtly. “And I meant every word.”
He set his empty coffee cup on a low table in front of the couch, while Irene made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.
“So you’re quitting Barrett, Winslow and Layton?”
Was he? Jack asked himself. In his eyes, quitting was akin to losing. And Jack had never lost a case in the courtroom. He didn’t know how to lose. But the job was getting more and more meaningless. And so stressful that two days ago he’d wound up in his doctor’s office with a stomach full of fire and blood pressure high enough to kill him.
For thirty minutes he’d listened to the doctor lecture him about burying himself in his work and not taking time out for life outside his law practice. Hell, Jack didn’t have a life outside the office and he’d told the doctor so.
“Then you’d better get yourself one before you wake up with no life at all,” he’d told Jack.
“You haven’t answered, Jack. Are you quitting the firm?” Irene repeated her question.
“That would make Dad especially proud,” he said mockingly.
“John Barrett is dead, Jack,” she said bluntly. “There’s no reason for you to keep trying to please the man now.”
John Barrett. For years just the mention of the name had been enough to make corporations shake in their boots. No business large or small wanted to face the formidable lawyer in the courtroom.
From the time Jack had been a small boy he’d been groomed to follow in his father’s footsteps. Generations of Barretts before him had built the firm of Barrett, Winslow and Layton. Jack was expected to keep it going. Nothing else would have been acceptable in the eyes of his father.
“I didn’t call to get into a psychological discussion with you this morning, Irene. I need a little information and I was wondering if you’d seen or talked to Jillian lately.”
After a pause Irene said, “I don’t remember exactly when I last spoke with your sister. A couple of weeks ago, I think. She stopped by the office to see you. But you were in court that day.”
“What did she want to see me about?”
“Hmm. Nothing special that I recall. I think she just happened to be out shopping and dropped by on a whim. Why?”
“Did she mention Trent?”
“I asked her about him,” Irene explained. “She said he was doing fine. Especially now that he’d started at his new job.”
“What about a girlfriend? Did she mention one of those?”
Irene laughed. “Well, Trent has gone through a list of girlfriends. Sort of like his uncle, you know.”
Letting his secretary’s snide comment slide, he said, “I’m talking about a special one.”
“Trent thinks each one is special. Until he gets tired of them.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion on my nephew’s behavior, Irene. Just the facts.”
That he was treating the conversation as lawyer to a witness didn’t bother Irene. After fifteen years of being his secretary she was used to his brusque, plain-spoken manner.
“Sorry, I got carried away for a moment. Must have been all that sugar from the bonbons,” she replied. “But as for a name, I do recall Jillian mentioning some girl he’d been seeing steadily. I believe it was something like Tessa or Tricia.”
Not a Grace. Jack didn’t know how he felt about this bit of news.
“You’re sure?”
“Not a hundred percent. But I do remember it was a T name. Does that help?”
“A little.”
“Now, are you going to tell me what this is all about?”
“No.”
“Oh, well, why should that surprise me,” she said with mock hurt. “I’m just the old faithful secretary that puts in sixty hours a week for you. I don’t deserve an explanation.”
He rolled his eyes. “Irene, if I thought I could do without you, I’d fire you.”
He could hear a wide smile in her voice as she replied, “But you can’t do without me, Jack. So you won’t fire me. Besides, I’m the only real friend you have.”
She was so close to the truth it made him wince. The fact that his fifty-five-year-old secretary was his very best friend said a damn lot about his life.
“There’s nothing to tell,” he said crossly.
“Well, frankly, I don’t understand, Jack. I thought you went to Biloxi to get away from the stress of this place, not investigate your nephew.”
“I’m not doing an investigation, Irene,” he said tiredly.
There was a long pause, then she asked, “So how long are you planning to stay down there?”
“I
