“Where have you been?” Cole asked Annie as soon as the temp he’d hired had shown her into his borrowed office and departed, closing the door behind her. “I expected to hear from you before this.” He picked up the gold pen his father had given him upon graduation from law school and rolled it between his fingers.
Not his biological father, Cole reminded himself with a wry twist of his lips, just the man who’d raised him like a son. The man he’d believed to be his real father until just a few weeks ago.
“It’s only been two days,” Annie replied, dropping her purse and a denim bag on the floor next to an empty leather chair. “I had things to do.” Gone was the trim gray power suit she’d worn with a white blouse and button earrings at lunch the other day. Only her hair was the same, piled into a curly mass on top of her head.
Silver hoops dangled from her ears and sparkled when she turned her head. A blue sweater hugged her breasts and barely covered her midriff. Snug jeans, the fabric bleached nearly white and fraying around the pockets, and thick-soled sandals completed her outfit.
She followed the direction of Cole’s gaze. “My field uniform,” she said with a saucy little shimmy of her hips.
Cole nearly stepped on his tongue. Next to her, he felt overdressed and stodgy. Irritated, he straightened the knot of his tie. “Now that you’re here,” he said, tapping the folder in front of him, “I want to go over this paperwork with you.”
Instead of plopping obediently into a chair, Annie hooked her thumbs into her pockets and glanced around the small room. “Nice digs,” she murmured, turning back to face him. Lightly, she ran her finger over a jade panther that rested on the corner of his desk. That and a brass lamp with a Tiffany-style glass shade were Cole’s. He’d brought them from Denver. The only other items on the desk were the file he’d been studying, a legal pad and a phone with an intercom. Clutter was distracting. He thought of Annie’s office and shuddered.
“My soon-to-be brother-in-law loaned me the office space,” Cole said. “Parker’s engaged to my sister Hannah, and he’s been handling Dad’s divorce.”
Before Cole had moved in here, the room had been used for storage. Bookcases full of legal tomes covered two walls and a row of mismatched file cabinets lined a third. Cartons of printer paper were stacked in one corner. At least there was a small window behind him with a view of the sky and the busy street below.
“How long are you staying in Texas?” Annie asked.
“Until the trial’s over.” He lined the pen up next to the pad of paper. Behind him, the air conditioner hummed quietly. “Let’s get to work.” In the last two days, he’d been torn between worry over his mother and endless speculation about Annie. How much had she changed? Was she as confident as she appeared? Was she still passionate about her work? Had she ever given him a thought in the last six years? Did she hate him? Thanks to his future step-father, Cole might have to work with Annie, but he’d be damned if he’d let her know he still found her attractive.
Finally she sat down, crossed one leg over the other and fished a manila folder from her bag. “Did you know that Ryan’s wife was having an affair before she died?”
Interest surged through Cole. He knew his mother hadn’t murdered Sophia, which meant that someone else had—someone angry enough to press a pillow to her face until she stopped breathing. A spurned lover? An obsessed reject? From what Ryan had already told Cole, his estranged wife had certainly been capable of a secret involvement with someone else while she did her best to squeeze a bigger settlement from her husband.
“I heard rumors,” Cole admitted. “Have you found out who the lucky man was?”
To his disappointment, Annie shook her head. “Not yet, but I will.”
“What have you been doing all this time?” he demanded, frustrated.
She gave him a level stare. “Working. How about you? Established a foolproof defense yet?”
Her sarcastic tone made him realize that the two of them sniping at each other wasn’t going to help his mother’s case. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m worried.” He glanced at the thick file he’d been reading before she came in. “I’ve been going over the police report from the crime scene,” he added. “The only physical evidence that ties Mom to the scene was the ruby bracelet they found next to the body. It was a gift from Ryan. Someone else had to have deliberately planted it in Sophia’s hotel room. Mom was never there.”
“Are you sure of that?” Annie asked.
Cole fought down his protective urges. “She says she wasn’t. That’s good enough for me.”
“But not necessarily good enough to convince a jury,” Annie pointed out. “Why would anyone want to frame her?”
“To divert attention, I suppose,” he replied. “Because Mom was at the hotel that night and she knew Sophia. Anyone could have seen her there.”
Annie twirled a lock of her hair, and he noticed that she wore a ring shaped like a butterfly. Her nails were short, neat and free of polish. “What about the bracelet?” she asked. “Did the police talk to anyone who thought they remembered her wearing it that night?”
Cole thought for a moment. “I don’t think so. Good point.”
Annie made a note. “I’ll check it out. Why was Lily at the hotel that night?”
He sat back and steepled his hands, the leather of his chair creaking in protest like an old saddle. “She attended a charity banquet at the hotel and, unfortunately for her, she decided to stay the night.”
Annie pursed her lips thoughtfully. “What’s her alibi for the time when Sophia was killed?” she asked.
“She was in her own room,” Cole admitted with a sigh. “Alone.”
“No room service? No phone calls?” Annie probed with a wave of her hand.
He shook his head regretfully. “She was resting.”
Annie appeared to be studying the scenic print behind his head. He tried to stay focused on the discussion and not notice how full her lips were, puckered as if for a kiss. Did she have a boyfriend?
“I think our best bet would be to find out who Sophia was involved with,” she said as he tried hard to concentrate. “I’m not usually a fan of putting the victim on trial, but it wouldn’t hurt to alter a jury’s image of her as the wronged wife.”
Cole couldn’t fault Annie’s reasoning. From the beginning, publicity surrounding the case had played up its sensational aspects. Anything connected to the wealthy Fortune family was big news in Texas. “Good idea. Where do we start?”
Annie leaned back and studied him pointedly. The movement thrust out her breasts. Memories had his fingers curling in reaction behind the desk. “We?” she echoed.
“She’s my mother,” he replied a little more forcefully than necessary. “I’m not just some attorney trying to better his win–loss record.”
“Precisely. You’re biased.”
“And you’re not?” he countered.
