older couple now lunching there.
She drank deeply from her water glass to help the food go down. “Pardon me?”
Blake pointed at her with his fork. “No pardon granted.” He took a bite of his trout and then put his utensils down and dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. Her father was so different from Carter in that he’d eaten at this and similar restaurants hundreds of times and proper protocol was second nature to him. His suit was tailored, his shirt snow-white and freshly starched, his tie silk and pierced with a clip, his hair neatly trimmed. But his question and follow-up response proved that he had more in common with Carter when it came to seeing through her.
He narrowed his gaze. “You’ve been distracted ever since you came in. By now I usually know as many details about your latest case as your associates do, as well as what you’ve had for dinner the night before.”
Laney’s mouth dropped open. Thankfully there was nothing in it to fall out. “I can’t possibly talk all that much.”
Her father’s grin warmed her. “Maybe not all that much. But enough for me to know today’s quiet is out of character.”
Laney readjusted her napkin in her lap. “I’m just a little distracted, is all. I went to see MacGregor at the county jail this morning before today’s hearing.” She gave a slight shiver, always uncomfortable with her visits to places where iron bars were the dominant décor. “He has no idea who might have sent me that note.”
“Have you heard from the detective you gave it to?”
“Yes. No fingerprints. No unique characteristics.”
“No reason to further pursue the matter.”
“His words exactly.”
Her father folded his hands on the edge of the table. “Would you like me to look into it?”
Blake Cartwright had had big shoes to fill, following Laney’s legendary grandfather. But he had never really looked at it that way. Perhaps once he might have, but that would have been long before Laney was old enough to notice. Most men with inherited wealth were happy to accept a token role in the family business, allowing their money to make money for them. Not her father. He wanted to leave his own unique mark. And he was doing just that by establishing himself as a very successful venture capitalist.
In the past ten years alone, Laney could count fifteen of his schemes that had taken off, adding significantly to his wealth, most of them in green technology. Of course, he’d had to invest in a hundred to score on those fifteen, and she’d enjoyed hearing about every one of them, including the wacky idea of a hat that allowed advertisers to buy space on it when the owner registered with the mother Web site.
Laney realized her father was waiting for an answer, so she shook her head. “Thanks, but no. I don’t feel I’m at any great risk.”
“Sounds like famous last words to me.”
She smiled. “God, I hope not. I didn’t get into this line of work to put my life at risk. If I had wanted to do that, I would have become a police officer.”
“Honest work.”
“Honest work that gets you shot in the ass.”
Blake laughed loudly and sat back, oblivious to the looks he got. “You know, you never did answer my question.”
“What question?” She pretended an interest in finishing her meal.
“You know very well what question. I heard you were in here with another man the other day. You know, the one when you canceled your luncheon date with me so you could conduct an emergency meeting on the MacGregor case.”
Laney frowned. “How could I forget how small this big city can be?”
How stupid! She should have known that word would get back to her father. Especially considering the interest that Carter had garnered. There were probably people in the room even now whom she might not know personally but who knew her father. And while none of them would openly gossip about Carter’s questionable appearance (it wasn’t the Texan thing to do), they would politely ask after him in a way that would get their unspoken meaning across.
“So are you planning to tell me?” her father asked again.
Laney shook her head. “No. Because he’s of no concern.”
And he wasn’t, was he? At least not to her father. She hadn’t heard from Carter since that day and was beginning to accept the fact that she might not. Which meant that there was zero chance that she’d ever introduce him to her father.
She caught herself wistfully fingering the hair at the nape of her neck and stopped, smiling at her father, who watched her curiously.
“I see,” he said.
She opened her mouth to ask him what he saw, then thought better of it. She knew not to ask her father anything she wasn’t ready to hear the answer to.
“Anyway, my love life is dismally boring compared to yours,” she said, lobbing the conversation back in his direction.
His expression shifted as if to say, “That’s more like it,” and he chuckled. “At least you’re admitting to having a love life.”
She didn’t. But despite Carter’s silence, she held out a slim hope that might change.
LANEY USUALLY TOOK the McKinney Avenue tram back and forth to work. It was convenient and fast. But in this heat, it also meant that she’d be soaked with sweat before she got to the office. So she’d taken to driving.
If her new habit had anything to do with the threatening note she’d received, she wasn’t saying.
Besides, if she didn’t drive to work, when else would she get to enjoy her Infiniti hybrid? The luxury vehicle was designed to please, and she liked being behind the wheel, feeling in control of her world as the city buildings loomed outside her windows.
She pressed the elevator button to take her to the garage level and then looked at her watch. After seven. Most everyone else in the company had gone home for the day. As usual, she’d let time get away from her while working out the MacGregor defense, and when she’d finally looked up, the sun was a huge, orange ball on the western horizon.
The bell dinged and the elevator doors opened. She stepped out, her footsteps echoing in the nearly empty chamber. She slowed, giving a little shiver and gripping her briefcase more tightly. If need be, she could use it as a weapon.
She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. And just who, exactly, was she expecting to accost her? The janitor with a broom demanding she hand over her thousand-dollar Jimmy Choos?
She was tired, that’s all. And the lack of sleep was amplifying the fear that lingered in the wake of that threatening note. She didn’t have anything to worry about. She hadn’t committed any crime. Wronged anyone else. She was merely defending her innocent client.
And she did believe that Devon MacGregor was innocent, didn’t she? While she didn’t think she was an expert, she considered herself a pretty good judge of human behavior. And Devon MacGregor’s pleas for her to believe him and the supporting, if meager, evidence told her
