Cause For Alarm (21 page)

A
s Richard drove home that evening, his thoughts were on the girl he had interviewed in the morning. He had thought about her on and off all day, though he couldn't say for certain why.

She had given a good interview, no doubt about it. She was as qualified as anyone else he had interviewed; he liked her determination and ambition, appreciated the hunger for the job he had heard in her voice, the hint of desperation.

He had decided against her anyway. She was too young for the job, too pretty, too inexperienced.

But still, he couldn't stop thinking about her. And the more he thought, the more he wavered in his original decision against her. She possessed a kind of determination that he hadn't seen in the other applicants, a kind that made him believe she would do a good job, a better job than the others he had interviewed.

She also possessed a kind of social confidence and savvy that suggested a woman older than her years, one who had seen more of the world than one would expect of a twenty-two year old.

Richard turned onto Gerard Street, heading toward the lake. He smiled to himself, remembering the way she had looked at him, the way she had looked
up
to him. As if she believed in him one hundred percent. As if she didn't have a doubt about his abilities or the fact that he would win the race for D.A.—or any race he ran in, for that matter.

He shook his head, amused with his own thoughts. When she'd looked at him that way, he had been reminded of the young man he had been back at Tulane. Unstoppable. Cocky and without doubts—about himself, his abilities or his golden future. He had been reminded of the way it had felt to snap his fingers and whatever he had desired would be his.

Richard grimaced. A pretty young thing, one more than ten years his junior, gazed up at him in awe and he'd puffed up like some damn peacock.

Reason enough not to hire her.

He sobered, remembering her surprise and devastation at learning of Senator Jacobson's death. Poor kid, she'd been really upset. He had felt bad for her.

He drew to a stop as the light ahead turned red, his thoughts drifting to Kate. She used to look at him the way Julianna had today—as if she believed he not only hung the moon, but that he could do no wrong as well. She used to make him feel all puffed up and invincible.

He drew his eyebrows together in thought. When had she stopped? he wondered. When had he ceased being a hero to her?

The baby, he thought, unable to quell a stab of resentment. Since Emma nothing had been the same between them.

The light changed, and he turned onto Lakeshore Drive. He waved at their next-door neighbor, out pruning her crepe myrtles, as he swung into his drive. Kate sat on the upper balcony, reading while the baby slept in her swing. He pulled his car to a stop, collected his briefcase and climbed out. Kate saw him and called a greeting.

That was it, he realized as he waved to his wife. Something about Julianna Starr reminded him of Kate, though they looked nothing alike. Kate possessed a classic, quiet kind of beauty. Julianna Starr reminded him of the supermodels made so popular by designers like Calvin Klein—waif-Madonnas, somehow childlike and sensual. Despite those differences, he saw something in Julianna's manner that reminded him of his wife—the way she moved and spoke, her smile.

He let himself into the house. He found Kate in the kitchen opening a bottle of merlot. He crossed to her, closing his arms around her from behind. He bent and pressed his lips to her ear. “Hello, beautiful.”

She turned in his arms, looping hers around his neck, smiling up at him. “Hello to you, too.”

He kissed her, then moved his gaze over her face, taking in the shadows beneath her eyes. “You look tired.”

She grimaced. “I am. Emma had a fussy day.”

He released her and went to the cabinet for a couple of wineglasses. “She's quiet now.”

“Thank God. Nothing I did today made her happy. I swear I spent most of the day walking the floors with her.”

He poured them each a glass of the mellow, red wine and brought her one. “I guess you didn't get to The Bean the way you hoped to?”

“Not a chance. Emma would have lasted about two seconds.” Kate brought the glass to her lips, sipped, then sighed. “I needed that.” She took another sip, sighed again, then put down the glass. “How are the interviews going?”

“Funny you should ask that. I interviewed someone interesting today. A woman.”

Kate glanced at the baby monitor to make sure it was on. “Tell me about her.”

So he did. When he had finished, Kate looked at him. “She sounds like a dream. Are you going to hire her?”

“I don't know. She's young. Not experienced enough.” He eyed his wife's expression, then laughed. “I can see you take umbrage with something I just said.”

“It's not that, it's…do you think she can do the job?”

He considered the question a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

“And you think you could work with her?”

“No doubt, though—” he cut his wife an amused glance from the corners of his eyes “—all that hero worship could get a little old.”

“Hero worship?” Kate laughed and tossed the dish towel at him. “Give me a break.”

He laughed and leaned against the counter. “So, what are you saying? That you think I should give her the job?”

“It's your decision, of course.” From the monitor came the sounds of Emma beginning to stir. Kate straightened. “But she sounds great. And after all, you said she reminds you of me. She has to be good, then.”

This time it was he who tossed the towel. She sobered. “Think about it, Richard. We were both young and untried once. Why not give her a chance? Hire her on a trial basis, see what she can do. Tell her you'll evaluate her performance in thirty days.”

He thought a moment, then nodded. “I think you're right, I should give her a chance. I'm going to offer her the job.”

O
ver the next two weeks, Julianna threw herself into her new job, anxious to impress Richard. The work was deadly dull—making speaking engagements, contacting supporters, running errands—but working with Richard was heaven on earth.

She used every opportunity to worm her way into his affections. Her plan of attack was two-fold. She chose every day's attire with care, endeavoring for a balance between sexy and professional. She purposely wore her skirts a bit too short and when she could, left an extra button of her blouse unfastened—neither being overt enough to cause talk or arouse suspicions, but with an eye to being sexy, womanly. Inviting. The second part of her plan involved being completely accommodating to him, making his every wish her command.

She wanted him to grow to depend on her, to look forward to seeing her, to desiring her. She wanted him to realize he couldn't live without her.

Some days, when he smiled at her in that special way of his, or when he laid a hand on her shoulder or cast a furtive glance at her legs or breasts, she would think she was winning. Other days, when she hardly saw him or when he barely acknowledged her presence, her confidence would sink, her spirits with it.

On those days, she reminded herself that they were meant to be together, that Richard was her destiny. Then she would double her efforts.

“Julianna?”

Receiver propped between her ear and shoulder, Julianna lifted her gaze. Sandy stood in the doorway to her closetlike office, her expression hopeful. “Yes?” Julianna asked, frowning.

“I thought…maybe, we could have lunch?”

“Sorry.” Julianna shook her head. “Mr. Ryan and I are having lunch today.”

“You and Mr. Ryan? Your boss, Mr. Ryan?”

“Yes, Sandy.” Julianna sighed. “We have business to discuss.”

“Oh.” She cleared her throat. “So, when can we have lunch together? Tomorrow?”

“I don't know. Maybe.”

“That's what you told me yesterday,” Sandy said, her tone that of a petulant child. “And the day before, too.”

Julianna narrowed her eyes. “Your point?”

“We haven't had lunch once since you came to work here. And it's been two weeks.”

“I've been busy. Work comes first.”

“I understand. I…How about dinner, then? Or coffee at the Bottom of the Cup? We never see each other anymore.”

“Sorry. Can't.”

Julianna returned her attention to the call she needed to make, dismissing the other woman without a word.

Sandy didn't budge. “I saw you with Laura and Bruce yesterday. You weren't too busy to have lunch with
them.
”

Julianna made a sound of impatience. Sandy was proving to be an annoying drag. The little mouse was the
last
person she wanted to be associated with at the firm, the last person she wanted Richard to associate her with. But still, it seemed unwise to make an enemy of her.

“Geez, Sandy, you sound almost jealous. Like I'm cheating on you or something.”

Hot spots of color flew into the other woman's cheeks. “I don't mean to, but…when I got you this job, you promised—”

“Wait a minute, you didn't
get
me this job. I got it. For myself. On my own merits. What would people think if they heard you say that?”

The woman took a step backward. “I'm sorry. It's just that—” She twisted her fingers together, eyes sparkling with tears. “It's almost like you're…dropping me or something.”

Julianna closed her appointment book, bent and fished her purse out from under her desk. She slipped the strap over her shoulder and met the other woman's eyes once more. “You're imagining things. I'm just so busy now. In fact—” she glanced at her watch “—I've got to run. Richard is waiting.”

For a moment, Sandy simply stared at her, then something crossed her face, a kind of dawning realization. “You used me,” she whispered, voice quaking. “To get this job. So you could get next to Mr. Ryan.”

“Don't be ridiculous.” Julianna battled to conceal her unease. “I didn't know anything about you when we met. Including where you worked.”

Sandy shook her head. “How do I know that? You could have been following me around for weeks, learning everything you needed to in order to get close to him.”

Julianna stood, alarmed. She hid it as best she could. “And why would I do that?”

“Because you're in love with him. I see the way you look at him. Everybody does.”

“You need to get some professional help, Sandy. That or a life.” Julianna crossed to stand directly in front of her. “You're really pathetic, you know that? I feel sorry for you.”

Julianna slipped past the other woman, leaving her standing in the office doorway, her shoulders shaking with the force of her tears.

J
ulianna and Richard went to the café across the street from the firm. The hostess led them to a table by the windows, and Julianna gazed out at the patio. She looked back at him and sighed. “I love dining alfresco.”

Richard laughed. “That's right, this is your first August in southern Louisiana. What do you think? Hot enough for you?”

“What do I think? That I'm going to melt, it's so blasted hot.”

She propped her chin on her fist, something that Kate did often and Richard was struck by how much she reminded him of his wife.

“Is it ever going to cool down again?” she asked.

“We usually see some cool days in October.”

She picked up her menu, her lips curving into a shy smile. “You're teasing me.”

“I wish I were.” He smiled. “Just imagine the days before air-conditioning.”

That was too horrible to even contemplate, and they fell silent as they studied the menu. No sooner had they laid them aside, than their waitress appeared to take their lunch orders.

Richard watched Julianna while she ordered, thinking again of the similarity between her and Kate. He cocked his head and drew his eyebrows together. It was almost uncanny.

She caught him staring and flushed. “What?”

“You remind me of someone,” he said.

“Who's that?”

“As crazy as it sounds, my wife.”

“Why would that sound crazy?” she asked.

He laughed. “Because you look nothing alike.” The waitress brought their iced teas. He watched as Julianna added two sugars, and he shook his head. “She adds two sugars to her tea, too.”

“I don't mind being compared to her,” Julianna said softly. “Judging by the picture of her on your desk, she's very attractive.”

“Yes, she is.” He took a sip of his tea. “You'll have to meet her sometime. I'm sure you'll like her.”

“You don't have any children?”

“Pardon?”

“I didn't notice any pictures—”

“I have a daughter,” he said quickly. “She's three months old.” Even as he said the words, they sounded awkward on his tongue, cumbersome, as if he were telling an untruth. “Emma Grace, that's her name.”

“You need to put a picture of her on your desk.” She smiled. “Show her off a bit. I'm sure she's gorgeous.”

“Of course she is.” He cleared his throat, anxious to get off the subject of Emma and down to business. “I'm going to be tied up at the courthouse all afternoon with pretrial motions and thought we'd better go over a few things before it gets too crazy.”

“Fine with me.” She bent to retrieve her notebook and pen from her purse on the floor. She flipped it open and laid it on the table. “Shoot.”

“You've called the local Shriner's and confirmed my speaking engagement?”

“Done.” She referred quickly to her notes. “The president, a Jay Summers, will introduce you. I sent over a brief bio. I also reconfirmed the content of your speech, that you would be discussing the district attorney's place in the legal system and your platform. He asked me to remind you to leave twenty minutes at the end for Q and A.”

“Good.” Richard took another sip of the tea. “As you know, I go to trial next week. It's going to be nuts, you probably won't see me at all. I'll check in with you as I can, but I'll mostly go through Nancy. If anything urgent comes up, let her know.”

Julianna nodded, taking notes as he went on. He asked her to contact the people in charge of several upcoming festivals and to reserve a booth at each. He also asked her to query printers about bumper stickers, refrigerator magnets and flyers.

“Got all that?” he asked, when he had finished.

She nodded. “One question, though. How long do you anticipate the trial lasting?”

The waitress brought their sandwiches. When she walked away, Richard began again. “My guess is two to three weeks. There's a lot of evidence to be presented, some of it tricky DNA results.”

“So, no speaking engagements, dinners or anything until the trial concludes?”

“Exactly.”

She took a bite of her chicken salad sandwich, then washed it down with a swallow of tea. “It must be difficult having to review all the evidence for a crime like this.” She shuddered. “I mean, isn't he the one accused of hacking his girlfriend to pieces?”

The media had dubbed his client Dr. Death because of the nature of the crime and because Dr. Robert Wellever was a renown New Orleans surgeon. “Some of it is pretty gruesome,” he agreed. “But it's my job and it has to be done.”

“Do you think you'll get him off?”

“I hope so. He's an innocent man.”

“But what if—” She bit the words back, shaking her head. “Never mind.”

“Go ahead, Julianna. What were you about to say?”

“But what if he isn't innocent? Or rather, what if you thought he was guilty?”

“I'd still represent him. In this country, you are innocent until proven guilty. Every American has the right to a fair trial and unbiased representation.”

He met her eyes and saw the eagerness there, the admiration and awe of youth. He had to admit, he liked seeing it directed at him. It made him feel young again and on top of the world. “All that said, that's precisely the reason I'm running for D.A. I want to be on the other side of the courtroom for once. I've defended guys who were guilty as sin, I knew they were because they'd confessed to me. Even so, I presented the smartest case I could, given the evidence, and I got them acquitted.

“I didn't like the way that made me feel. Like maybe I needed a bath.” He laughed a bit self-consciously, surprised at the way he was confiding his thoughts to her. “A couple times I wished I could turn the sick bastards in myself. Just walk up to the jury and tell them the truth.”

“Wow.” She leaned toward him, eyes sparkling. As she did, the front of her blouse parted slightly, revealing the curve of one breast. Desire kicked him square in the gut, and he dragged his gaze away, guilt rushing over him in a storm. She lowered her gaze, then looked up at him through dark lashes. “It's such an honor to be working for you.”

He laughed. “That makes me sound like some ancient Supreme Court justice. Wrinkled and arthritic.”

She joined his laughter. “You're not like that at all. You're the sexiest man—” She brought a hand to her mouth, embarrassed color flooding her face. “I can't believe I…that I said that. I am
so
sorry.”

“Don't apologize, for Heaven's sake. I may be old, but I'm not dead. A compliment like that from a beautiful woman is damn nice.” Better than nice, he admitted silently. Exciting. Exhilarating. It seemed ages since anyone had looked at him the way Julianna did. Even Kate. These days his wife looked at him as a father first, husband second. He wasn't sure if sexy would even make the top ten.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “For the beautiful part.”

“You're welcome.” He grinned, realizing that he was flirting with her. And not in a small way. Even as he told himself to steer the conversation back to professional matters, he angled his body toward hers. “Tell me about yourself, Julianna. You've been working for me for two weeks and I know nothing more about you than I did the day we met.”

She pushed her half-eaten sandwich away. “What do you want to know?”

Everything, he realized. The things she liked, the ones she didn't; what her childhood had been like, the qualities she looked for in a man.

He swallowed hard, uneasy. He hadn't had thoughts like these about a woman since he had said “I do.” Sure, he had admired a woman's chest or ass, had wondered, briefly, what she would be like in bed. There wasn't a heterosexual man, married or not, who didn't do the same from time to time.

But this was different, he acknowledged. This was real interest—in Julianna, the person. This was an attraction that went deeper than a tickle of arousal over a short skirt or a glimpse of skin.

Interest in a person—who just happened to be a pretty secretary—wasn't a crime. It didn't mean he was a snake or a sneak. It didn't mean he was going to
cheat.

He wasn't that kind of man anyway. He was the kind who loved his wife and believed in the sanctity of his marriage vows. The kind who had sown all his wild oats
before
taking the nuptial plunge.

And it was a good thing, too, he thought. Because if he hadn't, being around Julianna Starr day in and day out could prove to be dangerous.