Lone Star Wedding (10 page)

“Tonight?” she asked.

“After we have dinner at my father's.”

Dinner? she thought. “You're almost as manipulative as Ryan.”

He shrugged. “You have your work cut out for you.”

She studied his profile. He had a broad forehead, dark eyebrows, a straight, longish nose. The little cleft in his chin gave his chiseled features a touch of mystery.

He turned his head, and found her watching him. “Well?” he asked.

From now on she was going to have to remember that she wasn't dealing with any ordinary man here. She was dealing with a sharp and assessing divorce attorney.

“Hannah?”

“I can't tonight.” The quirk of his left eyebrow prompted her to add, “I already made plans. With Adrienne.”

“Set plans or so-so plans?”

“So-so, I suppose.”

“Then get out of them.”

“I don't ditch my friends.”

“Then bring her along.”

Bring Adrienne?

“It's just dinner, Hannah.”

Hannah started to smile. Bring Adrienne. Of course.

Tonight was going to be a night to remember. She stuck out her hand. He took it, and shook it.

They had a deal.

“T
urn right at the next intersection.”

Hannah did as Adrienne directed, pulling her five-year-old compact past a lavishly landscaped sign indicating the entrance into one of the most elite suburbs of San Antonio.

Adrienne sat in the passenger seat, one finger on the map in her lap, her eyes trained on street signs and markers. “Tell me again why y'all are having dinner here, and why you insisted I accompany you on your date.”

“First of all, this isn't a date,” Hannah said, her voice low and composed in her effort to keep the awe she felt at the sight of so many huge homes at bay. “It's an experiment. And I invited you because you're my best friend. And J. D. Malone intimidates me, and well, nobody intimidates you.”

“Sugar, some people intimidate me. The trick is to never let them know it.”

“How did you acquire so much backbone?”

Adrienne shrugged. “My mama taught me some of it, but most of it comes from turning the big three-O. Everything starts to fall into place after that. Women say things make even more sense after forty. Personally, I'm not ready to have things make that much sense.”

Hannah smiled. For a woman so obviously at ease with herself and her place in the universe, Adrienne practically held a wake on the eve of every birthday. “Luckily,” Han
nah said, “you have seven years before you have to find out.”

“Yes,” Adrienne agreed. “And everybody knows that seven is lucky. There it is. The home of the legendary J. D. Malone.”

Hannah recognized Parker's car parked in the driveway of the address he'd given her. To keep the evening in the experimental category and completely un-datelike, she'd turned down his offer to pick her up, insisting they meet here, instead. As she waited for the wrought-iron gate to open, she took advantage of the opportunity to look around. J.D.'s house sat on a hill and was surrounded by immaculately tended grounds. The house was pretentious, beautiful, and so far removed from the comfortable little house where Hannah had grown up that nerves fluttered in her stomach.

“Even Ryan's house, with all his fortune, is less formidable than this.”

“Shoot, sugar. This is nothing. I once dated a basketball player who owns a house in The Dominion. Several of the Spurs players live there, and let me tell you, they make these houses look like shacks. Come on. Let's go pound on this shack's door and get this experiment of yours under way. Hello, Parker. Nice tie.”

Hannah hadn't realized she'd reached the front door until she found herself face-to-face with Parker. His tie was blue. It matched his eyes. Leave it to Adrienne to notice.

“Hello, Parker,” she said. “You remember Adrienne.”

He nodded, greeted both women, then ushered them inside. Adrienne's three-inch heels clicked over the marble floor of the foyer, Hannah's lower heels thudding more quietly. The plush carpet in the next room muted their footsteps altogether.

Hannah was vaguely aware of gleaming chandeliers and
gold-framed paintings. Although there was an aroma of cooking in the air, it was difficult to imagine anyone growing up in a house like this.

“Where's your father?” she asked.

“He's taking a business call in his office. Clara has just put the steaks on. Would either of you care for something to drink?”

Adrienne and Hannah both agreed that a tall iced tea would taste good. While Parker disappeared to get them, Adrienne wandered to a wall completely dominated by artwork. Joining her there, Hannah rubbed her arms against the cold. After a long stretch of companionable silence, Hannah said, “We should have asked for a steaming pot of herbal tea.”

“How silly of us to wear summer clothes.”

Hannah smiled. “I wonder why men like it so cold.”

“Good question. If I would have known the air-conditioning would be set at fifty-three degrees, I would have worn a sweater. And a bra.”

They turned at the sound of ice cubes clinking in glasses on the far side of the room. The two Malones stood near the doorway. Both men were immaculately dressed in business suits and ties, both were dark-haired and intense. Both happened to wear the look of a man whose thoughts had recently taken a slow dip into the forbidden. J.D. couldn't seem to take his eyes off Adrienne. As for Parker, well… Hannah's breath caught in her throat at the sight of the dark-blue eyes that were trained slightly below
her
shoulders.

“You asked why men like a cold house,” Adrienne said under her breath. “There's your answer.”

Before meeting Adrienne, Hannah would have blushed and stammered her way through this type of situation.
Shaking her head at her friend, she had to fight the urge to laugh.

Without a word, J.D. went to the hall where the thermostat was located and turned up the temperature a few degrees. Parker handed Hannah and Adrienne their glasses of tea and indicated that they take a seat. “Father,” he said, standing near a wing chair, “you remember Hannah. This is her friend, Adrienne Blakely.”

Although J.D. had already met Hannah briefly, he shook her hand again. He lingered slightly longer over Adrienne's handshake, then took a seat in a nearby chair.

At first glance Parker had thought that Hannah and Adrienne were an unlikely pair. Since then, he'd sensed a deep friendship, a mutual respect. Hell, the women liked each other, accepted each other, had a lot of fun together. Adrienne was five or six years older, and the epitome of a modern-day Southern belle. Her dress was flowered, the skirt full. It was the kind of dress women in Georgia probably wore hats with. Parker was more interested in Hannah's clothes. She was wearing a skirt. Not quite tight, not short, not brown. Her blouse was scoop-necked and sleeveless, the fabric made up of softly muted flowers in beige, yellow and blue.

“I see you like Monet.” Adrienne gestured to the artwork on the wall.

J.D. said, “I have a keen appreciation for beautiful things, yes.”

Hannah glanced sharply at Parker. He half expected her to roll her eyes. He could only shrug. After all, she was the one who'd insisted she could find goodness in everyone. When she pulled a face, Parker felt an unaccustomed urge to chuckle. From the beginning, this had all the makings of an interesting evening. It was getting more interesting by the minute.

Settling herself more comfortably in the chair, Hannah crossed her legs and made careful note of her surroundings. The main purpose of her visit was to get to know Parker's father, thereby discovering his good qualities. A year ago she'd read that he'd turned fifty. Other than a little gray in the hair at his temples, he didn't look it. Parker had mentioned a slightly older sister. That meant that J.D. had become a father at a very young age. She had a difficult time imagining J.D. attending soccer games or tossing a baseball. He wasn't cold, exactly. He just wasn't very “fatherly.”

The room was tastefully decorated, but it held very little of anything personal, certainly nothing feminine. There were no photographs of either of his children, no mementos of vacations, no hints into his past or his personality. J.D. was a talented conversationalist, a conscientious host. He was civil to his help. When a gray-haired woman announced that dinner was ready, he even went so far as to tell her it smelled wonderful.

They ate on real china, drank from genuine crystal, and used expensive silver. J.D. asked Hannah about her mother, and Parker about a case he was working on, but it became increasingly obvious, to Hannah at least, that he was the most interested in Adrienne. Hannah was rather enjoying watching her friend in action.

“I understand you own a restaurant downtown.”

Adrienne toyed with her watercress, smiling blandly. “The Pink Flamingo.”

“I'll have to try it sometime.”

As far as Hannah was concerned, Adrienne's failure to invite him to do just that spoke volumes. J.D. didn't seem to mind. “Your accent is delightful.”

This time Adrienne's smile was slightly more genuine, but still, no personal information was forthcoming.

“It's Georgian, isn't it?”

“Yes.”

“San Antonio is a long way from Georgia. Most people have a reason for venturing so far from their roots.”

Obviously, J. D. Malone hadn't made a name for himself as the most feared attorney in his field by honoring people's privacy. Hannah half expected Adrienne to tell J.D. to mind his own business. Instead she batted her eyelashes, smiled coquettishly, and said, “My secret's out. How on earth did y'all get so smart?”

Parker and Hannah exchanged yet another telling look.

“You might say it's a honed skill.
Is
the reason you left Atlanta a secret?” J.D. asked.

“I don't recall mentioning that I'm from Atlanta.”

Hannah glanced at her friend. Adrienne's tone had been uncustomarily sharp.

“Parker must have mentioned it,” J.D. said, completely nonplussed. “Was it supposed to be a secret?”

Hannah couldn't have mastered Adrienne's small smile no matter how hard she tried. It was a Southern smile, pretty, all for show, giving nothing away. “It's hardly a secret. You see, I came this close to winning a beauty contest.”

“What happened?”

She batted her eyelashes again, and poured on the honey-coated Southern accent. “Oh, those silly old contests are so picky. A girl gets accused, privately, of course, of sleeping with a judge, and the best she can do is first runner-up.”

The room was completely quiet. Nobody moved, not to chew, not even to breathe. Hannah had a feeling she was witnessing history in the making. J. D. Malone didn't seem to know how to proceed.

Adrienne beamed around the table. Spearing a small
piece of steak, she finally said, “This is wonderful, done to perfection. It's neither Texas style—black on the outside and gray on the inside, nor cowboy style—with the tail and horns still attached.”

Parker answered. “Clara was a real find. Isn't that right, J.D.?”

J.D. recovered instantaneously and the conversation turned away from cuts of meat and beauty contests. Parker asked Hannah about a wedding she was planning. He even told a joke about three attorneys who were waiting at the pearly gates. Even funnier than the punch line was the quip he made when he was finished.

“Some people might contend that there are no attorneys in heaven,” he said, looking directly into Hannah's eyes.

It was Adrienne who said, “Not Hannah. She finds goodness in everyone.” There was a slight pause. “Or almost everyone.”

Parker was the first to laugh. Shortly after Clara served dessert, the telephone rang. “There's a phone call for you,” Clara said to Adrienne. “He said it's important.”

Adrienne excused herself. Moments later she was back. “I'm afraid I have to go.”

Hannah rose to her feet instantly. Parker and J.D. a few seconds behind. “Is everything okay?” Hannah asked.

Adrienne nodded reassuringly. “The stove went out in the restaurant. Gerard says it's a madhouse.”

After saying their goodbyes and thanking J.D. for the delicious meal, Hannah and Adrienne hurried out to the car. J.D. and Parker returned to the table and finished their desserts in silence.

J.D. didn't speak until he'd taken his last sip of coffee and had dropped his linen napkin onto the table. “Did she really do it?”

Parker had always been intrigued by the way his father's
mind worked. It had been at least a half hour since Adrienne had mentioned the beauty pageant, and yet he knew exactly what J.D. was talking about. Shrugging, he said, “I could probably find out.”

J.D. shook his head. “You have enough to worry about with this Fortune case. Are there any new developments, by the way?”

Parker had barely finished filling his father in when the telephone rang again. J.D. took the call. Shortly thereafter, Parker took his leave.

 

The light was still on in Hannah's boutique when Parker pulled to a stop at the curb later that night. She didn't jump when he rapped on the window. She was probably accustomed to having friends drop in on her at all hours.

The idea that he and Hannah were friends gave Parker a moment's pause. He was friendly with the receptionist at the office, and he maintained business relationships with several women in his field. But his
friends
were former college roommates he kept in touch with a few times a year, or associates, or men he played racquetball with or met for a round of golf. It wasn't impossible that he and Hannah were becoming friends…

She smiled at him as she unlocked the door, and a zing went through him. “Parker, what are you doing here?”

…No, it wasn't impossible.

A dozen thoughts scrambled through his mind, but only one sensation took hold deep in his body. That didn't happen when any of his other friends graced him with a smile.

“I went for a drive to unwind and wound up here. I wanted to hear what you thought of the legendary J. D. Malone. Are you ready to concede defeat?”

She practically pulled him inside, locking the door behind him. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“Are you saying you found the goodness you were looking for in my father?”

“I might have found some. If you have major issues with your father, Parker, I think you should read books on the subject, or perhaps talk to a family counselor.”

Parker almost laughed. Although J.D. would never make father of the year, Parker knew his father loved him in his own way. He accepted his father exactly as he was, and vice versa. He hadn't suggested this little experiment to find fault with the man who had raised him. He'd done it to better understand this woman with the sunny disposition and glowing outlook on life.

The fact that she'd refused to see him otherwise had been a factor, but only in the beginning. The truth was, Hannah Cassidy was a breath of fresh air.

“I don't have issues with my father, Hannah. I'm just trying to get a glimpse of how he looks through your eyes. You can tell me what you really think of him. I can take the truth.”