In the library, Kell flopped across the settee, bare feet tucked into the space between cushions. Eliza would kill her if she caught her with shoes scuffing the furniture. She’d been lying prone for most of the day, closeted away from the bustle of chores and supper. Her guest room had been tagged for cleaning, hence her banishment to the nearest room with a flat surface.
Across the room and beyond its bay windows, dusk settled around the Center. Cicadas began their nightly serenade to the tree frogs that inhabited the woods behind the house. Night birds chirped in delighted chorus.
She didn’t notice. In fact, she hadn’t paid attention to much in the twenty-four hours since she’d tossed her career away in a fit of what she could only explain as madness. Rolling onto her side, Kell emitted a wretched moan of agony. After all, she’d carefully exorcised what remained of her scruples over the course of her career, selecting clients and defending cases that shredded any sense of honor. She’d selected a law partner with the soul of a piranha and the ethics to match. Jameson Trent, LLP thrived on cases with the most venal clients and the highest profiles. That’s how David made his money and Kell achieved her fame.
The perfect partnership.
In an instant, though, she’d cast avarice and fame aside for what? Her head throbbed in sympathetic counterpoint to a queasy stomach. To do good. Damn her. Eliza Faraday managed to locate that one last spark of redemption she’d imagined quenched. Now, she had an innocent client.
She hated innocent clients.
Innocence meant caring about the outcome more than the performance. For every other case, the verdict simply capped off what she was hired to do. Create reasonable doubt for the guilty. This time, she’d be obliged to prove her client not guilty.
“Are you going to lounge around all day?”
The gravelly voice with its distinctive timbre pitched her stomach into somersaults. She remembered the way his hands nipped into her waist, stroked her skin. Another in a litany of mistakes. Biting off a curse, Kell rolled over to face the back of the couch, presenting her stiffened spine to the intruder. “Go away, Sheriff.”
Luke shut the library door with a firm click and strolled farther into his favorite room in the Center, ignoring her command. High shelves stood packed tight with leather-bound volumes and flimsy paperbacks. Ever since he arrived in Hallden, Eliza had served as an unofficial lending library. She welcomed those who appreciated her collections.
He had a difficult time picturing the friendly, gentle lady who’d welcomed him with tea and cookies plunging a knife into a defenseless man. But Luke had seen more than his share of inexplicable crimes. Eliza Faraday didn’t strike him as a killer, but he’d been wrong before.
Banishing suspicion, he moved to the section of bookcases where Eliza maintained her stock of espionage novels. The shelves stood next to the end of the settee where Kell appeared to be sulking, if he read her body language properly. He focused on the titles and tried to not stare at the length of leg exposed by the criminally abbreviated skirt hiked up trim, coffee-toned thighs.
Instead, he forced himself to skim the titles, looking for one he hadn’t read before. Swallowing past the familiar tightness in his throat, he said neutrally, “Nina tells me you’ve been hiding in here all day.”
“Nina talks too much,” Kell muttered into the cushions. She was in no mood for banter with him. All she wanted was peace and quiet and a place to sulk in private. As though reading his mind, she drew her legs in close and wrapped her arms around her knees. “I have a headache, that’s all.”
“You were fine yesterday.”
“Now it’s today,” came the snippy reply. “Did you come to quiz me on my medical status or are you here for something specific?”
“Headaches make you testier than usual,” Luke commented, drawing out a title by Cussler. “I didn’t know that was possible.”
“Keep pushing.”
The snarled warning brought a grin to his face. He greatly preferred a feisty Kell to the limp, despondent woman curled into a tight ball of misery on the sofa. Whatever had knocked her back, he knew his presence had the prolific effect of igniting some passion from her. As much as he wanted to cross to her and soothe, annoying her would no doubt be more successful. Glancing over his shoulder at her, he mocked, “What’s got you pouting? Break a heel on those expensive shoes?”
“Pouting?” Very slowly, Kell levered herself over to face him. Her legs stretched out, finding purchase on the armrest. Resentment surged through, a molten sweep that bared her teeth. A huge part of her problem stood in front of her. Mocking her. “I don’t pout.”
“Could have fooled me.” Luke moved to lounge against the sofa, and he trailed a finger along the slender ankle resting on the arm. Desire streaked through him, a visceral race of blood and need. Deliberately, he kept his touch light, amused and aroused when he felt her arch against the light stroke. “Other than a smirk, I didn’t realize your mouth had another expression.”
Kell sat up, eyes spitting fire at the insult. Worse, her flesh tingled where he caressed absently, her pulse jumped erratically. Wrestling for control, she jerked her leg free and shot, “Perhaps if you paid less attention to my mouth and more attention to your case, you wouldn’t need my help.”
If he had paid less attention to her mouth, Luke admitted, he’d probably have recognized why she’d come to Hallden in the first place. Instead of responding, he batted her legs off the cushion and took a seat. “What happened to you after you left the restaurant, Kell?”
“Nothing.” His sitting forced Kell to scoot over, and she abruptly became aware of the expanse of skin her position had exposed. Discreetly, she tugged the raised hem to a more appropriate length. “I got some bad news. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“I doubt there’s much you can’t handle, Kell.” He lifted her hand, his voice gentle. She wouldn’t appreciate sympathy, but he couldn’t resist. The odd mixture of stoicism and vulnerability caught at him. Folding his hand over hers, he nudged, “Something upset you. What was it?”
She ran her free hand through her hair, wearily smoothing errant strands into place. “There’s nothing you can do.”
“I can listen.”
The simple offer pulled at her. He didn’t demand answers, didn’t wheedle for information. Where his hand clasped hers, warmth trailed along her skin, a companionable feeling that she’d missed without ever knowing she wanted it. Him. She shook her head in bemusement. “You do that well.”
“What? Listen?”
“No.” She smiled, a brief turn of lips that evaporated as quickly as it appeared. “You make me forget that I don’t know you, and I don’t like you.”
Not offended, Luke turned her captive hand over, his fingers linking with hers. “We do know each other, Kell. That’s what scares you.” When she frowned, he corrected, “Disturbs you.”
“Maybe.”
“Well, it disturbs the hell out of me.” Stroking his thumb along the creamy smooth skin, he urged quietly, “Talk to me.”
The impulse to share confounded Kell. She’d kept her own counsel for so long. Yet, the thought of confiding in Luke brought a comfort that unsettled. She opened her mouth to refuse his offer, only to hear herself confess, “I lost my job yesterday.”
Luke merely rubbed his thumb along the ridge of her knuckles. She wouldn’t look at him, he noted. But her admission was progress. He probed, “Why would David Trent dissolve your partnership? You’re the heart of that firm. Twice the lawyer he is.”
Warmed by the defense, Kell asked, “You know him?”
With a sound of derision, he explained, “I know of him. Practiced criminal work in Chicago for a while. I never met him in court, but my colleagues did.” His mouth tightened. “He wasn’t renowned for his ethics.”
“David plays to win,” she defended automatically. In warning, she added, “So do I.”
“You protect your clients. That’s not the same as Trent’s antics.” It wasn’t a question.
Shame had her flushing lightly. “I win my cases, Luke. By fair means or not so much.”
“Do you lie in court?”
“By legal standards, no.”
“And by yours?” The answer mattered, more than he’d have expected. “Have you broken your oath?”
“No. But give me a few more years with David,” she laughed mirthlessly. “I defend clients who can afford to pay our fees, and they pay for a bit of flexibility in our moral codes.”
“So what happened?”
“My moral code did battle with my partnership agreement. I’m not sure which one won.”
“He doesn’t want you defending Eliza?”
“David didn’t mind my client detour at first, but—”
“But what?”
“He wasn’t happy, but he understood. Until I told him I wasn’t returning to Atlanta to take over the case that can make our firm a household name.”
He understood instantly. “Your firm picked up the Marley case?” he asked, impressed despite himself. “Every defense firm in the country is going to chase that one.”
“And she picked us.” Restive, Kell withdrew her hand from his and rose. She walked to the window seat and flicked at the drapes that had been drawn against the afternoon sun. “I refused to come back for the arraignment.”
Luke watched the jerky movements, concerned. “Because of Eliza.”
She clenched the fabric, outrage warring with disappointment. “David considers my refusal to come to Atlanta a breach of our partnership agreement. He threatened to serve me with termination papers.”
“It’s your firm,” Luke protested. “He can’t simply kick you out.”
Grudgingly, she admitted, “I’d do the same to him if our positions were reversed. This case is my personal crusade. It won’t help the firm. I’m putting my whims first.”
“Protecting someone you love?”
“Yes.”
A fact that disturbed her more than she expected, Luke judged. He gained his feet and followed her to the window. Resisting the urge to touch, he reached past her to open the shades. Twilight dappled the magnolia tree that dominated the view. A scent rose from her skin, lighter than he’d expected, though he knew the scent by heart. Not the floral of a garden, but a crisp fragrance that teased his senses with its directness and undertone of sensuality. How appropriate, he acknowledged wryly. “Are you going to fight him?”
“How?” She’d grappled with that all evening. “I drafted the agreement. He’s on perfectly solid ground. We have to agree on major cases, and a retainer like Marley’s would certainly take precedence. I know because I wrote the agreement.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, ‘oh.’ I’m making the choice to stay here rather than earn a million-dollar retainer.”
“Why?”
She turned to him now, her eyes direct and level. “Because I believe Eliza is innocent. I don’t think she had anything to do with Clay’s death.”
“I want to believe you. Believe her.” He placed his hands on her shoulders, noting the play of muscle beneath his touch. She was strong, tense. “Let me talk to her.”
“I can’t do that, Luke. She’s my client, not yours.” Kell shifted into attorney mode, grateful to leave behind the sentimental woman who welcomed a shoulder to cry on. “Until I’m satisfied that you’ve exhausted all other leads, I’m going to advise her to not speak with you.”
“You’re perilously close to a line neither one of us wants crossed,” Luke retorted, holding up a hand before she could respond. “I suggested that we work together, and I intend to stick to my word. But the minute I have reason to suspect Eliza Faraday of murder, friendship and this partnership can’t matter. Neither can whatever is between us.”
Pulling her shields back into place, Kell took a step away. His hold on her shoulder didn’t falter, but she refused to fight him. “Will you tell me the whole truth too, Sheriff? Why you fled Chicago?”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
Kell laid a hand on his cheek, drawing his eyes to her. “The difference between us, Luke, is that I’m at least honest with myself. And I can leave well enough alone.”
Taking her at her word, Luke dropped his hands and moved away from her touch. He fished in his pocket for his keys. “Go change into something more comfortable.”
“Why?” she asked suspiciously.
“Because we have work to do, and you can’t be wandering around town in that skirt.”
Kell glanced down at her dress, baffled. “It’s perfectly respectable.”
“If you didn’t have legs like that, maybe. But I can’t take you anywhere if those are on display. And put your hair in a ponytail or something.”
“Should I smear dirt on my face?” she sniped.
“I’d say yes, if I thought it would help. You’re too gorgeous for this kind of work,” he complained aloud.
“What work?”
“For visiting Clay’s old haunts. The drug hells of Hallden.” He propelled her to the door, stopping to twist the knob before guiding her into the foyer. “You’ve got five minutes, and then I leave without you.”