Chapter Three

KATE PINCHED HER THUMB AND forefinger together. Growing up, she bit her nails whenever she was nervous. She’d never had long, beautifully painted nails like Megan. She’d had stubby, jagged nubs of anxiety. Her mother had tried cayenne pepper, dish soap, and everything else she could think of to get her to stop biting her nails, but nothing worked. The habit followed her to high school, college, and all the way to Harvard Law School. During a mock appellate argument in her first year of law school, her professor noticed the habit and called her out on it in front of the entire class. “Never show weakness,” the stern professor scolded her, and the lesson stuck. Now instead of biting her nails, she squeezed her fingers together. It gave her worry a place to go. As long as she kept her hands behind her back or hidden under a table, no one would know how nervous she was. Hiding her emotions had become an artform for her. As long as she could keep up appearances, it didn’t matter how much she kept locked inside.

She waited as Chris read the form authorizing a payroll account to be set up. She’d seen the way he’d stopped shuffling the papers when he got to that one. He was quiet as he read the form over and over again. The silence in the small room was as oppressive as the smell of paint. She would have leaned against the wall to look casual and unconcerned, but she didn’t want to risk getting paint on her suit. When she’d gotten an interview with O’Brien, Shae, and Collins during her final year of law school, she’d been determined to make a perfect first impression. She’d scoured an outlet mall for hours trying to find a classy suit at a discounted price. The shoes—well, the shoes she’d splurged on, but they were so cute, they were worth every penny. Boston had been expensive, and even though she’d been careful with her funds, there was no way she was going to risk ruining her favorite outfit, not when she didn’t have a job . . . yet.

Worry rippled through her as he continued to stare at the form. She probably should have asked him first. She could have presented her offer and gone about it more traditionally, explaining the benefit of having an attorney on staff, sharing her qualifications and experience, using every trick she knew to convince him to hire her, but she didn’t have time for traditional. There was too much riding on this. She needed to be close to the production and have access to the information he got from the police. She couldn’t risk him saying no. So, she assumed the sale and hoped he would go along with it. Besides, she had reasoned with herself as she drew up the papers, she would be helpful to have around. In a lawsuit-happy industry, every production company needed a lawyer, right?

The longer he read, the more she pinched her fingers together.

He was going to say no.

She would be unemployed, stranded in Los Angeles, and no closer to finding the man in the gray suit than she had been all those months ago. She kept her expression impassive, as if the outcome didn’t matter to her, keeping her anxious thoughts from reaching her face. It was a look she had perfected in her years of law school and corporate practice. “Casual indifference” one of her board room opponents once called it. She could have taken offense at the terminology, but since she wiped the polished floor with him and got everything she wanted out of the negotiation, she took it as a compliment instead. Don’t give anything away. Keep your opponent guessing. Wait for the right moment to pounce. Take no prisoners. It worked in her legal career, and she would make it work here, too.

A wisp of guilt slithered through her, and she tried to ignore it. She’d never felt bad about any of the tactics she’d used in law school or in her work at the firm. Winning was winning; that was all that mattered. She had never been dishonest—not really—but she refused to be weak. There were rules, of course, but Kate had learned that when facing an opponent in the courtroom or conference room, those rules were extremely flexible.

Except, her conscience whispered, Chris wasn’t her opponent. He was a friend, and she didn’t have many of those. Like her, he’d been basically adopted by the Shaws, included in the family, and swept up in the love and warmth of their home. He was the one who had encouraged Ben to keep fighting for Lily when she had pushed him away. He’d stood by Noah and had been willing to fight for Hannah. He’d been faithful and supportive of the Shaws, and he’d been nothing but nice to her, yet she was willing to use him and his film to get what she wanted. She squeezed her fingers tighter. She hated who she had become. This wasn’t who she wanted to be, but she didn’t know how to stop. The end justified the means, no matter how bad she felt about it, because the end was the only thing that mattered to her now. Ever since the accident, her life had been on a collision course, and it was too late to change course.

She’d done the same thing in law school. Fighting for every grade, maneuvering her way into the best internships, willing to sacrifice friendships in her quest to be the best. She’d never stooped so low as to hide books in the law library or intentionally sabotage another student, though she’d known other students who resorted to such tactics. There was always a line she refused to cross—a faint, but inviolable, code of honor that had kept her in check—but now, as she watched Chris’s forehead crease into wrinkles as he stared at the paperwork she’d given him, she wondered if she had crossed that line. She pinched her fingers together and reminded herself again why she was doing this. This was bigger than a law school assignment or an internship. Megan deserved justice, and if no one else was willing to get it for her, she would do it herself.

Seconds ticked by filled with silence and uncertainty. She couldn’t predict what he would do, and that unnerved her. She thought she had him pegged. Easy-going, relaxed, willing to go with the flow. Maybe she had been wrong about him. Narrowing her eyes, she tried to assess him as if they’d just met, as if he had just walked into a conference room representing a competing firm. Casual dress, long hair. Clearly, he wasn’t concerned with impressing anyone. Quiet and a little reserved, but not a pushover. He was starting his own company and had turned down lucrative offers, so he was grounded in his own vision and willing to take risks to get there. It took a confidence and courage to have that kind of boldness, and . . .

She stopped.

Faith. It took faith.

Chris closed the folder and looked at her. His blue eyes were thoughtful and more piercing than she remembered. There was a sharpness in them she hadn’t seen before, and for a moment, she thought he had seen through her charade. She stood still, fighting the urge to tell him everything, to lay it all on the table and hope he would help her. What would it be like to have someone to rely on, someone to fight beside her instead of against her?

She stuffed the confession back down, tucking it away in the shadows of her heart. She wasn’t willing to risk him saying no. She had put her trust in authorities and the legal system in the past, and they had all disappointed her. The man who drove the car that smashed into them six years ago—the man who had left them bleeding and alone on that dark canyon road—was still out there, living his life without any consequences, as if Megan’s life hadn’t meant anything. Her death was ruled an accident, and he’d been given a slap on the wrist for leaving the scene. Her sister deserved more, and if this was the only way to get justice, she would do it.

She tilted her head and met Chris’ gaze, drawing on every ounce of confidence she portrayed in the board room when she wanted the opposing counsel to give up. There was too much at stake to risk the moral high ground of a Christian movie director, who had access to the information she needed.

He crossed his arms, tucking the folder against his side. “Why would you want to work for me? I thought you were going back to Boston.”

Kate shrugged, ridiculously happy that he hadn’t said no right away but careful not to show it. If he was talking, that meant there was room for negotiation, and she was very good at negotiation.

“I decided to stay in LA for a while. I’ve been on the East Coast for five years. It’s been too long since I’ve had a chance to spend time with Lily and my dad, and we have a lot to catch up on.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t really the truth either. She ignored the squeak of her conscience and plowed ahead. “So, I figured while I’m out here, I should find a way to be helpful. Honestly, I’m not very good at doing nothing. I like to keep busy.” She flashed him the smile that had gotten her out of contempt of court charges . . . twice.

When he hesitated, she pushed forward. “Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to have chief legal counsel to a major film production company on my resumé.”

He laughed, and Kate relaxed. “You drew up the documents. You know there’s nothing major about this company right now. We’ll be lucky to find one theater willing to screen the film. Forget straight to streaming; we might be looking at a straight-to-the-trash-can disaster.”

A twinkle of excitement rushed through her when he said we. Whether the director knew it or not, it was a done deal. The only thing left was to finalize the details and sign on the dotted line. “All the more reason to have a competent, experienced, and efficient lawyer on your side.”

Chris pushed the rolling chair around the broken desk and offered it to her. When she sat, he excused himself and left the room. Kate’s foot bounced in an excited staccato as she waited for him. The first step was done. She would have access to the information the police had. She just had to be here when Chris got it. A quick photocopy of whatever they gave him and she could investigate the men herself. Chris would never know what really brought her here; and if he never found out, then he’d never get hurt, and it wouldn’t matter that she had fibbed her way into the job. As long as no one got hurt, the tactics didn’t matter.

Chris returned with a metal folding chair. He sat across the lopsided desk from her and opened the folder again.

“Nice desk,” Kate said.

“It’s a work in progress,” he said as he read the paperwork. She had enough experience in contracts to know that he wasn’t just scanning it. He was reading it carefully. She filed that bit of information away. Beneath the board shorts and surfer hair, Chris was an intelligent and competent man. He was being smart with his new company. She respected that.

“You know,” he said. “With this salary, you’d be making more money than I am right now.”

“And how much are you making?” she asked, as she crossed her legs and smoothed the impeccable black fabric of her pants.

Christ rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously and grinned. “Nothing.”

Kate laughed. “So, gas money would actually be more money than you’re making.” She leaned forward, ready to make her closing argument. “But with me on board, just think of how much money you’ll be saving by not getting sued.”

Chris reached into a backpack by his foot and pulled out a notepad and a pencil. He held it down with one hand to keep it from sliding off the desk and scribbled on it. While Kate waited, he used his phone for a calculator. Her elation at a sure victory started to fade. She had underestimated the man. He’d always seemed so mellow and relaxed, like the beach bums she’d known in high school, but there was far more going on under his tan skin and good looks. He was proving to be an astute business man.

“How about this,” he said as he looked at a number on his calculator app. “Drop your salary requirement by thirty percent, and we’ve got a deal.”

“Thirty percent?” She asked, less concerned about the actual salary than she was about losing a negotiation. She watched his face, searching for signs of deception, but there weren’t any. She wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that. She knew how to deal with men who tried to get their own way, using leverage to their advantage, manipulating sentiment, but she didn’t get any of that from Chris.

“I don’t actually need an attorney on staff,” he said. “I could put someone on retainer and do my best not to get sued. That would be a lot cheaper than hiring you.”

Kate straightened her shoulders. He wanted to play hardball; she was ready to play. “But this salary is much lower than paying billable hours. If you make one mistake, you’ll be out half your budget before the case even gets to court.”

“Do you think I’m going to make a mistake?” he asked. His voice dropped, the playful tone gone, replaced by something raw, a sincerity that dove straight to her heart. He was alone in the fight, feeling every inch of that solitude; it was a loneliness she recognized.

“No,” she said. “I think you’re going to do something amazing.” She meant it. His drive and his talent were undeniable.

He leaned forward. “Then be a part of it.”

She was about to agree, forget the salary, and forget the resume padding; she was being sucked in by his passion.

“For thirty percent less,” he added with a grin.

“Twenty percent,” she said.

“Done.”

His quick agreement stunned her. She’d completely misread the situation. His honesty had thrown her, and she had the distinct feeling he’d gotten exactly what he wanted. She squinted her eyes as she watched him write the new number on the employment contract and then sign it.

As he passed it across the tilted desk to her, she changed her evaluation of the director. He wasn’t as naïve and easy-going as she thought. There was something strong and confident lurking underneath the sweet exterior, something that made her heart beat a little faster.

She checked the new salary and signed her name with a flourish. She smiled as she handed it back to him. He may have won this time; but she knew him better now, and she wouldn’t fall for his tricks again.