A Guilty Affair (7 page)

“So, Riley,” he said casually, “I was just telling my brother that he should let you sit in on one of his appointments.”

“Really?” Riley exclaimed, ignoring the sardonic look Noah gave her. “That'd be great. I haven't had a chance to work on any cases yet.”

“I know,” Kenneth drawled, with a sideways glance at his younger brother. “Actually, Noah has a meeting later this afternoon. You could probably attend and take notes.”

“I'd love to. Thanks, Kenneth.” She turned to Noah, who was frowning. “I'll be in my office whenever you're ready.”

He nodded curtly.

As Riley excused herself and left the supply room, she could feel the two men watching her. She smiled to herself, thinking of the way Noah had been maneuvered into working with her—for the second time that week.

Watch out, Noah
, she mused.
At the rate I'm going, you don't stand a chance of winning this duel
.

“I'
m here to see Noah Roarke.”

Riley, who stood behind the reception desk using the printer later that afternoon, turned to identify the owner of the smooth, cultured voice. A tall, stunning woman with skin the color of café au lait and wearing an expensively tailored red skirt suit with designer stiletto pumps stood there, drumming long, manicured fingernails on the desk counter.

Janie offered a polite smile. “And your name is?” she inquired.

“Delilah Stanton,” the woman replied with a hint of arrogance. “I have a three-o'clock appointment with him. I'm running a little late.”

A little?
thought Riley, aiming a discreet glance at her wristwatch.
Try thirty minutes late
.

“I'll tell Mr. Roarke you're here. Would you care for some coffee while you wait?”

“No, thank you. Do you know how long the wait will be? I'm on a tight schedule.”

“I'm not sure,” Janie answered evenly. “Mr. Roarke is on a very tight schedule himself. We usually ask people to reschedule if they're going to be more than fifteen minutes late to an appointment.”

“It was unavoidable,” the woman clipped.

“I understand.” Janie dialed Noah's extension. “He's not answering his phone,” she said after a few moments. She rose from her chair. “Let me go see if he's available.”

Delilah Stanton huffed out an impatient sigh and continued tapping her fingertips on the desk. As Riley retrieved her print job and started from the reception area, the woman's cold, imperious voice stopped her in her tracks. “On second thought, a cup of coffee would be nice.”

Riley turned, pasting a saccharine smile onto her face. “Certainly. How do you take yours?”

“With a drop of cream and two sugars,” the woman replied.

“Janie can get that,” Noah said, walking into the reception area. He extended a hand to Delilah Stanton. “Noah Roarke. Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Stanton.”

Riley watched, with a mixture of disbelief and amusement, as Delilah Stanton literally became putty in Noah's hand. Her light brown eyes grew warm and inviting, her coral-painted lips softened into a smile, and all the starch seemed to melt from her spine. The transformation was like night and day.

“I can assure you, Mr. Roarke,” she purred, giving Noah a slow, appreciative once-over, “the pleasure's
all
mine.”

Noah's relaxed smile told Riley he was used to getting hit on by his female clients, which, she supposed, couldn't be bad for business.

“Let's step into my office,” he told the woman, guiding her away with a light touch to the small of her back. When Riley hung back, unsure whether or not to follow, he sent her a lazy glance over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”

Riley grabbed a legal pad from Janie's desk and hurried after him.

Inside Noah's office, he led Delilah Stanton over to a small round conference table in the corner and pulled out a chair for her, then Riley, before seating himself next to the woman.

Janie entered with a steaming cup of coffee, which she handed to Delilah Stanton before slipping quietly out of the room.

“Now then,” Noah began, folding his hands on the table, “how may we help you, Mrs. Stanton?”

Lips pursed, Delilah cast a dubious look at Riley seated across from her. “This is a rather personal matter,” she said, making it clear she expected—and wanted—Riley to leave the room.

When Riley looked askance at Noah, his mouth twitched. “My apologies, Mrs. Stanton,” he drawled smoothly. “I forgot to introduce my assistant, Riley Kane. She'll be taking notes during our meeting, just to make sure I don't miss anything. Whatever you share with us will be kept strictly confidential.”

“All right,” the woman reluctantly acquiesced. Turning slightly in her chair, she focused all of her attention on Noah. “I want you to help me leave my husband.”

Noah didn't so much as blink. “Go on,” he murmured. “I'm listening.”

“We've been married for five years,” Delilah began. “Four of those five years have been the worst of my life. Joseph isn't the man I thought he was. For starters, he hasn't been able to hold down a steady job since we got married. He's bounced around from one blue-collar job to the next. Whenever I try to talk to him about it, he gets mad and storms out of the house to go drinking with his low-life friends, who are as useless as he is.
They
tell him it's perfectly all right for him to sponge off his wife, because as long as I have the earning potential, why not take advantage of it?”

“Has he ever said this to you, Mrs. Stanton?” Noah asked.

“Not outright, no. But it comes across loud and clear in his attitude. I'm a vice president at a Fortune 500 health-care company, so I earn a lot of money. Wouldn't you think that would motivate Joseph to do better for himself? Well, it doesn't. If anything, my six-figure salary makes him lazier. He knows that as long as we're married, he doesn't have to worry about working, because I make more than enough for both of us. And now, to add insult to injury, that leech has the nerve to be cheating on me!”

“How do you know this?” Noah asked.

She frowned. “I don't have any proof, if that's what you mean. But there have been signs.”

“Such as?”

“Well, he's lied a few times about his whereabouts, telling me he's at one place when he's actually somewhere else. And he's been coming home late with no explanations and getting off the phone quickly whenever I enter a room. Very suspicious behavior.”

Riley glanced up from scribbling notes. “Do you have any reason to believe your husband is unhappy in the marriage?”

Delilah looked at her as if one of the potted plants on the windowsill had started talking. “Have you ever been married, Miss Kane?” she coolly inquired.

“No, I haven't,” Riley murmured, acutely aware of Noah's dark, watchful regard. She didn't know how to interpret his expression. Sympathy? Concern? Irritation with her for butting into the conversation?

Delilah gave a curt nod. “I figured as much. If you'd ever been married, Miss Kane, you would know that men don't have to be unhappy in order to stray. They're men—that's what they do. No offense to you, of course,” she added, laying a conciliatory hand upon Noah's arm. “Somehow I know
you'd
never cheat on the woman you love, Mr. Roarke.”

Noah smiled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Delilah laughed, temporarily forgetting her ne'erdo-well husband as she stared into Noah's eyes.

Riley gave a mental eye roll. Maybe Joseph Stanton was the one who should be worried about a cheating spouse.

She pointedly cleared her throat. “Has anything else happened that would make you suspicious of your husband, Mrs. Stanton?”

Reluctantly tearing her gaze away from Noah, Delilah skewered Riley with a look. “Haven't I given you enough to go on? I mean, if I'd caught him in the act myself, I wouldn't be trying to hire a private investigator, now would I?”

Before Riley could open her mouth to respond, Noah smoothly intervened. “We'll take your case, Mrs. Stanton. But before we get started, I have to let you know up front that if you're trying to prove your husband's infidelity in order to gain an advantage in a divorce settlement, more time, documentation and investigative work will be required on our end. This means preparing a very detailed report, properly identifying the other woman—if there is one—and conducting multiple days of surveillance to show a pattern and provide conclusive evidence that your husband
is
cheating on you, and not just hanging out with a ‘friend.' Do you understand that?”

“Perfectly. You have to catch him with his pants down in order for me to get out of paying alimony to the freeloading bastard.”

Noah grimaced. “Something like that. But even then, there's no guarantee of anything. Because infidelity is so common these days, some judges are reluctant to move away from a fifty-fifty split in a divorce settlement, even when there's proof of fault. Did your husband sign a prenuptial agreement?”

“You bet he did,” Delilah said with a satisfied nod. “And according to the terms of the prenup, he gets absolutely nothing if I can prove he cheated on me. I'm counting on you to help me get that proof, Mr. Roarke.”

“I'll do my best,” Noah said, “but as I tell all of my clients, I can't promise anything. But the more information you give me about your husband, his friends, his favorite pastimes, and where he likes to hang out, the easier it'll be for me to conduct a thorough investigation.”

“All right. I'm willing to do whatever it takes.” Leaning back in the chair, she crossed one long, shapely leg over the over and smiled demurely at Noah. “So what're we talking about here? Following him around in a car to see where he goes and who he sees?”

Noah nodded. “That's part of it, yes. And we don't limit our surveillance to what can be seen from the window of a car. We have state-of-the-art long-range and hidden video cameras that'll give us the ability to observe your husband's activity inside his place of work, in rural areas, at the mall, and nearly everywhere else he might go. We also utilize vehicle-tracking devices and can provide you with software to monitor your husband's e-mail, chat room discussions, and Internet activity, which you can install yourself.”

He pushed back his chair, stood and walked over to a metal file cabinet near his desk. Opening the top drawer, he said, “I have a comprehensive checklist of items you can use to better determine if your husband
is
actually cheating—signs to look for.”

“Wow,” Delilah murmured, suitably impressed as he returned to the table and passed her the checklist. “You're
very
thorough, Mr. Roarke. There are things on here that I never even thought of. No wonder your agency came so highly recommended.”

Even Riley was impressed, pausing in her note taking to stare at Noah. While Delilah was preoccupied with the checklist, he winked playfully at Riley. Her heart gave an irrational little leap, and the smile she sent him was that of a shy teenager trying to flirt with the gorgeous captain of the high school football team.

“Where do we start?” Delilah asked, looking up at Noah. “What do you need to know?”

If Riley wasn't mistaken, she would have sworn Noah had difficulty pulling his eyes away from hers as he turned back to Delilah. “Start by telling me where your husband currently works, and we'll go from there.”

Forty minutes later, Noah emerged from the office with a large retainer and a smiling woman on his arm. Delilah, who'd claimed to be on a “tight schedule” when she first arrived, seemed in no hurry to leave as he walked her to the front door.

“How long have you been in business, Noah?” she asked.

Behind the reception desk, Janie arched a brow at Riley, who was also wondering when Noah and the woman had gotten on a first-name basis.

“My brother and I opened the agency four years ago,” Noah answered. “He's out of the office this afternoon, or I would have introduced you to him.”

“Hmm. Four years, huh? It takes the average small business at least five years to get off the ground. And look how successful you've already become.” Delilah paused, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “When Joseph and I got married, he had all these wonderful plans to launch his own plumbing business. He did some research, looked into applying for a small business loan, made a few contacts, and then…nothing. He never followed through with the plan. He was all talk and no action.” She shook her head in disgust. “That was the beginning of the end for me.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Noah murmured.

“Don't be. I truly believe everything happens for a reason.” She leaned closer to him, smiling coquettishly. “Perhaps when this is all over, and I'm a happily divorced woman, you can take me out to dinner to celebrate. We can celebrate all…night…long,” she said, drawing out the last three words in a sultry purr.

“Let's play it by ear,” Noah drawled softly. “You never know—you and your husband might reconcile when it's all said and done.”

“Not a chance in hell. Even if he's not cheating on me, I still want a divorce. As I'm discovering,” she said silkily, running a finger up and down Noah's muscled forearm, “there are a
lot
better fish in the sea. Take you and me, for example. I can already think of one thing we have in common.”

“What's that?” Noah said, smiling down at her.

“You're named after someone in the Bible, and so am I.”

“Who? Jezebel?” Janie muttered under her breath, and Riley had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out loud.

“I'll be in touch, Mrs. Stanton,” Noah said, holding open the door for her. As she edged past him, she deliberately brushed her breasts against his chest. The laughter died in Riley's throat as the couple's eyes met and held for a brief moment.