Courting Trouble (10 page)

“His daughter?”

“No, sir.”

“Are you related to Savannah McGrath?” Cade’s frustration dropped from his chest and barrel rolled in his gut. “No, sir.”

“Have you represented either of the parties in a matter before this case?”

“Well, no, Your Honor, but—”

“Then you have no conflict of interest.” Judge Wilder leaned forward and picked up the paper’s business section.

Cade didn’t want to discuss his personal life with Judge Wilder and he was certain that the ex-marine and now judge didn’t want to hear about his teenaged romance with Tulsa McGrath.

“Your Honor, it’s opposing counsel. It seems Miss McGrath has retained Tulsa McGrath as legal counsel and—”

“And what?” Judge Wilder’s gaze shot back to Cade. The right side of his mouth lifted upward, hovering somewhere between a smirk and a smile, but his eyes held no humor. “You two were hot to trot once upon a time?”

While Cade’s feet remained firmly planted in the wide-legged warrior stance, his weight shifted first from the left, then to the right, bearing witness to his uncertainty.

Wilder shifted forward in his seat. “If I reassigned cases based on the former romances of attorneys with other attorneys we’d have to fly in legal counsel from New Zealand to get through the docket. You weren’t married to Tulsa nor are you related to any person in her family.”

Judge Wilder reopened his paper, settled back in his office chair, and glanced at the headlines. “Now, Tulsa? She might have a problem,” he said under his breath. “Seems damn dumb for an attorney to represent her sister in a case involving her niece.” He lowered the paper an inch and his finger pointed at Cade. “But as for you? There’s no conflict.”

“And what about…” Cade paused. “What about the Connie McGrath case?”

Judge Wilder’s eyes whipped back toward Cade. “None of the parties involved in the Connie McGrath case are involved in this one.”

True. The people directly involved in Connie’s case weren’t involved in this case, but their children were. Connie’s death definitely predated Judge Wilder’s time on the bench, and the case predated Cade and Tulsa’s time as members of the Colorado Bar, but Connie’s death didn’t predate Cade and Tulsa’s relationship.

“But, Your Honor—”

“There are no ‘but Your Honors’ on this one, Mr. Montgomery. You agreed to do forty hours a year of pro bono work for the Powder Springs Legal Clinic and this is the case you got. Deal with it.”

Cade’s jaw tightened and the pain from his shoulder sliced down his back. The tight lips and set jaw on Judge Wilder’s face indicated there were no more arguments to be made. A long, quiet sigh escaped Cade and the muscles in his back lessened their grip.

“Thank you, sir.” Cade turned to the door. He didn’t have a choice. He’d have to represent Bobby Hopkins.

“And, Mr. Montgomery?”

Cade turned back toward the judge.

“If I get so much as a hint that you are going easy on Tulsa McGrath or her sister in this case, giving them a softball pitch when a hardball needs to be thrown, I will have you censured by the Colorado Supreme Court so fast and suspended for so long you’ll be moving to New Zealand to practice law, and not because you used to date Tulsa McGrath. Do I make myself clear?”

“As crystal, sir.” Cade opened the door and walked into the courthouse hall. Not only was he opposing counsel in a case with the woman that broke his heart, but he could lose his license to practice law if he didn’t try his damnedest to kick her ass.

*

The white-tipped Rocky Mountains that brushed against the blue Colorado sky did little to distract Tulsa from the thoughts of Cade that rattled through her mind. The drive from Powder Springs to the Eagle County Courthouse was a long one and she spent nearly all her time on the road with her mind muddling over Cade.

She wanted him. She wanted to tell him why she left Powder Springs. She wanted to tell him about her life in Los Angeles. She wanted to hear about his time in New York. She wanted to watch him laugh and in return listen to his stories that made her laugh, too. These wants—deeper than just the physical—more dangerous than a simple kiss—lurked in her mind. These wants couldn’t be entertained—hadn’t the universe thrown roadblock after roadblock at their love affair? Decades of detours, lightning-struck bridges, and washed-out roads lay between Tulsa and Cade. Now—more than a decade later—there wasn’t an unobstructed path for either of them to find their way to the other.

Tulsa pulled into the Eagle County Courthouse parking lot. She parked to the left of the courthouse steps and beside the flags that snapped in the wind. The past didn’t change her present. This morning she had one goal on which to focus. That goal was Bradford Taylor.

She’d Googled Bradford. She’d read his bio, his attorney page; she’d studied his background and studied his picture. Her timing was perfect; he was walking from the courthouse toward his car parked three spaces from hers.

Tulsa climbed out of Savannah’s Jeep. With a toss of her head, she shook the curls from her face and the questions about Cade from her mind. The scent of evergreen rolled on the wind. She cupped her hand over her eyes to block the sun and get a better view of the attorney that she needed to hire for Savannah.

Bradford wore a pair of aviator sunglasses, the kind reserved for pilots, and his golden hair picked up hints of sun that shone through the clouds. He walked with knowledge of his appeal; not cocky but self-assured. He wore a dark blue suit and ice-blue tie. His skin looked as if he’d spent the last week on a beach in Tahiti and not in downtown Denver, where his practice was based.

Tulsa walked toward him. He pointed his key fob at his car and the headlights lit up.

“Mr. Taylor?”

Bradford’s gaze met hers and a dazzling smile lit up his face.

“I’m Tulsa McGrath.”

“I know who you are.” Bradford’s voice was soft like velour. “I recognize you from CNN; I watch your legal commentary.” He opened the driver-side door and reached across the car, settling his briefcase on the passenger seat. He turned back to where Tulsa now stood beside the Jag’s taillights. “I appreciate you driving up here, but I can’t take your sister’s case.”

Tulsa’s insides crumpled with Bradford’s words—so decisive, so final—but she maintained her even smile. She wouldn’t give up that easy. If giving up were in her nature, she wouldn’t be standing in the Eagle County Courthouse parking lot.

“It’s nothing personal,” Bradford continued. “I just don’t do contested custody cases anymore. I’m strictly a high-asset divorce attorney now.”

Tulsa nodded. She could relate. Contested custody cases were some of the most challenging cases she faced, but that didn’t change the fact that Bradford was the best in Colorado, and the best was what Savannah and Ash deserved.

“I’d be happy to discuss your fee,” Tulsa said.

Bradford pulled his sunglasses off his face and his bright blue eyes matched the Rocky Mountain sky behind him. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m overbooked.”

She was losing him; he was telling her no. He couldn’t tell her no. She didn’t care that he was overbooked or that his staff was overworked. What she cared about was somehow convincing Bradford that he had to say yes. Tulsa needed him to understand that for her, in this case, no wasn’t an option.

“Do you have children, Mr. Taylor?”

“Never married. I have a niece.” His megawatt smile still in place, he turned back toward his car, a signal that he was politely dismissing Tulsa. He’d made his decision and had neither the time nor inclination for further discussion.

“So do I,” Tulsa said. “That’s all I have.” She let silence surround her words and Bradford’s eyes locked onto hers with the finality of her statement. “My mother died when I was in high school. Our grandmother raised us and now she’s dead. There is no other family but us three.”

Bradford’s smile slipped from his face, replaced with angles and hard lines. Now he listened. Now Tulsa could make her case, and one of the things she was good at, no, superior at, was making her case.

“I’ve dedicated my entire life to my clients, to making money, and to winning.”

Understanding flashed in Bradford’s eyes. Of course an attorney with a national practice, a convertible Jag, and a private plane understood the relentless drive and countless hours any attorney withstood to succeed.

“And do you know what I just figured out?” Tulsa asked. She searched for a deeper connection, any chip in his impenetrable attorney facade. “I just realized that my career, my bank account, the status, means absolutely nothing if Savannah loses Ash. What good is the money if I can’t use it to help my family?”

Bradford sighed. His shoulders loosened and he gazed past her toward the mountains.

“Miss McGrath—” Bradford’s eyes returned to her face.

“Tulsa, please, call me Tulsa.”

“Look, Tulsa, I’m not the kind of person who changes his mind once I’ve made a decision.”

“Then do it for the money, do it for a fellow attorney, do it for an aunt who feels amazingly guilty for letting more than a decade slip by with visits only at Christmas and in the summer. Do it…” Tulsa’s emotions grabbed her words. Her throat tightened and heat burned the back of her eyes. Dammit, she couldn’t cry in front of Bradford. If she cried he’d say no for sure. “Do it because I am begging you to,” Tulsa finally said.

The corners of Bradford’s mouth turned down and his eyes registered Tulsa’s heartfelt need. A look of surrender spread across his face. His jaw loosened and empathy flooded his eyes. Tulsa had him, she absolutely had him.

“Have your office send me the papers,” Bradford said, his voice quiet, resigned. “I’ll let you know once I review the file.”

*

Hudd always said you could tell the type of man you dealt with by the look of his hands. Most ranchers or oil men had thick fingers with scuffs decorating their knuckles. Doctors, lawyers, and bankers had slim, well-kept hands. Hands that looked like they played the piano for a living.

And deadbeat dads?

Bobby Hopkins’s fingers bore the scars of a man who worked for a living—physical work, but the scars were healed over, leaving white marks about his knuckles and thick fingers. His red-and-blue flannel shirt was battered about the collar. His jeans were scuffed with wear and his boots had a rode-hard look. Bobby’s face contained the cavernous lines of man who worked too hard for the little he made. Cade didn’t sense a meanness coming off Bobby Hopkins. No, if anything, there was a humility and perhaps even the edge of defeat, as though his life hadn’t quite ended up where he’d guessed it might.

“It’s been close to seven months since my last job,” Bobby said, his words quiet and his voice tinged with embarrassment. “That’s why I had to pack it up and head back down from Alaska.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and he twisted his cowboy hat in his hands. “That and…” His eyes darted from his hat to Cade’s face. “Well, I wanted to know my daughter.”

Ash was now linked in Cade’s mind with her mother and her aunt and Cade mulled questions that, as Bobby’s attorney, he had no right to entertain—like should Bobby see Ash? Would being with her father after so many years disrupt Ash’s life? And how would Tulsa ever manage to forgive him?

“When was the last time you saw your daughter?” Cade asked.

The left side of Bobby’s mouth twitched upward and he didn’t raise his eyes. “It’s been way too long,” he said softly. His eyes bounced up and met Cade’s, and in them was the sadness of failure. “When I was workin’ I just never could say no to the next job—I mean up there they keep calling you for work when they see you around. But once you stop…” Bobby shifted his weight to one knee and jutted his chin. “Well, you can see what happens.”

“But you didn’t send child support?”

A heat entered Bobby’s eyes. “No, dammit, I didn’t.” He pulled his torso upward and threw it against the chair. He looked out the window to collect his calm. Finally he sighed, the air long and low over his lips. He shook his head and his eyes returned to Cade’s face. “Sorry, it’s just… Well, dammit…” He closed his eyes again. “That woman could drive a man insane.”

Cade kept his face smooth. By “that woman,” he knew Bobby meant Savannah. And Cade knew from his own experience how nuts the McGrath women could make a man.

“I tried to send child support for Ash a couple times, and those checks I sent? Well, they all got returned to me in shreds.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes upward. “Made me so damn mad. Savannah didn’t want a damn thing from me. I’d call and she’d hang up. I’d be in town and try to see the baby and she’d slam the door. Wasn’t a thing to be done.”

Bobby’s hat stilled in his hands. He looked at Cade; the corners of his lips pulled down and his eyes were limp like a beaten man. “I should have tried harder. Put the money away. Got myself an attorney—but I didn’t.”

“So why now?” Cade asked.

“It seems pretty darn silly if I’m living in Powder Springs that I can’t see my daughter. Can’t call. Can’t even take her to a movie. When I was gone, working, I’d think about her and wonder, but it was easy to just keep working. But now…” Bobby’s words drifted off and his eyes searched Cade’s face as if willing him to understand the need to see his daughter. “I got feelers out for jobs, so I’m not sure how long I’m in Powder Springs for, but while I’m here I’d sure like to have a conversation with my daughter without her crazy mother firing buckshot across my mother’s roofline.”

Unfortunately for both of them, Savannah did know her way around a gun.

“So what do you think? Can I see her?”

“You have a constitutional right to see Ash whether you’ve paid child support or not.” Cade leaned forward and settled his hands on his desk. “Yes, I think the judge will let you be a part of Ash’s life. But it may take some time to finalize the details, and since Savannah seems—”

“Crazy and pissed off?” Bobby said.

“Unwilling to accept you into Ash’s life,” Cade said. “I think the change will require a court order with specific instructions, at least in the beginning until Savannah gets used to the idea that you are now a permanent part of Ash’s life.”