Journey in Time (Knights in Time) (4 page)

She poured two coffees and joined him. "Saturday night you mentioned discussing a legal matter."

"Getting to the meat of things, straight away, are we?" he asked in a somber tone.

She’d put a foot wrong, already. “I thought to dispense with business first but we can talk about whatever you like,” she said in an effort to compensate.
  

Alex blew on the coffee. She pretended interest in her own cup while peering at him from under her lashes. He wore a charcoal grey suit and white shirt with stripes in the same shade of grey. The shirt had a white collar and cuffs. A nice detail. A blood red tie brought out the color in his face. He had a ruddy complexion as though wind burned. Faint lines marked the corners of his eyes in the bright sunlight of her office. She dropped her gaze to his cufflinks. Ornate, they were ruby set in gold with an unusual intaglio of a swan.

She liked his ponytail. The rock-and-roller in her favored long hair, she guessed loose it was past his shoulders.
 

Alex settled back and related the facts of a recently filed lawsuit against him for sexual harassment.

"Sexual harassment," she repeated and tried not to show her surprise at the accusation.
 

He nodded. "The girl’s a former employee. She worked for me a short time and left almost a year ago. I was astounded when they served me. I needed to see her personnel file to remind me who she was."

"What's the exact allegation?"

The color on Alex's cheeks deepened. Sexual harassment complaints ran the gamut, from the mere overhearing of a dirty joke to coerced sex. Based on his reaction, Shakira feared the latter.

"The girl claims I threatened to fire her if she didn't perform oral sex on me. This all happened over the past week. I’ve only discussed the matter with Ian, Miranda, and my human resource director. In a day or two the story will hit the news. I wanted the opportunity to explain things before you read a reporter’s jaded version. Do some damage control."

“No damage control necessary.”

"I’m interested. As a woman and a lawyer, what’s your opinion? Are these cases winnable?"

She’d love to offer a more optimistic outcome than the one he faced. In his situation, that wasn’t possible.

“It’s a legal minefield,” she said. “These complaints require a specific plan of defense and strong counterattack. The long term effects of the false accusation are unavoidable. Even when a defendant is acquitted, his name remains forever blackened. Once made, a portion of the public will always believe the worst.”

Alex was innocent, no question in her mind. Analysis of the situation supported her conviction. If he were the type to take advantage of female employees it would’ve happened sooner. He’d have previous actions filed against him. The logical deduction helped explain some of her instinctive reaction. What she felt in her heart, the powerful certainty of his innocence defied logical interpretation.

Alex lowered his cup. "You’ve gone very quiet. Should I take that as a bad sign?"

"No."

When Alex mentioned a legal matter at the club, Shakira figured he’d run a general question by her, nothing this serious. He hadn't asked yet, but she suspected the real reason he brought up the lawsuit was to enlist her legal services.

"I assume you want my opinion because you’d like me to represent you?"

A hint of surprise lit his eyes then disappeared a second later. He straightened his already straight tie.

"Ah..."

From his hesitation, she worried she jumped the gun and assumed wrong. “In fairness, you should know I’ve never handled this type of suit. I can refer you to other attorneys in the firm with expertise in these matters,” she said, offering him a way to decline gracefully.

“Does the nature of my case trouble you?”

“Not at all.”

“I get the impression you’d rather refer it out.”

The answer made her situation worse. She was torn. Part of her, the personal part, hoped he’d instruct her to hand the case off. That choice allowed her to see him socially, which she’d love to do. The professional part of her, the attorney wanted to keep it. She wanted to win the case for him. A tough decision.

Pride won.

“No, I don’t. You have a choice in who represents you. But in spite of my inexperience, I believe I can win this.”

"You haven't asked me if I did it."

"I know you didn't."

A boyish smile she didn’t think he possessed crossed his face. He appeared both pleased and surprised. He probably expected something more non-committal with a qualifier.

His expression changed to one of skepticism. "Do you?"

She considered how much to say. The easiest answer was basic logic. Then there was complete honesty. She gave him the whole truth. "I know in my mind." She placed a hand to her chest, "And, I know in here."

"What makes you so sure?"

"A number of reasons. For one, you're not the type of man who has to force a woman to do your sexual bidding. You're a darling of the tabloids. Every week there's a picture of you with a different gorgeous female." With a soft laugh she added, "You're a bloody lodestone for hot chicks. Two, there wouldn’t be one isolated complaint. Rumors of other hushed up incidents would’ve leaked. The entertainment industry is rife with gossip. Everyone knows which actors are notorious for compelling minor female cast members to have sex with them or lose the part, or in some cases, male cast members."

Alex reached over and laid his hand near her heart. "What does this place tell you?"

"There are no words to explain how I feel in my heart. I just know that you didn't do it."
 

"Such unflagging belief in my innocence, I'm not sure what to say. Thank you." He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have represent me."

"You realize part of my preparation entails interviewing your past girlfriends?" The prospect only occurred to her a moment earlier and stirred mixed feelings. The attorney in her recognized the legal necessity. The woman in her wanted to both know, and not know, the details of his relationships, however long past.

"I'll...the questions, I mean--" She wasn’t one to stumble for words. She took a deep breath and started again. "Personal questions about your sex life have to be asked. Aspects of your private life might be brought up in court. We need to cover our bases, contradict and answer any kind of wild statements the plaintiff makes."
 

"Do what you have to do.”

“Once the story breaks, the press will dog your every step. I’d suggest you limit your attendance at public events.”

"Not a problem. I’m invited to so many publicity and charity functions, I decline most. I have neither the time, nor the inclination to attend. I went the other night because my clients were performing and the preservation of wildlife habitat is a cause I support."

"How nice, a conservationist. Me too." She studied him for a minute and then, too curious not to, asked, "I have a question for you. Why did you agree to Miranda's matchmaking? You don't need to meet women via blind dates."

He kissed the palm of her hand then rubbed feather light circles on the spot he kissed as he talked. "It wasn’t a blind date. I saw you again after the ball."

The simple action drove her to distraction. From the kiss at the ball to this, the man was walking sensuality. She forced her attention back to the conversation.

"When? Where?"

"This past weekend at Miranda and Ian's but you pulled away before I could introduce myself." His fingers moved to her wrist and began the slow, erotic circles there.
  

"How foolish of me," she said behind a guilty soft laugh. Little did he know, she’d left in a hurry to avoid him.

“I planned on asking you to dinner that night.”

The sobering reminder ended her moment of flirtatious fun. They couldn’t date.

She should pull her hand back. She should, but didn’t. She should remember to not sit so close next meeting. She should move farther away even now. She should, but didn’t.
 

"You have a lovely laugh. I shall endeavor to make you do it more often." The circles on her wrist stopped. "You look concerned. What's got you worried?"

"Nothing. I’ll tell Kristen to draw up the contract first thing in the morning."

"Good, I'll come by tomorrow and sign the docs. For dinner I thought we'd go to a little place nearby with the best Italian food in the city...if you can get past the multi-colored gondolier table lamps."
 

"Gaudy lamps I’m fine with. Its singing waiters I can't stand." She paused. "Unfortunately, it’s a moot point since I must decline."

"What? Why?"

She stacked the cups and saucers and stood. "I don't date my clients."
 

He got up when she did and took the cups from her and set them by the coffee pot.

"All clients?" Alex folded his arms and propped his hip against the sideboard, "Or just me? I understand if you have nagging doubts about my innocence. I thought your uncompromising belief in me was too good to be true."

He tried to cover the fact he was offended. But the insult was there in the subtle tightening around his mouth, the hard edge to his tone. She didn’t anticipate this reaction. She expected him to balk, to argue over dating, not to doubt her trust in him, in his honesty.
  

"I didn't lie. I do believe you're innocent. That's not the issue. I don't date any of my clients." With an open-handed gesture of supplication, she explained, "Think about it. If things go wrong, I lose a beau and a client. Plus, I’m on shaky ground ethically...conflict of interest and all that."

The tight line of his mouth relaxed. "Be advised counselor, I'm going to be the exception to your policy,” he warned with a smile.

“You have my permission to try. Don’t feel bad when you fail.”

“The game’s afoot. Now, about dinner—” He raised a hand to stop her from protesting. “This isn’t a date. It’s just a meal and you have to eat. If it makes you more comfortable, we’ll discuss the case. You can be attorneyish, and I’ll stare at your lips and think things my defense counselor wouldn’t approve of.”

“You’re sure the waiters don’t sing?”

“Positive.”

“All right. I’ll go...this once.”

Chapter Six

Alex checked his watch and then the speedometer again. Any other time, he’d be at Ian’s by now. Today, traffic on the motorway from London moved at glacial speed. City dwellers escaping the stifling heat wave clogged the roads. Any motorway that led to a beach with a cool breeze off the water became an artery to weekend relief. The road to Norfolk was no exception.

Alex was stuck behind a Volvo moving at a slower speed than the rest of the traffic. Boxed in by a guard rail on one side and an ancient Vauxhall on the other, he fantasized demonic scenarios. Like a knight on a warhorse splitting an enemy cavalry line, he’d plow through the jam of cars. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Vauxhall drop back. The move left open a narrow slice of road. A daring driver with a fast car could maneuver through the small window of opportunity.

He gunned the 631 horse-power Lamborghini. He shot in front of the Vauxhall, around the Volvo, past a BMW whose driver gunned his car and tried to block him. Alex down-shifted and let the BMW come parallel with him. The two men eyed one another. They exchanged a mutual nod of understanding and floored their cars. The Lamborghini left the BMW in the dust.