Night Fever. Diana Palmer

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СКАЧАТЬ needed brief for Nettie, one of the paralegals, and going out of her mind in the process. It had been a rough few days. Clay had been more belligerent than ever—withdrawn, moody, and openly antagonistic. Mack had been withdrawn, too, avoiding his brother and refusing to tell his sister why. It was worse than an armed camp. Granddad was living on her nerves. Becky was, too. She came to work vibrating, wishing she could just climb in the car, drive away, and never look back.

      “Can’t you hurry, Becky?” Nettie begged. “I’ve got to be in court at one, and it’s a forty-five-minute drive in lunch-hour traffic! I won’t get to eat as it is!”

      “I’m hurrying—really, I am,” Becky assured her, frowning as she tried to make her fingers work even faster.

      “I’ll do my own copies,” Maggie said, patting Becky’s shoulder as she walked by. “Just calm down, darlin’. You’re doing fine.”

      The sympathy almost brought tears to Becky’s eyes. Maggie was such a love. Becky gritted her teeth and put everything she had into it, finishing in good time to get Nettie off to court.

      “Thanks!” Nettie called from the door, and grinned. “I owe you lunch one day!”

      Becky just nodded, and paused to catch her breath.

      “You look terrible,” Maggie noted as she passed by on her way back from the copying room. “What’s wrong? Want to talk?”

      “It wouldn’t do any good,” Becky said with a gentle smile. “But thanks just the same. And thanks for doing those.”

      Maggie held up the copies. “No problem. Don’t try to take on too much at one time, will you?” she added seriously. “You’re the junior here and that puts you in a bad position sometimes. Don’t be afraid to say no when you can’t make a deadline. You’ll live longer.”

      “Look who’s talking,” Becky chided gently. “Aren’t you the one who always volunteers for every charity project the firm takes on?”

      Maggie shrugged. “So I don’t listen to my own advice.” She checked her watch. “It’s almost twelve. Go to lunch. I’ll take second shift today. You need a break,” she added with a worried glance at Becky’s thin figure in the plain pink shirtwaist dress, her hair all over her face and shoulders, her makeup long gone. “And tidy up first, darlin’. You look like something the cat dragged in.”

      “I look like a little green snake?” Becky asked, aghast.

      Maggie stared. “I beg your pardon?”

      “Well, snakes are all MY cat ever brings in.” She looked down at herself. “I can see me as a giant pink mushroom, maybe. A little green snake? Never!”

      “Get out of here,” Maggie muttered.

      Becky laughed. Maggie was like a tonic. Pity she couldn’t bottle her and take her home at night. Home was a worse ordeal than work had ever been, and she knew she was losing ground.

      She went downstairs to the cafeteria around the corner, surprised to find herself in line with the county district attorney, Kilpatrick himself.

      “Hello, Counselor,” she said, trying not to sound as shell-shocked as she felt. He was just dynamite at close quarters, especially in that watered gray suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and dark complexion.

      “Hello, yourself,” he mused, glancing at her with faint interest. “Where have you been hiding? The elevator is beginning to bore me.”

      She looked up at him with raised brows. “Do tell? Why not try the staircase and see if you can smoke the janitors out of hiding?”

      He chuckled. He wasn’t smoking one of those hideous cigars, but she was sure he had one tucked away.

      “I’ve already smoked him out of hiding,” he confessed. “Caught the trash can on fire this morning. Didn’t you hear the fire alarm go off?”

      She had, but Maggie had checked and it was a false alarm. “You’re kidding,” she said, not sure how to take him.

      “No joke. I was on the phone and not paying too much attention to where the ashtray was. A mistake I won’t make twice,” he added. “My secretary had the fire chief make a personal call and give me some literature on fire safety.” He pursed his lips and his dark eyes sparkled. “She wouldn’t be a relative of yours, by any chance?”

      She laughed. “I don’t think so, but she sounds like my kind of secretary.”

      He shook his head. “You women. A man isn’t safe.” He glanced ahead at the long line with resignation and flipped his wrist to check his watch. “I had two hours when I started, but I had to have my notes typed and pick up another brief before I could get time for lunch.” He shook his head. “Having my office halfway across town from the courthouse isn’t working out too well.”

      “Think of the exercise you’re getting,” she said. “That has to be a fringe benefit.”

      “It would be, if I needed to lose weight.” He studied her slender body. “You’ve lost some. How’s your brother?” he asked pointedly.

      She felt nervous when he looked at her like that. She wondered if he had microscopic vision, because he certainly seemed to see beneath the skin. “He’s all right.”

      “I hope he’s keeping his nose clean,” he said evenly. “The Harris boys are up to their collective necks in trouble. Running with them could get him into a scrape you won’t be able to talk him out of.”

      She looked up. “Would you send him to prison?”

      “If he breaks the law,” he said. “I’m a public servant. The taxpayers expect me to earn the salary I’m paid. Somebody must have told you how I feel about drug pushers.”

      “My brother isn’t one, Mr. Kilpatrick,” she said earnestly. “He’s a good boy. He’s just fallen in with a bad crowd.”

      “That’s all it takes, you know. The jails are full of good boys who played follow the leader one time too many.” His eyes narrowed. “Do you remember I told you that something big was going down? Maybe a hit? Don’t forget it. Keep your brother at home nights.”

      “How?” she asked, spreading her hands. “He’s bigger than I am and I can’t even talk to him anymore.” She drew a hand over her eyes. “Mr. Kilpatrick, I’m so tired of holding up the world,” she said, half under her breath.

      He took her arm. “Come on.”

      He drew her out of line, to her astonishment, and right out the door.

      “My lunch,” she protested.

      “To hell with this. We’ll eat at a Crystal.”

      She’d never set foot in a Mercedes-Benz in her life until then. It had real leather seats, gray ones, with a headrest and plush comfort. It even smelled like real leather. The dash had wood panels, and they were probably real, too. The car had a polished metallic blue finish, and she caught her breath at the beauty of the carpeted interior.

      “You look shocked,” he murmured as he started it.

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