A Man To Count On. Helen Myers R.

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СКАЧАТЬ empty. Bemused, she watched as he exited his vehicle and, when she released the passenger door lock, slipped into the seat beside her.

      “At the risk of appearing like a stalker,” he began, “I came up with two free hours and wanted to see if you were still with Ivan.”

      He looked elegant and smelled even better, his navy-blue suit intensifying the deep blue of his eyes. At the same time, she was dismayed that he’d ignored her plea and had taken this risk. “What if someone followed you, or me for that matter?”

      “You give me far too much credit for being newsworthy. As for you, I didn’t see anyone back there, did you?”

      “No.” E.D. checked again, though, and then came up with another concern. “You weren’t planning to come in, were you? What would Ivan have said? He’s admitted he’s sympathetic to my case, but I doubt he would be if you appeared. He’d likely reinvent math.”

      Looking wholly nonplussed, Dylan replied, “I wouldn’t care…would you?”

      What was he saying? How could he say that?

      She had to stop jumping to conclusions. He was just being a truly lovely and caring friend. “Ivan has agreed to represent me,” she said going for the safest response.

      “Good man!”

      “I’m so grateful—and he was wonderful. Dignified, yet concerned and compassionate.” Like the man who’d first come to her aid.

      “Ah, E.D., I’m so relieved for you.”

      “Thanks.” Immeasurably glad to see him on the heels of this news, she tried and almost failed to keep emotion locked in her throat and had to look away.

      Dylan tenderly brushed the back of his fingers against her jawline. “It’s been a helluva couple of days for you.”

      Couldn’t he tell it was the mere sight of him that was turning her to mush? That the way he was looking at her tempted her to release her seat belt and throw herself into his arms? She was a married woman being carried at white-water-rapids speed into an ugly divorce and he was a professional friend—more mentor than friend—and fast becoming the dearest personal one. No, it couldn’t happen with his future in such important transition.

      “Well, I’d better get a grip. Emmett wouldn’t take seeing me getting emotional.” While she spoke out loud, the words were a warning for her alone.

      “He’s not here. And you’re not on the clock—or he should cut you some slack all things considered.”

      Even his voice was a husky caress. Heaven help her. “I need to act as though I am.”

      “You’ve been dealt back-to-back emotional and psychological blows. I’d be concerned if you did succeed in behaving like a robot…or an Oscar-caliber actress.”

      Drawing a deep breath, E.D. glanced back at him. “Okay, confession time. I am glad to see you.”

      “Then my impulse was well worth it. When I first spotted you, I worried you’d keep driving.”

      “That would have been inexcusably rude.”

      “I’d have understood. You know what your problem is? You don’t know what it’s like to be supported outside of the office.”

      They’d never discussed their spouses before except in a cursory reference, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to. “This doesn’t sound like you, Dylan.”

      “I apologize for the bad timing, but we play the hand we’re dealt. One door closes, another opens, and all that.”

      “What door am I supposed to be to you?”

      “Ouch.” He cleared his throat. “I suppose you’re seeing this in the worst possible way.”

      She didn’t want to—that was what made this conversation critical because they shouldn’t be having it. Not for some time, if ever. “I apologize if I sound suspicious or ungrateful.”

      “You sound gun-shy and scared—which is totally understandable.” Dylan lowered his head a fraction, an old habit due to his height to hold someone’s gaze whether on the bench or in a toe-to-toe conversation. “I simply want you to understand that I’m here for you, E.D.”

      She studied him a moment longer then turned away again to digest what she’d taken in. Hoping to slow what was beginning to feel increasingly, intensely, intimate, she added, “I can only imagine what Trey’s reaction will be to Ivan’s suspicions of him. Ivan thinks if Dani didn’t forge my name, Trey did.”

      After a slight pause, Dylan asked, “Do you agree?”

      “At this point, I suppose nothing should surprise me. But what happened to make either of them willing to do that? To hurt me to protect themselves?”

      “You’re sure this isn’t a case of a terrible misunderstanding?”

      “Even if it is—which I doubt—what he said and did the other night and yesterday makes excuses an impossibility.” E.D. had to swallow the frozen block wedged in her throat. “No one prepares you for this kind of betrayal, Dylan.”

      This time when he reached out, he cupped his hand at her nape beneath her neat chignon. “I can’t imagine.”

      “He should have just asked or at least challenged me. I deserved that much. He had to know I would give him the benefit of the doubt if things were reversed.”

      “Generous of you to credit him with your sense of logic and fair play.”

      E.D. felt another stab that made it all the harder to breathe. “Imagine coming to the realization at this point and position in my career that I don’t know the man anymore. Maybe I never did. What does that say for me as a litigator?”

      “I think you should come to the condo. It’s only a few blocks from here.”

      Gathering herself, she shook her head enough to encourage him to remove his hand. “Impossible. I have to get back—and you have to stop being so reckless.”

      “Determined, not reckless,” he said softly.

      E.D. frowned at him. “Dylan, have you had a bad health checkup or something? You’re acting—scary.”

      “I’ve never felt more clearheaded in my life.”

      She could barely think when he locked those dark blue eyes on hers. “Okay, dare I threaten a gentle censure for some bad timing?”

      “You want to hear about timing, Eva Danielle?” Dylan worked her right hand free from the steering wheel to transfer it into his warm grasp. “I’ve been dealing with the results of that for almost twenty years.” He glanced down at her modestly manicured fingernails painted only with clear polish. “I should have followed a gut hunch the moment you extended this hand the night we met.”

      Torn between pulling free and tightening her fingers, E.D. all but choked. “Sure. I always have that effect on people. When I got home that night, I found four voice messages from the president, governor and two senators.”

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