Matthew's Children. C.J. Carmichael

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      Jane murmured a sympathetic comment, feeling anything but sorry for Susan’s predicament. Did her colleague have any idea how lucky she was? She and Jack had been married ten years and had three healthy children.

      Finally, Jane found her pen amid the clutter at the bottom of her briefcase. She inhaled deeply and checked around the table. All the familiar faces calmed her. This was her family, and now that her father had moved to Texas, it was the only family in Hartford she had.

      She’d been working at Brandstrom and Norton since she’d graduated from law school twelve years ago. Eve Brandstrom had hired her, and had become her mentor and close advisor.

      Eve made a powerful ally. Some claimed she was too hard, too driven. But Jane had never found her so. Now she caught Eve’s eye and smiled.

       I hope I look that good when I’m in my fifties.

      Eve returned her smile, but her eyebrows were knit. When her eyes shifted in Matthew’s direction, her frown deepened.

      Had Eve noticed them walk in together? That she might be keeping an eye on the two of them was more than a little discomfiting.

      Eve, along with two junior lawyers from the firm, had been present at the restaurant last January when Jane and Matt had met for their disastrous, final lunch together. Eve’s party had been sitting at a different table, but in plain view.

      All three of them had seen everything. The whole sordid scenario.

      Jane wanted to believe that one of the other lawyers—and not Eve—had subsequently spread the rumors about her and Matt. But she couldn’t be sure. She and Eve had never talked about that day. Jane had hoped that eventually it might be forgotten.

      The expression on Eve’s face told her it hadn’t. ALL THE USUAL SUSPECTS were in place as Matthew entered the conference room. Sensing Jane would prefer it, he headed to the other end of the table from her, putting as much distance between them as possible. Unfortunately, when he sat down he realized he’d selected a seat with a perfect view of her. If he wasn’t careful, he’d end up staring at her throughout the meeting.

      In an attempt to distract himself, he glanced around. The conference room was in the southwest corner of the twenty-eighth floor. Two walls were all windows; the other two were covered with paintings by New England artists. The room was impressive. The inlaid wood table was itself a work of art.

      But he’d seen this room a hundred times before.

      Whereas Jane he hadn’t seen in a year.

      And now that he had, one thing was clear. She still hit him like a shot of caffeine—jolting him, making him feel more alive. How could she not? Besides being one of the most intelligent lawyers in the firm, she was also kind, compassionate, honest and decent.

      Her attractiveness and beauty were all the more potent to him because of these other qualities. And it was precisely because of them—in particular the honesty—that he’d worked so hard to stay away from her.

      That hadn’t been easy.

      But to do otherwise wouldn’t have been fair to her. Rumors had buzzed around the office after the “lunch from hell”—as he tended to think of it. When he’d announced his divorce from Gillian, the gossip had started again. One of his coworkers had screwed up the courage to ask him, “Is this about Jane?”

      “No,” he’d insisted, but his protestation hadn’t had much impact on the opinions at the office.

      He’d wanted to protect Jane, but he hadn’t known how. The best he could do, it seemed, was keep his distance.

      No doubt about it. This past year had been hell. For most of it he’d lived in an apartment full of rented furniture that he hated. He’d never felt more alone. His mother was busy with her new life in the seniors’ complex she’d moved to, and his two brothers were preoccupied with lives of their own.

      His ex-wife considered him a cheating liar. And while his three-year-old daughter still loved him unconditionally, his adolescent son didn’t want anything to do with him.

      On top of all that, he had lost his valued friendship with Jane.

      “Coffee, Matthew?” Davis Norton was the oldest senior partner and the only surviving founder of the firm. He was approaching seventy and rarely took cases. Still, he never missed a partners meeting.

      “Thank you.”

      Davis filled a bone china cup with steady hands and passed it to Matthew, then returned the carafe to the sideboard and settled in his place at one end of the table.

      Sitting at the other end of the rectangular table was Russell Fielding and, next to him, Eve Brandstrom.

      Russell was one of those men who had finally grown into his looks in his fifties. With his steel-gray hair, strong jaw and broad shoulders, he had the sort of distinguished presence that juries loved.

      Eve, also, had developed an air of distinction as she’d aged. Thick, dark hair framed a face grown more attractive with the sculpting hand of age. As she peered over stylish, turquoise glasses, her eyes were clear and sharp, as was her mind.

      Although the firm bore her family’s name, Eve’s preeminent position here had little to do with nepotism. She’d never married and seemed to live for her job, having few outside interests. Since her father had passed away two years ago, she was determined to do his memory proud.

      In addition to the three senior partners, there were six junior partners at Brandstrom and Norton, including Jane and Matthew. All were in attendance today. Each had nodded at him earlier, but not one would meet his eyes now.

      Something was up.

      Matthew felt a surge of adrenaline. Just what was this case Russell wanted him to handle?

      He checked his BlackBerry. One minute before nine. Russell, who usually chaired these things, was a stickler about starting exactly on time.

      Matthew’s gaze slid over to Jane. He just couldn’t stop himself. He noticed details he’d been too flustered to pay attention to in the elevator. She was wearing a black suit, impeccably tailored, and a slim-fitting shirt. The thin red stripes in her white shirt brought out the color in her lips and on her cheeks.

      She wasn’t looking at him. Wasn’t looking at anyone in particular, really. She nodded when Davis offered her coffee, and when he’d finished pouring, she brought the cup to her lips with a steady hand.

      Matthew gave her credit. She had to know everyone in the room had watched them walk in together. The curiosity in the air was almost palpable, yet she affected the utmost nonchalance.

      As she set the cup back on the saucer, Matthew’s attention moved to the long, fine bones of her fingers. Her gold watch dangled on her elegant wrist. As if she could feel the spot where his gaze lingered, she pushed the watch higher on her forearm.

      She looked around the room, let her gaze rest on his briefly, then carried on. Jane was one of few who had resisted the lure of the BlackBerry, and she set a pad of paper on the table and clicked her pen to release СКАЧАТЬ