The Case For Temptation

Five

Jacob slammed the phone down, which wasn’t like him, or hadn’t been in a long while. He’d learned to control his temper, roll with the punches, get his frustrations out in other ways. And, hey, what he’d heard just now wasn’t exactly a surprise.

The receptionist at High Tea Gym in Seattle had politely but firmly stated that Teagan was unable to take his call. Ms. Hunter was about to head out of the country and hadn’t scheduled a date for her return. She’d be sure to pass any message along.

Translation: Move on, pal.

The night he and Teagan had spent together in LA had ended with a massive twist. She was related to the defendant in an upcoming defamation suit. The bigger reveal? They had both been aware of the fact before diving in for an even steamier shower/bedroom finale the next morning.

Jacob swung his high-backed chair toward the window, set his elbows on the armrests and steepled his fingers under his chin as he took in the incredible view of the Chrysler Building. When they’d met, Teagan couldn’t have known that a Hunter lawsuit was in his pipeline. She would never have feigned interest purely to gain an advantage...to glean some inside information on her brother’s pending case, perhaps. She definitely wouldn’t have sex to hold the incident over his head. Nevertheless, a headline had built up in his mind’s eye: Sleazy New York Lawyer Sleeps with Defendant’s Sister.

But, conspiracy theories aside, Teagan refusing to speak with him now was more about how they had parted than why. She had said no one should turn her back on family. He’d responded with a dig about doing just that if the family concerned didn’t deserve loyalty. He might have used the word “sucked.” But he hadn’t meant her family. He’d been talking about his. He was a master at keeping any residual feelings about his background and not being good enough at bay, but at the worst possible moment that old serpent had reared up to bite him in the balls.

The office intercom buzzed. Jacob ignored it. He needed time to cool down, get a grip.

He’d had relationships with women before and, other than one he refused to think about ever again, he’d always been the party to walk away. Everyone got dumped sometime.

Grow up, Stone. It’s water under the bridge.

He heard a tap on the door, then his secretary’s voice.

“Mr. Howcroft is here,” Waverley McCune said in a subdued tone. “He knows he doesn’t have an appointment.” Her voice lowered to almost a whisper. “He says he’s tired of ‘all mouth and no trousers,’ whatever that means.”

Jacob continued to glare at the view, biting his thumbnail now, which he hadn’t done since ninth grade, but whatever.

“Jay? What would you like me to tell him?”

Jacob swung his chair around at the same moment Grant Howcroft strode into the room, hands fisted at his sides.

“This bloody well has to stop! I’ll see that bastard on his knees before this is through.”

Tamping down the air with his hands, Jacob pushed to his feet. “Take a seat, Grant.”

The older man threw himself onto a tufted leather couch while Waverley pressed the bridge of her Mr. Magoo eyeglasses back up her nose and quietly closed the door.

“Have you seen social media this morning?”

Jacob moved to the front of his desk, leaned against the edge and folded his arms. “You mean the small-time blogger opinion piece?” Yeah. He’d seen it. The other pieces concerning Howcroft, too.

“I want them shut down.” The older man dabbed at his brow with his jacket cuff. “I want them shut up!”

“These things take time.”

“While my career goes down the bloody toilet?”

“We’ll get compensation.”

“Tattered reputations don’t mend that easily, Jakey boy.”

“When the truth comes out they do.”

Howcroft scratched at his wiry ginger-gray hair. “According to this latest piece, I’m a sodding drug lord now!”

“It’s a piggyback small-time troll.”

Grant wasn’t listening. “How do I come back at that? I ask you. How?”

“By addressing the heart of the lies. By going after the one with the money.” Wynn Hunter and his big-time “untouchable” media arm. “We only need to meet the standard for actual malice and prove the accusations are unfounded, which they are.”

Then the wrong would be righted and Hunter Publications could kiss both sides of Howcroft’s butt.

His client’s brow was beaded with sweat. Jacob poured him a glass of water and brought it over.

Howcroft downed half and then closed his eyes at the same time he grit his teeth and his trembling lips turned white.

“I want to see Wynn Hunter destroyed. The rest of his blood-sucking family, too.” An image of Teagan flashed into Jacob’s mind while Howcroft took another mouthful then eased out a shuddering sigh. “How far away are we from getting this done?”

Jacob went into the fundamentals of where they were with the case. Today was only Thursday, so there wasn’t much to add since Monday when they had spoken last. But when a person’s life was falling apart, Jacob understood—minutes could feel like years.

Howcroft pushed back into the couch as his eyes darted around the room. “Maybe I should do a runner. Hole up somewhere in Mexico until this thing blows over.”

Jacob’s chin went down. What happened to wanting to see Wynn Hunter destroyed? “We agreed. This is a process. Now we need to hold our course.” Then go for the jugular.

“You know I was born a charwoman’s son,” Howcroft said, like Jacob didn’t research the shit out of his clients’ backgrounds. “My first job was as a filing clerk. Respectable, but rubbish pay. I got into theater and climbed the industry ladder from assistant stage manager to walk-on parts. Those first few years were brutal, mate. Young people nowadays don’t know the half.”

Jacob disagreed. There were lots who did.

“There were a few TV appearances,” Howcroft went on, “the move to Hollywood, then the role that launched my career. Instant overnight success, the papers said. There were parties, marriages... And, yes, I made mistakes.”

Jacob saw how Howcroft’s eyes were edged with moisture and worried he might cry. But his client found his feet and tried to square his hunched shoulders instead.

“I don’t know if I can...”

Jacob felt a prickling at the back of his neck. “Know if you can what?”

Putting up his hands like he’d heard and said enough, Howcroft headed for the door. “I’ll be in touch. One way or another. Probably another.”

Which was code for what exactly? “Are you saying you want to put the lawsuit on hold?”

“I’m saying I don’t know if I want to continue, period.” Howcroft swung open the door. “In fact, drop the whole bloody thing. I need time to get away. Clear my head.”

“You want to drop the lawsuit?”

But Howcroft was already gone, which left Jacob wanting to slam the door the same way he had slammed down the phone earlier. He wasn’t pissed at his client. The guy had every right to be upset. If he wanted to put a brake on things, it was his time and his dime.

The thing that stuck in Jacob’s craw was the situation with Teagan. If it hadn’t been for this lawsuit, their time together would have ended on a very different note. She’d have taken his call today...if the time they had spent together had meant more to Teagan than simply letting loose. If she hadn’t planned to somehow set him up.

After thinking that all through again, Jacob made another call. Not to High Tea Gym this time. To people who had never let him down before and weren’t about to now.

The moment the image popped up on her laptop screen, Teagan knew why her eldest brother and his bride were video calling. Good news. The best. And when they actually said the words, Teagan promised herself to look happy for them both because she was. Genuinely thrilled.

Attending their wedding last year, hearing their vows and seeing the love they so obviously shared, Teagan had no doubt that Taryn and Cole would last until death do them part. Now, her brother looked proud, but also calm. A huge difference from his former everything depends on me demeanor—as if the fate of Hunter Enterprises rested solely on his shoulders. But Taryn’s appearance struck Teagan even more. With her long hair draped around her shoulders like a thick, glossy mantle, she looked radiant. Blissfully content.

The couple said it together. “We’re pregnant!”

“Ohmigod! Congratulations!” Teagan sucked down a breath and bolstered herself. “When did you find out?”

With an arm around his girl, Cole replied, “Four months ago. Taryn wanted to keep it under wraps for a while.”

“I figure I’ll be showing soon,” Taryn added. “So time to let the cat out of the bag.”

The newlyweds looked into each other’s eyes like life would always be this way. Bright and wonderful. Never a tear. Although they had been grounded enough to delay the announcement.

Teagan could recite the statistics in her sleep: more than eighty percent of miscarriages occurred in the first three months of pregnancy. When fertilized eggs that failed to implant were also factored in, around seventy-five percent of all conceptions didn’t go full term.

But this one absolutely would.

Teagan shored up her smile. “So, too early to know if I’m getting a niece or a nephew?”

“We’re not sure we want to find out,” Cole said.

“We’ll be happy no matter what,” Taryn added.

“Whichever it turns out to be,” Cole said, “we want another one.”

Teagan’s smile held firm.

More than one. Imagine that.

“How does Dad feel about being a grandfather?” she asked.

Cole’s eyebrows pinched. “We haven’t told him yet. These past months... It’s been tough, particularly recently.”

Teagan’s heart beat faster. “Has something happened?”

“No more attempts on his life. Unfortunately, no new leads, either.” Cole’s eyes grew darker. “I don’t think he’d care if that madman ever got caught as long as he could stop looking over his shoulder.”

“How’s Tate?” Teagan missed her youngest brother so much. He was cute and loving, and such a brave little soul.

“We have him over a lot,” Taryn said. “The baby, too. It’s easier now that Honey’s a little older.”

Teagan asked, “And Eloise?” His father’s young wife.

Cole grunted. “That woman is worse than ever.”

Eloise had a problem with the bottle—any bottle she could lay her hands on. She also had a problem with men. She’d come onto their father right after their mother’s funeral in her hometown of Atlanta. Eloise had been after a rich man, and Guthrie Hunter was certainly that.

But clearly being the new Mrs. Hunter wasn’t enough. Last year, hours before Honey was born, Guthrie learned that Eloise had tried to seduce Cole in the past. He’d been crushed. But, thinking of the children, he’d given her another chance.

After wrapping up the call, Teagan sat back in her office chair, thinking of how happy Taryn must be. But she wouldn’t let her thoughts spiral any further down that rabbit hole. She had Tate and Honey, and would be a first-time auntie very soon.

Wasn’t that blessing enough?

Pushing out of her chair, Teagan began packing up. She was due an afternoon off. Later she might call some friends. A new restaurant around the corner had rave reviews. Then again, she hadn’t had much of an appetite lately...not since those syrup-soaked pancakes the previous Sunday.

A moment later, Teagan said goodbye to the receptionist and left through the gym’s main sliding-glass doors. But while she was walking to her car, something caught her eye. A man was climbing out of a cab. Around six-two, killer build, wearing jeans, a casual pale blue button-down and the sexiest pair of shades on the planet.

Teagan’s heart hit her throat.

What the hell was Jacob Stone doing there?

He saw her, headed straight over and, in that instant, all the memories came flooding back. Talking, dancing, making love, and suddenly she was tingling all over again, ready to melt.

His clean-shaven jaw tensed as he stopped a short distance from her and removed his sunglasses. “We need to talk.”

“So you just dropped in from New York?”

“You wouldn’t take my call.”

“There’s a good reason for that.”

“Because of how we said goodbye. I can explain.”

Teagan’s heart was pounding against her ribs. Her legs felt as weak as cooked noodles.

I can explain.

Seriously?

Continuing on to the parking lot, she gave him the bird then retorted over her shoulder, “And stay away from clichés.” So lame.

“I grew up with a mother who believed her drug addiction was more important than her only kid,” he called after her. “My father was a grifter. He specialized in taking down the elderly and people with special needs.”

Teagan pulled up. Slowly turned around. “What did you say?”

“He would fix their pipes, mend broken furniture, but he was really casing their homes, making plans to break in and take anything of value. Cash was best, but jewelry, power tools and TVs worked, too. When I was six, he pulled a Houdini. Never heard from him again. His lousy bones could be rotting on Hart Island for all I know.”

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