Trouble in Tallahassee (Familiar Legacy Book 3) Page 3

  Neat, clean, and well-organized. That was his initial impression of the house, though as he walked further into the living room, he reassessed. It was like a jungle. Potted plants everywhere, some on the floor, some on stands, some hanging from brackets on the wall. Interesting groupings of flowering scrubs and tropical-looking things in one corner with what he assumed was a grow light pointed at them. Then he saw the aquarium.

  “Wow.” Victor said it aloud, though no one was listening. The aquarium was twenty-five gallons and filled with brightly colored neon tetras, dashing about in their seemingly frantic way, well balanced by a few calm black mollies. The water was sparkling, and a high-tech pump hummed on the side. Snails, aquatic plants, a couple of bottom feeding catfish—a perfectly balanced and healthy aquarium. He should know. He had one too. Only smaller. After all those years in the Navy, where a potted Christmas cactus was about all he could handle as he moved about, he’d been hungry for a tank of fish, a cat, and a dog. So far, he had an aquarium.

  The redhead came out of the kitchen and gave him a curious look.

  “I’m sorry I barged in, but I want to be sure Layla is really okay.” He brushed his hair back again and admired her shiny red mane. Thick, shoulder-length, kind of a chestnutty red. “I’m Victor,” he added, though he’d already said that.

  “Abby,” she said.

  “I love the fish. I’ve got a tank too. Someday I’d like to try a saltwater aquarium.”

  “Oh, me too. I’ve been studying about it for years.” Abby’s voice lifted and there was no mistaking her sudden enthusiasm. “I want sea horses. Did you know the male raises the young and—”

  “Okay, so you two are bonding over fish. Trouble the cat is gorging on fish, and I’m ready to take a shower and go count fish to see if I can sleep.” Layla stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, casting her gaze back and forth between Victor, Abby, and the aquarium.

  Victor refrained from mentioning one counted sheep to encourage sleep. If Layla wanted to count fish, or toads, or whatever, that was fine with him.

  “Layla,” Victor said, his voice soft and mellow. “I’ve—”

  “I’m not—”

  The cat sauntered out of the kitchen, licking his mouth, and let out a plaintive meow. They all stared at him. He scampered to the door and scratched on it.

  “Litter box,” Abby said. “I don’t have one.”

  “Let him outside,” Layla said.

  “What if he runs away?” Abby knelt and petted the cat.

  Victor glanced at the clock on Abby’s mantel. After nine, but the Publix on Thomasville Road would still be open. “Give me half an hour, I’ll be back with a litter box.”

  Nobody objected and he hurried to his car.

  As he drove to the store, he thought about Abby. What a lovely young woman. He couldn’t help but be attracted to her slim, petite figure and her big eyes. But besides being cute, she obviously had a green thumb and a nurturing spirit. And taking in both a stray cat and a temporarily homeless Layla—that told Victor that Abby was generous and kind-hearted.

  Even so, he might as well forget her. He was so damn busy studying and trying to stay afloat in law school, there was no way he had time to date. Besides, his forced resignation from the Navy was sure to come up. He didn’t want to face accusations and rejection, especially from a woman who seemed so fundamentally decent and sweet.

  As he hurried into the store, thoughts of Abby drifted to his concern for Layla. Her kitchen caught fire—even though she wasn’t home at the time and the landlord had the fire out before too much damage. She was mugged—though it appeared to be a random act and nothing personal.

  Was it just a run of bad luck? Or was there more to it?

  Maybe she was mixed up in something worse than he’d first suspected.

  Or maybe she really had left a greasy skillet on a hot stove like the fire inspector claimed. Maybe it was just coincidence a homeless person grabbed her backpack at the law firm.

  But as he picked up a large bag of cat litter and a litter pan, he couldn’t shake the growing unease he felt.

  Chapter Seven

  Abby glared at a pile of affidavits scattered on the rosewood table in front of her in the plush conference room at the law office, and pulled her jacket closed. Outside, the September sun might be sending the temperatures soaring, but in the conference room, the air conditioning kept the room just shy of freezing.

  She glanced at the teak-framed clock on the wall. The court reporter, her client, and the opposing attorney should be there any moment. She didn’t feel at all ready for taking a deposition, especially with only a couple of hours of sleep. What with the mugging and the new cat, her mind had whirled with anxiety most of the night.

  Not just anxiety either. To make matters worse, she’d kept thinking of Victor, his shaggy hair, that dimple, and how helpful he’d been. She kept reminding herself that he was Layla’s boyfriend, even if they were fighting at the moment. But she couldn’t deny the tingly feelings she had when she thought of him. Even now, a flush of warmth swept over her as she sat in the cold conference room.

  It had been a long time—a very long time—since any man had awakened such arousal in her.

  And, damn it all, he was somebody else’s boyfriend. More precisely, he was her temporary roommate’s lover, which made it all worse somehow.

  The conference room door opened and she shifted toward the sound. Instead of her client, Miguel Angel Castillo and Phillip Draper stepped into the conference room, with its silk wallpaper, lush plants, and fresh flowers. She was semi-hidden by a large peace lily in a brass pot, a thriving plant she’d been nurturing for years. Mr. Draper and Professor Castillo paused just inside the door and stood chatting about FSU football.

  She hadn’t seen Professor Castillo since he’d been one of her professors at Florida State’s law school. Funny, she’d just been thinking about him last night and that ridiculous infatuation she’d had, like a teenage girl with her first crush.

  She peeked around the giant peace lily for a better look at Miguel. Still gorgeous. He was the classic tall, dark, and handsome, with an oval face framed by jet-black hair, and lots of it. His tortoise-shell glasses framed nearly black eyes and rested on a straight nose. But it was his mouth that really made his face so captivating—full lips with a natural hint of color and a thicker lower lip that gave him a hint of a pout. On a less masculine man, his lips would have been feminine. But on him, they were sensual.

  The man had simply radiated sexual allure back in Abby’s law school days. But if Miguel had ever even remotely noticed Abby back then, he’d managed to hide the evidence. Of course, during that era of her life, Abby had been dumpy.

  Dumpy, hell, she’d been fat. Okay, not fat…but definitely plump.

  Miguel, whether he knew it or not, had spurred her into a total make-over—or rather her crush on him had. A diet. A gym membership. Regular trips to a top beauty salon where the stylist had convinced her that redheads, not blondes, had more fun. Her natural chestnut hair took on some red and gold highlights that glimmered. Unfortunately, her metamorphosis had taken place after she graduated and Miguel never saw the new her.

  “Why don’t I explain a bit of my problem with the seminar?” Miguel’s deep voice broke in on Abby’s reverie of her improvements since law school. “And gather your ideas for ways to cure them.” He paused, smiling at Mr. Draper. “And when we have all of that worked out, maybe this weekend you and your beautiful wife can join me at my place on the lake.”

  Uh, oh, it was time to stand up. Abby rattled some papers to alert them of her presence. She put on a smile she hoped looked natural.

  “Ah, Miss Coleridge,” Mr. Draper said. “We didn’t see you there.”

  She stepped toward the men, doing her best to reflect gracious good manners and not look like she was fall-down fatigued. “Good morning.” She nodded toward Mr. Draper, then turned to Professor Castillo, and held out her hand. “Abby Co
leridge, Professor Castillo. So pleased to see you again.”

  The professor took her hand, holding her gaze with his dark eyes. Slowly he smiled, curving his full lips to show straight, white teeth. Abby didn’t see a flicker of recognition on his face, but maybe that was just as well.

  “Miss Coleridge, how delightful.” He gave her hand a little squeeze before he let it go.

  “Please, do call me Abby. I was your student in Legal Ethics and American Jurisprudence. Wonderful classes, both of them.” Actually, the classes had been dull as soggy cornflakes and Miguel had been an uninspired teacher—though his looks had held her attention even when his boring lectures hadn’t.

  Mr. Draper cleared his throat. Abby and the professor both turned to him.

  “Miguel and I were just about to discuss a joint-teaching venture at the law school. And this conference room is quite comfortable.” Mr. Draper’s tone of voice suggested that Abby should offer to vacate the conference room.

  Abby thought quickly. She knew Mr. Draper was an adjunct professor at the law school, teaching seminars on oil and gas issues, but she couldn’t imagine what he and Miguel could co-teach, or why. But the important thing at the moment was her upcoming deposition. She could gather up her notes and move. It was, after all, Mr. Draper’s office building and law firm. Surely one of the other conference rooms was free, especially this early in the morning.

  Before Abby said anything, Miguel spoke. “Phillip, she’s already spread out some documents and obviously needs this room. Let’s you and I retire to your office and let Abby continue her work here.”

  Mr. Draper narrowed his eyes at Abby for a split second. “Fine. My office is not quite so comfortable, but I’m sure we’ll make do.”

  What did he mean, his office wasn’t comfortable? She had lived in apartments that were smaller than his corner suite. But regardless of what she thought, Abby nodded. “I do have a deposition scheduled and my client should be here any moment.” She refrained from mentioning she’d reserved the room a month in advance.

  “Well, then, it’s settled. We’ll leave you to it.” Miguel smiled again, with that same slow curve of his lips as he stared into her eyes. “So very lovely to see you again, Abby,” he added. “I do remember you from my first year of teaching, with your captivating red hair right there in the front of the class room.”

  Abby’s smile suddenly felt glued on. She hadn’t been a redhead in his classes, and she’d never have sat near the front unless someone made her do so upon the threat of expulsion. “I really appreciated your lectures on how the first Supreme Court justices shaped American history,” she said. That was as untrue as his comment, so they were even. What she’d really enjoyed was his book, A Thesis on Early American Jurisprudence: A Study of the First U. S. Supreme Court. Most people who read such books considered it brilliant, and she still had a signed copy.

  “Shall we then?” Miguel led Mr. Draper out of the conference room.

  Once the two men were truly gone, Abby sat down hard on her chair. Miguel had flirted with her and yet, despite her law-school crush on the man, his attentions meant nothing to her now. She wondered if her eighty-hour work weeks had killed any hope of passion.

  But as she turned back to her legal documents, she thought of Victor.

  No, she wasn’t entirely dead to those kinds of feelings.

  She just had them for the wrong man.

  Chapter Eight

  Abby wanted to put her head down on her desk and nap on her pile of mail and unanswered phone messages. But the steady hum of caffeine and anxiety in her veins wouldn’t let her, nor would the demands of the rest of the morning. At least her deposition was done and she could soon start on Delphine’s trial brief, which she’d failed to finish last night due to the mugging.

  As if summoned by Abby’s very thought of her, Delphine knocked and entered the office in one smooth, quick move. “Heads up.” Delphine put a steaming cup of coffee on Abby’s desk.

  Abby lifted her eyes from the stack of unanswered phone messages and looked at Delphine. The woman was fifty, but looked thirty, and worked nonstop. As the firm’s first African-American partner, perhaps Delphine felt she had something to prove. But surely she’d done so by now, Abby thought. After all, Delphine had won the largest single judgment of any jury trial in the history of Draper’s law firm.

  “Sip it slowly,” Delphine said. “My own personal beans, honey-processed Brazilian.”

  Abby looked at the steaming cup. Though she had never heard of honey-processed, she knew it would be excellent. But dare she drink more coffee?

  She also knew if Delphine was bringing her coffee, the woman wanted something. But rejecting the offering wouldn’t make Delphine go away, so Abby reached for the cup. She sipped. “Delicious.”

  As Abby drank, she became conscious that Delphine was studying her a bit too closely. She ran her hand over her red hair, smoothing it down, and tugged at her blouse. Maybe she had dressed in a bit of a hurry—but she’d only just gotten to sleep when the alarm had gone off that morning.

  “You might need to go home at lunch and change. Something very sharp and professional.” Delphine narrowed her eyes as she continued to stare at Abby. “I know, wear that blue seersucker suit, the one with the belted, peplum jacket. Very becoming. Shows off that tiny waist of yours and yet very professional.”

  Yes, one of Abby’s favorite suits, but one she reserved for special occasions or court appearances.

  “We’re having important visitors today, potential clients of the utmost prestige and I want everyone to look their best. And to behave.” Delphine smiled at Abby. “But you always behave.”

  Abby smiled back, but guardedly. The other shoe hadn’t dropped yet and she didn’t sip anymore coffee.

  “But Layla, damn it.” Delphine sighed, long and slow. “We need to keep her out of the office all afternoon.”

  Abby frowned. Delphine hadn’t even asked about Layla’s health after she’d been attacked. She admired Delphine, but sometimes the woman’s focus could be too ambitious and single-minded.

  “I’ll have Phillip call her and tell her to take the afternoon off.” Delphine nodded, as if pleased with herself. “He’ll just have to do without her today, whatever it is she does for him.” Delphine’s voice held a trace of snideness.

  Abby had also wondered exactly what Layla did for Mr. Draper since he appeared to be more rainmaker and glad-hander than lawyer. But what did she know about them, really? Abby rarely had contact with Mr. Draper as she worked exclusively with Delphine, and she preferred to keep it that way.

  “What’s the name of that law clerk in the library who always sticks his head in where it’s not wanted?” Delphine frowned and tilted her head in the general direction of the firm’s library.

  “Ah, you must mean Emmett.” Abby knew Emmett was intelligent, ambitious, and served as an associate editor of the law review. But he hadn’t learned that a law clerk’s role was to be seen and not heard.

  “Yes, him.” Delphine grinned. “Smart boy, but we can’t let him loose among our visitors or he’ll be spewing forth his resume.”

  “And his family lineage,” Abby said.

  “All the way back to Jamestown,” Delphine and Abby said in concert.

  The two women laughed. Abby felt a bit mean about it, but Emmett had trapped them all with his family tree more than once and it had become a standing joke.

  “You know, he’s actually quite competent when he calms downs. He just wants to be an associate here too badly after he graduates in June.” Delphine shook her head. “Sorry to say we’re only hiring one associate after graduation and Layla’s got a lock on it.”

  “Really? Layla?” Abby watched Delphine and hoped for more information.

  “Don’t look at me. I wouldn’t hire her to take out the garbage, but Phillip’s already promised her a position.” Delphine raised a finger to her lips. “But you didn’t hear that from me.”

  Delphine headed for the door,
turning back to add, “I’ll send Emmett to the courthouse to look something up after lunch and get him out of the way. Oh, and email me a copy of that trial brief in progress.” With that, Delphine left Abby’s office, closing the door behind her.

  Abby took a long gulp of the coffee. Once more, she couldn’t help but think Delphine should have asked how Layla was doing. After all, the young woman had been mugged. But Delphine seemed too caught up with the potential new clients to worry about that.

  Ambition before compassion, Abby thought. Was that the law firm rule?

  Or just Delphine’s?

  Chapter Nine

  Victor pulled up his sturdy combat boots and hopped into his pickup. Classes were over for the day, thank goodness. He hated law school. All that sitting still inside a room with no windows was against his basic nature. Of late, this was troubling him. What if he hated being a lawyer as much as he despised his classes? He’d started law school full of drive and energy. He wanted to redeem himself and was motivated by a different sense of purpose than he’d had in the Navy. Look how badly the Navy had turned out. So maybe it was all right this time to shoot for the money and prestige?

  Stop moping. Focus on Layla, he told himself. None of that endless introspection about law school mattered at the moment. His best friend Layla might be mad at him because he’d cautioned her against a relationship with a married man, but she was still his best friend. And she was in trouble.

  He was coming to the bitter conclusion that the mugging was just too much of a coincidence on the heels of the fire in her apartment. Those acts had to be connected with the phone call he’d overheard. Whatever those items were that Layla said she’d hide might have put her in harm’s way. She said she wouldn’t hide “them” at her apartment, which left a lot of other options. But Phillip’s house was a definite possibility given what Victor’d heard, or at least what he thought he’d heard. He needed to find or figure out what the secret was before she got in worse trouble, and he figured he might as well start at Phillip’s house.