McIver's Mission (7 page)

"No. I want you to go with me."

She raised an eyebrow, and he wondered if she had any
idea how sexy she looked, how his blood heated when he thought about that
kiss—and about kissing her again. It didn't matter that she wasn't his type,
that he wasn't in the market for a romance right now.

He was concerned about her. He knew there was
something going on in her life, something that worried her, and he figured if
he spent some time with Arden, it might encourage her to confide in him. And if
they engaged in a little flirting or shared a few kisses along the way, well,
there was no harm in that.

"I don't date lawyers," she reminded him.

He'd heard her the first time, but her insistence only
made him all the more determined to break through her barriers. Because he was
concerned about her, he reminded himself again.

"It wouldn't really be a date," he said.

"I'm not agreeing to be your pretend date,"
she said, sounding miffed. "And I don't believe you're so desperate you'd
need to take me. The ball isn't until sometime in December. I'm sure you'll be
able to find a date before then."

"I want a date who won't have any
expectations."

"How do you know I won't?" she challenged.

"Because you've already stated—twice—that you
don't date lawyers, and you're about as interested as I am in a romantic
relationship."

"That's not a very flattering invitation."

"I could try flattery," he admitted.
"But you'd see right through me."

"I might have appreciated the effort,
though."

Shaun grinned. "I thought you'd appreciate a more
honest approach."

"The answer's still no."

"I haven't finished outlining the terms of the
proposed contract."

"Contract?" Her lips twitched in the
beginnings of a smile. "And what kind of consideration would I get for
entering into this contract?"

She sounded so sexy when she was in lawyer mode; the
combination of that smoky voice and cool attitude went straight to his loins.
"Other than the pleasure of my company?"

"Other than that," she agreed dryly.

Now he smiled. "Tickets to the opening night
performance of
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern
are Dead
next
month." He'd learned, again courtesy of Greta Dempsey, that Arden loved
the theater. It was a happy coincidence that he had season tickets to the
Fairweather
Players' Theater.

Arden's eyes narrowed. "That's an interesting
offer."

She was practically salivating, but he wasn't above
sweetening the deal. "Box seats."

"Damn," she swore under her breath, but she
was smiling. "I really don't want to go to the ball. All those lawyers,
talking shop." He didn't think her shudder was feigned.

"But you really want to see that play," he
guessed.

"How did you know?"

He didn't think it necessary to tip his hand just yet.
He had a feeling that Mrs. Dempsey might be an invaluable ally, but not if
Arden knew he was tapping her for information. "Is it a deal?"

"I'll check my calendar." She came back into
the kitchen with her appointment book in hand. "When is the ball?"

"Saturday, December fourth."

She flipped through the book. "I have
appointments that day."

"In the evening?"

"Well … no," she admitted.

"Then pencil me in," he told her.

She did so, but with obvious reluctance. Her calendar,
he could tell even from a distance, was quite full.

"Is it hard dealing with marital disputes day
after day?" he asked.

"No harder than dealing with career criminals, I
imagine."

Shaun grinned at the jibe. "Did you ever consider
anything but family law?"

"No."

"Why not?"

She shrugged. "I just felt that it was the one
field in which I could make a difference for people."

He hesitated, certain she wouldn't appreciate his
prying. Still, he felt compelled to ask, "But at what cost to
yourself?"

"What do you mean?"

"You were a wreck yesterday, Arden." His
words were gentle but firm.

"Yesterday was the first time I buried a client.
I think I was entitled to a few tears."

"Nobody's suggesting otherwise," he agreed.

She folded her arms over her chest, a clearly
defensive stance. He decided to back off—at least a little.

"Do you believe that happily-ever-
afters
can happen?" he asked.

"I like to think so," she admitted.
"But it's hard to imagine, when I spend so much time dealing with the
aftermath of relationships that fall apart."

"What about Colin and Nikki?"

"I think they're the exception rather than the
rule."

"Maybe," he allowed.

"And they had their share of heartache
first," she reminded him.

"Some would call it paying their dues." And
they had both paid dearly when Colin walked out on the wife he hadn't known was
carrying his child. He hadn't trusted that Nikki loved him enough to move
halfway across the country with him. When Colin had finally come home, Nikki
hadn't trusted that he loved her enough to stay. But somehow they'd worked
through the barriers of the past and were now blissfully happy together—Colin
and Nikki and their daughter,
Carly
.

"I don't ever want to fall in love if that's the
price I have to pay," Arden said.

"You've never been in love?"

She shook her head. "No."

He sat back and studied her. It was hard to believe
that a woman who was thirty-one years of age had never been in love. Then
again, he
had
been in love, and he couldn't think of a whole hell of a
lot to recommend it.

Still, he wanted a partner with whom to share his
life. Someone with similar goals and values. And he wanted to have children.
Not that he was in any particular rush to get married and start a family, but
someday.

So he'd approached the problem like any other legal
dilemma: with reason and research. He'd even made a list of the attributes he
wanted in a wife: nurturing personality, good with kids. He would prefer to
find a woman who'd be willing to stay at home to raise their children. His
practice was successful enough that they wouldn't need a second income, but he was
willing to be flexible. His wife could work, so long as her choice of career
wasn't too demanding.

His sister-in-law had laughed when he'd explained his
criteria to her. Nikki had accused him of trying to pencil love into his
Daytimer
like a court appearance, of wanting a woman who
would be his subordinate rather than an equal partner. Shaun couldn't deny
there was probably some truth in that. After all, it had worked for his
parents. And his experience with Jenna had shown him how easily conflicting
ambitions could destroy a relationship.

He wasn't looking for love. He didn't want passion.
No, thanks. He'd tried that before, and although fun while it lasted, it hadn't
lasted long. He wasn't prepared to go through that heartache again.

Still, he couldn't deny that he was attracted to
Arden. Which made him wonder why he'd ever suggested this friendship thing. It
would be a lot easier to get her out of his mind—and out of his fantasies—if he
wasn't spending time with her.

But, no, he had to propose that they be friends. Yeah,
like
that
was likely. And they had a date scheduled for the annual ball
in December. Not a date—a contract. An exchange of service for consideration.

He frowned. He'd never had to bribe a woman to go out
with him before. He might try to convince himself he was sticking close to
Arden to look out for her, but the truth was that he just wanted to be with
her.

* * *

Shaun
didn't like to admit how often his thoughts wandered to Arden throughout the
following week. How many times he picked up the phone, tempted to call her.
Just to see how she was doing. He told himself it was because he was concerned
about her, but he knew it was more than that.

He was attracted to her. He wanted her. And he had no
idea what to do about it.

She'd made it clear she wasn't interested. She wasn't
looking for a relationship, and she didn't want to get involved with him. He'd
have to be a complete idiot not to get the hint. He wasn't an idiot.

He also wasn't able to turn down a challenge.

Arden challenged him. It wasn't a macho thing. It
wasn't that he wanted to get her into bed just to prove to himself that he
could. He did want her in bed—after all, he was a healthy, fully functioning
man—but it was more than that.

He liked that they had so much in common, and that
they argued. Arden wasn't afraid to disagree, to stand up for what she believed
in. She had strength and conviction and heart. And the memory of the kiss
they'd shared continued to linger in his mind and haunt his dreams.

Of course, she was a lawyer, and that was a pretty big
stumbling block as far as he was concerned. He wouldn't get involved with
another lawyer—he'd made that mistake once already. He'd met Jenna while they
were both attending law school at Harvard, and the attraction between them had
sparked from the first. She was everything he'd ever thought he wanted in a
woman: beautiful, sophisticated, intelligent, ambitious. He'd thought theirs
was a love of the happily-ever-after variety; he hadn't anticipated that her
ambition would override all else.

He didn't blame Jenna for walking out on him. She'd
always been honest about what she wanted, and she'd made no secret of the fact
that she did not want to stay in "Small Town Pennsylvania," as she'd
dubbed his hometown. It was Shaun who'd made the mistake of assuming she could
be happy there, that her love for him would override her plans for her career.

He'd been wrong.

When she'd received an offer from a high-profile
criminal defense firm in Boston, she hadn't even hesitated. She had asked him to
go back to Boston with her, but just as she'd known she'd never be happy in
Fairweather
, Shaun knew he'd never be happy anywhere else.

Maybe he hadn't loved her as much as he thought he
had. If she'd really been "the one," he would have gone. And if she'd
really loved him, she would have stayed.

He'd reached two conclusions as a result of his
experience with Jenna. One, similar goals and expectations were more important
to the success of a relationship than either sex or love: Two, he would not get
involved with another lawyer. The next time he fell in love it would be with a
woman who could love him back, who would be willing to put their relationship
above all else.

Which proved that he shouldn't even be thinking about
Arden Doherty. By her own admission, Arden was committed to her career; her
clients were the focus of her life.

Then again, just because she was the wrong woman from
a relationship perspective didn't mean that they couldn't be friends. Except
that he'd never found himself so preoccupied by thoughts of a
"friend" before.

When the phone on his desk buzzed, Shaun picked up the
receiver, grateful for the interruption. "Yes?"

"There's a Ms. Doherty here to see you," his
receptionist informed him.

He felt his lips curve. "Send her in,
Claire."

"She doesn't have an appointment," Claire
said pointedly.

"It's okay," he said. "She's a
friend."

"All right." But the receptionist didn't
sound pleased by this overt breach of office policy.

Shaun didn't care. Arden was here.

He cleared his throat, banished the grin from his face
and grabbed one of the files that was stacked on the corner of his desk. He
flipped it open, pretending to be hard at work.

When he heard the knock and saw Arden peek around the
door, the smile that returned to his lips was completely natural. He'd carried
a mental picture of her in his mind all week, but it didn't compare to the
reality of her. There was something about Arden that reached him on a basic
level and stirred his most primal urges.

Today she was wearing a dark-green skirt and jacket
with a cream colored blouse. Her hair was twisted into some kind of fancy knot
at the back of her neck, but a few strands had escaped to frame the clear
creamy skin of her face. "Arden." He stood up from behind his desk. "This
is a surprise."

"Next time I'll make an appointment."

His smile widened. He liked to think that Arden would
have reason to come by his office again—as any friend might. "Claire takes
her job seriously," he apologized.

"Well, obviously you're busy—"

"Not too busy," he interrupted to assure
her. "Have a seat."

She hesitated, then moved over to one of the chairs
facing his desk. She perched herself on the edge of the seat, the green skirt
riding up on her thighs, exposing a few more inches of creamy flesh.