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  “Right.”

  “Hmm …”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking there might be a way for you to use the knowledge.”

  “Well, he might assume that Jennifer or Brad would tell me.”

  “Or he might not. I’ll think about it and get back to you. You said you wanted my advice?”

  “Yeah. I realized I need a new lawyer since he’s not going to play fair.”

  “Good.”

  “So I spent all day getting consultations but found no one to represent me.”

  Connie mumbled under her breath, but waited for Emma to continue.

  “I finally gave up and went to a bar for a drink.”

  Connie gasped, “You did what? You never drink in the day. You never go to bars, either. Are you okay?”

  Emma laughed. “Yes, I just got so fed up that I wanted a mojito.”

  Connie smiled. “A good mojito will fix almost anything.”

  “You don’t even like them.”

  “I was speaking for you.”

  “Con, be serious. I haven’t told you what happened.”

  “Okay, what?”

  “I met a lawyer.”

  “Poor girl.”

  Emma burst out laughing. “I’m trying to tell you my story, quit making me laugh.”

  Emma sounded much more relaxed than when she’d picked up the phone.

  “He tried to hit on me, but I kept sending him away. Then he got me to accept a drink he’d bought for me. We chatted a bit and I told him my story. That’s when I found out he’s a lawyer and then I left.”

  “Good thinking. I would have left too.”

  “Well, he followed me.”

  “Persistent. Typical ambulance chaser.”

  “Hey,” Emma protested. “I’m not in that bad of shape.”

  “Sorry, my mouth got ahead of my brain.” Connie laughed. “I just meant …”

  “I know what you meant. Anyway, despite my animosity toward him, I found myself being charmed. He’s very good looking.”

  “Emma …”

  “I know, I know. I won’t date him or anything, but I did agree to a consultation. He might be able to help me with the divorce. And he doesn’t want payment.”

  “Monetary anyway,” Connie mumbled.

  “So you don’t think I should go?”

  “By all means, just keep your guard up. If he’s already attracted to you, it could mean trouble.”

  Rick poked his head in the door and leered at Connie. “Things are slowing a little,” he said. “Archie’s in the dining room and he wants some of your time.”

  Connie waved him away, irritated. He didn’t leave, just watched her, concern on his face.

  “I’ll be out in a minute,” she said.

  Rick disappeared.

  “Do you have to go?” Emma asked.

  “Probably. Archie McDougall wants to talk to me again.”

  “Can’t you just tell your staff to send him away. That you’re not interested?”

  “He’ll just come back.” Connie rubbed her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut. Just the thought of talking to McDougall brought on an instant headache. “You want me to come with you to your appointment? When is it?”

  “I have to call him tomorrow to make one, but no, you don’t need to come. I can handle him.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure, but thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “So, what advice did you need?”

  “I guess I didn’t really need any. I just needed a sounding board.”

  Connie smiled. “That’s what I’m here for. Talk to you tomorrow.”

  She put down the phone and took several deep breaths. She needed to prepare herself before speaking to McDougall. It took all her resolve to turn him away time and again. Connie figured he’d gotten where he was in business by tormenting everyone until they gave him exactly what he wanted.

  She headed for the dining room.

  Maybe I’ll give in, too, one day …

  Chapter 15

  The dining room had mostly emptied out. There were a few tables with diners lingering, but the staff were in their winding-down stage. It felt much like the curtain call after a great performance. There was relief they’d made it through, and the smiles of the customers as they left made it all worthwhile.

  Connie’s sharp eye scanned everything, but all was as it should be. She seldom had to complain about anything her staff did. Most of them were eager to work for her and determined never to disappoint.

  She watched Kira clean and re-set a table. The girl seemed to have calmed down a little. Connie turned her gaze away, not wanting to cause her nerves to act up again if she noticed her boss watching her.

  Someone cleared their throat behind her, and Connie turned.

  Archie McDougall smiled his typical oily smile, making Connie’s teeth clench.

  “A word, Miss Flynn.”

  Connie decided Rick was right. She gave her best imitation of a smile and gestured toward a nearby table. Kira had finished the table she was working on, and Connie called to her as she passed. “Have Aaron bring Mr. McDougall and me some prosecco, please, Kira.”

  She turned in time to see McDougall’s self-congratulatory smile.

  He has no idea.

  Connie gathered up her hair and twisted it into a bun, pulling the end of her long tail through the middle to secure it.

  “Now, Mr. McDougall …”

  “Call me Archie, please. There’s no need to be so formal.”

  He reached across the small table and patted Connie’s hand. It took all her willpower to resist snatching it back and even more to stop it from landing on his cheek.

  She didn’t offer him the same courtesy. “What would you like to speak to me about, Mr. McDougall?”

  “Come, come now, Miss Flynn, we don’t need to stand on ceremony. You know why I’m here.”

  Who does he think he is?

  “Actually, Mr. McDougall, I don’t know. If you’re here about buying Il Giardino, then you’re wasting your time again. I’ve already told you I won’t be selling, so what else could you be here for?”

  Connie was proud of herself. She sounded more sure of herself than ever and she wished Rick were close by to hear her. In that moment, Connie knew no matter how stale running her restaurant might get, there was no way she would sell to McDougall.

  Aaron arrived at their table and opened their prosecco with a flourish. Connie had to struggle to keep from laughing. The entire staff knew why McDougall was there and they all hated his pretentious ways, so they found any opportunity to make fun of him. He was so full of himself, however, that he never noticed and only took the extra attention as his due.

  Aaron poured a small amount of the bubbly into McDougall’s glass so he could taste it.

  “Capital, capital,” he crowed after tasting it. “Please pour some for the lady.”

  Connie turned away and rolled her eyes. The man was insufferable.

  “To many happy engagements,” McDougall toasted.

  Connie clinked glasses with him and bit her tongue.

  They sipped their wine, and Connie sat back in her chair to see where McDougall would go next.

  “Since I won’t sell you Il Giardino, there’s really no business we have to do together, Mr. McDougall.”

  “Actually, Miss Flynn, there is. I’ve long been thinking about putting a proposal to you.”

  “Well, you’ve been proposing to buy my restaurant for some time. What other proposal could you possibly come up with?”

  “If you won’t sell me your restaurant, dear lady, maybe we could just bring it into the family.” He gave her a funny smile over the top of his glass. It almost looked as if he were trying to look … sexy …

  She didn’t like where this was heading.

  “Whatever do you mean, Mr. McDougall?” Connie tittered as though she were actually enjoying his repartee.

 
; Someone snorted behind her. She turned to see Aaron coughing into a napkin. He hurried into the kitchen. Connie turned back to see Archie McDougall kneeling in front of her with a ring box in his hand.

  She yelped and shoved her chair backward, narrowly escaping his sweaty grab for her hand. She leapt to her feet.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Please, Miss Flynn. Give me a chance to present my proposal.”

  “I’ll do no such thing,” Connie snapped. “Get up, you stupid man. I have no intention of marrying you.”

  McDougall looked up at her with his imitation of puppy-dog eyes. “But, Miss Flynn, Connie, my love, I would give everything I own if you would only consent to be mine.”

  Connie glared at him from her full height. “Get up right now.”

  The few people still dining watched with curiosity. Connie wished she could snap her fingers and go back to refusing to speak with McDougall.

  He slowly got to his feet, his face beginning to show embarrassment.

  Did he actually imagine I might accept?

  The disgust she felt for him built into rage. She clenched her fists and demanded he leave immediately. Then she stomped toward the kitchen.

  “If you don’t go, I will call the police. Don’t ever come back.” She pushed her way through the kitchen door.

  “Rick. My office, now,” Connie snapped as she passed through the kitchen. She didn’t wait to see if he would follow, but shoved through the door and began pacing, much as she had done earlier.

  This day has gone from bad to ridiculous!

  Rick stepped inside, a huge grin on his face until he saw her. He shut the door, crossed his arms and leaned against it.

  “What is going on?” he asked.

  “That insufferable prick!”

  Rick glanced down at his crotch, then up at her and raised an eyebrow.

  Connie burst out laughing. “Oh Rick, how do you do that to me?” She dropped into her chair and stared up at him.

  Maybe I should have stayed with him. He makes me laugh, after all, and not many people can do that.

  “So, I assume we aren’t talking about my prick?”

  “No, I am rather fond of yours.”

  “Nice to hear it. So, then can I assume you’re talking about the walking prick that just left with a red face?”

  “He asked me to marry him.” Connie pointed a finger. “And don’t you dare laugh. I’m humiliated, furious.” Her ire rose again.

  “Now, now, you can’t blame the guy. At least he has impeccable taste.”

  Connie shook her head. “How do you always remain so unflappable no matter what’s going on? I envy you.”

  “You don’t have to, babe. What’s mine is yours. Just tell me you’ll marry me and I’ll keep you calm the rest of our lives. Unless it’s in the bedroom of course. That’s where I promise to keep you riled up.”

  Connie looked down at the desk. This proposal, similar to the one he’d made when they’d broken up several months ago, was much harder to turn down. She cared about Rick, respected him and even desired him. But she wasn’t in love with him. She knew it might be old fashioned, but she wanted to be swept off her feet and know without a doubt that she wanted to marry someone. Rick tempted her in many ways, but she didn’t want to be unfair to him. If she couldn’t love him as much as he loved her, what kind of a relationship would that be for him?

  “It’s okay, Connie. I won’t keep pressing you.” His tone sounded light, but Connie knew him well enough to hear the hurt. “I do love you, you know.”

  “I know,” she whispered, guilt assailing her. “I wish I could say yes. I really do.”

  “Maybe one day,” he said and opened the door. “You okay? I’m going to head home now.”

  “Yeah. I’m okay. I …”

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything. I’ll never stop loving you.” Rick gave her a sweet smile without his usual snark and stepped into the hall, pulling the door shut behind him.

  Connie leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling.

  Two proposals and two refusals in one night.

  It was time to go home and try to forget this day had ever happened. She thought about what Emma had told her and decided she’d let Rick be in charge tomorrow. Maybe if she didn’t see him for a day, things would calm a little between them.

  She would go see Emma’s ex-husband and try and talk a little sense into him. It was the least she could do for her best friend.

  Chapter 16

  The traffic was almost at a standstill. Emma hoped she wouldn’t be late for her appointment with Crispin. She’d left earlier than she normally would, telling herself it was because she didn’t want to be late. But as she sat in the traffic jam, fidgeting and checking her hair for the tenth time, she admitted to herself she looked forward to seeing him again

  But she hated lawyers. For years, she’d seen how they did Alan’s bidding without a murmur, not even when he’d go for the jugular to take down a company. It disgusted her. But she wouldn’t win the fight with Alan without someone just as willing to get down and dirty. She just hoped that Crispin would be able to do it without involving her too much.

  Connie used to say, you’re so Laura Ingalls, when they first met.

  Emma was not only old-fashioned, but innocent of the less than stellar dealings of the world. And she liked it that way. It made dealing with her ex much more difficult, but she’d leave that up to Crispin.

  The traffic ahead moved and Emma let out a sigh of relief. The clock on the dash said she had just over ten minutes to get there. Good thing she knew where the building was. She’d make it with a few minutes to spare.

  At the lawyer’s office she got out of the car, after a quick check of her hair and makeup, and grabbed her purse, which had all the documents he’d asked her to bring. She paused by the entrance to smooth down her just-above-the-knee skirt and make sure her blouse was properly tucked in.

  Quit fidgeting and get this over with.

  She pulled open the door and was immediately greeted by a chipper blonde.

  “Good morning. Do you have an appointment?”

  “Yes. With Mr. Miller.”

  “Please, have a seat and I’ll let him know you’re here.” The receptionist waved at an inexpensive-looking dark brown leather sofa.

  Emma sat, her knees together and her purse resting on her lap, while she scanned the reception area. It wasn’t what she’d expected at all. Most lawyers’ offices reeked of money. You could almost feel your money leaking out of your purse while you waited. But, Crispin’s office was different. It wasn’t shabby, nor was it pretentious.

  “Emma.” Crispin stood in front of her with a grin.

  Emma glanced at the receptionist who seemed surprised.

  Did he not normally greet clients this way?

  Emma got up and held out her hand.

  He gave it a business-like shake, but took his time releasing it.

  “Please, come this way,” he said as he gestured toward his office, his eyes lingering on her face.

  An uncomfortable feeling coursed through her. She’d never liked overt male attention. Maybe that was why she’d lasted so well with Alan. He had treated her like a piece of furniture.

  Maybe a little attention would be good for me.

  Emma sat in the chair in front of his large desk. Crispin’s office mirrored the front lobby. It looked clean and professional, but far from wealthy. She wondered what kind of a lawyer he was.

  I didn’t even think to ask.

  The sun shone in through a large window behind the desk so bright that it cast Crispin’s face in shadow. Emma gave him a nervous smile, opened her bag, and then handed him the documents.

  “This is everything I have.”

  He set them on his desk and then ignored them. He watched Emma, but she couldn’t see his eyes well enough to figure out what he was thinking.

  “How long were you married?” he asked.

 
He seemed relaxed and Emma tried to follow suit. She put her bag on the floor beside her chair and crossed her legs.

  “I was married for almost twenty-six years.”

  “Seriously?” Crispin’s eyes opened wide.

  “Yes.”

  “How old were you when you got married? Five?”

  Emma laughed. “Thanks, but no. I was nineteen.”

  “Wow. You don’t look forty-five.”

  “You’re very quick with your math, Mr. Miller.”

  He grinned, then became serious. “Now, let’s look at what you brought me.”

  “Do you do family law, Mr. Miller?”

  “Crispin, please, or Cris.”

  “Okay, Crispin.”

  Crispin barked out a laugh. “You surprise me.”

  “Why?”

  “You seem so quiet and even a little shy, but I sense there’s quite a spitfire beneath that calm surface.”

  Emma studied Crispin’s face, unsure how to respond. No one had ever said that to her before, or even noticed her as much as Crispin already had. Her face grew warm under his gaze. Alan had sure never made her feel this way before.

  Emma tore her gaze from Crispin and looked down at her lap. She wanted to say something witty, maybe even ask him out for a drink, but her tongue seemed tangled in her mouth.

  Forty-five years old and acting like a teenager.

  Crispin cleared his throat and opened the envelope. He began shuffling through the papers, mumbling to himself.

  “What type of lawyer are you?” Emma forced herself to ask.

  He looked up. “Oh, sorry. I do family law, but my practice is unique.

  “In what way?” Emma asked.

  “I’m tired of lawyers gouging their clients.” Crispin looked slightly sheepish. “I’m no martyr, I have to eat too, but I don’t charge my clients, most of which are women being gouged by unfaithful husbands, unless they get a decent divorce settlement. Since I’m good at what I do, they usually get a fair deal. And I get paid a modest fee. They are usually very grateful for my help.”

  Emma raised her eyebrows.

  He colored and dropped his eyes. “Not that grateful,” he mumbled.

  Emma smiled, happy he was the one fumbling for once. “I was teasing.”

  She tried not to fidget while he read over the documents, taking notes as he read.