"You're fired."
Kate Radonovic Grant glanced around the empty parking lot,
glad she'd tested the words aloud before actually saying
them to the man who was meeting her here.
Thanks to television and a certain real-estate tycoon, the
phrase had turned into a cliché. Kate needed to find a
different way of telling Rob Brighten that he wasn't her
lawyer anymore.
"Your services are no longer needed." Yeah, right! Rob had
met her family — and had defended several members. If
anyone needed an attorney on retainer, it was the Radon-
ovic clan.
"Rob, this isn't working out," she tried.
No, too relationship-ish.
The fact was she liked Rob. And she appreciated everything
he'd done for her family, but this was about Maya. And she
couldn't take any chances where her daughter's future was
concerned.
She walked back to her ten-year-old Subaru wagon and
turned around to face Romantique, the restaurant she owned
with her sister, Grace. Sighing, she rested her butt on
the faded silver fender. The day was already heating up
and the wind — a constant in Las Vegas — whipped her hair
about her face.
She parted the curly mop with her fingers and pushed as
much of it as she could behind her ears. She'd left the
house in such a hurry she'd forgotten her visor and
sunglasses. The bright morning sun was already giving her
a headache, but as soon as she'd resolved this matter with
Rob, she'd escape into Romantique.
March had been a lion of a month for Kate and her family.
Four long weeks of stress. First, they'd found out Nikolai
Sarna, houseguest and distant relative, wasn't an out-of-
work ex-con at all. He was really a cop investigating
Charles Harmon, the man Grace had planned to go into
business with. Then Grace managed to get shot, and
Charles, who'd been arrested for insurance fraud and a
bunch of other charges, had directed his fury at the
Radonovic family. Using his many connections, he'd created
havoc, including the E. coli firestorm that had closed
Romantique.
But that had only been part of Kate's ordeal. Ian Grant,
her ex-husband, had somehow managed to convince the State
of Nevada parole board that he was fully rehabilitated and
should be released early after serving just two years of
his six-year sentence for embezzlement. She'd hired Rob to
argue against parole at the hearing, but apparently her
fear that Ian might take their daughter and disappear — as
only a Gypsy can — didn't impress them.
Ian was being released soon. And he wanted shared custody.
Rob had failed her.
He was a nice guy but new to the area — and young. He'd
handled her family's legal troubles with finesse but
hadn't been able to block Ian's bid for freedom. Why? Was
it because he didn't believe her when she told him Ian was
a threat? Or was he not that interested in child custody
cases? He hadn't even handled the case himself.
Maybe Maya is right, Kate thought. Although only four and
a half, her daughter was quite astute when it came to
reading people. "He doesn't like kids," she'd told Kate
not long after being introduced to Rob.
Kate hadn't given the charge much credence because, at
that point, price and expediency had been her main
criteria for picking a lawyer. Besides, Maya usually
managed to find something wrong with every man of dating
age that her mother came into contact with. Kate knew why.
Maya's most cherished dream was having a mommy and daddy
who lived together. "Like a real family," as Maya put it.
Which was never going to happen.
Ian was a charming con man who couldn't be trusted.
Period. And Kate would do whatever it took to make sure
her ex didn't have easy access to his daughter. Even if
that meant firing her current lawyer and going into debt
to hire the toughest family attorney in Las Vegas.
Pushing off from the car, she resumed her pacing. She'd
called Rob's cell phone on her way to work, thinking she
might be able to handle the matter on the phone — or even
better, leave a message. But he'd answered on the second
ring and had immediately offered to stop by the
restaurant, as if the detour weren't miles out of the way.
She walked to the back door of the building. She loved
this place almost as much as she loved her daughter. She'd
poured her heart and soul into the restaurant after her
marriage failed.
The burnt sienna stucco walls and dark green canvas
canopies, which required replacing twice a year thanks to
the beating they took from the Las Vegas sun, had been her
idea. "I want to create a Tuscan flavor," she'd told Grace.
Her fingers closed around the greasy yellow caution tape
and ripped it away. Her anger simmered at the unde-served,
malicious charge. The blow to Romantique's reputation had
been disastrous, perhaps even fatal. They wouldn't know
until they reopened. If they reopened.
With Grace out of the picture — and Kate distracted by the
threat Ian posed, Romantique's future looked shaky at best.
The distinctive sound of a sports car engine intruded into
her thoughts. Seconds later, a sleek silver status symbol
pulled into the parking lot her restaurant shared with an
upscale strip mall in northwest Las Vegas.
Her heart rate sped up a notch. Because of what she had to
do, not because of Rob's presence, she told herself.
Unsuccessfully.
Robert James Brighten.
Rob.
If she were honest, she'd admit that part of the reason
she needed to let him go was the disturbing attraction she
felt toward him. Which was crazy. Not that he wasn't damn
appealing, but the timing couldn't have been worse — even
if he weren't all wrong for her. Single. Never been
married. Childless. Four years her junior. Not to mention,
the son of her friend and right hand in the kitchen, Jo
Grant.
Thank goodness he'd never given her any indication that he
was attracted to her, she thought, bracing herself for
what she had to do.
The Lexus purred to a stop. Kate waited on the sidewalk as
the driver's side door opened. Rob unfolded his long legs
and rose with the amazing fluidity of the young and fit.
Once standing, he leaned over to retrieve something and
her gaze zeroed in on his derriere. Elegantly sculpted in
a tailored pinstripe suit. She tried not to ogle, but a
person who had been without sex for as long as she had
been could only muster so much willpower.
As usual, he was dressed conservatively. "His ex-fiancée
brainwashed him into believing that dull and boring made
him look older and more lawyerlike," his mother had
complained one time. Jo's antipathy for the woman her only
son had planned to marry had been obvious.
Kate couldn't help smiling when he turned to face her. A
pale plum shirt rested beneath a red-and-silver tie. Maybe
his ex-fiancée's influence was wearing off.
"Morning, Kate," he hailed. "I'm glad you caught me before
I got to the office — or should I say the Black Hole?"
The wind attacked his thick brown hair, which was long
enough to graze his collar. She recalled thinking the
first time she met Rob, when Jo had brought him to
Romantique for lunch, that he possessed a hint of renegade
under the guise of his staid suit. A touch of Gypsy, she'd
privately called it.
After Ian, who was Romani, Kate had vowed that if she ever
got involved with another man, he wouldn't carry a drop of
Rom blood in his veins. Rob fit that criterion. Too bad he
was wrong for her in every other way.
"Thanks for coming. We need to talk."
He nodded, pausing to toss his expensive-looking
sunglasses on the seat of his car before he locked the
door.
"You heard about the parole hearing, I take it."
He stepped closer, squinting against the bright light. His
eye color had intrigued her from the first. An odd
combination of gold and green that reminded her of a
desert shrub she couldn't name.
His smile was friendly, concerned. His demeanor that of a
person you could trust. If Kate had any trust left. Which
she didn't.
Ian had made sure of that. "What went wrong? I thought you
were filing a motion or something. Don't victims have some
say when a convicted felon comes up for parole?" she
asked, trying to keep her emotions from showing in her
voice.
"In the past, yes. But nowadays the bottom line is money.
The state of Nevada has more prisoners than it wants to
feed, clothe and provide medical care for. White-collar
criminals like your ex-husband are deemed a low threat to
the community at large. Plus, he has health issues. They
couldn't wait to get him off their books."
"What kind of health issues?"
"Apparently, he has hepatitis C. As I understand it,
hepatitis involves an inflammation of the liver and
spreads through contact with infected blood, like AIDS,
but the recovery rate is better, with proper treatment."
She'd heard of hepatitis in a vague way. "Are they
absolutely sure? Ian is a consummate liar. If there was a
way to fake some illness to play on the parole board's
sympathies, he'd do it."
Rob shook his head. "No, his illness is legit. And he had
a young, idealistic law student helping make sure his
paperwork was in order. He did everything right at the
hearing, and I didn't."
Kate blinked, shocked to hear such a bald confession. "I
blew it, Kate. In California, the process would have been
handled differently. We'd have had more time to present
our case. But that's no excuse. I should have gone to the
hearing myself, instead of sending my associate."
"Why didn't you?"
He met her gaze, his green eyes truly troubled. "I
honestly felt a woman would hold more sway with the board,
since she was reading your letter. I gambled...and lost.
But my gut says nothing we argued would have made a
difference. They based their decision on economics."
Money. That Kate understood. Her savings account was just
about depleted, and she still hadn't gotten a bill from
Rob's firm.
"You won't be billed for this, by the way," he said as if
reading her mind.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I failed, Kate. I sure as hell don't plan on charging
you. Talk about adding insult to injury."
Pride made her say, "I'm not a charity case, Rob."
"I know. You're a businesswoman. And you know the
importance of maintaining positive customer relations,
right? Bad PR can kill you when you're just starting out —
or, in my case, just starting over."
According to Jo, Rob had had mixed emotions about being
assigned to the Las Vegas branch of the law firm he'd
worked for since passing the bar. He claimed to welcome
the challenge and was delighted to be living closer to his
mother, but Jo said he still had one foot in the Bay area.
Whether that meant property-wise or emotionally, Kate
hadn't asked. She knew he'd made an offer on a house here
but the negotiations had fallen apart. Jo claimed that
whole thing had been for the benefit of his bosses — to
show he was a team player and in for the count.
"He hates the desert and can't wait to get back home," Jo
had said. "But he also knows that buying property is a
good thing, especially in this kind of market."
Kate wanted a house so bad she sometimes dreamed of floor
plans.
"So where does this leave me?" she asked, forcing her mind
back to her most immediate problem. "Ian is definitely
getting out of prison, right?"