N. Walters - The Seduction of Shamus O'Rourke

"Thank you."

Alicia grinned. “No, thank you.” She rubbed her hands together. “I'm looking forward to being the thorn in the side of Harris and Hammond. Did you know that they wouldn't take me into their firm on a work term when I was starting out? Seems they only like to have men working in their office, at least as lawyers. They have no problem with a woman being a receptionist."

Cyndi followed Alicia to her desk and took a seat on the opposite side, confident she'd made the right decision. If anyone could get through the legal wrangling of Harris and Hammond, it was this woman. “They'll fight you."

Alicia peeled off her jacket and drew out a legal pad and a pen. “I'm looking forward to it."

She needed to ask one more time. “You're sure you want to do this?” She opened her satchel and dug out a large file containing all the information she had on her father's holdings.

"Absolutely. Besides—” she grinned mischievously, “—it's not all altruistic. I'm getting paid for my services."

Cyndi laughed again. She really liked Alicia Flint and was beginning to be able to read her well. Alicia was enjoying the challenge of taking on Harris and Hammond more than she was looking forward to the money, but she wasn't denying that the money was an added bonus.

There was a lot of honesty in that. The kind of honesty Cyndi was looking for in a lawyer. “Where do we start?"

Buoyed by her success with her new lawyer and her subsequent foray to the grocery store, Cyndi was feeling very positive about things. It had been late afternoon before she'd finished going over all the details with Alicia. They'd ordered in lunch and worked right through. The more time Cyndi spent with her new lawyer, the more she was sure she'd made the right decision. She'd been feeling so good after they'd finished, she'd stopped at Greer's Grocery and picked up the essentials.

Now, it was finally time to face her father's study. Standing outside the door to the study, she took a deep breath, pushed up her shirtsleeves, and turned the handle. It opened smoothly. No squeaky hinges in this house. The room beyond was shrouded in darkness. Cyndi reached her hand in around the doorframe and flicked on the light switch.

The chandelier in the center of the room brightened it considerably, but it couldn't quite drive back all the shadows or the memories. Cyndi took a step inside. The room hadn't changed in fourteen years.

Oak bookcases filled two walls of the room. They were stuffed with law books and books on business, as well as with leather-bound classics that were meant to impress. She'd never seen her father read any of the books except the law ones. He had a law degree even if he'd never used it, preferring instead to go into banking and business.

Two dark, leather sofas and several chairs clustered in a seating area in front of the towering bookcases. A liquor cart sat nearby, and she knew that the decanters would be filled with the best bourbon and whisky that money could buy. Heavy, crystal glasses sat beside the bottles.

An area rug in dark greens and burgundy sat in the center of the room in front of the imposing desk that dominated the room. This is where Cyrus James had sat and passed judgment on her and the rest of the world. Like some third-world dictator, he'd ruled with an iron fist and woe to the person who tried to thwart him in any way.

Cyndi realized she was shaking, her entire body trembling. A bead of sweat trickled down her back, making her shiver in dread. “The man is dead,” she assured herself. “He can't hurt you, or anyone else, ever again."

It was hard to believe the monster who stalked her dreams was truly dead. In the end, he'd proved he was truly just flesh and blood like the rest of them. How it must have galled him that he couldn't take his money and power with him.

Shaking off her melancholy memories, she took a deep breath and then another. When she felt steady again, she forced herself to walk into the room. Floor-to-ceiling drapes shut out the light, not that there was much this time of day. It was fall and the evenings were closing in quickly. She'd meant to tackle this room in the daytime, but time had slipped away. She promised herself she'd just give the place a quick look. Still, Cyndi strode to the first window and yanked back the drapes. She went from window to window until all four were unveiled.

Maybe she should have waited until morning.

No. She had to start going through his things tomorrow, deciding what to do with everything. Then there were the contents of the house itself. She had to start making a list of what she was keeping and what she was going to get rid of. If she'd already gotten over her jitters, she'd be able to work more efficiently.

The darkness outside seemed to add to the gloom inside the room. Rubbing her arms against the chill, she walked to the desk and turned on the heavy, brass lamp that sat off to one side. It illuminated the center of the desk, spotlighting the papers on top.

It looked as if it was just waiting for him to return.

The wind gusted outside and something brushed against the window. Cyndi jumped, her hand plastered to her chest as she whirled around. She almost expected to see her father standing there, except she didn't believe in ghosts, not really. Memories definitely, but not spirits.

Maybe opening the drapes had been a mistake. She heard the sound again. It was just a branch from one of the many trees and shrubs surrounding the place, hitting the window. Nothing to be concerned about.

She crept behind her father's desk and pulled out his chair. Ever so slowly, she lowered herself down on it. She swallowed hard as she stared out over the room. This is what her father had seen when he'd sat in judgment of her so many times.

She flattened her hands on top of the desk and pushed the files that sat there to one side. This was her desk now. She could use it or sell it. Staring around the room, she gazed at the depressing artwork on the wall. Three rather large canvases peered down at her from their lofty perches. The heavy colors and subject matter reflected her father's taste, not hers.

The house creaked and groaned as the wind gusted again, sending shivers racing down her spine. This house was big and spooky with no one else around, like something out of a horror movie.

"Great,” she scolded herself. “Scare yourself even more, why don't you."

Cyndi tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, ignoring the fact her heart was pounding. “Fake it ‘til you make it,” she muttered. If she acted calm, eventually her body would follow suit. There was no one in the house but her, but it was an old house that complained when the wind blew.

Ignoring the few things on top of the desk, Cyndi began to open all the desk drawers one at a time. She rifled through papers and files, getting a general idea of what was here. There was a four-drawer, wooden file cabinet behind the desk and she knew that it was filled with business papers that would have to be gone through one at a time. All her father's business dealings and secrets were in this room.

Secrets.

Her head jerked up as she peered at the canvas directly across from her. It was a biblical scene of hell and damnation, one that had terrified her as a child. Bracing her hands on the chair arms, she levered herself up. As if an invisible cord was pulling her forward, she advanced toward the painting.

She'd seen her father move the painting only once. She'd been about seven years old at the time and wasn't supposed to be in this room. When she heard her father approaching, she hid behind a chair, shaking in terror that he'd find her. She risked a glance from around the corner of the chair and had seen her father take the painting from the wall and put it aside. Then he seemed to open the wall itself. The child hadn't understood, but the woman in her knew there was a wall safe there. She'd all but blocked the memory from her consciousness until now.