Ann Voss Peterson - Legally Binding

The jingle of spurs jolted him out of his surprise. He glanced up from the paper as Gary leaned in the tack-room door, holding his saddled and bridled horse by a single rein. “She’s something, ain’t she? Can’t figure out for the life of me what she’d be doing with old Jeb.”

Neither could Bart. But he was damn well going to find out.

LINDSEY LOOKED UP from her paperwork as Bart laid a copy of the Mustang Gazette in front of her. Propping a hip on the edge of her desk, he watched as if waiting for her reaction.

She had a reaction, all right, but it wasn’t to the newspaper.

Dressed in a denim shirt, jeans, tooled belt complete with big silver buckle and a well-shaped straw hat that blended with the sun-kissed blond of his hair, Bart looked like a lonely woman’s cowboy dream. And his scent. Mmm. He wore the rugged scent of leather, honest work and fresh air. She breathed deeply and struggled to keep her composure.

What was it about being around this man that made her lose her equilibrium? She’d felt off balance since the moment she’d first touched his hand in the jail’s visiting room. His attempt to protect her last night after her car had been vandalized hadn’t helped matters. It had only made her feel helpless on top of fluttery. An unwelcome reminder of the way she’d always felt when her parents and brothers had hovered over her as she was growing up—the way they would still be hovering if she hadn’t moved halfway across the country. As if she were incompetent, helpless, dependent.

As if she were still a little girl.

She shoved her insecurities to the back of her mind and tried to focus on the faces in the newspaper photo. Her past feelings didn’t matter. Nor did her attraction to her client. She was on her own now, and the chance to prove herself was right in front of her. All she had to do was reach out and grab it by the throat. “I saw the picture about ten minutes ago. I would have called, but I figured you were already on your way here to keep our appointment.”

“I’ve never seen that blonde around Mustang Valley before. Suddenly she’s everywhere.”

She nodded and studied the woman’s attractive features. “At least, everywhere with Jeb and Kenny.”

“And me.”

“You?” Adrenaline jolted through her bloodstream, partly due to surprise, partly due to something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “When was she with you?”

“I caught up with Gary this morning. He said she was sitting with me at Hit ’Em Again the night Jeb was killed.”

“The same woman? Is he sure?”

He nodded.

Another jolt.

Jealousy. That was it. Plain, simple and inappropriate. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind, trying to reclaim her professional demeanor. “Does Gary know who she is?”

“Nope.”

“I gave Wade a call at the bar this morning. He didn’t remember seeing her at all that night. And neither did the kid he’s training. Of course, the kid was concentrating so hard on serving drinks, he didn’t remember much of anything.” Lindsey bit her bottom lip. “Maybe the blonde’s working with Kenny.”

He tilted his head and waited for her to go on.

“Say Kenny did kill his father in order to inherit the ranch and he wanted to make it look like you’re responsible. How would he do that? I mean, he could never get close enough to slip Rohypnol in your beer. Not without you being suspicious. But he could hire the blonde to do it.”

“If Rohypnol was in my beer.”

“I borrowed Cara’s car to take the pieces of bottle to the lab this morning.” She didn’t want to think about what she would do if the drug didn’t show up in any of the tests. She knew Bart was telling the truth about blacking out that night. And she knew he was innocent. She could feel the honesty in every word from his lips. But faith and trust weren’t exactly accepted as evidence in a court of law. And as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she wasn’t an unbiased judge where Bart Rawlins was concerned.

No, she needed evidence. And she needed it now.

“There’s one thing that bothers me,” Bart said, his gentle mouth turning down in a frown.

Lindsey pulled her gaze from his lips and met his eyes. “What?”

“A scam like the one you’re talking about would take a lot of planning on Kenny’s part. I’m not sure he has it in him.”

She didn’t know Kenny Rawlins, but from the limited exposure she’d had to him, she was inclined to agree. “Okay. What if he didn’t hire the blonde? What if she was the brains behind the brawn? It would explain how they know each other. It might even explain that picture of her and Jeb. She could have been setting him up for murder.”

Bart tilted his head, as if weighing her arguments, then nodded. “I could see that.”

“All we have to do is show a connection between Kenny and the blonde. And dig up evidence showing means and opportunity.”

“A tall order.”

It was. And at this point, it was pure speculation. But if they could find something concrete—

The sound of knuckles rapping on wood cut off her thoughts. “Come in,” she called.

The door swung open and Paul Lambert popped his head inside. “Excuse me, Lindsey. I need a word with Bart.”

“Sure, Paul, come in.” She waved him inside.

Paul Lambert was a year or so shy of sixty. But with the touch of silver at his temples, his casual confidence and his friendly brown eyes, it was no wonder Dot down at the sandwich shop chatted about him incessantly, even though he was married. But more important to Lindsey than his looks or confident air was the aggressive way he’d recruited her right out of law school. As if he truly believed she was capable of becoming the lawyer she wanted to be.

Paul crossed the plush money-green carpet that covered all the floors at Lambert & Church and held out a hand to Bart.

Bart gave it a firm shake. “What’s up, Paul? You aren’t here to ask me if I want to sell the Four Aces again, are you?”

Paul grinned. “Naw. I gave up hope years ago.”

Lindsey glanced at Bart. “You aren’t thinking of selling, are you?”

Bart shook his head. “Not a chance. It’s kind of a joke. When my daddy signed over the ranch to me, not a day passed that Paul or Don didn’t ask me if I wanted to sell.”

“We weren’t that bad. But if you’ve reconsidered, I do have a client who might be interested.” Paul’s grin widened.

“You’d be the first to know. Unless Don beats you to it.”

“Speaking of Don, have you talked to him yet?” Paul’s grin subsided, his business demeanor taking over.

“Don? I can’t say I’ve seen him. Why?”

“Your uncle stipulated that your father be present for the reading of his will.”

Bart took a step backward, his surprise evident. “You sure about that?”

“Quite sure.”

Bart shook his head. His lips flattened into an ironic half smile. “When I was a kid, I used to hope my daddy and Jeb would work through their differences one day and bring the family back together. I should have known one of them would have to be dead for it to happen.”

“Do you think your father will be able to attend?”

“Daddy? Not a chance.”

Sympathy furrowed Paul’s brow. “I suppose his only brother’s death is something of a shock.”

“I’m sure it would be, if I’d told him.”

“You haven’t told your father?” Lindsey sat up in her chair, surprise riffling through her. “Why not?”

Bart looked at her, the sparkle in his green eyes muted by obvious pain. “He hasn’t been well.”

“I know he’s sick, but wouldn’t he want to—”

“He just lost Mama a year ago. He doesn’t need to know.”

Paul cleared his throat, bringing their attention back to him. “If you want to represent your father, I’m sure that would be in keeping with the spirit of the will.”