Helen Myers - A Man To Count On

As his words registered, E.D. focused only on the message behind it. “You’re not going to make me go through more of an emotional wringer. You’re going to take my case.”

Ivan smiled as he lifted his teacup. “I hope you get some rest before your next case, Counselor.”

“That’s unlikely, but I’ll do my best.” E.D. could barely contain herself to speak the rest of her mind. “Dare I ask what else you are thinking?”

“I’m wondering why your husband was so quick to accept your guilt?”

E.D.’s pride had to take another blow. “Our marriage has expired from neglect. It’s embarrassing to admit, but a fact I can’t deny.”

“Was that decision one-sided?”

“No, we were equally responsible.” Worse than that confession, she was realizing she no longer cared, either.

“I’m simply wondering if it’s feasible that he would enjoy seeing you suffering some public ridicule?” he continued.

He already had. Hopefully, it was enough. “Whatever impulses he experiences, he’s not stupid. He has no income and needs my support. Ruin my career and he risks losing that comfort zone.”

Ivan looked momentarily uncomfortable. “He suffers from a handicap of some sort?”

“You mean because he doesn’t keep a day job himself? Only a lack of talent—he’s an unsuccessful writer.” As soon as the words were out, E.D. grimaced. “I’m sorry. It’s too soon for me not to swan dive into bitterness.”

“Understandable. How long has he been pursuing this goal of his?”

“For virtually all of our married life.”

Ivan Priestly coughed behind his linen napkin. “It strikes me that you’ve been extremely tolerant, Ms. Martel. Who’s your divorce attorney?”

“I have a dinner meeting tonight with Alyx Carmel.” Noting his startled reaction, E.D. pressed, “You don’t approve?”

“On the contrary, I’ve never met her. But from what I’ve seen and heard…her approach seems to go against your grain.”

“Well, from where I’m sitting, my grain doesn’t seem to have been serving me very well, has it?”

As she left the Priestly residence, E.D. remained lost in a maze of wonder and inspiration. Ivan was remarkable and he’d not only boosted her ego, he’d raised her optimism and buffeted her fighting instincts. Energized as she drove down the avenue back toward her office, she did a double take at the black Navigator that was heading in the opposite direction. Dylan? She hit her brakes and saw him cut a sharp U-turn on the otherwise empty street. He then passed her, signaling her to follow him.

Two turns later, she found herself at a small, woodsy park that was virtually empty. Bemused, she watched as he exited his vehicle and, when she released the passenger door lock, slipped into the seat beside her.

“At the risk of appearing like a stalker,” he began, “I came up with two free hours and wanted to see if you were still with Ivan.”

He looked elegant and smelled even better, his navy-blue suit intensifying the deep blue of his eyes. At the same time, she was dismayed that he’d ignored her plea and had taken this risk. “What if someone followed you, or me for that matter?”

“You give me far too much credit for being newsworthy. As for you, I didn’t see anyone back there, did you?”

“No.” E.D. checked again, though, and then came up with another concern. “You weren’t planning to come in, were you? What would Ivan have said? He’s admitted he’s sympathetic to my case, but I doubt he would be if you appeared. He’d likely reinvent math.”

Looking wholly nonplussed, Dylan replied, “I wouldn’t care…would you?”

What was he saying? How could he say that?

She had to stop jumping to conclusions. He was just being a truly lovely and caring friend. “Ivan has agreed to represent me,” she said going for the safest response.

“Good man!”

“I’m so grateful—and he was wonderful. Dignified, yet concerned and compassionate.” Like the man who’d first come to her aid.

“Ah, E.D., I’m so relieved for you.”

“Thanks.” Immeasurably glad to see him on the heels of this news, she tried and almost failed to keep emotion locked in her throat and had to look away.

Dylan tenderly brushed the back of his fingers against her jawline. “It’s been a helluva couple of days for you.”

Couldn’t he tell it was the mere sight of him that was turning her to mush? That the way he was looking at her tempted her to release her seat belt and throw herself into his arms? She was a married woman being carried at white-water-rapids speed into an ugly divorce and he was a professional friend—more mentor than friend—and fast becoming the dearest personal one. No, it couldn’t happen with his future in such important transition.

“Well, I’d better get a grip. Emmett wouldn’t take seeing me getting emotional.” While she spoke out loud, the words were a warning for her alone.

“He’s not here. And you’re not on the clock—or he should cut you some slack all things considered.”

Even his voice was a husky caress. Heaven help her. “I need to act as though I am.”

“You’ve been dealt back-to-back emotional and psychological blows. I’d be concerned if you did succeed in behaving like a robot…or an Oscar-caliber actress.”

Drawing a deep breath, E.D. glanced back at him. “Okay, confession time. I am glad to see you.”

“Then my impulse was well worth it. When I first spotted you, I worried you’d keep driving.”

“That would have been inexcusably rude.”

“I’d have understood. You know what your problem is? You don’t know what it’s like to be supported outside of the office.”

They’d never discussed their spouses before except in a cursory reference, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to. “This doesn’t sound like you, Dylan.”

“I apologize for the bad timing, but we play the hand we’re dealt. One door closes, another opens, and all that.”

“What door am I supposed to be to you?”

“Ouch.” He cleared his throat. “I suppose you’re seeing this in the worst possible way.”

She didn’t want to—that was what made this conversation critical because they shouldn’t be having it. Not for some time, if ever. “I apologize if I sound suspicious or ungrateful.”

“You sound gun-shy and scared—which is totally understandable.” Dylan lowered his head a fraction, an old habit due to his height to hold someone’s gaze whether on the bench or in a toe-to-toe conversation. “I simply want you to understand that I’m here for you, E.D.”

She studied him a moment longer then turned away again to digest what she’d taken in. Hoping to slow what was beginning to feel increasingly, intensely, intimate, she added, “I can only imagine what Trey’s reaction will be to Ivan’s suspicions of him. Ivan thinks if Dani didn’t forge my name, Trey did.”

After a slight pause, Dylan asked, “Do you agree?”

“At this point, I suppose nothing should surprise me. But what happened to make either of them willing to do that? To hurt me to protect themselves?”

“You’re sure this isn’t a case of a terrible misunderstanding?”

“Even if it is—which I doubt—what he said and did the other night and yesterday makes excuses an impossibility.” E.D. had to swallow the frozen block wedged in her throat. “No one prepares you for this kind of betrayal, Dylan.”

This time when he reached out, he cupped his hand at her nape beneath her neat chignon. “I can’t imagine.”

“He should have just asked or at least challenged me. I deserved that much. He had to know I would give him the benefit of the doubt if things were reversed.”

“Generous of you to credit him with your sense of logic and fair play.”