Love Enough For Two (Love Inspired) (2 page)

O
n her way to the preschool, Sierra called Libby and updated her on the afternoon’s events.

“I don’t know why Mr. Dixon’s son would be coming around.” Libby’s voice was thoughtful on the other end of the line. “The only time my mother sees Dix is when she wants a divorce, and since she’s not married at the moment…”

“Why don’t you call him?” Sierra suggested. “Just see what he wants? I’ve got his number with me. It’s 805-682—”

“I’m not calling him,” Libby interrupted.

“But shouldn’t you at least see what he wants?” As much as Sierra detested attorneys, she realized that with Libby’s business interests they could be a necessary evil. “What if it’s important?”

“He’ll probably stop back tomorrow,” Libby said. “Or you can just call him.”

“Me?” Sierra’s voice came out as a high-pitched squeak.

“Yes, you,” Libby said. “We exchanged places this summer so we could get a feel for each other’s lives. And, dealing with attorneys is a part of my life.”

“But Libby—”

“You’re not getting any sympathy from me,” Libby said. “Remember I’m the one stuck playing waitress for the summer.”

Sierra couldn’t help but smile at the long-suffering tone in her friend’s voice. “Okay, okay. I’ll talk to him.”

“Let me know what you find out,” Libby added.

“I will,” Sierra said. Suddenly a thought occurred to her and renewed hope flowed in her veins. There might be a way out of this yet. “Libby, have you ever met Mr. Dixon? Or his son?”

Sierra crossed her fingers and waited for her friend’s answer. If Libby had ever been face-to-face with either man, she was home free.

While Libby had long dark hair and beautiful blue eyes, Sierra’s blond hair barely brushed her collar and her eyes were nondescript and ordinary; sometimes looking brown, more often looking green or hazel. The bottom line was, she could no more pass for Libby than Janet Jackson could pass for Madonna.

“Let me think for a minute.” Libby paused as if carefully considering the question. “I know I’ve never met the son. And as far as Dix, I’d have to say no. Stella might not be a candidate for mother-of-the-year but she usually did her best to shield me from her legal battles.”

Sierra’s smile faded. Now there was no reason she couldn’t contact Matthew Dixon. It wasn’t that she had anything personal against him, other than his association with the firm. In her mind, Dixon and Associates were the lowest of the low. They catered to the rich. They defended guilty clients. They only cared about winning and the money they’d make off the case, not the truth.

She remembered how hard Mr. Dixon had fought to keep Jerry from serving any jail time on the child-abuse charge. The D.A. hadn’t stood a chance. In the end, Jerry had gotten a slap on the wrist: two years probation and four hundred hours of community service.

Maddie had gotten a broken ankle, residual nerve damage in her foot and a lingering fear of men.

Sierra’s fingers tightened around the business card. When Mr. Dixon had argued the case before the judge, it was as if the only one who mattered was his client. Poor Jerry who didn’t mean to hurt his daughter. Poor Jerry having to answer for what he’d done. Sierra’s heart had bled for her ex-husband…sharp red drops of hate.

She’d sat in that courtroom and listened to Jerry’s lies and excuses and his concerns about his future. It had taken all of Sierra’s willpower not to stand up and scream that he’d given up his right to a future when he’d taken out his anger on a defenseless two-year-old.

In the past year, her mother had started encouraging Sierra to forgive Jerry, saying it was the only way she’d be able to truly put the past behind her. Her minister said she needed to forgive as Christ had forgiven her.

Sierra pressed her lips together. Forgiving wasn’t an option. Not with the memories of Maddie’s sweet little face contorted with pain etched in her soul. Not when Sierra had to watch her daughter struggle to walk again.

It had only been in the last six months that Maddie had been able to run and play like other children. Maybe it was true. Maybe she did need to forgive Jerry to move forward. Maybe she was only hurting herself by holding on to her anger. But right now she hated him for hurting her baby and hated herself even more for not realizing he was capable of such a thing.

“I’ll meet with the guy,” Sierra said with a resigned sigh.

“I know how you feel about attorneys,” Libby said, her tone absolutely serious. “But at least find out what he wants before you let him have it with both barrels. Okay?”

Sierra laughed at the image but didn’t make any promises. As far as she was concerned, attorneys were barely a step above the criminals, er clients, they represented.

She’d do her part. She’d listen to what the man had to say. She’d be civil.

But cut him a break? Or give him the benefit of any doubt?

Not a chance.

Matthew Dixon took a sip of his iced tea and glanced around the rustic interior of the Chocolate Factory.

It was an unusual place to meet on a bright, sunny afternoon. But he’d made the mistake of letting Elizabeth Carlyle pick the time and location.

When he’d called he could tell she’d hoped to confine their contact to the phone but he’d persisted, offering to meet her any time, any place.

Matt had thought she’d suggest one of the many State Street eateries where they could sit outside and enjoy the beautiful weather. Instead she’d picked this out-of-the-way restored warehouse. The time she’d chosen was too late for lunch and too early for dinner. It was almost as if she’d deliberately wanted to ruin his day.

He ran his fingers along the inside collar of his starched white dress shirt and tried to stifle his irritation. His father had said that Stella Carlyle wanted her daughter to be personally approached and Matt had complied by setting up this meeting. But even though it was all billable time, money wasn’t the issue.

Matt’s father had only been working at half speed since suffering a heart attack several months ago and Matt had been forced to pick up the slack. Though he’d been busy with his own clients, it had been nothing compared to the load he had now. His calendar was jam-packed and he had little time to waste. He hoped the woman wouldn’t keep him waiting.

Taking another sip of tea, Matt slanted a glance at the watch his parents had given him when he’d graduated from law school three years ago. Ten minutes left. It seemed as though he’d been sitting here forever. But then, he’d arrived early. Traffic on the freeway hadn’t been nearly as heavy as he’d anticipated and he’d made good time.

When he’d walked through the front door, the hostess had told him to sit wherever he wanted. Matt had chosen a table that afforded him a good view of the lobby. That way when his appointment arrived, he’d be able to spot her.

Of course, it would help if he knew what she looked like. According to his dad, Stella was an attractive woman; blond and petite. Unfortunately his father didn’t recall ever meeting Elizabeth. The only thing he knew about Stella’s daughter was that she’d graduated from an Ivy League school, was about his age and owned a small antique store in downtown Santa Barbara called The Hope Chest.

Matt had to smile. Running an antique store was the perfect job for an heiress who wanted to play at being a working woman. He dumped another packet of sugar into his iced tea and decided Elizabeth would probably end up being as flaky as her mother.

“Excuse me?”

A soft feminine voice jerked Matt from his reverie.

“No more iced tea,” he said automatically, covering the top of his glass with his hand. “I’m fine.”

He kept his gaze focused on the legal brief sitting on the table before him. The waitress had already told him her life story. She’d given him way more information than he wanted to know and Matt wasn’t eager to hear any more details.

Silence greeted his words and he briefly wondered if he’d been too curt. Unfortunately, the cute little brunette had made it perfectly clear she was interested in more than taking his order and he didn’t want to encourage her. Besides, her constant hovering had begun to grate on his nerves.

“Look, I’m—” He glanced up and the words died in his throat.

The woman standing next to the table was blond, not brunette. She was several inches taller than the waitress and her razor-cut hair brushed her shoulders. Though few women could pull off the trendy disheveled look, the style suited the brown-eyed blonde. The hair framed a face that was a near-perfect oval. Her bone structure was delicately carved but with a hint of underlying strength. The tawny depths of her eyes reflected a keen intelligence and her jaw showed an independence of spirit.

Matt had a vague sense he’d seen her somewhere before.

“Mr. Dixon?” The woman held out her hand. Her voice was husky, low and undeniably alluring. “I’m Elizabeth Carlyle.”

Matt pushed back his chair and stood, realizing only now that she was the woman from the storage room. The one he’d casually dismissed as just another clerk, a college student helping out for the summer. It had been an honest mistake, but a stupid one.

If he’d bothered to take a second look, he’d have seen she was closer to his own age than he’d first thought. And she was blond, just like her mother.

He smiled appreciatively, deciding this meeting might not be so bad, after all. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Carlyle. But, please, call me Matt.”

His gaze captured hers. He took her hand and held it, mesmerized by the beauty of her eyes. He was mere inches away from her, and he could see tiny flecks of gold and green mixed in with the mocha-latte brown. Her pupils were surrounded by a tiny ring of gold.

You have beautiful eyes.

Matt wasn’t sure if he’d uttered the words or merely thought them. He only knew he’d never been more sincere. The sounds in the room faded to a distant murmur. They were in a public place but it was as if they were alone, connected by an intangible web of electricity.

Her lips parted and he could see the pulse fluttering in her neck. He had a sudden urge to pull her into his arms, lower his mouth and kiss…

“I thought you might like to see a list of today’s specials.” The waitress materialized out of nowhere, reaching around Elizabeth and slapping the sheet of paper on the table.

Matt gritted his teeth and shot the girl a piercing glance. One that told her he knew exactly what she was up to and didn’t like it one bit.

The brunette shrugged and gave him a wide-eyed innocent look. “I’ll be back in a minute for your order.”

She offered him a sweet-as-sugar smile and walked away, her hips swaying gently.

Matt raked a hand through his hair, heaved an exasperated sigh and turned back to Elizabeth.

She stood staring after the girl, her head tilted.

“Thank goodness she’s gone.” Matt took a step forward, a sense of anticipation quickening his pulse. He reached for Elizabeth, fully intending to continue where they’d left off.

But the minute his hand touched her arm, Elizabeth whirled. She jerked back, her eyes bright, patches of pink coloring her cheeks.

Startled, Matt pulled back his arm and let it drop to his side. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The lights from the antique fixtures overhead cast mysterious shadows across her high cheekbones and patrician nose as she looked up at him. Her eyes seemed to glitter, suddenly looking more green than brown or gold. Smile, Matt silently urged. But she didn’t. She just stared at him.

He took a deep breath. “I—”

The hostess walked by and gave them a curious look. “Is everything okay?”

Matt nodded, not taking his eyes off Elizabeth. “Everything is just fine.”

And everything would be fine, Matt thought, if he could just figure out what was going on. He leaned over and pulled out a chair. “Won’t you have a seat?”

She hesitated for only a second, then sidestepped past him, the fragrant scent of her perfume teasing his nostrils and stirring his senses. She moved with the grace of a dancer, looking undeniably fresh and feminine in her silk poppy-print sundress. The leather-and-wood platform slides with hand-painted details complemented the dress perfectly.

Her dress and shoes were the height of fashion. Though Matt wasn’t into women’s apparel, he recognized a designer’s touch. His younger sister Tori had many such outfits in her closet. And from his father’s frequent complaints when the credit-card bills rolled in, Matt knew such clothes didn’t come cheap.

She wore them well. Matt’s gaze lingered admiringly on her long slender legs before he rounded the table and took a seat opposite her.

He leaned back and offered her an easy smile, deciding the best course of action was to simply start over. “I’m glad you could make it.”

She lifted her chin a fraction of an inch and regarded him through narrowed amber-colored eyes. “You made it sound on the phone like I didn’t have a choice.”

He lifted an eyebrow at the subtle challenge in her tone. Sitting there, with that haughty look in her eye, she reminded him of his sister’s Siamese cat. Tealock was a nice kitty but she could be difficult, especially when she was riled. He had the feeling the same could be said of Elizabeth Carlyle.

“Even though I realize an attorney can sometimes make an invitation sound like a summons,” Matt said with a grin, trying to put her at ease and lighten the moment between them, “I want to assure you that you did have a choice.”

Her tense shoulders loosened up and the corner of her mouth curved in a hint of a smile. “You’re right,” she said. “I could have said no.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” he said, warming to the topic. “Because if you had, we’d never have met and I’d never have known how beautiful you are.”

Her lips tightened and his heart sank. It didn’t take a genius to realize it had been the wrong thing to say.

She glanced down at her watch. “I don’t have a lot of time so we probably should get down to business. Tell me again what this meeting is all about?”

From the time he’d been fifteen, Matt had enjoyed his share of female attention. And he’d gotten quite good at interpreting their behavior. But Elizabeth was different. She wasn’t like most women. One moment she was staring at him with longing, the next she was looking at him as if he’d crawled out from under a rock.