A Defender's Heart

He hadn’t actually said so, but she’d read that into the conversation that had taken place between them. When she’d asked if it bothered him that she wanted to invite Cedar, he’d lied to her. He blinked more rapidly when he lied—making him an easy man to read.

One of the many things she loved about him.

She’d continued talking to him until she got to a semblance of the truth.

“Listen, you two, I promise you, I’m over Cedar Wilson. Completely. I’ll do whatever you need me to do to prove that to you.”

Instead of looking convinced, or even somewhat placated, her two best friends suddenly looked stricken.

“I’m guessing turning around ought to do it.” The voice came from behind her and Heather froze. If it was possible to live without a heartbeat, she was doing it.

She knew that voice. Had heard it in her dreams for months after he’d betrayed her.

And woken up with wet cheeks every time.

But no more. She’d cried her last tears for the man who’d purposely manipulated her, who’d used her skills to set a guilty man free.

CHAPTER TWO

I’M OVER CEDAR. COMPLETELY.

There she was. Heather Michaels. His Heather. Standing right in front of him.

Saying she was over him completely.

“Cedar! You made it. How are you?”

She sounded like her mother. Or any of the other thirty or forty voices coming from the front room. Superficial. Yet not ten minutes earlier, he’d been certain that the voices emanating from the party had to be sincere. Because the Heather he knew wouldn’t have been celebrating her engagement with her parent’s crowd.

What had they done to her?

Rather, was this what he’d done to her?

“I’m well, and you?”

Raine stood just off to her left. He wanted to catch the other woman’s eye. It was good to see her, too. She’d been Heather’s roommate when he and Heather first met. Had been there through all of their ups and downs.

It wouldn’t be good to be on the receiving end of one of those looks of disappointment he’d occasionally seen on her face in the past. When he’d shown up late. Or not at all. Without bothering to call and let Heather know.

He’d been all about saving his clients’ quality of life. At least that was how he’d described it. The way he’d thought about it. When he’d thought about it. If he’d ever thought about it.

“She’s great!” Lianna burst into the silence that had fallen, alerting him to the fact that he and Heather had been standing there, staring wordlessly at each other.

He could only imagine what she was getting from him. What “tells” he was sending.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said, instinctively sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Feeling damned conspicuous because she’d read some kind of message into that, too. Figuring he had something to hide. He wanted to pull them back out, but if he did so, that would communicate another message he didn’t want her to have.

He’d learned a lot from her. And not nearly enough.

“Um, can you two please leave us alone for a sec?” Heather’s tone had changed. Her gaze was still locked with his, but she sounded more like the confident woman he’d been with for the best five years of his life.

Pretty pathetic that his best five years included debts he’d spend the rest of his life paying off—debts of the soul. And he’d die without ever having paid them off. In spite of the millions he’d amassed and was successfully investing. This wasn’t a matter of money...

His peripheral vision caught a movement. The two women slid closer to Heather.

“Please,” she said to them. “Just for a sec. I’m fine.”

No one moved for a long few seconds. He had the sense of stopped time, the kind that was filled with tension and you knew you were at a make-it-or-break-it point. His cue to move in for the kill. The witness on the stand was about to crack. To present him with the source of that shadow of a doubt he had to put in the minds of the jurors.

His jaw ached with the effort it took to keep his mouth shut, the muscles in his neck bearing the brunt of the tension as he remained locked on Heather, rather than turning his manipulative abilities on her friends to help her get them out of there.

He wanted her alone.

God, how he wanted her alone.

But whatever was going on between Heather and her friends—the choice to leave her with the wolf or not—was solely up to them. He could use his skills and probably get what he wanted—Heather alone. But he couldn’t take on any more of that kind of debt.

There simply weren’t enough years left in his life to pay for it all. Unless medical science found a way for a guy to live to a thousand. He figured that just might cover it, considering that a few of the worst criminals he’d put back on the street not only came with the current victim to atone for, but the future ones, as well...

More movement. Heather’s deep blue eyes seemed to glisten as her friends quietly—and very slowly—backed up. They were still watching him when they exited the room opposite the side he’d come in.

Then he was alone with Heather. He’d hoped he’d have that moment, of course...but hadn’t counted on it.

He had nothing prepared to say to her, although there was so much he needed to tell her. No way to do that with a throat tight enough to strangle him.

Strangling. No less than he deserved.

But not until he’d done one hell of a lot more work.

“I’m sorry.”

She nodded. “That’s all behind us now. I’m just glad you could come. I want you to meet Charles.”

He had it coming—watching her with the guy she’d chosen. The man who’d treated her right.

“I’d like to meet him,” he told her, speaking for his better side. A small side, to be sure, but there.

“I’m sorry about the girls,” she said, nodding toward the door through which her friends had just left.

She’d made no move toward that door, which would lead back to the party and, he presumed, her fiancé. It occurred to him to wonder what the guy would think, knowing that the woman he was going to marry had skipped out of their party and was alone in the kitchen with the man she’d slept with for five years. Slept with. Vacationed with. Did laundry with—in the early days, when they’d done their own. Cooked with.

“They’re looking out for you,” he said, forgiving Lianna and Raine even as he wished they’d been a bit more supportive of his presence. He needed their approval if he had any hope of convincing Heather to help him.

The irony was not lost on him. The jerk he’d turned out to be had broken Heather’s heart, and now, in order to redeem himself, he’d come to her.

“They’re afraid you’re going to hurt me again.”

“By saying hello?”

She shrugged and smiled. “They seem to think you’re a lot more irresistible than I do...”

The words stung. He deserved them. But they stung.

“Are you sure there isn’t a tiny part of you that wonders if there’s anything left?”

He felt like he should smack himself upside the head as soon as the words were out. Coming on to Heather wasn’t in the plan. It was the furthest thing from the plan.

But she’d asked her friends to leave and made no move away from him. On the other hand, she’d given no indication that she had anything in particular to say to him, either. She just stood there, so close, looking at him, taking him in, making it seem as though they were talking without saying a word.

As though they were still who they’d always been.

They weren’t, of course. He knew that. Didn’t even want them to be. He had no intention of being that man again.

Not that she’d be able to tell with him practically begging her to admit, on the night of her engagement party, that she still felt something for him.

“You’re wearing my favorite dress,” he said aloud, in spite of his best intentions. He’d noticed the second he’d come in through the kitchen door and seen her standing there.

Thankfully he’d made it that far without either of her parents catching sight of him. Obviously they’d be polite, and he did have an official invitation, but he doubted they’d have left him alone with their daughter.

He wouldn’t have blamed them.

Still, she’d invited him to the party and then chosen to wear the dress that she knew turned him on more than any other she’d owned. Just thinking about the last night she’d worn it with him... They’d gone to a business dinner, and then, in a rare moment of relaxation, he’d asked her to go out to a club. To dance and have some fun, for a change from the constant pressures of work.

They’d closed the club and then, completely sober, had gone home to make love for the rest of the night. The way she’d touched him that night...and let him touch her...

Looking at her now, under the bright lights in her parents’ kitchen, he knew she was remembering, too. Her eyes had darkened, the way they got when she was aroused. He might not be an expert at determining the truthfulness of a statement as she was, probably because, at some point, he’d forgotten to respect the truth, but he could sometimes match her in the reading of body language.

Hers in particular. It had been like that from the very beginning—the physical and mental combustion that had melded them into an almost-instantaneous partnership, one he’d taken for granted. One he’d believed couldn’t be severed. He’d been confident. Cocky.

And wrong.

Why had she invited him tonight?

And worn that dress?

Heather didn’t do anything without reason.

Clearly her two closest friends had been communicating a similar message to her just before he’d come in. She’d felt compelled to assure them that she was over him.

Swelling with a bit of...he didn’t want to examine what...he momentarily liked the idea that they’d been talking about him.

At her engagement party.

Because she shouldn’t be marrying another man.

They belonged together. They always had.

He stepped closer to her, his lips a couple of inches from hers, when the swinging door from the living room pushed open and a man he vaguely recognized stood there.

In black pants, a white shirt and a black-and-white silk tie, the man put Cedar on edge. It was his confidence, his wealth—judging by the quality of his clothes and the watch he wore—and the way he held himself.

He remembered where he’d seen this man before. At one of Heather’s parents’ parties. He was the dentist who lived down the street.

So why was Heather leaving Cedar and the kiss they’d almost shared to walk over and put an arm around this man?

“Cedar, I’d like you to meet Charles,” she said.

If not for years of courtroom practice, Cedar might have let it be known that his solar plexus had just taken a massive blow.

“The dentist,” he said, reaching out a hand. “We’ve met.”

He hadn’t remembered the guy’s name. Or had any inkling that this...this dentist was the man Heather planned to marry. He was closer to her parents’ age than their own.

“At the Labor Day barbecue, year before last,” he continued, feeling ornery and not happy with himself. “Heather and I had just returned from a trip to Egypt, and her parents insisted they see for themselves that she’d made it back unharmed.”

They’d been travel-weary, wrinkled and could hardly manage to keep their hands off each other. The trip had been partially for business—he’d had to meet with a man who’d skipped the country, but had information that could exonerate a very important client of Cedar’s. He and Heather had also had a lot of time alone. He’d been able to focus on her almost exclusively for three whole days.

Charles, the fiancé, nodded, seemingly not the least bit put out by Cedar’s rudeness.

“Glad you could make it tonight,” he said instead. “I know it meant a lot to Heather to have you here.”

And the guy didn’t find that discomfiting? Or odd?

“I told Charles the same thing I told the girls,” she said, her free hand on the man’s flat stomach, just above his belt. “I’d like us to be able to be friendly if we ever run into each other, and I’m glad to see you here with none of the old feelings between us. Good or bad.”

Was that so?

What did you call the almost-kiss that would have happened if not for Charles’s suspiciously timed entrance?

Lianna had sent the older man. Cedar knew it as surely as he knew he’d be getting drunk that night when he got home.

“I wanted you to meet Charles and hoped you’d wish us well,” she continued now, sounding more like her mother than ever.

“I do wish you well,” he said, including them both in his best courtroom smile.

Heather would see through it. But then he wasn’t buying her stance, either.

Still, he’d play along.

Didn’t have much choice, really.

He needed her help, or a young woman might die at the hands of a man Cedar had put back on the streets. The man he’d manipulated Heather into helping him set free.

He hadn’t done it to serve justice, but to serve his own compulsion to win.

“Then I hope you’ll come join us for our celebratory toast. The champagne’s been poured and passed around. We were just missing my bride-to-be.”

With a bow of his head, Cedar conceded defeat. Or compliance. Or whatever the hell he was doing. Because Heather had asked him to come to her party.

He stood beside the happy couple as they were toasted again and again. He sipped champagne. And tried his damndest to be okay with the fact that the woman he loved was about to marry another man.

CHAPTER THREE

SHE’D ALMOST KISSED HIM. Or let him kiss her.

It had been a conditioned response. She knew that. But she was still disappointed in herself. If she was going to be happy, to quit worrying about making poor choices and letting herself down, to stop being paranoid about people using her and about being unable to use her skills on a personal level, she had to manage to be around Cedar and not capitulate to whatever he wanted.

To anything he wanted.

He wanted her. The knowledge was a boost to the pride he’d injured when he’d put her low on his list of priorities. But she wasn’t proud of herself for having felt a thrill of gratitude that at least she’d mattered to him for more than how she could help him reach his goals. For more than the asset she’d been to his career and his unending drive to win.

He hadn’t won her, and he wasn’t going to.

The only reason she’d agreed, before he’d left the other night, to see him again—to meet him for lunch to discuss some business matter he had—was to prove to herself, and to him, that the incident in the kitchen had been an anomaly. A natural reaction to seeing a lover again for the first time since their intensely painful split. The pain had faded, the hurt feelings and blame dissipated, leaving room for good memories to slip in. Good memories were healthy. She welcomed them.

However, she wouldn’t be swayed by them. Because she knew that memories were all they were. A few good times in between all the bad. They weren’t significant, didn’t represent a way of life. Or possibilities. They were merely the bag that lined the trash can.

Trying to scroll through the bad memories, she faltered, finding far more good ones that outweighed the disappointments—regularly missed occasions, perennial lateness, a constant lack of returned phone calls... Until that last case, the last week, the last day.

While most of Cedar’s clients were wealthy businessmen who were charged with white-collar crimes, during the last year they’d been together, he’d taken on two high-profile criminal cases. She’d never been completely sure why. He’d earned a reputation by then; Cedar Wilson commanded the highest price, but he did what it took to get the job done.

The change in him had been gradual, as winning began to matter more than justice. More than right and wrong. Or even his clients. Maybe that was why she hadn’t seen it coming, because it had happened slowly, over time.

Or maybe because, at home, he was still the man who struggled with insecurities. A grown-up version of the young boy who’d never been good enough to deserve personal acknowledgment from his famous father, the singer Randy Cedar-Jones. He’d called him after every case, telling him—through voice mail—about every victory. Without taking offense when there was never a response.

At home, he was a man who touched her tenderly. One who cooked beside her, who slept beside her, who woke her with a smile and a cup of coffee every morning.

As she dressed for lunch on Monday, she reminded herself of all the hard-earned lessons of the past year. And of the happiness she’d felt the night Charles had proposed to her.

Something Cedar had never done—despite years of conversations about “someday.”

He hated seeing her in leggings, so she wore a pair of pink ones with black cactus shapes on them, topping them with a figure-hugging black tunic and short black boots. Not the professional he’d be expecting to see.

Not even how she’d normally dressed. The leggings were a gift from Raine, who’d become an online distributor for them. Heather had never actually worn them before.

Cedar had left shortly after the toasts on Saturday night, but not without a word in her ear about that day’s meeting. He’d said it was strictly business. And really important.

She felt he’d been telling the truth, so she’d agreed to see him.

She would let Charles know about the meeting just as soon as she knew what it was about. Then she could reassure him about her lack of involvement in this “business matter” before he had a chance to get nervous about the contact.

Cedar was already seated at a table by the window of a local eatery when she arrived. In one of his signature designer suits—this one in tones of gray, his put-at-ease choice—his thick dark hair a little longer than he used to wear it, he’d have stood out from the crowd even without the advantage of his six-foot-two height.

The restaurant was one they’d favored during their time together, not only because of the talented chef, but because of the ocean views. Heather couldn’t get enough of the water that kept rolling to shore, century after century. She wasn’t sure if Cedar had ever given the Pacific’s grandeur a second thought.

Charles had. He respected the ocean’s power. Its unending energy. He’d engaged in long talks with her about it as they’d walked, hand in hand, along the beach, watching the tide come in and go out.

“New outfit,” Cedar said, as he stood to pull out her chair and then, as she sat, took his seat again.

She knew he didn’t like it and was satisfied with her choice. But then she said, “Raine gave it to me. I have to wear it so when she asks me if I did, I can tell her yes.”

She was making excuses. Felt like she was sliding backward. She had no reason or need to please Cedar.

“I like it,” he told her. “It looks good on you.” The sexy grin on his face, the warmth in his straightforward dark brown gaze, didn’t give even a hint of untruth.

She didn’t like the outfit. That was the truth. She’d worn it to spite him. It hadn’t worked; she didn’t like that, either.

“But then, anything looks good on you,” Cedar added, picking up his menu. “Or nothing.”

Her feminine parts filled with heat.

And she was ashamed.

* * *

HE WAS A damned fraud. A man who’d created situations to fit what he knew people needed so he could get what he wanted. He’d vowed to himself he’d stop. And here he was...still orchestrating the situation.

The gray dress pants, white shirt, gray jacket and gray-and-white tie were proof of that. Although he’d gotten rid of most of his closet full of hand-tailored dress clothes, like an alcoholic pouring his stash down the drain, he’d held on to a few things. And he’d deliberately worn some of them that morning because he knew they’d be what Heather would expect to see. They’d put her at ease. He’d worn them purposely, to manipulate her comfort level.

Like he was the same man who’d used his lover to get the information he needed to manipulate a win.

His last win.

He’d ordered her sweet tea and his own black coffee. She glanced at both as she sat down, but said nothing. She immediately went for the tea, though. Took a long sip.

Sweet tea was her weakness.

He used to be, too.

“You said you had business to discuss,” she said, not even looking at the menu. He’d figured they’d order first. Maybe even wait to broach his discussion until after they’d eaten. She’d been on his mind pretty much nonstop since he’d left her parents’ house two nights before.

She was making a mistake, marrying Charles. Not because she wasn’t marrying him—not that he’d ever asked—but because there was no passion between her and the dentist.

If anyone knew and would recognize Heather’s passion, it was Cedar. He’d been prepared to see her sharing it with another man.

That hadn’t happened. Which meant nothing in terms of him. It meant only that she was making a mistake with her dentist.

Probably not a conversation starter at the moment.

“I have a favor to ask,” he said, looking around for Molly, the waitress who’d taken their drink orders.

Heather held her purse in her hands. “I’m not going to—”

“Please, hear me out,” he interrupted before she could walk out on him. No matter how much he deserved it, he wasn’t up to having her leave him again. The first time had just about killed him.

Killed the old him, anyway. It had left him a shadow of a man, one who lived to make amends—not to be happy.

“The favor, it isn’t for me.”

“Of course it’s for you! Couched in a client’s need, perhaps, but it’s about your win. I’m not going back down that road, Cedar.”

He swallowed. Pursed his lips so they wouldn’t open until he had himself in check. He refused to share his truths; he couldn’t play with her emotions that way. The turns his life had taken were personal. His alone. They weren’t to get her back. Or even to show her that he’d become a better man. He was a man who’d lost his way, and that was a burden he would carry forever. Telling her he was trying to change could serve his own good and that was the old him—serving his own good.

He wanted to ask her how she’d been. To know that she really was over him. That she didn’t still carry in the depths of her heart all the pain he’d caused her by putting his need to win above everything else. That there were no lasting consequences in her life because he’d lost sight of what mattered most.

And yet...he suspected her dentist was one of those consequences.

Suspected she was settling for safety because she couldn’t bear the idea of being hurt so badly again.

He didn’t want that to be the case.

Didn’t have time for more amends at the moment.

But this was Heather. If his actions had pushed her into a passionless relationship, if he’d driven her to a passionless life, he’d have to do whatever it took to undo the damage.

He’d figure that out. Take appropriate action if necessary. But first...

“I’m convinced a young woman is in trouble, that she’s protecting a man she thinks loves her. She might have done some things that could put her in prison, but...”

Heather shook her head. “I’m not helping you free another criminal who should be serving time. I understand that United States law allows everyone the right to a proper defense. I believe in and uphold our laws. But I will not be party to working the system in the name of preserving someone’s rights. I won’t be used again, Cedar. Thank you for the lunch invitation, but I won’t be staying.”

She stood, her purse slung over her shoulder.

“She’s not my client.” He had no clients.

Heather took one step and stopped. He stood up, too, facing her. “She’s the victim of a former client. I need you to help me get her to tell us the truth, Heather. Help me nail this guy before he kills her.”