Bachelor No More

“No one will think that,” Mara assured her. “You have the right to the best defense and that’s all this is. Even if it has happened fast and…furiously.”

Celeste nodded once more but still looked uncertain.

“Go let the brandy do its job and get some rest,” Mara urged.

Another nod. Then Celeste turned to her grandson and took his hand in both of hers. “Thank you for coming. And for wanting to help.”

“I am going to help, you can be sure of that.”

It was somehow cold comfort but still Celeste muttered, “Okay…”

Then she said good-night to both Mara and Jared and left them alone again in the living room.

Only when Mara heard Celeste’s bedroom door close did she turn to Jared Perry.

“I’ve been trying to get her to agree to having a lawyer. I just couldn’t make myself scare her into it.”

One eyebrow arched at her. “Are you saying I shouldn’t have?” he challenged.

“I’m just saying I couldn’t and maybe just a little lighter touch would have been—”

“I believe in doing what needs to be done—whatever that is, whatever it takes,” he said as he put on his coat. “But then I’m usually the person who comes in and gets things turned around when no one else can bring themselves to do it.”

Take-No-Prisoners Perry. Mara could see it.

And maybe because of that and because of the change that had overtaken Celeste before she’d gone to bed, Mara wavered a bit in thinking that what he’d just accomplished was an altogether good thing.

“It is better for Celeste to have a lawyer, isn’t it?” she said with a hint of uncertainty of her own now.

“A lawyer who isn’t an overworked, underpaid, uninvolved, uninterested public defender? Much.”

“This woman you’ve hired—or enlisted—she’ll do everything possible for Celeste?”

He narrowed those ice-blue eyes at her. “Am I hearing suspicion of me again?” he asked, the challenge once more in his tone as he referred to her earlier questions through the door.

“I don’t really know you. And you don’t really know Celeste. You wouldn’t be a wolf in sheep’s clothing, coming in here to pressure her into something you have set up to hurt her rather than help her, would you?”

That seemed to amuse him slightly because a small, slow smile made one side of his mouth creep upward. “Now why would I do that?”

“There are people who believe that Celeste was in on the bank robbery and that she killed her lover’s partner. There are people who think that at the very least she was an accomplice to it all. And there are other people who think that even if she didn’t commit those crimes, there should be consequences for having left her husband and sons the way she did.”

“I’m not any of those people.”

“But you could want to get back at her for your grandfather’s sake or because she abandoned your father or…I don’t know, for not being a doting grandmother when you were a kid.”

That apparently amused him even more because the other side of his sexy mouth joined the first in an uptilt. “Actually, I’ve always thought my grandmother and I might be kindred spirits if we ever got to know each other. So no, I don’t have anything to get back at her for. I honestly am here to help her.”

Mara knew he could just be saying that to cover his tracks if he intended to do damage to Celeste. But she had no way of telling whether he was lying.

And she had lobbied for Celeste to have a private attorney. Now that Jared Perry had accomplished that, Mara didn’t have much choice but to trust him. And to hope for the best. But that didn’t keep her from worrying just the same.

She raised her chin at the man who stood tall, strong and sure before her. “If you’re lying and you do anything to hurt her…”

Her threat made him smile full-out—a broad, amused grin that put creases down his cheeks and would have been something to marvel at if Mara hadn’t suddenly been so concerned about his intentions.

“What will you do to me?” he asked with barely contained delight

Unfortunately Mara didn’t have any threat at all, let alone a good one.

So she merely stood her ground and said, “This had just better be what you’re saying it is.”

“Careful, I don’t think you know who you’re dealing with.”

“Careful yourself, or you might end up cut off at the knees.”

Mara didn’t know where that had come from or how she’d managed to make it sound as ominous as she had. She also didn’t know what she would possibly do if he pushed it. But still she stared him down—navy blue eyes locked unwaveringly with ice-blue.

Until he blinked.

Not because she’d won the stare-down, but because he couldn’t laugh without breaking it.

Then he said, “Relax, Mama Bear, I only came to help your cub.” He sauntered to the door, opened it and then added, “I’ll be in touch,” before he walked out and closed the door behind him.

Mara deflated, realizing that meeting Jared Perry had had its own impact on her as it rippled through her like an aftershock.

An aftershock that brought with it something a little tingly.

Something a little tingly and, surprisingly, somehow exciting.

Chapter Two

Jared Perry was out of bed at 5:00 a.m. Monday morning and on the phone to his assistant in New York by 5:05. That made it 7:05 a.m. New York time so he knew Lloyd was answering at home. It didn’t matter. Lloyd was used to Jared calling him at all hours.

After rattling off questions concerning his newest takeover—a sporting-goods business in Colorado—and giving Lloyd instructions for the day, Jared took a shower, shaved, did some paperwork, phoned his man in charge of the revamp of an international electronics firm based in London and watched the clock until the more reasonable hour of 8:30 a.m. That was when he called Stephanie to see what kind of headway she was making with the postponement of Celeste’s questioning.

The news was not what he had been hoping for.

Authorities had already delayed the interrogation in order to gather and organize their information, Celeste had a public defender appointed to her so she was represented, and there was no reason for officials to put off her questioning any longer. The fact that Celeste had had a last-minute change of mind regarding representation was Celeste’s—and Stephanie’s—problem. The stage was set, investigators and the district attorney had made travel arrangements to Northbridge, and they were firm in their determination that today be the day.

“That’s it then? It’s happening without you?” Jared asked.

“I spoke to the public defender and he’ll still be there, only now as my proxy while I participate through a conference call. I’m sorry, J., but that’s all I can do on such short notice. I have a death penalty hearing today and tomorrow and I can’t leave until it’s over.”

“I’m worried that if you’re not here to coach her, Celeste might say something she shouldn’t.”

“I’ll call her in an hour or so and talk to her, do what coaching needs to be done that way. But all that’s really expected of her today is that she tell her story. Of course there will be questions, but to some extent, at this point, investigators and even the D.A. are still on a fact-finding mission.”

“It looks like more than that to me when they have a guard posted outside her apartment.”

“That’s because there’s been some concern that she might flee. After all she’s managed to keep under the radar for over forty years, which is why there’s been talk of arresting her just to hang on to her. But the local cops have successfully kept that from happening and I don’t expect that there will be an arrest today either. I think what the feds, the state guys and the D.A. will do is hear out Celeste, take whatever information she gives them back to their own corners, go over it, compare it to the facts and figures and decide where to go from here. If they do opt to arrest her it won’t be for a day or two and by then I’ll be in Montana to handle whatever comes up.”

Jared knew that questioning whether or not Stephanie had done her best was unnecessary, so he ended the conversation with a thank-you.

“You know I’d do anything for you, even if you are a hard-ass,” the criminal defense attorney responded, teasing him affectionately.

Jared merely chuckled and said he’d see her on Wednesday.

Which left him having to call his grandmother to warn her that the questioning would go on as planned.

He stared at the cell phone in his hand, thinking about placing the call, about who might answer it, wondering if Mara Pratt was staying with Celeste or had only been there the night before as the keeper of the gate until Celeste went to sleep. Would she be back again this early?

If she was staying there or if she’d left and returned already, it was possible she might answer the phone. In fact, it was likely, since she’d announced that no one got to Celeste without going through her first.

And he liked the thought that he might get to talk to Mara Pratt again.

Inexplicable but true.

Not that he objected to speaking to Celeste—he was glad to have discovered his long-lost grandmother, glad for the chance to get to know her, and willing to help her out of the mess he blamed completely on the grandfather he didn’t care if he ever saw again.

But what if Mara Pratt picked up the phone rather than Celeste? The possibility gave him a rush and he didn’t understand why.

Mara Pratt was what he’d always considered an everyday sort of woman. The kind of woman he connected with Northbridge: wholesome, down-home, salt of the earth. Exactly what he hadn’t wanted growing up in the small town.

His fantasies then—fantasies he’d made realities as an adult—had run toward tall, long-legged, sultry, breathtaking blondes. The urbane, well-bred, polished and frequently moneyed women he now encountered in the course of work or play. Women like Stephanie.

And yet, despite the fact that Mara Pratt was nothing at all like Stephanie or like any of his early fantasies and current realities of women, there was something about her that had rung his bell.

Not instantly, he admitted, but Mara Pratt’s appeal had definitely sneaked up on him in increments.

He’d been waiting for Celeste, wondering if he’d remember her from his childhood in Northbridge when Mara Pratt had rejoined him in the living room and he’d thought she had incredible eyes. The darkest blue eyes he’d ever seen.

He’d been asking about her brothers when it had occurred to him that her hair was the color of Belgian chocolate, and so shiny and silky he’d had the urge to run his fingers through it.

He’d taken his first—and last—sip of the worst brandy he’d ever tasted just before realizing that Mara Pratt had skin like cream, and a pert nose that was slightly quirky. Then he realized she also had a soft, inviting mouth with an indescribable kindness to it, mingled with a secret sensuality.

He’d been watching her help his extremely large grandmother out of a chair when it had struck him that Mara Pratt had a body that might not be flashy enough to turn every head in the poshest New York restaurant, but there was still a whole lot of allure in her tight, just-round-enough rump, small waist. And her chest had certainly turned his head.

No, there wasn’t anything at all flashy about Mara Pratt, but she had a free, easy, effortless beauty that was all her own. Serene and understated, it had crept up and apparently taken some sort of hold on him, even more than the extravagant, precision perfection he was currently accustomed to. And understated or not, Mara Pratt packed a wallop that had made it difficult to get her out of his head—all night and here again now.

Which was why he was sitting at the desk in the den of the house he’d grown up in, thinking about her when he had so many other things he should have been paying attention to.

Mara Pratt.

Northbridge, Montana’s Mara Pratt.

Cam and Scott Pratt’s little sister.

Huh.

Somebody he never would have given a second glance to in the past was suddenly enthralling him. And what made it even more odd was that it was happening at a time when nothing was giving him a charge anymore.

Not a single thing. Not a single person.

Yet the mere idea of talking to Mara Pratt again, of seeing her again, was doing something for him that not even his last multimillion-dollar takeover had accomplished.

And if that wasn’t weird, he didn’t know what was.

He’d come to Northbridge figuring that besides meeting and helping the grandmother he’d always wondered about, after a little time in the town he’d chafed in, his real life would look a lot better again. He hadn’t come figuring that anything or anyone here would look good to him.

Maybe he was in worse shape than he’d thought.

Maybe after this he should take a long vacation, he told himself. A couple of months in Europe. Or Tahiti. Or the Bahamas. Or all three. And maybe, when this was all over, that’s what he’d do. He’d get away from everything. Lie around somewhere designed for escape. Sleep a lot. Eat and drink to excess. Surround himself with women who would make him wonder what could possibly have made him obsess over some squeaky-clean hometown girl. Blueberry eyes or not.

Good idea, he decided. That’s what he’d do. And between a refresher course in what had made him dislike Northbridge and a long vacation, maybe he’d be rejuvenated on the work front, and he wouldn’t even be able to conjure up a mental image of Mara Pratt.

Like the one that was lingering in his mind at this moment.

As clear and bright as that skin of hers that he kept imagining the feel of.

Jared closed his eyes and shook his head to rid himself of the unwanted images and equally unwanted—and unwarranted—urges.

Then he opened them, determined to shake more than that, to shake thinking about Mara Pratt and wondering about her and any interest in her whatsoever.

But he still had to make the call to Celeste.

And Mara Pratt could very well answer.

She could very well be there today to support Celeste through the questioning, just the way he intended to be.

Which meant that he’d be seeing her again.

And regardless of how hard he tried—and he did try damn hard—he just couldn’t make himself hate either of those possibilities.

“Why do you keep looking out that window today, honey? Do you think the Montana version of the Inquisition is going to surprise us and come earlier than they said?”

Celeste startled Mara who had gone to the apartment window while the older woman went to the bedroom to get some hand lotion.

“No, my brother said that since the local cops insisted on having the questioning be as easy on you as possible, the D.A. and the state police and the FBI—and whoever else in on tap—will meet at the police station. Then Cam will bring them here at three,” Mara answered, turning her back to the window to face Celeste. “I guess I’m just a little edgy,” she added as she leaned against the sill.

“Or is it Jared you’re watching for instead of my tribunal? He told you he’d be here before them, didn’t he?” Celeste said with a note of intrigue in her voice.

“That was what he told me, yes,” Mara said matter-of-factly. “But no, I wasn’t watching for him.”

And that was a flat-out lie because watching for Jared Perry was exactly what Mara had been doing. Hating herself for it, but doing it anyway. Several times an hour, every hour since she’d answered the phone, she’d suffered more of that tingling sensation. Simply the sound of his deep voice and learning that he wanted to be here to offer his support to his grandmother during her questioning by authorities had done this to her. He’d told Mara that he would arrive before everyone else, but he’d given no indication how long before, leaving Mara guessing. And checking the alley at every sound to see if it was him.

But apparently even her disclaimer didn’t throw Celeste off the scent because as the older woman lowered herself into her chair, she said, “But after you heard he was coming you did go and change into those nice gray wool slacks that fit you so well and that baby-blue sweater that I always tell you sets off your eyes.”

“I only did that because I thought it was better to present a dignified front to the authorities,” Mara said, pulling the reason out of her hat when Celeste was right, she had had Jared Perry in mind when she’d changed clothes.

“Jared is a good catch,” Celeste said, ignoring Mara’s excuse.

“Nobody says things like good catch anymore,” Mara said with a laugh. “And I’m not angling to catch any man.”

“Maybe you should be.”

Mara didn’t want to offend the older woman or hurt Celeste’s feelings by going into the reasons why—even if she were in the market for a man—Jared Perry would not be that man, so she merely said, “I think what I should be doing right now is whatever I can to help get you out of trouble so we can both go back to work and do some dry cleaning to make a living.”

“Are you trying to tell me you didn’t notice how pretty my grandson is?”

“Pretty?”

“Well, he is.”

“I’m sure he’d love being called that.”

“But you have to admit it’s true.”

“He’s a nice-looking man, yes,” Mara conceded. “But he’s not my type.”

“The two of you would have such beautiful babies together.”

Mara laughed. “That’s quite a leap.”

“And then, instead of just being your favorite employee, you and I could really be family and I’d love that!”

“You’ve thought a lot about this in a very short time.”

“There were sparks between you last night,” Celeste said.

“Sparks? There weren’t any sparks.”

“Oh, there were. Small ones, but still sparks. Jared’s eyes kept wandering over to you when you weren’t looking, like he couldn’t resist. Then, when I was opening my bedroom window before I got into bed—you know I like it cracked to sleep—and there he was, standing on the landing after you’d let him out, staring at the door, smiling as big as you please. He wouldn’t have been doing that if he hadn’t liked you. And you wouldn’t have lit up when he called this morning and then changed clothes and gone to that window to look out a hundred times since if you didn’t like him, too. Sparks.”

“Don’t go imagining things,” Mara advised.

“I know what I saw.”

“Your grandson and I… There probably aren’t two less-suited people on the planet.”

“I don’t see that at all,” Celeste said emphatically.

“He’s not a small-town boy anymore—if he ever was. He’s a man of the world. A jet-setter. A wheeler-dealer. A mover and a shaker.”

He was also—by every account in the articles about him and according to talk around town, too—the way Celeste was said to have been in her youth. He was restless and in need of more stimulation, excitement and adventure than could be found in Northbridge. Not to mention that he’d spent his life breaking things apart rather than holding them together, and that was the last thing Mara would let anywhere near her.

But rather than get into things that might give Celeste the impression that she thought one iota less of her than she did, or that she held her youthful actions against her in any way, Mara only finished her argument with, “And I’m nothing but a small-town dry cleaner.”

“A beautiful, intelligent, kind-hearted, generous small-town dry cleaner,” Celeste amended. “And he’d be lucky to have you.”

“He came because of you,” Mara reminded. “Nothing else has managed to get him back, because he doesn’t like it here. Or the kind of people he finds here.”

“He doesn’t like his grandfather—that’s what kept him away. Not hating Northbridge.”

Just then the phone rang at the same time as there was a knock on the door, making Mara jump.

“That will be the lawyer calling again, just as she said she would,” Celeste said with a nod at the phone, pushing herself to her feet once more. “And I’ll bet that’s our Jared at the door.”

Mara told herself that being startled by the unexpected knock on the door was the reason her heart was beating so fast, that it wasn’t because Celeste’s grandson had suddenly appeared on the landing outside.

“I’ll take the call in the other room. You let Jared in,” Celeste said as she headed for the bedroom again.

Reasonably certain that Jared Perry had seen her through the window beside the door, Mara couldn’t delay letting him inside in order to compose herself. So she pushed away from the sill and pivoted to the open door, trying to ignore her racing heartbeat.

It wasn’t easy when she looked into the now clean-shaven face that seemed even more eye-poppingly handsome than it had in the mental image that had inched its way into her consciousness a hundred or so times since the previous evening.

She was vaguely aware of exchanging greetings with him as she stepped aside to let him in. She devoured the sight of him in that same overcoat he’d had on the night before, open today to show dark-brown wool slacks and a dress shirt to match, worn buttoned all the way to his Adam’s apple. There was no denying that he looked spectacular, important and like a force to be reckoned with. All very un-Northbridge-ish.

“Is there a reason you don’t want to close the door?”

His voice brought her to her senses and made her realize that she was still standing there, holding the door open.

It also occurred to her that she hadn’t taken a breath in that same amount of time.

Taking one now, she shut the door as he removed his coat.

“Is there anywhere I can put this so it’s out of the way? I’m guessing this place is going to get pretty crowded.”

“I’ll take it,” Mara said, accepting the soft-as-a-cloud cashmere coat that had probably cost more than her entire wardrobe.

She took it into the hallway and carefully hung it on a hook on the wall. As she did she caught the faintest whiff of what smelled like fresh, clean citrus. It must have been his cologne, but if she could buy candles with that exact scent she would put them in every room of her house.

“Celeste is on the phone in the bedroom,” she said as she rejoined him. “She spoke to the attorney this morning, who said she was going to call back to go over things again just before the questioning got started, so I think that’s who Celeste is talking to.”

“Stephanie. The attorney’s name is Stephanie.”

Mara recalled the familiarity in the way he’d talked to the lawyer on the phone the night before and her own initial curiosity about what their relationship might be. Now she thought there was something proprietary in his reference to the woman and her curiosity grew—along with an antipathy toward a person she’d never even met.

“Is she a friend of yours—Stephanie?” Mara heard herself ask before she could stop it.

“Yes, she is.”

“A good friend?”

Jared Perry was standing behind Celeste’s chair and he aimed those mesmerizing eyes at Mara, raising a questioning brow. “Stephanie is a longtime friend,” he qualified, still not telling Mara what she wanted to know.

And even though she told herself it was absolutely none of her business, she couldn’t seem to keep from pushing it. “A long-time friend who owes you one, which is why she’s taking Celeste’s case,” she said, repeating what he’d told Celeste the previous night.

“Right,” he confirmed. Then both of his brows lowered. “Are you worrying again that we’re conspiring to do my grandmother harm? Do you think that because we’re friends, Stephanie isn’t on the up and up? That she’d do my evil bidding or something?”

Mara shrugged in an effort to conceal her relief. Obviously he didn’t realize she was trying to get information about the woman and what role she might play in his life.

“Just checking,” she said.

“Check all you want. Stephanie is at the top of her field in New York and, as a result of being in demand in a number of high-profile cases across the country, she happens to be licensed to practice law in several states—Montana among them. Were she and I not friends I doubt she’d bother with something like this. But since we are, she took the case. So our friendship is working in Celeste’s favor, not against her.”