Irresistible In Love
Page 66
Keeping his gaze on her, he held his hand out. “Henry, the folder, please.”
Henry was perfectly professional as he fished a folder out of the stack in front of him and laid it in Evan’s hand. Still, his lawyer couldn’t quite contain the gleam of victory in his eyes.
“You really shouldn’t have left a paper trail.” Evan set the closed folder on the table in front of him. “And you shouldn’t piss off people who might later be willing to testify against you.”
Her face turned a sickly shade of pale.
“While I was out of the country, Henry was hard at work on my behalf. It’s amazing how much documentation he found regarding the little lies you told.”
“Now just a minute,” Randall P. Craig started to bluster. Not so much of a shark anymore, was he?
Evan put his finger to his lips. Then he turned back to Whitney. “The divorce settlement is already more than generous. I’ve even decided to throw in the Atherton house in exchange for the San Francisco flat. You can keep all the artwork you stole while I was away, except the Dali. I suggest you take this offer. Or you won’t have anything left when you lose. Nothing at all.” He gave her a long look. “Because, make no mistake, Whitney, if you want to fight, I will fight.”
Her lawyer looked like he was about to have a coronary as he said, “Mrs. Collins—”
She held up a hand. “Let me think.”
“Go ahead and think, Whitney.” Evan’s voice was deadly. “Think of your reputation in this town when all your lies come out. Think of all the parties you won’t be invited to. Think of how everyone will laugh. About you.”
She drew in a deep breath, glared at him, then let her breath hiss between her teeth. Teeth that still had a smear of red across the front. “All right.”
“I also want a nondisclosure agreement. You say one word about Paige, and it’s all over.”
“I said all right,” she snapped through clenched teeth, her voice louder, sharper. “The nondisclosure applies to you too.”
He could live with that. “Agreed.”
“When do I get the house?”
“After everything is final.”
“What about the Mortimers?”
“They don’t belong to the house.”
She huffed out a breath, then waved her hand. “All right, fine.”
He felt the urge to laugh. Paige hated that word. Fine. So did he. Although, right now, he’d happily take it from his ex.
“I’ll make the agreed upon amendments to the settlement immediately,” Henry said, “and have them sent over by courier this afternoon.”
Whitney stood, shaking off her lawyer’s touch as he put an assisting hand on her elbow. On her mile-high heels, she stalked out ahead of him.
Good-bye, Whitney. And good riddance.
Henry clapped him on the back. “I’ll send you the new draft for approval in a couple of hours. Then we’ll get her to sign immediately.”
The sooner the better.
He wanted Whitney out of his life.
And he wanted Paige in.
Chapter Thirty
The red light on Paige’s desk phone flashed, indicating her next patient had arrived. Except that she didn’t have another patient. Edward Wood was her last of the day, and they still had fifteen minutes to go.
But she never interrupted a session unless it was an emergency. If need be, her receptionist would have called instead of simply flipping on the light.
Turning her focus back to the middle-aged man in her office, she said, “How did you feel when she said that, Edward?”
His wife had just left him for a younger man. A much younger man, to the tune of twenty years. Edward was still sorting through his emotions, which was one of his wife’s—ex-wife’s—complaints, that he had no emotions.
“I guess I deserve it. She always said this would happen if I didn’t change myself. And she was right.”
“Perhaps,” Paige suggested, “you could try thinking of it in another light. How about this?” Over the next few minutes, she detailed an alternative to his self-destructive thinking.
Her specialty was family therapy, but she never turned away anyone in distress. Edward was definitely in distress, even if he couldn’t figure out exactly why. Yet.
When their remaining fifteen minutes were up, she ushered him out.
And her unscheduled patient stepped in.
“Evan.”
She threw herself into his arms. Didn’t stop to think it over. Didn’t hesitate even the slightest. She simply gave herself wholly over to what felt right. To what she knew was right.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and when she pulled back, his expression was serious.
“Your assistant said you’re done for the day,” he said in a deep voice that rumbled through her deliciously. “But I was hoping you could squeeze me in.”
“Of course I can.” Her heart was racing as she took a step back. Then she closed the door. And locked it. Whatever he wanted to say to her, it was obviously something big. Important enough that he didn’t want to say it over dinner or in bed. She gestured to the couch, then took her usual seat.
“Please,” she said ever so professionally, “tell me what I can help you with.” Was it something to do with Whitney? Or his birth mother?
He was gorgeous in a dark blue suit, white shirt, and striped tie. And more serious than she’d ever seen him as he said, “I have a terrible confession to make.”
Henry was perfectly professional as he fished a folder out of the stack in front of him and laid it in Evan’s hand. Still, his lawyer couldn’t quite contain the gleam of victory in his eyes.
“You really shouldn’t have left a paper trail.” Evan set the closed folder on the table in front of him. “And you shouldn’t piss off people who might later be willing to testify against you.”
Her face turned a sickly shade of pale.
“While I was out of the country, Henry was hard at work on my behalf. It’s amazing how much documentation he found regarding the little lies you told.”
“Now just a minute,” Randall P. Craig started to bluster. Not so much of a shark anymore, was he?
Evan put his finger to his lips. Then he turned back to Whitney. “The divorce settlement is already more than generous. I’ve even decided to throw in the Atherton house in exchange for the San Francisco flat. You can keep all the artwork you stole while I was away, except the Dali. I suggest you take this offer. Or you won’t have anything left when you lose. Nothing at all.” He gave her a long look. “Because, make no mistake, Whitney, if you want to fight, I will fight.”
Her lawyer looked like he was about to have a coronary as he said, “Mrs. Collins—”
She held up a hand. “Let me think.”
“Go ahead and think, Whitney.” Evan’s voice was deadly. “Think of your reputation in this town when all your lies come out. Think of all the parties you won’t be invited to. Think of how everyone will laugh. About you.”
She drew in a deep breath, glared at him, then let her breath hiss between her teeth. Teeth that still had a smear of red across the front. “All right.”
“I also want a nondisclosure agreement. You say one word about Paige, and it’s all over.”
“I said all right,” she snapped through clenched teeth, her voice louder, sharper. “The nondisclosure applies to you too.”
He could live with that. “Agreed.”
“When do I get the house?”
“After everything is final.”
“What about the Mortimers?”
“They don’t belong to the house.”
She huffed out a breath, then waved her hand. “All right, fine.”
He felt the urge to laugh. Paige hated that word. Fine. So did he. Although, right now, he’d happily take it from his ex.
“I’ll make the agreed upon amendments to the settlement immediately,” Henry said, “and have them sent over by courier this afternoon.”
Whitney stood, shaking off her lawyer’s touch as he put an assisting hand on her elbow. On her mile-high heels, she stalked out ahead of him.
Good-bye, Whitney. And good riddance.
Henry clapped him on the back. “I’ll send you the new draft for approval in a couple of hours. Then we’ll get her to sign immediately.”
The sooner the better.
He wanted Whitney out of his life.
And he wanted Paige in.
Chapter Thirty
The red light on Paige’s desk phone flashed, indicating her next patient had arrived. Except that she didn’t have another patient. Edward Wood was her last of the day, and they still had fifteen minutes to go.
But she never interrupted a session unless it was an emergency. If need be, her receptionist would have called instead of simply flipping on the light.
Turning her focus back to the middle-aged man in her office, she said, “How did you feel when she said that, Edward?”
His wife had just left him for a younger man. A much younger man, to the tune of twenty years. Edward was still sorting through his emotions, which was one of his wife’s—ex-wife’s—complaints, that he had no emotions.
“I guess I deserve it. She always said this would happen if I didn’t change myself. And she was right.”
“Perhaps,” Paige suggested, “you could try thinking of it in another light. How about this?” Over the next few minutes, she detailed an alternative to his self-destructive thinking.
Her specialty was family therapy, but she never turned away anyone in distress. Edward was definitely in distress, even if he couldn’t figure out exactly why. Yet.
When their remaining fifteen minutes were up, she ushered him out.
And her unscheduled patient stepped in.
“Evan.”
She threw herself into his arms. Didn’t stop to think it over. Didn’t hesitate even the slightest. She simply gave herself wholly over to what felt right. To what she knew was right.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and when she pulled back, his expression was serious.
“Your assistant said you’re done for the day,” he said in a deep voice that rumbled through her deliciously. “But I was hoping you could squeeze me in.”
“Of course I can.” Her heart was racing as she took a step back. Then she closed the door. And locked it. Whatever he wanted to say to her, it was obviously something big. Important enough that he didn’t want to say it over dinner or in bed. She gestured to the couch, then took her usual seat.
“Please,” she said ever so professionally, “tell me what I can help you with.” Was it something to do with Whitney? Or his birth mother?
He was gorgeous in a dark blue suit, white shirt, and striped tie. And more serious than she’d ever seen him as he said, “I have a terrible confession to make.”
