“To southern California?”
“That’s right, south of Newport, surf town.” He shrugged and smiled. “It suits us, bikes and boards.”
“And not too far from Tijuana, right?” Willow said.
“The location is convenient for a day trip to Mexico. Dinner, shopping, you know.”
“Shopping for?” Leah asked.
He chuckled. They were talking about drugs, but he wasn’t going there. “Tequila, tobacco, good shit.”
“Ah, good shit.” Leah tapped her short, neat nails on the table. They were the opposite to his ex’s nails—hers were long black talons and reminded him of claws.
He clenched his fist, resisting the urge to take her small hand in his, just to feel the softness of her skin again and the delicate weight of her bones.
“Why are you here?” Leah asked, tipping her head.
“I told you, a few things to wrap up.”
“No, I mean why are youhere? Sitting next to me in Cheers and Beers, Mr. Harris. That’s what I want to know.”
Chapter Three
Leah stared into Carter’s ocean-blue eyes. He lived by the surf, he’d said, and she could almost believe some of that salt and spray had gone right into him, become as much of a part of him as the oil and petrol of his bike.
“Why am I here,” he repeated. He nodded his head slowly and nibbled on his full bottom lip.
“That’s what I asked.” She folded her arms.
“’Cause I want to be.” He held his palms up. “Do I need another reason to be sitting in a bar with two beautiful women?”
“An invite is a reason.” Leah battled with herself. It was like there was a devil on one of her shoulders telling her this guy was beyond gorgeous, that his bone structure, his eyes, the cocky, confident tilt of his mouth and the utter lack of vanity in the way he styled his hair, his clothes, was possibly one of the sexiest things she’d ever seen.
On her other shoulder sat an angel, telling her to ignore the devil’s pronged fork as it poked at her thoughts. With her halo shining bright, the angel preached about bad-news bikers, how they caused nothing but trouble, mayhem, and carnage. Her father would spit dust just thinking she was in a bar with one, let alone admiring the aesthetics of his face.
“So invite me,” he said, laughing now and flashing his perfect teeth.
“Actually,” Leah said, “I can’t invite you. This is a business meeting. We’re discussing a case and that’s confidential information.”
He laughed again, leaned back, and gulped his beer. “Yeah, right, even I know you wouldn’t do that. The walls in these places have ears. You’d get hauled over the coals for discussing a case in a bar.”
Leah gritted her teeth. He was right. They had an unwritten rule about where cases were discussed, and it was never broken.
“Not that I’m denying you’re a busy woman,” he went on. “Being a top criminal attorney and all that. And with a college education from…”
“Harvard.”
“Harvard.” He inclined his head as if showing he was impressed. “With a college education from Harvard, you’re no doubt very much in demand.” He paused. “So why are you in Pierce and not the Big Apple?”
“Why not?” In truth, coming back to her hometown had just been the easiest thing to do when she’d passed the bar exam, what with her mother not long buried and her father just elected mayor. She hadn’t been thinking straight, grief a lonely place, a long dark corridor with no way out—a corridor she was still walking.
“Why not?” He held up one hand with three fingers pointing up. “I hate to state the obvious but, one…” He folded his index finger. “It’s miles from the coast, and the air here is stagnant.”
Leah said nothing. She glanced at Willow, who shrugged then took a deep gulp of wine.
“Two,” he went on, folding another finger, “your father is mayor, beyond suffocating, right?”
She couldn’t disagree with that.