Chapter 1


�Mr. Shepherd? Mr. Pendleton is here to see you.�

����������� Logan Shepherd sat at his desk overlooking Boston harbor, silently acknowledging his secretary�s announcement over the intercom system. He took in the foliage of the beginning of Boston�s fall season and colored leaves blowing on the breeze. Then he turned and pressed the intercom button to let his visitor in.

����������� He�d anxiously been awaiting Nathan Pendleton�s appointment since the previous afternoon, when he�d received a frantic phone call at his law firm, desperately needing him to handle a case as quickly and�more importantly�as quietly as possible. The only details he could get from the phone call were the appointment time that afternoon and the knowledge that Mr. Pendleton was mad as hell.

����������� Logan turned in his swivel chair, his back to the doors of his corner office, and looked out on the harbor. Initially he liked to face away when prospective clients entered. After all, they came to him, not the other way around. Not that he�d ever turn down business from Nathan Pendleton. No lawyer in New England would turn down business from a Pendleton.

����������� Everyone in the area knew that Nathan had founded one of the largest investment banking firms in New England. He was known for plucking up Harvard graduates right off the podium at Harvard graduation ceremonies. Since Pendleton & Associates had been public, the company had made the Fortune 500 list every year and Logan could recall Nathan being on the cover of magazines like Forbes once or twice. No, no one would turn down business from Nathan Pendleton. He was a man to be reckoned with.

����������� As he watched the boats in the harbor, Nathan Pendleton was escorted into his office and Logan turned to greet him. He was shorter in person than Logan would have expected and thicker around the midsection. He was beginning to develop a paunch over his tailored Italian suit and gold belt buckle. His face would have been cherubic-like had he not been ready to blow steam the color of his gray hair out of his ears.

����������� �Would you like to sit down, Mr. Pendleton,� Logan offered, motioning towards one of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk. He dismissed his secretary, who promptly left the room and shut the twin doors behind her.

����������� Red with rage, Nathan stood huffing in the middle of the room, too mad to sit down. �Has my daughter arrived yet?� he asked.

����������� �No. I wasn�t aware that she would be meeting us here.�

����������� Snorting air through his nostrils, Nathan took a seat. �She�s the reason why we�re here. I don�t believe she�s late.�

����������� Logan eyed his prospective client quizzically. �Why don�t you tell me why you�re in need of my services then,� he offered gently, �or would you rather wait for her arrival?�

����������� �No, I�ll wait.� He paused, taking in the view out the window. Then exploded again. �Blast it all. This has my life in an uproar. My life has been chaos for the past three months.�

����������� Logan waited to see if he would offer more information before he pushed for it. He told himself he was intimidated by the likes of the man in front of him, regardless of the power he held in the city. He was the partner and the founding member of his own law firm. He told himself he was just as affluent as the incensed man across from him was. When no further information was offered, Logan began to lean. �I�m going to need some more information before I can represent you, Mr. Pendleton.�

����������� �Where the hell is Melissa?� he snapped back.

����������� �Melissa would be your daughter?�

����������� �Yes. My daughter. The reason why I�m here. Damned that child is so aloof. Don�t know whom she gets that from. Her mother wasn�t like that. She�s in that dreadful artist crowd,� he said, shaking his head. �She doesn�t belong with them. They all dress in black and say strange things. They drink and smoke too much as well. My daughter is a Pendleton. She shouldn�t be associating with such filth. But, that�s what she gets for owning a gallery.�

����������� �Which gallery does she own?�

����������� �A Touch of Class.�

����������� Logan nodded, knowing the gallery well. They sold expensive paintings and sculptures and had shows there a few times a month for different genres of artists. He�d read about the shows in the Arts and Entertainment section of the Globe and several interviews about the artists in Boston Magazine. Melissa Pendleton was painted as classy, refined, and almost borderline pretentious. Then again, she probably got that from the man who fathered her.

����������� He could picture her before she even arrived. High strung, high maintenance, fussy, impossible to please and spoiled rotten. He saw nails that were manicured weekly and a haircut in the latest fashion from an expensive stylist. She probably wore designer clothes with no concept of how much they cost. Logan knew people like that. Working in the financial district of town he worked with, walked by, and associated with people like that. Except he had remained grounded through it all.

����������� His ex-fianc� had not.

����������� �If it�s not a problem with you, I�d like to wait for my daughter to get here.�

����������� Logan relaxed in the back of his chair, folded his hands and removed his wire glasses to polish them with a special cloth he kept on his desk. As he wiped the lenses clear, he smiled at Nathan. �It�s not problem at all.�

 

����������� Melissa Pendleton knew she was running almost ten minutes late before she had glanced at her wristwatch. Mentally she scolded herself for allowing time to slip by unnoticed, because her father would definitely notice. His wrath was the last thing she needed now.

����������� �Hi Billy,� she called to her father�s driver as she turned up the steps of the Shepherd and Driscoll firm. No question about it now, Nathan had beaten her there. �Is he in a good mood?�

����������� �Sorry Miss P, I don�t think so.�

����������� �Great,� she muttered, �he�s going to kill me.�

����������� She didn�t want to get yelled at. She didn�t want to face her father inside the law firm. She didn�t want to go through the lawsuit either. Ever since she�d come home early from work that morning, her life had been one big event she didn�t want to go through. It had only been a few months since she�d gotten divorced. Her father hadn�t stopped yelling since then. Sometimes she thought her father was taking it harder than she was.

����������� There was nothing worse than being on the receiving end of one of his temper tantrums, she decided as she pressed the twenty-second floor button in the skyscraper elevator. After all, she wasn�t the one who was caught in bed sleeping with another man. The image was still fresh in her mind. Oliver�s naked body, glistening with sweat in between two long, tan legs. Him grunting out his passion while the scent of sex permeated the room.

Their bedroom. Their bed.

When the doors pinged open, she shook the image out of her head and walked through the open doors into the firm�s lobby. She walked briskly, not noticing the dark wood, the gold lining, the mirrors hanging on the walls. All she could think of was the mental beating she would receive from her father for keeping him waiting.

�I have an appointment with Mr. Logan Shepherd,� she told the secretary.

�Just a moment, please.�

Melissa took the moment to observe a painting that hung in the foyer. Red, navy, and forest green splattered across white canvas with a black shiny frame. She wouldn�t have chosen such bright, bold colors for her own personal taste. If she had been the decorator she would have gone with something more empowering to make a statement about the fierceness of the firm, rather than messy, arbitrary splotches.

�Miss Pendleton, right this way.�

As Melissa followed the secretary to large twin doors at the end of the hall, she realized she knew virtually nothing about the man her father wanted to represent them in this case. Then again, if her father wanted this particular firm to handle their affairs, it must be a reputable firm. Her father only got the best.

The secretary opened the doors and Melissa walked through them. Then she was face to face with her soon-to-be lawyer. And she was floored by how handsome he was.

Logan was putting his glasses back on as she stood stunned in the doorway. His short dark hair was combed neatly back from his tan face. A hard square jaw led down to a tan throat and a power tie. His shoulders looked far too broad to be confined to his gray suit jacket. His eyes were soft, as he looked her up and down from behind his glasses. She couldn�t remember the last time she had been looked at the way he was looking at her, like she was a woman, a normal woman, who hadn�t done anything wrong.

She was jerked away from her appraisal of Logan�s looks as her father began to berate her as soon as the doors had entrapped them inside the room.

�You�re late,� he said bluntly.

�I�m sorry, dad.�

�Sorry doesn�t cut it. You�re more than ten minutes late.�

She sat down in the chair next to her father, tucking her skirt underneath her as she lowered herself in the chair. She smiled slightly at Logan. �I�m sorry to keep you waiting Mr. Shepherd.�

Immediately he decided that she fit the image he had conjured up of her. Melissa was quite a becoming woman. Her suit was obviously from a designer and expensive, her dark hair was cut short and styled, her nails were manicured flawlessly. She definitely gave off the image that she had been groomed to perfection. She sat straight as an arrow with her back not touching the back of the chair, her legs crossed at the ankles, her palms folded neatly in her lap.

But what he didn�t picture was how beautiful she appeared. She radiated beauty, old-fashioned, classic features, a small nose, wide set eyes, and full lips with high cheek bones. Her features fit together perfectly within her porcelain skin. And she sat silently, awaiting whatever would happen next, like a statue. A sculpture of ice. But there was something about her, in her eyes and the way she looked around his office. Almost as if she were taking in the scenery and getting to know him by how he had decorated.

�You know I paid for those ten minutes you were late,� Nathan continued.

She winced slightly, looking like a dog wanting to cower with it�s tail between it�s legs. �I was busy,� she said softly.

�Busy! Busy doing what?�

�I had work.�

�This is work! What could possibly be more important than this?�

Melissa looked at the lawyer sitting across from her. It wasn�t the first time a stranger had witnessed her father reprimanding her. It wouldn�t be the last time either. She wondered what he was thinking about the spectacle her father was making out of this. �The show is tonight, dad. I have to get things ready for it.�

�You and your damned art shows. That�s your mother in you. Your mother was the one who loved art. But you shouldn�t be working like a dog there. No child of mine should be working the way you do.�

You mean at all, she added silently to herself. It was the same old speech she�d heard a thousand times and probably would a thousand times more. Nathan didn�t want her working. So far, it was the one time he hadn�t gotten his way . . . yet.

Logan watched the scene fold out in front of him as Nathan flung one demeaning remark after another at his daughter. He didn�t understand how she could just sit there and take it, not fight back, and not even try to. She just sat still, unwavering, like the statue of ice she appeared to be. She didn�t appear aloof as Nathan had mentioned, but more like a goddess that sat up high on her throne and could only be touched by deserving hands, like an ice princess who needed the heat from a warrior to melt her barriers.

When the display had calmed, Logan veered the subject away from Melissa�s tardiness and on to more pressing matters. �So, Mr. Pendleton, why don�t you explain to me what brings you here today?�

�My ex-son-in-law is trying to screw me out of my money. That�s what.�

Blunt, Logan thought, and the lack of details didn�t help. He watched Melissa for any reaction to her father�s blunt remark. She didn�t budge, not even a twitch, her face locked inside the ice. �Is this true, Miss Pendleton.�

Melissa nodded. She couldn�t help but think that the man across from her was watching her whimsically, measuring her up with a kind-hearted smile. His eyes were kind, gentle, very much unlike her now ex-husband. His eyes made him more handsome. A shudder ran through her at thinking that a man was handsome right in front of her father and so recently after her divorce. She looked away from Logan�s kind eyes and stayed very quiet.

�Why don�t you start from the beginning then,� Logan offered gently.

Nathan however, addressed the issue for her. �Melissa married Oliver Gamble about two years ago. I fixed them up. I thought he was a good man. He came from a good family.�

�He wouldn�t by any chance be Gamble of Gamble Oil Enterprises, would he?�

Logan whistled through his teeth. Nathan�s smile revealed all he wouldn�t say. Yes, Oliver Gamble was of Gamble Oil Enterprises. His family was as wealthy as the Rockefellers and the youngest of the magnates had married his only daughter. Logan could just imagine why Nathan would want him to marry his daughter, as if he hadn�t any money in the first place.

�Melissa and Oliver had a pretty standard prenuptial agreement. Separate and joint bank accounts, clauses about finances acquired after the marriage, things of the sort. But there was no adultery clause so the prenup couldn�t be voided when Melissa found him cheating.�

Stunned, Logan looked to Melissa for verification. �You actually caught him cheating?�

Tears welled up in her eyes. The image was back, as vivid as ever. She wondered how long it would take to erase it from her memory or if she would be forever plagued with remembering how Oliver lay between that woman�s legs. �Yes. I walked in on him.�

�Where?�

�In our bedroom.�

After a short silence, Nathan spoke. �Oliver�s defense is that Melissa was cheating first. He says that she was having an affair with one of the artists at the gallery. I told you that gallery was a bad omen.�

�Dad, stop it,� Melissa countered. �That�s not true.�

�You be quiet,� Nathan ordered her, �you�ve gotten yourself into enough of a mess I have to clean up. None of this would have happened if you had listened to me in the first place.�

As if someone had struck her, she flinched at her father�s words and looked down at her hands for something to say. Her hands offered no words of wisdom, so she looked to Logan. She didn�t like the way he looked at her, like he felt sorry for her, and not because her ex-husband was suing her.

�Where were we?� Nathan asked Logan as if his daughter wasn�t even in the room.

�Why don�t you let your daughter explain the story to me?� Logan asked and was met by a pair of utterly shocked faces.

No one talked back to Nathan Pendleton. Not once in her entire life had Melissa ever met a man who stood up to her father. Countless of times she wanted Oliver to grow a spine and defend her to him. Just once. But he never had, he never stood behind her at all and let him berate her, disagree with her, and disapprove of her without even so much as a word. Now there was a man sitting across from her, a man who didn�t know her or her father and had spoken up on her behalf. This man was suddenly the most attractive man Melissa had ever met.

�I found him three months ago,� she said with a shaky voice. �He was . . . in the act. After I kicked him out, I told her to stay. She and I talked for a few minutes. She, um, was very . . . pretty. Oliver told me later that he knew I was having an affair.�

�Were you?�

She stared straight into Logan�s eyes. �No. I was not. One of my clients had been sending me love letters that I had kept. Oliver found them and thought I was having and affair from them.�

Nathan shook his head. �I don�t know why in the world you kept them.�

�Please Mr. Pendleton, let her continue.�

It was the second time Logan had spoken back to Nathan. He wasn�t standing for it this time. �Don�t talk to me like that. I deserve respect.�

�This is true,� Logan replied evenly, �but so does your daughter.�

Melissa was completely appalled. Speaking back to her father was something she had never done, could never bring herself to do no matter how bad things got between them. Logan had just done what she had never been able to do�twice. �That�s basically it. We divorced rather quickly after that. Now he�s suing for fraud of all things.�

�Massachusetts is a no fault state, Miss Pendleton. It�s the only way he can get retribution from you monetarily.�

Ominous silence descended in the room while Logan weighed his decision of whether or not to provide representation. �I have no problems with taking this case, Mr. Pendleton. But surely you have a private attorney to handle certain situations such as this one.�

�I do, although generally my normal attorney only assists in business deals, not personal ones. I�ve been questioning the loyalty of a lot of employees after this fiasco. I don�t want any more talk about this in my office than needs to be. My own lawyer would cause for gossip in the office and there is enough of it already. Your reputation for handling cases discreetly is well-known.�

�Thank you, sir.� Nothing pleased a lawyer like Logan more than knowing he had a good reputation and was sought after.

�Then I came up with a reason why you would particularly be intrigued in this case.�

�And what is that?�

�Besides the handsome extra fee I�ll pay you to assure me this keeps quiet, Oliver�s attorney is Perry Wallace.�

Melissa watched Logan chew on that bit of information. She watched him sit back in his chair going over that fact, his emotions changing each time he repeated it in his mind. First it was initial reaction, then clearly upset by it as the corners of his male mouth turned downwards. Then he seemed deviously excited about it, anticipating something she couldn�t understand. As she watched Logan decide to take the case, she wondered who Perry Wallace was and why he would make him want to take the case.

Logan answered only when he was broadly smiling to himself. �This is an intriguing factor.� He stood up and extended his hand across his desk. �Congratulations, Mr. Pendleton, you have a new attorney.�

His acceptance greatly pleased Nathan as he pumped Logan�s hand twice in a silent contractual agreement. �Good. When should we meet next to discuss the case further?�

�You can make the arrangements outside with Barb.� He turned towards Melissa and extended his hand to her.

Melissa eyed his hand cautiously. When she feels his palm in hers it�s warm, gentle, and compassionate. His touch is electric and sends currents down her body, instantly causing her to smile. Somehow, she knows that everything will be all right if Logan is on the job. At least she has someone in her corner who will stick up for her when the time is necessary.

She smiled at her new attorney as she left the room behind her father. �Thank you, for sticking up for me back there.�

�Don�t worry about it. I�m in your corner now.�


Chapter 2


����������� Melissa arrived back at A Touch of Class about an hour later. Nathan had offered to take her to lunch, but she turned him down. Sitting in a restaurant full of professionals on their lunch breaks while her father complained loud enough for everyone to be eavesdropping on their conversations was not her idea of a meal. The ride back to the gallery in the car with him had been enough for the day.

����������� Besides, she had work to do.

����������� Thayer Moore was having his eighth showing at the gallery that night. He was the first artists to have a show there. He brought in clients, buyers, business, and single-handedly made A Touch of Class one of the most prominent galleries in the area. Melissa owed a debt of gratitude for making her business a success, but she owed him more than that.

����������� He�d opened her eyes up to painting, to creating art for herself. He�d shown her the beauty of expressing her emotions in colors and shapes on canvas, and how to take out her feeligns on molds of clay. Slowly, Thayer had shown her a new world.

����������� And at the same time, he�d destroyed her old one.

����������� �No time to think about that now,� she told herself, �there�s too much to do right now.�

����������� Having an art show gave her a sense of pride to know she was sending new art out into the world. Walking around the gallery, listening to people talk about the paintings they saw and dissecting what the artist was trying to say without words always put a smile on her face. It meant she was furthering a worth while cause.

����������� Art had always had a large place in her life when she grew up and she thanked Nathan for that. It was always important to him that she be cultured, have a love of the arts and that they had a place in her life. He�d been implanting the knowledge that men liked cultured women in her head at a young age. But he didn�t think she�d make a lifestyle out of it.

����������� Mentally she ran off a checklist of things that needed to be done before the workday ended. All the paintings needed to be arranged in the proper order, price listings prominently displayed. She had to go over the guest list, the press list, and make about a dozen phone calls. On top of going home, showering and changing into new clothes. She loved doing showings, though they usually stressed her out to the extreme end of the scale.

����������� The toll they took on her didn�t show until the next day when she was completely exhausted from spending hours and hours on her feet. And not having enough time to really stop and appreciate the art on the walls with everyone else because she was constantly running around, busy with the behind-the-scenes details made her restless. At almost every show, she�d barely found the time to be with her friends and Oliver.

����������� Oliver. Oliver had hated the shows, she remembered as she sat down in her office. While he enjoyed looking at paintings in museums and galleries, he found art to be a waste of his time and hers. He hated her shows. He�d hated them because they were crowded, because the smoke from cigarettes bothered his eyes, and most emphatically because Thayer was always around her. She�d stopped inviting him to the shows after a while.

����������� Then again, they�d stopped doing everything after a while.

����������� At least now the stress from the upcoming night would be welcome. It would help her keep her mind off the memory of Oliver in bed with that woman, and the fact she was being sued.

����������� �How did the meeting go?� Claire Easley asked as she walked into Melissa�s office. The two had been friends long before they were business associates and had no secrets from each other. Claire was the one who advised Melissa in times of need, let her cry on her shoulder when she�d walked in on Oliver, and let her stay at her apartment with her boyfriend, Roger, until she was back up on her feet.

����������� �All right. Dad hired the attorney we met with?�

����������� �Really?� she asked while she played with her long red curls. �He must have impressed Nathan. What�s he like?�

Melissa thought about Logan. Having only been with him for a few minutes, she�d barely had time to take in how handsome he was, how commanding and authoritative he was, the amount of intelligence he had. It didn�t take long before she was foaming at the mouth, a reaction that disgusted her the more she thought about it. She was tongue-tied around him. He had an air of confidence to him that was completely different from Oliver, from her father. He had the temerity to stand up to her father. Oliver wouldn�t even do that.

No matter how much easier it was to develop a crush on an attractive man than think about Oliver and the lawsuit, finding someone attractive again was an odd feeling. Especially when she�d only been divorced a few months.� But she�d rather have the face of Logan Shepherd in her fantasies than the image of her husband with his ass in the air while he screwed some girl senseless. Ex-husband, she reminded herself. Oliver was her ex-husband now.

�He�s nice,� Melissa answered after a while. �We didn�t really get to go over many of the details of the case today. I�ll be meeting with him again tomorrow but it went very well, I think.�

�Good, I�m glad. Did Nathan give him a hard time at all?�

Melissa chuckled a little. �Is the sky blue?� Then she smiled to herself, privately reliving the stunned expression on her father�s face when Logan spoke back to him. She�d wished she�d had a camera to capture that expression forever.

�What?� Claire prompted.

�Nothing I was just thinking.� She paused. �Mr. Shepherd spoke back to my father.�

�Are you kidding? No one has ever done that before.�

�I know. I�ve never seen anyone stand up to him. I�ve been thinking about it since I left the law firm. It was . . . impressive.�

Claire looked her up and down. She knew instantly that there was more to Melissa�s distant gazes than she was willing to admit. �Uh-huh,� she summated.

�What?�

�I know you, Melissa. I�ve known you since we were in grade school. I�ve never seen that look in your eyes before.�

Melissa shook it off. �What look?�

�I�m not sure. I can�t place it just yet. But I will.�

The buzzer on the front door to the stop rang, signaling a visitor. Claire left to go see that was there. She re-entered the small office looking grim. �It�s Thayer. Do you want me to tell him you�re out?�

�Stop it, Claire. Just because this mess is going on, he�s still my friend and he�s still having a show here tonight.�
����������� �Sure,� she said indifferently. �And one of these days you�ll tell him that he doesn�t have a chance with you and you�ll admit that he�s the reason why you got divorced.�

Melissa tossed her a condescending glance and released the door lock from a switch on the wall.

Thayer walked into Melissa�s office a few moments later. He was dressed in his trademark black slacks with a black button down shirt. A lit cigarette was hanging out of the corner of his mouth. A closely trimmed beard added to the scruffy image his dark hair and dark eyes gave. One look at him and she labeled him as the artist he was and hearing his thick, British accent labeled him as the Englishman he was.

�Hello darling,� he greeted as he kissed both of her cheeks. �How are you feeling this afternoon?�

�The meeting went well, Thayer,� she answered, knowing he was inquiring about the meeting with the attorney. �I think everything will work itself out in the end.�

�I still can�t comprehend that bloke, Oliver. What kind of man does he think he is?�

�The kind that wants to get his hands on any money he can. If he gets a cent from my father, I might have to move back to London with you.�

�It�s your money, too, Melissa. Don�t forget that.� He stood in the center of her office taking long, deep drags off his cigarette and exhaling smoke into the room. Normally she didn�t prohibit smoking in her office, but she�d make an exception for Thayer and act like it didn�t bother her. �The whole thing is an outrage,� he continued, �I don�t know who he thinks he is. Sleeping around and expecting a handout from you for it.�

She shivered. She knew all too well how he was sleeping around. She�d never forget it. �Let�s change the subject. Everything will be, as it will. Let�s talk about the show.�

Thayer ashed his cigarette out in the ashtray on her desk, sitting there specifically for him. Nervously, he lit up another one, took a long drag, then exhaled. �I�m tense about this show tonight. The new line is radically different from my previous attempts. I don�t know how the Boston conservatives are going to treat them.�

�I wouldn�t worry about it. The new line is very contemporary and contemporary is in style. Colors are back in fashion with artists like Britto being so popular. I think the brightness will sell very well.�

He nodded and took another drag. �What press is coming?�

She looked through a file on her desk. Publicity was highly important to Thayer. After being in the States for long enough, he had learned that publicity was everything. Since then, he�d fed off of the press. To him, they allowed audiences to increase exponentially. Those who wanted art, wanted it and they didn�t care about what the critics said. The press got that word out faster than any show ever could.

�The local news is covering it, but that probably only means a ten second bit during the eleven o�clock news. If that. The Globe and the Herald both have critic�s names on the guest list. Boston Magazine might have a short review in the next issue, but they haven�t scheduled anything yet.� She closed the file. �That�s more than the last two shows together.�

�Good. My agent has done well getting out the press releases. And I knew your word of mouth would attract a high audience. I would greatly like to sell out tonight as well.�

�So would I. I could use the gallery�s commission if Oliver wins the case.� She shook her head, not amused at all by her sarcasm. �Let�s go over the selections for the evening again and make sure everything is to your liking.�

Together they walked around the showroom, looking at the paintings hanging on the open walls. Thayer made sure all the frames were perfectly even. Then he requested that two paintings be switched with each other because the color schemes were complicated better in the different order. He was a perfectionist.

Thayer didn�t speak again until the entire room had been surveyed. �I think the publicity might even work well for your case.�

�No. The papers don�t have wind of this yet. If they did, then I�d have reporters calling me at home. I don�t. And I don�t want them finding out about it. I�d prefer if this could be over with as quickly and as quietly as possible, even though I know Oliver will spring this into the press at the worst moment in time. Just don�t go making a spectacle about it to anyone.�

Thayer smiled softly. �I haven�t and I won�t. But darling, having the press release your end of the story first might work to your advantage later. I just don�t want anything bad happening to you.�

Too late for that, she thought to herself. She watched the way he looked at her, wanting in his eyes, unrequited love in his words. It wasn�t hard being friends with someone who wanted her. Of course, she was on the proper end for having a friendship. Sooner or later Thayer would have to get the hint that they wouldn�t end up together. She didn�t have the heart to actually spell it out for him.

�I appreciate your concern with all of this, Thayer. But I�m going to leave decisions like that up to my attorney. Then this whole mess will go away as painlessly as possible.�

It would be nice to have that happen, she decided as she assessed the room with a final glance. Life would return back to normal then and she wouldn�t have to deal with her fears of losing all she�d worked for, the onslaught of one-sided screaming matches with her father, or having her life get disrupted by a battle with her ex-husband. Maybe then she wouldn�t have to think about the blow of walking in on Oliver cheating. Or worse, how when she had announced her arrival, how he didn�t even care.

That was the reality shock for her. How long had she been living a lie for? How long had she been living with a man she didn�t love, who didn�t love her? He had been cheating on her and it didn�t even mean anything to him. That was not the marriage she had intended to have. And she didn�t have it anymore.

Melissa stopped in front of the last painting in the row. Thayer painted her often, many times in abstract, a few times in portraits like the one she was looking at. It was of her, holding a flower in the public gardens. It could have been a still photograph blown up to real life. Thayer had a way with making things beautiful. He made her look beautiful in his paintings.

There was a dark image looming in the background of this painting. She knew it was supposed to stand for Thayer, lurking behind her, his love forgotten in the shadows of her life while she stood in the sunshine. It meant that he didn�t feel good enough for her, that she didn�t see him there, didn�t acknowledge his feelings.

As Melissa stared at the dark figure, she couldn�t help but wish for it to be Logan Shepherd, watching her, protecting her.

 

After a long day at the office, Logan was home at his apartment. They sun had long since set and the sky was dark. It was past dinner anyway. Once he had officially become the Pendleton attorney, he�d dug up any information he could on the family, their business, and on the Gambles. The routine would be a little easier tomorrow when his partner was back in the office and he could get all the details he needed from Nathan and Melissa.

Logan set his key down on the table near the front door and gazed around his home. He lived a spacious one bedroom with a view of the Boston skyline out his wall of windows. He�d hired a decorator to make sure his end tables matched his couches and his armoire went with all the other furniture. The place was impeccably clean. The wood floors shone with high brilliance shine. He didn�t like being alone in it. When he�d first looked at the place, he hadn�t thought he�d be living there alone.

As he walked into the kitchen, he thought about all he had to look forward to. He was going to go head to head with Perry Wallace in the courtroom. It had been a year since he�d first wanted to do so. He opened the door the fridge, marveling at how fast time could sometimes fly.

Sometimes it felt like yesterday since Vanessa had left him. Other times it felt like ten years. He plucked out a soda from the fridge, wishing it were a beer. When Vanessa had first left him, he drank beer every night when he got home from work. The firm took his mind off of how she�d left him during the day, but there was no one to console him when he got home at night. He�d been too busy establishing the firm at the time to have many close friends and his partner had been preoccupied impregnating his wife.

Eventually he drank from when he got home at night into the morning. He�d been drunk for almost a month before he snapped out of it and decided to get over her by running off his new beer belly in the gym than drinking himself to sleep at night. Sometimes he thought about buying a treadmill to put in his apartment. He had the room for it. Maybe then the nights wouldn�t seem so lonely anymore.

Vanessa was the one who wanted the big place to live in. It was what she�d been used to. She�d been born into high society and with that went privilege and money. When they�d met at law school, she�d already had enough money to open her own firm. He didn�t. The difference between them was getting into school off legacy in the family and getting into school because of working damn hard throughout life.

When he�d met her, he wanted to impress her. She listened to his high hopes of one day opening his own firm and being his own boss, determining which cases he wanted to take and reaping all the benefits from making the key decisions. She said she would support and stand by him.

It wasn�t enough that he landed a lucrative job in Boston. It wasn�t enough that he made enough money in the first three years to open his own firm with a partner. It was never enough for her. Nothing ever really impressed her. By the time he had made enough money at his own firm to really impress her, to really give her the life she was used to, the life he always wanted, the life they could share, she had left him a Dear John letter. And when he turned around next she was married to the senior partner downtown.

He was over her, had been for a while too. He�d dated other people, even if it wasn�t the same. He still couldn�t bring himself to take down the last picture frame.

The apartment was quiet, empty. The space seemed to stretch around him, swallowing him up with the openness. Maybe he�d get a dog or something to keep him company. It would be so silent then.

He sat on the couch and turned on the television. He flipped through the stations to the local news report as he took long swigs of soda. It was the same old story on the television that night. There was the daily run of people who had been killed or robbed in the suburbs, break-ins in convenient stores, and a fire here and there. More crime for the lawyers of the world.

Then he thought about Melissa Pendleton. She was classy, refined, proper, and very much like Vanessa in those ways. They both were born into the world with money and prestige and the knowledge that they were taken care of if they needed it, or wanted it. But they were different too. She was only in his office for a few minutes, but he could detect vitality in her eyes. Somewhere, buried deep inside of her under layers of ice, was heat aching to be released. He saw it when she looked at him after he had rebutted Nathan. There was something inside of her that wanted to come out. He�d caught a glimpse of it and he wanted to see more.

Classy. For a long time, he thought he should be with someone classy because he was out to prove something to the world. That Logan Shepherd who came from nothing could make something of himself and have a beautiful, elegant woman by his side. For a long time, he had been out to prove something to all of the world who thought he wouldn�t make it and couldn�t do it. He�d succeeded. And now he was alone.

He�d learned that he should be with someone like that because he wanted it. Because he deserved it. He deserved a woman like Melissa Pendleton, who only knew expensive meals and luxury automobiles.�� She probably never needed to work a day in her life. Not with daddy dearest following her around like a watchdog, not when she could live out of his pocket forever if she chose. But she didn�t. She was out doing something with herself. She was running a gallery.

That was what was different. Beneath the placid appearance of the submissive daughter, there was a woman with her own desires wanting to be released. If he won this case, maybe he could help her escape.

Just then, Logan realized he�d been thinking of her all day. That he�d allowed his mind to drift to her while he worked on the case. It was why he had asked his secretary as soon as they had left what time their next appointment would be, and it was why he was relieved to know he would only have to wait another day to hear more about her and her gallery.

����������� Her gallery. There was a show there that night that she had been speaking of earlier that day. Logan didn�t think as he got his coat and went to the door. He didn�t know why he was leaving again after just getting home. All he knew was he had to get to that art show.


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