McIver's Mission

“What about Colin and Nikki?”

“I think they’re the exception rather than the rule.”

“Maybe,” he allowed.

“And they had their share of heartache first,” she reminded him.

“Some would call it paying their dues.” And they had both paid dearly when Colin walked out on the wife he hadn’t known was carrying his child. He hadn’t trusted that Nikki loved him enough to move halfway across the country with him. When Colin had finally come home, Nikki hadn’t trusted that he loved her enough to stay. But somehow they’d worked through the barriers of the past and were now blissfully happy together—Colin and Nikki and their daughter, Carly.

“I don’t ever want to fall in love if that’s the price I have to pay,” Arden said.

“You’ve never been in love?”

She shook her head. “No.”

He sat back and studied her. It was hard to believe that a woman who was thirty-one years of age had never been in love. Then again, he had been in love, and he couldn’t think of a whole hell of a lot to recommend it.

Still, he wanted a partner with whom to share his life. Someone with similar goals and values. And he wanted to have children. Not that he was in any particular rush to get married and start a family, but someday.

So he’d approached the problem like any other legal dilemma: with reason and research. He’d even made a list of the attributes he wanted in a wife: nurturing personality, good with kids. He would prefer to find a woman who’d be willing to stay at home to raise their children. His practice was successful enough that they wouldn’t need a second income, but he was willing to be flexible. His wife could work, so long as her choice of career wasn’t too demanding.

His sister-in-law had laughed when he’d explained his criteria to her. Nikki had accused him of trying to pencil love into his Daytimer like a court appearance, of wanting a woman who would be his subordinate rather than an equal partner. Shaun couldn’t deny there was probably some truth in that. After all, it had worked for his parents. And his experience with Jenna had shown him how easily conflicting ambitions could destroy a relationship.

He wasn’t looking for love. He didn’t want passion. No, thanks. He’d tried that before, and although fun while it lasted, it hadn’t lasted long. He wasn’t prepared to go through that heartache again.

Still, he couldn’t deny that he was attracted to Arden. Which made him wonder why he’d ever suggested this friendship thing. It would be a lot easier to get her out of his mind—and out of his fantasies—if he wasn’t spending time with her.

But, no, he had to propose that they be friends. Yeah, like that was likely. And they had a date scheduled for the annual ball in December. Not a date—a contract. An exchange of service for consideration.

He frowned. He’d never had to bribe a woman to go out with him before. He might try to convince himself he was sticking close to Arden to look out for her, but the truth was that he just wanted to be with her.

Shaun didn’t like to admit how often his thoughts wandered to Arden throughout the following week. How many times he picked up the phone, tempted to call her. Just to see how she was doing. He told himself it was because he was concerned about her, but he knew it was more than that.

He was attracted to her. He wanted her. And he had no idea what to do about it.

She’d made it clear she wasn’t interested. She wasn’t looking for a relationship, and she didn’t want to get involved with him. He’d have to be a complete idiot not to get the hint. He wasn’t an idiot.

He also wasn’t able to turn down a challenge.

Arden challenged him. It wasn’t a macho thing. It wasn’t that he wanted to get her into bed just to prove to himself that he could. He did want her in bed—after all, he was a healthy, fully functioning man—but it was more than that.

He liked that they had so much in common, and that they argued. Arden wasn’t afraid to disagree, to stand up for what she believed in. She had strength and conviction and heart. And the memory of the kiss they’d shared continued to linger in his mind and haunt his dreams.

Of course, she was a lawyer, and that was a pretty big stumbling block as far as he was concerned. He wouldn’t get involved with another lawyer—he’d made that mistake once already. He’d met Jenna while they were both attending law school at Harvard, and the attraction between them had sparked from the first. She was everything he’d ever thought he wanted in a woman: beautiful, sophisticated, intelligent, ambitious. He’d thought theirs was a love of the happily-ever-after variety; he hadn’t anticipated that her ambition would override all else.

He didn’t blame Jenna for walking out on him. She’d always been honest about what she wanted, and she’d made no secret of the fact that she did not want to stay in “Small Town Pennsylvania,” as she’d dubbed his hometown. It was Shaun who’d made the mistake of assuming she could be happy there, that her love for him would override her plans for her career.

He’d been wrong.

When she’d received an offer from a high-profile criminal defense firm in Boston, she hadn’t even hesitated. She had asked him to go back to Boston with her, but just as she’d known she’d never be happy in Fairweather, Shaun knew he’d never be happy anywhere else.

Maybe he hadn’t loved her as much as he thought he had. If she’d really been “the one,” he would have gone. And if she’d really loved him, she would have stayed.

He’d reached two conclusions as a result of his experience with Jenna. One, similar goals and expectations were more important to the success of a relationship than either sex or love. Two, he would not get involved with another lawyer. The next time he fell in love it would be with a woman who could love him back, who would be willing to put their relationship above all else.

Which proved that he shouldn’t even be thinking about Arden Doherty. By her own admission, Arden was committed to her career; her clients were the focus of her life.

Then again, just because she was the wrong woman from a relationship perspective didn’t mean that they couldn’t be friends. Except that he’d never found himself so preoccupied by thoughts of a “friend” before.

When the phone on his desk buzzed, Shaun picked up the receiver, grateful for the interruption. “Yes?”

“There’s a Ms. Doherty here to see you,” his receptionist informed him.

He felt his lips curve. “Send her in, Claire.”

“She doesn’t have an appointment,” Claire said pointedly.

“That’s okay,” he said. “She’s a friend.”

“All right.” But the receptionist didn’t sound pleased by this overt breach of office policy.

Shaun didn’t care. Arden was here.

He cleared his throat, banished the grin from his face and grabbed one of the files that was stacked on the corner of his desk. He flipped it open, pretending to be hard at work.

When he heard the knock and saw Arden peek around the door, the smile that returned to his lips was completely natural. He’d carried a mental picture of her in his mind all week, but it didn’t compare to the reality of her. There was something about Arden that reached him on a basic level and stirred his most primal urges.

Today she was wearing a dark-green skirt and jacket with a cream colored blouse. Her hair was twisted into some kind of fancy knot at the back of her neck, but a few strands had escaped to frame the clear creamy skin of her face. “Arden.” He stood up from behind his desk. “This is a surprise.”

“Next time I’ll make an appointment.”

His smile widened. He liked to think that Arden would have reason to come by his office again—as any friend might. “Claire takes her job seriously,” he apologized.

“Well, obviously you’re busy—”

“Not too busy,” he interrupted to assure her. “Have a seat.”

She hesitated, then moved over to one of the chairs facing his desk. She perched herself on the edge of the seat, the green skirt riding up on her thighs, exposing a few more inches of creamy flesh.

“Nice office,” she said, surveying the spacious surroundings.

He managed to tear his gaze away from her legs before she caught him staring. “I like it.”

She glanced at him, and their eyes locked for a long moment. Shaun would have sworn the air crackled with the awareness between them. Then she looked away and the moment passed, or maybe he’d just imagined it.

“I was heading back to my office after court,” she said, “and I thought I should stop by to return this.” She took his handkerchief out of her pocket, passed it across the desk to him.

He’d forgotten that she had it. He tucked it into his own pocket. “Aren’t you going to be at Carly’s birthday party tomorrow?”