Single Mama's Got More Drama

“Vanessa Cain.”

“Ms. Cain. Hello.”

I swallowed.

“This is Bradley Harris.”

The man didn’t have to identify himself for me to know that it was the lawyer I’d come to dread hearing from. “Yes. I recognized your voice.”

“I called this morning, but I haven’t heard back from you.”

“Really?” I asked, feigning surprise as I rolled my eyes. “You know, we have a temp receptionist right now. She must have forgotten to give me the message.”

“That must be it,” Bradley said, but I could tell by his tone that he didn’t believe me.

“How can I help you?” I asked brightly.

“I’m calling to see if we can arrange a meeting to discuss the transfer of the condo to my client.”

The condo. Not “your condo.” As if I had no ownership of it whatsoever.

“You want a meeting,” I repeated.

“Yes.”

“You know, I’ve got a very busy schedule. Maybe we can arrange something in a few months.”

“Ms. Cain, I know what you’re doing.” The lawyer sounded a little exasperated. “You think that if you put this meeting off, the problem will simply go away. I assure you, it will not.”

I said nothing.

“There are two ways to do this. The easy way—and the hard way.”

I rolled my eyes again. Now the lawyer sounded like a character out of a bad movie. “You don’t have to threaten me.”

“I’m not threatening you. But you do need to know that this is a serious legal matter, one that won’t be resolved with stall tactics. And trust me, you don’t want this going to court.”

I frowned, thinking. I wasn’t too sure that Bradley was right. In fact, I figured he was trying to scare me. However, I knew that going to court would cost money. Money I didn’t have.

I didn’t have even the slightest interest in meeting with attorney Bradley Harris and the woman who had been a thorn in my side. But despite the fact that I’d been avoiding Tassie’s lawyer, I knew he was right. I couldn’t avoid Bradley and Tassie forever. At some point, this situation would have to be resolved.

Fine—if Tassie wanted a meeting, we’d have a meeting. However, she would soon learn that I wasn’t planning to hand over anything to her.

She was in for a fight.

“Ms. Cain?”

“When?” I asked. I knew I sounded testy, but I didn’t care. “When were you and Tassie thinking of having this meeting?”

“Early next week would be good for my client. We can meet in Miami, as I know that will be more convenient for you.”

“Very thoughtful,” I muttered softly, not meaning my words. But the lawyer was right. I would have to meet with him and Tassie Johnson sooner or later.

It would just have to be sooner.

“Will that work for you?” Bradley asked.

“Yes. How about Tuesday? The afternoon will be better for me.”

“Let me verify my schedule and speak with Tassie, then I’ll get back to you.”

“You do that.”

I hung up the phone, emitting a groan as I did. Then I forced myself to draw in a few steady breaths.

I was looking forward to this meeting as much as a person looks forward to root canal. But on one hand, I was glad that the lawyer had forced this meeting. Because with a date set, I would have to take action myself.

The last time I’d spoken with Bradley Harris, I’d been determined to fight back. Determined to keep my home from the hands of a greedy, conniving bitch. I’d called a reporter from the Miami Herald who’d followed the story of Eli’s death and asked for her help. But as the days passed and I hadn’t heard from her, I’d put the whole matter out of my mind, wrongly hoping that Tassie would simply go away.

I needed to call Cynthia Martin back, see what the reporter had discovered. Perhaps she’d forgotten my request or had been too busy to do any digging. If that was the case, my call would prompt her into action.

And if she’d been unable to find any dirt on Tassie, then I’d have to hire a private investigator. Because I knew the dirt was there.

I felt certain that Tassie was involved with the man who’d been at her side at Eli’s funeral. There was no law against that, especially since she and Eli had been separated for years. But it mattered in terms of the way Tassie had portrayed herself in the media—like the doting, grieving widow who’d never stepped out on her man, even though he’d had his own indiscretions. And she had painted me out to be a gold digger who had relentlessly pursued her pro-athlete husband for his cash.

Given her lies, I knew that for Tassie perception was everything. A woman like her would hate to have the truth about her own adulterous relationship exposed for the world to see.

And if she hoped to persuade a judge that she deserved my home because she and her husband had been very much together at the time of his death and that I was simply a woman on the side, she also needed to keep up her grieving widow charade.

With Cynthia’s help, I was about to blow that plan up in Tassie’s pathetic face.

Well, I hoped I was. Even if I believed that Tassie had been living her own life and had been romantically involved with at least one man in the past seven years, I still needed proof. Proof was the only thing that would persuade her to leave me the heck alone.

My temples throbbed. Talking to Bradley Harris and thinking about my predicament had brought on a headache.

I withdrew a bottle of ibuprofen from my desk and downed two capsules with the dregs of my cold coffee. As I was swallowing, my phone rang again.

I hesitated—and then was angry that I even had to be wary of answering my office phone. Damn Tassie Johnson.

I picked up the receiver and placed it at my ear. “Vanessa Cain.”

“Baby,” came the smooth, sexy voice.

My stomach tensed slightly at the sound of Lewis’s voice. It shouldn’t have, of course, considering he was my fiancé.

Then again, he wasn’t really my fiancé—well, not in the true sense of the word. He’d proposed marriage, and had assumed that I’d accepted. I’ll admit, I didn’t do much to let him think I hadn’t accepted his proposal, but I hadn’t really had a choice. He was the way out of a problem—the problem being the woman who wanted to take my home from me and my daughter. Lewis could easily give me the money to pay off Tassie Johnson.

The simple fact was that I couldn’t afford to turn down Lewis’s proposal. Not when I knew that it was part and parcel of his offer of financial help.