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“This about Mrs. Lunceford?”
“Yes. Eric and I believe she’s in trouble. She’s clearly innocent, Patrick.”
“That she is. Pretty, too. What can I be doing for ya?”
He told him about Eric taking TBK’s jet to Dallas and about the meeting in New York.
“Don’t say another word, Scott. Take ours. I’ll call the pilot. What time do you want him ready to go?”
“We’ll leave Destiny at four.”
“Done. I’ll tell the pilot five thirty. Your brother and you be careful.”
“We will. Thanks, Patrick.” Scott clicked off his phone and put it on the charging station on his desk.
He stripped off his clothes and climbed into his lonely bed, hoping to get a little shut-eye before Gretchen knocked on his door in the morning. But he knew it wasn’t going to happen even after the sun went down.
Images of Megan whirled in his head like a kaleidoscope.
The first moment he saw her with the papers falling to the courtroom floor appeared. Then came the memory of her sitting at the defendant’s table next to them, her hands trembling, followed by sitting with her in the booth at Lucy’s. Walking next to her into his and Eric’s home. Leading her past the playroom and seeing her eyes widen in obvious surprise and a tinge of curiosity.
Every moment with her felt special and potent.
But she was still married to Kip. Did she still love him? Why hadn’t he bothered to ask her that?
Tomorrow he would make sure he found out.
Chapter Six
Megan found herself rested and nervous. Odd combination, but true.
Waking to Gretchen’s knock on her door had been so much better than a buzzing alarm clock. Even though the time was three in the morning, she’d slept soundly for way over eight hours. Ten or eleven at least. The big comfy bed and her full tummy had been just what she needed. The shock had come when she realized that her new job, personal assistant to the Knight brothers, was already in full swing.
She was going to New York with Scott, who had told her that Eric had another TBK meeting he was going to attend. When pressed, Scott had assured her that they were still serious about finding out who had used her computer to get into TBK’s network. He wanted her to be patient since it would take some effort and time.
Time? For so long it had ticked painfully for Megan. Since her mother’s death, every second piled on more hurt. The one shining spot in all the darkness had been her mother’s home, the only real thing in the world that was still hers. The Knight Mansion would’ve paled most of the homes in Preston Hollow or Highland Park in Dallas. Her house wasn’t in either but instead was in a part of the city where average, hardworking families lived, people who might’ve flown once or twice in their life like her, but never in a private luxury jet like she was now. Still, the little house was one place in the world that held the last happy memories of her mother. Before the cancer. Before her mother’s death. Before Kip.
She looked out the window at the clouds zooming by. Her only transportation for so long had been her car, or the DART train when Granny Gremlin wasn’t running.
She’d flown with her mother a year before she died. Her mother’s sister was the last family member they shared. Aunt Violet’s funeral was simple, with only three people attending—Megan and her mom, and the minister. The legroom on that flight didn’t compare to this one.
This almost didn’t seem real. But it was real. And so was Scott, sitting directly across from her in the plush leather seat.
“When we land, Megan, I’ve asked Dylan to take you shopping while I’m in my meeting.”
“The guy who put the lock on my door. I remember. Shopping for what?”
“Clothes.”
“I’ll need to know your sizes.” She reached for her purse to get out a pen. “Do you think the O’Learys have a notepad I can borrow on this plane?”
He shrugged and grabbed her hand. The touch made her heart race. “You don’t need to write this down, Megan. The clothes aren’t for me. They’re for you.”
She shook her head, not pulling free from his hold. “I’ll earn my way.”
“I know you will.” His endearing smile unhinged Megan and a shiver shot through her.
“Then why are you sending me shopping for clothes?” she heard herself ask irritably. “I told you that I’m not a charity case, Mr. Knight.”
