Nell’s jaw tightened. Her grades might have been mediocre. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t good at her job now. She just hadn’t been good enough, or she would have recognized what Martin had been up to earlier than she had. She would have never initialed this or signed that.
And Rosalind could talk until she was blue in the face about Martin’s paternal devotion, but it had always come at a cost. He’d never been the loving father type. If Ros wanted his affection, she’d had to earn it by being a perfect reflection of him.
“You should be thanking him that he’s not reporting the situation.” Ros was shaking with her anger. “He’s still showing loyalty to you and that certainly wouldn’t be the case if he hadn’t been like a father to you.” She looked at the diamond watch around her wrist. “I think it’s time you move out,” she said abruptly.
“What? Right this minute?”
“Obviously not,” she snapped and dropped her arm. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”
That stung. “Since when?”
Her friend avoided her eyes. “Since a while now,” Ros said defensively. “We’re not college kids. We’re too old to want or need a roommate. It’s, well, it’s embarrassing frankly.”
That really stung. “And if I don’t want to move? The lease is in both of our names.”
“Then I’ll move.” Ros crossed her arms. “Jonathan and I have been talking about taking things to the next level. He wants a family and—”
Nell’s eyebrows climbed into her hairline. “Do you? With Jonathan? Two months ago, you told me he was good in the kitchen, but outside of it, not so much!”
Ros looked annoyed at the reminder. “Even if you hadn’t done what you did—”
“What I did?” Nell’s voice rose even more. “Rosalind Pastore, when have you ever known me to lie about something?”
Ros plowed onward. “It still would be time for us to start acting like the grown women that we are. I’m a partner at Pastore Legal now. I should—”
Nell lifted her hand, steeling herself. “Don’t. I don’t even want to hear it. Your father wants me out at the firm. You want me out of here. You always said you wanted to be like him, and you’ve succeeded. Congratulations.” Her voice went a little hoarse and she picked up her coffee, struggling for composure. “Soon as I can arrange it, I’ll be out of your hair, too.”
Ros’s eyes finally flickered, showing at least some semblance of emotion. “This didn’t have to get this ugly, Nell.”
She locked her knees. She felt like she’d been betrayed by everything she’d held dear for the last twenty years. She stared straight into her friend’s eyes. Because she knew in her heart that she hadn’t done one single thing wrong. Except put her faith where it didn’t belong. “Didn’t it?”
Ros was the first to look away. Then without another word, she ran quickly up the stairs. A moment later, Nell heard the slam of a bedroom door.
She sank down on the couch arm again, and covered her eyes with a shaking hand.
“You all right?”
Startled, she slipped right off the narrow edge of slick white leather to land ignominiously on the floor, hot coffee splashing everywhere. She grabbed the towel that had also slipped, barely keeping it above her breasts and below her butt, and stared at the door, which was slightly ajar.
Right at Archer’s damned face peeking through the crack.
Chapter Three
Her cheeks burning more than her coffee-drenched thighs, Nell quickly righted herself so that she was on her knees. “Haven’t you done enough? What are you doing here?”
He pushed the door open farther and stepped into the house. “I could hear your voices out on the street.” He picked up the coffee mug, as it had continued rolling across the black-tiled floor right toward his feet.
“That doesn’t give you permission to barge in.”
He held out his hand. “Need help?”
“Not from you.” With one hand keeping the bottom of the towel tucked against her thighs and the other keeping the top of it tucked against her chest, she managed to get to her feet. While she had only a length of coffee-splattered white terry cloth protecting her dignity, since earlier this morning, Archer had changed from the undershirt and navy pajama pants into blue jeans and a black pullover.
“And it wasn’t closed, by the way.”
She couldn’t even argue the point with him, because the door often failed to latch the first time around. “If you’re here to see your sister, she’s upstairs.”
He snorted and set the mug on the sofa table. “Stepsister. And no. I’m not.”
“Then have you come here to gloat?”
“Because you’ve left Pastore Legal?”
She didn’t understand why it disturbed her so much that he, more so than anyone else who’d been leaving her messages, knew about it. But it did.
“Nothing to gloat about,” he said calmly, completely ignoring her stony silence. “I figure you’re showing more sense than you have in the last ten, fifteen years.” He angled his head, his gaze roving over her. “Did you burn your legs?”
She had, but what was the point of confirming it? “If I ask you to please, please leave, will you?”
His lips twitched. Her life felt like it was in the toilet, but the man’s infernal green eyes still had the nerve to sparkle. “What do you think?”
She let out an impatient sound and turned to make her own run up the stairs. Ros’s bedroom door was tellingly shut as she passed it heading for her room on the opposite side of the hall.
She shut her door and went into her bathroom again, wetting a fresh cloth to wipe away the coffee on her legs. The skin was red and tender when she blotted it dry. Rather than dress in jeans, she pulled on a calf-length T-shirt dress that she usually wore only
