I'll Be Watching You

  Joseph looked it over, then handed it to Taylor. "It's in order."

  "I'm sure it is." She met his gaze squarely. "However, I'd like some time to read it, to review it with you alone so I'm sure I fully understand it, and to discuss the matter with Stephanie's parents. As you know,

  I don't make any major decisions regarding her estate without consulting with them."

  "Absolutely."

  "Of course," Horace Randolph concurred, his expression neutral. "Whatever you're comfortable with. Joseph can get back to me in a day or two."

  A day or two. Boy, wasn't he in a hurry?

  Taylor turned, inclining her head at Reed Weston and trying to dig up at least one of her answers.

  "Are you working with Mr. Randolph on the dissolution of this partnership?"

  A glimmer of amusement flickered in those midnight eyes. "Mr. Randolph doesn't require my assistance. But I do represent the Berkleys. I've known them for many years."

  "I see." She wasn't sure she did.

  Reed Weston pushed back his chair and rose. "If you're taking the contract with you, then you won't be needing me for questions or to witness documents. So, please excuse me."

  "I'm sure Ms. Halstead has to be going, too," Mr. Randolph added smoothly, coming to his feet. "As I understand it, she has a radio show to prepare for." He turned to his secretary, addressing her for the

  first time. "Ms. Posner, would you print off copies of the unsigned contract for Mr. Lehar and

  Ms. Halstead, then escort the two of them to the reception area?"

  "Certainly."

  Ms. Posner was out the door like a bullet, followed closely by the rest of the group. Talk about a New York minute, Taylor mused, glancing at her watch after she'd gotten her papers and said her good-byes. Once they saw she wasn't signing on the spot, Gordon's lawyers ended the meeting.

  She was itching to talk to her attorney alone.

  That plan hit a snag when, halfway down the corridor, Joseph was waylaid by another attorney—one who wanted to catch up. Fine. Hearing Joseph's take on things was going to have to wait.

  She made arrangements to call him the next day, then continued down the corridor, pausing to stop in

  the ladies' room before leaving.

  A quick, quiet partnership dissolution, she reflected, running a brush through her hair. The whole thing sounded sketchy. Not illegal. Just off-color. Then again, everything about Gordon Mallory was sketchy. So no shock there.

  She was lost in thought when she exited the bathroom, retracing her steps until she reached the reception area. Nodding at the receptionist, she reached for the doorknob on the heavy wooden door, at the exact second that the door swung open and a man strode in, nearly knocking her down.

  "Excuse me," he said, reaching out to steady her on her feet. "Are you all right?"

  Taylor raised her head to reply, but the words stuck in her throat as she stared into the hard brown eyes and sculpted features that had been etched in her nightmares since September. The color drained from

  her face, and she let out a sharp cry as she jerked away. "Let go of me!"

  "What?"

  "I said, get your hands off me!" She slapped his hands off her elbows and turned to run, feeling hysteria bubbling up inside her.

  The receptionist was staring at her as if she were a lunatic. So were the half dozen other employees who had rushed out of their offices at the commotion.

  Taylor stopped dead in her tracks, common sense telling her that what she was seeing was an impossibility. Simultaneously, reality descended with a crashing blow.

  The twin.

  A few seconds into this surreal scenario, Reed Weston materialized, making his way through to where she stood. "Ms. Halstead?" He gazed from her white face to the man standing behind her. "What's wrong?"

  "I... I thought... but it's not..." She sucked in her breath. "It must be his brother."

  "I collided with her in the doorway," the man behind her supplied. "But judging from her reaction, she wasn't prepared to see me. I apologize." He stepped around to face Taylor, but made no move to touch her. "I'm Jonathan Mallory, Ms. Halstead. I didn't know you'd be here. I'm sorry for the shock."

  "I..." She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. "Right. I figured out who you were about three seconds ago." Her voice sounded high and thin. Dammit, she had to get a hold of herself. She wasn't in the habit of losing her composure. And it wasn't as if she didn't know Gordon had an identical twin. It's just that he'd caught her by surprise—a surprise she clearly wasn't ready to handle.

  She had to try.

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Mallory." His name tasted like chalk, and she had to force out the words while gazing at

  a mirror image of Gordon in a slightly more conservative suit. "I didn't know you'd be here. If I had . .." To Taylor's dismay, she felt herself sway on her feet.

  "Let's get you a chair and some water." Reed Weston took her arm, leading her away from the reception area. "Jonathan," he said over his shoulder. "I'll be with you shortly."

  "Take your time."

  By the time Reed Weston steered her into his office and eased her into a chair, Taylor was seeing little black specks.

  "Put your head between your knees and breathe," he instructed.

  Taylor obeyed.

  A glass was thrust in her hand. "Drink."

  She sat up and took a deep swallow. "Thanks." The cobwebs were beginning to clear. "I'm all right."

  He perched at the edge of his desk, regarding her intently. "All this from running into Jonathan?"

  "No. I'm not that pathetic," she murmured. "I skipped lunch. I've been running around all day. Crashing into him was just the last straw."

  Without a word, Reed leaned back, pressed the intercom button on his phone. "Cathy?"

  "Yes, Mr. Weston?"

  "There are some muffins left from this morning's meeting. I'd appreciate your grabbing a few and

  bringing them to my office."

  "Yes, sir."

  He sat up. "Sustenance is on the way."

  Taylor finished off her water and set down the glass. "That's not necessary," she said, starting to get up. "I'm fine. Just on overload."

  "On overload and starved," he corrected, halting her progress. "I don't want you fainting on Park

  Avenue. It's rush hour. You'll be stampeded by the Grand Central crowd."

  With a weak smile, Taylor settled back. "True enough." She glanced around, taking in her surroundings for the first time. The furnishings were as staid and traditional as the rest of the place. But the size of the office— now, that was interesting. It was large, much larger than the other offices she'd passed, with the exception of those belonging to the senior partners. And its location was impressive, too—a panoramically windowed, southeast corner. Nice.

  Apparently, Reed Weston was held in high regard.

  "So what's the verdict?"

  Taylor's gaze snapped back to his, and she chose her words carefully. "That you're successful. That you're valued. And that you're probably going to be making partner at a very young age—if you aren't one already."

  A corner of his mouth lifted. "I'm not. But thanks for the vote of confidence."

  "I doubt you need it."

  Taylor fell silent as Reed's secretary came in, carrying a plate with two blueberry muffins on it.

  "Thanks, Cathy." He gestured for her to give the plate to Taylor. "Those are for Ms. Halstead." He waited while Taylor took the plate. "That'll be all for today," he added to his secretary. "Go on home. We'll finish that stack of letters first thing in the morning."

  "Yes, sir." The solid, efficient-looking woman with the mousy brown hair and conservative navy suit

  said her good-nights and left.

  Reed gestured at the muffins. "Eat."

  No coercion was necessary. She took a bite of a muffin. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, and the commotion. I'll be out of your hair in a minute."

  "No problem. Take your time."

/>   Taylor took a few more bites, then set down the plate. "I feel much better. Thanks."

  "You're welcome."

  He didn't seem to be in any hurry. He was still studying her.

  She crossed her legs and interlaced her fingers on her lap. "Mr. Weston ..."

  "Reed."

  "Fine .. . Reed. I take it Jonathan Mallory's here to see you."

  "Uh-huh."

  "Does that mean your representation of Douglas Berkley extends to his ... I'm not sure how to classify Jonathan Mallory. He's too old to be a ward or a foster child."

  "True." The knowing gleam in Reed's eyes told Taylor he knew she was on a fishing expedition. But it didn't seem to bother him. "I get your drift. And, yes, I represent Jonathan. We go back a long way."

  "Did you meet through Douglas Berkley?"

  "Nope. College. We graduated Princeton together."

  "So you're friends."

  "We're business associates."

  He was being vague. Attorney-client privilege, no doubt. Fine. She'd go at this from another angle.

  "Getting back to your promising future here, I realize you represent some major clients like Douglas Berkley. Other than that, do you specialize in any particular kind of law?"

  He didn't miss a beat. "I'm pretty versatile. But, yes, I specialize in criminal defense."

  Now, that Taylor hadn't expected. "As in representing crooked CEOs who've ripped off their investors?"

  Another hint of amusement. "Sometimes. Although it's usually a lot tamer."

  "Tame." Taylor waved away that assessment. "My guess is you're being overly modest. Firms like Harter, Randolph and Collins don't represent drug dealers. They represent huge corporations and

  affluent business moguls." Like Douglas Berkley, she added silently to herself. "You must be quite

  a brilliant defense counselor."

  "I do my best." Reed arched a brow. "Is the interrogation over, or is there more?"

  Easy, Taylor cautioned herself. Don't push. Get what you can. Joseph will fill in the blanks. "Sorry.

  I didn't mean to grill you."

  "Sure you did. But that's fine. No harm done." Reed shifted his weight, folding his arms across his chest. "Now it's my turn. Why are you so fascinated with Douglas and Jonathan?"

  His question was fair.

  She went for evasive. "I'm not fascinated. I'm curious. My cousin was dating Gordon Mallory when

  they were both killed in that boat explosion. She and I were very close. It's natural for me to ask questions about Gordon's family and friends."

  "Maybe," Reed responded. "But it's not natural for you to freak out when you come face-to-face with

  his twin. Or to nearly choke when you say his name."

  Taylor didn't reply.

  "You didn't like Gordon much, did you?"

  Okay, enough was enough. "I'd better get going," she said, coming to her feet. "I have a radio show to

  do, and you have a client waiting."

  Reed didn't push. Instead, he reached over, scooping up the napkin holding the remaining one and a half muffins and wrapped them up. "Here." He handed the makeshift doggy bag to Taylor. "Finish these on the run. Your listeners won't be happy if you collapse during the show."

  "You're right about that." She smiled, taking the muffins. "Thanks again for the rescue." She turned

  to go.

  "Taylor?" He halted her in her tracks. "It is Taylor, isn't it?"

  "Yes." Her gaze was questioning as she watched him cross over to her.

  "I think I should walk you out. It'll be easier for you." He didn't add because Jonathan Mallory's in

  the reception area. But that's what he meant.

  For the second time in the past few minutes, Taylor didn't put up a fight. She wanted out. And she wanted her exit to be as fast and painless as possible.

  She fell into step beside Reed Weston, heading down the corridor and toward the reception desk. She

  was relieved to see that the hall was quiet, with no gaping employees.

  No one but Jonathan Mallory, who was sitting in the reception area, thumbing through a Wall Street Journal.

  He rose as they approached him. "Is everything all right?"

  "Fine," Reed assured him. "Taylor just needed to be fed." He reached around her, pushing open the

  door. "Don't forget to polish off those muffins. They'll tide you over till you have time for a decent meal."

  "I will." Taylor paused, forcing herself to turn to Jonathan. "Again, I apologize. I'm tired. The resemblance startled me."

  He gave her a sympathetic smile, and a shiver shot up Taylor's spine. It was Gordon's smile. "I understand. Don't worry, my ego will recover."

  "I'm glad to hear that." She had to get out of there. "Well, I won't keep you gentlemen from your business. Good-bye."

  * * *

  Five minutes later, Reed shut his office door, turning around to face Jonathan. "Suppose you tell me

  what that was all about."

  His seemingly unruffled client lowered himself into a chair. "I have no idea. Obviously, she had issues with Gordon."

  "Issues? Yeah, I'd say so." Reed loosened his blue silk tie, then walked around to sit behind his desk. "Any idea what those issues were?"

  "Not a clue. Gordon and I weren't exactly tight."

  Reed let it drop. "What made you change your mind about showing up late?"

  "I didn't. Either your meeting went a lot longer than expected or you got a hell of a late start. I arrived right on schedule."

  Reed gave a tight nod. "We didn't get started until four-thirty."

  "So how did it go?"

  "She was cautious. She wanted to talk it over with her attorney and her cousin's parents. But she didn't refuse."

  "Fine. So it'll take a few days. After that, she'll sign."

  "Hopefully."

  Jonathan frowned. "You don't sound too optimistic."

  "I'm not. Something's bothering her. And that something concerns Gordon. Maybe she blames him for her cousin's death. Maybe it's more. Whatever it is, it might very well influence her decision. Remember, she doesn't exactly need the cash."

  "She needs the closure."

  "Agreed. The question is, how badly? Badly enough to appease whatever's upsetting her?"

  "I see your point." Jonathan considered the possible snag, then shrugged it off. "Let's cross that bridge when we come to it. If necessary, I'll talk to Douglas. We'll figure out a way around it." He cleared his throat. "Did she ask you anything about me?"

  "Oh, she went on a little fishing expedition. She wanted to know if I represented you, how we met,

  that kind of thing."

  "Really." Jonathan sounded more intrigued than worried. "Nothing about my relationship to Douglas?"

  "She made reference to Douglas being your sponsor. So if she knows anything more, she's hiding it."

  "No one manages to pull that off with you, Reed. If she was hiding something, you'd know it. You'd

  see right through her."

  "I'd probably get an inkling, yeah. I didn't."

  Jonathan settled back in his chair. "She's a real head turner, isn't she? I recognized her from the photo WVNY has posted on their Web site. But she's better-looking in person. A classic beauty."

  The personal, almost intimate note in Jonathan's voice took Reed by surprise. "I haven't checked out

  the site," he replied, keeping his tone noncommittal. "But, yeah, she's gorgeous."

  "There's a certain elegance about her," Jonathan continued, looking pensive and far away. "Rumor has

  it her cousin was also a knockout. Dazzling red hair, perfect features—the whole nine yards. Taylor's more subtle. Her hair's that deeper, rich shade of red, and her eyes are dark, somewhere between brown and black. They're very haunting and expressive. It's hard to look away from them." His lips curved.

  "I should know. They were boring into me as if I were the devil himself."

  This was getting more interesting
by the minute. "I didn't realize you were so taken with her."

  Jonathan seemed to snap out of his reverie. "I wouldn't say I'm taken with her. I don't even know her. But I have eyes. She's beautiful. I also have ears. I've listened to her radio show. She's got a shrewd