Marrying a Delacourt. Sherryl Woods

is so cool,” Jamie pronounced, his sullen defiance slipping away. “Like in a magazine or something.”

      “There’s even a cookie jar,” Josh announced excitedly. “A really big one. You suppose there are any cookies?”

      “We’ll check it out after you’ve eaten a sandwich,” Michael said. He poured them both huge glasses of milk and made them thick ham and cheese sandwiches, which they fell on eagerly, either in anticipation of home-baked cookies or because they were half-starved.

      Watching the boys while they devoured the food, Michael realized he needed advice and he needed it now. He needed an expert, somebody who understood kids, somebody who knew the law. Even as that realization struck him, he had a sudden inspiration. He knew the perfect person to get them all out of this jam. He walked into the living room, grabbed his portable phone and punched in a once-familiar number.

      Grace Foster answered on the first ring, just as she always did. Grace was brisk and efficient. Best of all, she didn’t play games. If she was home, why act as if she had better things to do than talk? He’d liked that about her once. Heck, he’d liked a whole lot more than that about her, but that was another time, another place, eons ago.

      Now about all he could say was that he respected her as a lawyer, even if she did make his life a living hell from time to time.

      “What do you want?” she asked the instant she recognized his voice.

      “Nice to speak to you, too,” he countered.

      “Michael, you never call unless there’s a problem. Since we don’t have any court dates coming up, just spit it out. It’s Friday night. I’m busy.”

      “Whatever it is can wait,” he retorted, troubled more than he liked by the image of Grace being in the midst of a hot date, one that might last all weekend long. He preferred to think that she led a nice, quiet, solitary—maidenly—existence.

      Although he’d intended only to ask for advice, instead he said, “I need you to get on a plane and get over to Los Piños tonight.”

      He said it with absolute confidence that she wouldn’t refuse, not in the long run. She might grumble a little, but once she understood the stakes, she wouldn’t turn him down. He wondered just how little he could get away with revealing. Maybe just the lure of sparring with him would be enough. His ego certainly wanted to believe that.

      “Excuse me? Why would I want to do that?” she asked. “It’s not like your every wish has been my command, not for a long time now.”

      She employed that huffy little tone that always turned him on although she intended the exact opposite. He could envision her sitting up a little straighter, squaring her shoulders. She had no idea that her efforts to look rigid and unyielding only thrust out her breasts and made her more desirable than ever. He bit back a desire to chuckle at the mental image. Grace was a real piece of work, all right. She might be pint-sized and fragile-looking, but she had the soul and spirit of a warrior. It was a trait he suspected was going to come in handy.

      “You’ll come because you know I wouldn’t ask unless it was important,” he told her patiently. Then he dangled an impossible-to-resist temptation. “And you can hold it over my head for the rest of our lives, okay?”

      “Now that is an intriguing idea,” she said with considerably more enthusiasm. “Care to fill me in?”

      What a breeze, he thought triumphantly. Even easier than he’d anticipated. He hadn’t even had to pull out the big guns and tell her about the kids.

      “I’ll fill you in when you get here. Can you be at the airport in an hour? I’ll have the Delacourt jet fueled up and ready. The pilot can see to it that you find me once you land over here.”

      “Michael, really, there has to be someone else you could call, someone closer.”

      “There isn’t,” he assured her.

      “But I have plans. I’ve had them for ages. I hate to cancel.”

      Damn, she was still trying to wriggle off the hook. “No,” he said firmly. “It has to be you. This is right up your alley.” He sighed heavily, then added as if it were costing him a great deal to say, “I need you, Grace.”

      “Hah! As if I believe that for a minute. You’re overselling, Michael.”

      “Trust me. You’re the only one for this job.”

      This time she was the one who sighed heavily. “Okay, okay. When you start laying it on this thick, my curiosity kicks in. But I have to finish up what I’m doing here. Make it ninety minutes,” she said. “And, Michael, this is going to cost you. Big time.”

      “I never doubted it for a second,” he said.

      Only after he’d hung up did he stop to wonder why he’d instinctively turned to Grace, rather than his sister-in-law or one of the Adamses right here in town. He told himself it was because this situation all but cried out for a woman to deal with the two runaways, but he hadn’t gotten where he was in life by deluding himself. His sister-in-law was not only obviously female, but a doctor, as well.

      No, he had called Grace Foster, because as much of a pain in the butt as she was to him personally, she was the smartest lawyer he knew. If these boys were in some kind of trouble, he couldn’t think of a better ally than Grace.

      But it was even more than that, he admitted candidly. A part of him liked wrangling with Ms. Grace Foster more than just about anything except watching a new million-dollar gusher spewing crude into the Texas sky.

      Chapter Two

      Grace could hardly wait to hear what had caused Michael Delacourt to condescend to beg her for help. As annoyed as she was at being imperiously summoned across the state on a Friday night, her curiosity had gotten the better of her.

      And contrary to what she had deliberately led him to believe, he had not caught her in the middle of a pressing engagement. A long, boring weekend had stretched out ahead of her, so Michael’s call had been a welcome diversion, a chance to break out of the rut she’d fallen into in recent months. She slaved like crazy in court all week long, then did more of the same on weekends so she wouldn’t notice how truly barren her social life had become.

      But even better than a break in routine, the promised chance to hold this over the man’s arrogant, egotistical head for the rest of their lives had been an irresistible lure. Given the number of court cases on which they found themselves on opposing sides, it was an edge she couldn’t ignore.

      There was more to it, of course. There had been a time in the distant past when she had almost allowed herself to think about a future with Michael. But then she’d realized she would always play second fiddle to the family business. It was a role she flatly refused to accept.

      Grace had already spent an entire childhood trying to figure out why she hadn’t been smart enough or pretty enough for her father to love her. Norman Foster had left her and her mom when Grace was barely five. The unexplained departure of her adored father had all but destroyed her self-esteem. It had taken years to restore it, to accept that his going had had nothing at all to do with her. She wasn’t going to waste the rest of her life wondering why she didn’t have another man’s full attention.

      She had broken off with Michael the same day she’d graduated from law school. She’d had clues from the beginning of their relationship that work came first with him, but his failure to appear at the important graduation ceremony had made it all too evident where she fit into his priorities. Even his profuse apologies and a barrage of expensive gifts—all of which she’d returned—hadn’t convinced her he would ever be able to change.

      After pursuing her with flattering determination for a few weeks, he had accepted that the breakup was final. When he’d actually stopped calling, she’d suffered a few serious twinges of regret, but on balance she knew she’d done what she had to. She knew better than to think a man would change.

      That