One Man's Family. Brenda Harlen

conscious of her presence behind him, wondering what had brought her here so early in the morning.

      Did she want him to check up on a spouse whom she suspected was unfaithful? He hadn’t seen a ring on her finger, but he knew that wasn’t conclusive evidence of anything. And while securing evidence of infidelity wasn’t one of his favorite assignments, it was, regrettably, a regular one. Still, he had to wonder at the stupidity of a man who could have a woman like this one in his bed and still look elsewhere for pleasure. Of course, it wasn’t his place to speculate or judge, only to do the job he was hired to do.

      He settled in behind his desk and pushed the stack of unopened mail aside.

      “I’d offer you coffee, but this—” he held up his foam cup “—is all I’ve got until my secretary gets in. Caroline’s very proprietary about the coffeepot.”

      She lowered herself onto the edge of one of the visitor chairs facing his desk and folded her hands in her lap. “I’m fine, thanks.”

      Scott took a long sip from his cup, hoping the infusion of caffeine would jump-start his brain and help keep it one step ahead of his hormones. “Why did you want to see me?”

      “I need you to get my brother out of prison.”

      The unexpected statement jolted him even more than her presence, followed quickly by a pang of disappointment.

      “I’m sorry, Miss—”

      “Juarez,” she said. “Alicia Juarez.”

      He paused, wondering why the name sounded vaguely familiar even though he was certain he’d never met this woman before. He had no doubt that he would have remembered.

      “Yes, well, Miss Juarez, you’re obviously at the wrong place. If you’re looking for a bail bondsman—”

      “I’m not,” she insisted. “I need you.”

      He wanted to smile. Unfortunately, as much as he enjoyed hearing those words come from her lush lips, he was sure she didn’t mean them the way he wanted her to mean them.

      She huffed out an exasperated breath when he didn’t respond to her announcement. “I thought Mr. Hall was going to talk to you about this.”

      Mr. Hall—now that name was definitely familiar. “Jordan sent you here?”

      “He recommended you to me—” and it was clear from her tone now that she was wondering why “—and promised he would give you the background on Joe’s case.”

      “I apologize for not making the connection sooner,” he said, as the scattered pieces finally clicked into place in his mind. “I only talked to Jordan last night and while he did mention you would be contacting me, I didn’t expect it would be first thing this morning before I’ve even had my first cup of coffee.”

      “I did intend to make an appointment,” she told him. “But when I called yesterday, your secretary said you’d been out of the office and I should call back today. I thought, instead, I’d try to catch you in person on my way to work this morning.”

      “And you did.”

      She nodded. “Did Mr. Hall tell you about my brother?”

      “Joe Juarez,” he said. “Convicted of stealing an engine prototype and its design plans from the racing team he worked for and sentenced to five years in prison.”

      “He was set up.”

      “Whether he was or wasn’t…” Scott said—and he had his doubts “…what do you think I can do?”

      “Prove his innocence,” she responded immediately.

      “The police already investigated the case, your brother had a trial, and the jury convicted on the evidence presented.”

      “But he didn’t do it,” she insisted.

      “I appreciate your loyalty—”

      “It’s more than loyalty,” she interrupted. “It’s the truth. I know my brother. He simply isn’t capable of doing something like this. And even if he was, he wouldn’t do anything that would even risk taking him away from his kids.”

      Scott couldn’t deny that she was convinced of the fact. Unfortunately, his experience in law enforcement suggested an entirely different scenario: if Joe Juarez was in prison, that was most likely where he deserved to be.

      “You don’t believe me,” she said softly.

      “It’s not my job to believe or disbelieve,” he told her.

      “How can you do your job if you don’t believe in your client?”

      “Actually, I don’t do a lot of investigating anymore. Most of what I do is surveillance.”

      “Oh.” She frowned. “But Mr. Hall said that you were the best person for the job.”

      Scott bit back a sigh as he realized that whatever Jordan had said to this woman, she’d believed it—probably as easily and completely as she believed in her brother’s innocence. He silently cursed his cousin’s wife’s brother for dragging his name into this mess. And then he cursed himself, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to say no to this woman with the big, dark eyes that so clearly projected the hope and faith she was placing in him.

      Still, he tried, because he really didn’t want to be responsible for dimming the light in those eyes. “I’m not sure I am the best person for the job.”

      Her chin lifted, just a fraction, and her mouth set. “Are you saying you won’t help me?”

      “I’m saying, I’m not sure that I can help you,” he corrected gently. “What if the only evidence to be found proves that your brother should be in jail?”

      “I don’t believe that,” she said stubbornly.

      “It’s a possibility you have to consider.”

      “Then you have to consider the possibility that he was wrongly convicted.”

      He had to respect her persistence. “Touché, Miss Juarez.”

      “Will you help me, Mr. Logan?”

      Damn, he really wished he could say no. The business was successful enough that he could mostly pick and choose his assignments these days, and he usually chose to work with big, faceless corporations, where the only thing at stake was money. He certainly wouldn’t have chosen a client who looked at him with such trust and vulnerability in her eyes and her brother’s liberty at stake.

      But she had chosen him, and he found that he couldn’t turn her away.

      “I’ll try,” he finally responded to her question.

      And the smile she gave him was so full of warmth and pleasure, it would have knocked him off his feet if he hadn’t already been sitting down.

      “Mr. Hall said you would need a retainer,” she said, already pulling a checkbook out of her purse, as if she was determined to finalize their agreement before he changed his mind.

      Scott nodded.

      The firm’s standard contract asked for a retainer of ten thousand dollars, but he knew that Jordan had handled Joe Juarez’s case through Advocate Aid, which meant there was no way she had that kind of money at her disposal. He would have to severely slash his usual hourly rate and work fast to get this job done on a budget this woman could afford. “Is fifteen hundred agreeable?”

      Her surprise was obvious and followed quickly by relief. She nodded. “That would be fine.”

      Scott pulled up the contract on his computer, changing the retainer fee and hourly rate on the form with a few quick keystrokes while she wrote out the check.

      “You know I can’t guarantee you the results you’re looking for,” he said, as he passed her the contract to review.

      She