Second Time Lucky. Debbi Rawlins

card, too?”

      Peter shrugged. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”

      “Do we have a chance of wooing him back?”

      “Good question.” His father put on his glasses. “We’ve lost a few smaller clients in the past couple of months, legitimately as a result of the economy, and nothing that would ordinarily concern us, but at this juncture, throw Decker and Cromwell into the pot and we’re in trouble.”

      David sank back in his chair, his head feeling as if it weighed a ton. He never thought he’d see this day. Pearson and Stern had been a reputable, prestigious firm his entire life. “What happens now?”

      “We cut back,” his father said. “No more weekly fresh flower deliveries, and the daily catering for the break room and conference rooms are to stop. You’d be as shocked as I was at how much those two items alone will save us.”

      “What about layoffs?” Peter asked.

      The question startled David, especially when neither his father nor his uncle balked. He hadn’t dared allow his imagination to go that far. Naturally he understood this was serious, but there had been other lows in Pearson and Stern’s history and they’d always taken pride in keeping every one of their employees. “Layoffs? Surely we’re not at that crossroad. We haven’t tried to drum up more business yet.”

      “Not quite true. Your uncle and I have made some calls, but we’ve come up empty.”

      David stared at the defeated look on his father’s tired face, and the heaviness in his chest grew. It wasn’t just his reasoned approach to business that made David admire the hell out of his dad. He’d always been a fair employer, a dignified member of the bar association, and David was glad that he’d recently been able to pull back from the office to spend some much deserved time on the golf course. “I can make some calls, too,” he said, withdrawing his BlackBerry from his pocket. “A couple of my old law professors from Harvard should be able—”

      “David. Wait.”

      He glanced up.

      “There is something you can do. That sharp young attorney, Mia.”

      “Mia Butterfield,” Peter clarified.

      “Right.” Lloyd Pearson leaned forward. “There is a potential new client considering our firm. A very big client, who requires the administration of a rather large charitable foundation. That means a hefty retainer and billable hours for two to three full-time attorneys.”

      “What does this have to do with Mia?” David asked, confused. “You do know she no longer works here.”

      “Sadly, yes, because the new client has stipulated that Ms. Butterfield be in charge of the account.”

      “That makes no sense. Mia never did estate planning.” David exhaled. “We have a stable of extremely talented tax and estate-planning attorneys. Or I could take on this new account myself.”

      His father shook his head. “I’m afraid not having Mia Butterfield handle the account is a deal-breaker, and no, there was no further explanation. You worked most closely with her. You’ll have to convince her to come back.”

      “I doubt that’s possible.” He vividly remembered the day she’d delivered her letter of resignation. She’d stayed while he read it, then without hesitation on her part or even a trace of regret she was out the door.

      “Offer her a bonus, a promotion, certainly a raise. Whatever it takes. We need this business, David, or we bring out the chopping block.”

      David loosened his tie and sank back. It was no use denying he wanted to see her again. For an instant he had wondered if her leaving would end up being the best thing that could’ve happened.

      Damn it. Yeah, he wanted to see her again all right. But not like this.

      2

      THE HOTEL HADN’T CHANGED much in six years. Which was a very good thing because why mess with perfection? The lobby was airy and open, the fragrant scent of exotic flowers and salt water carried on the breeze that never failed to cool Mia off no matter how warm and humid the air.

      She and Lindsey were headed to the Plantation Bar—by way of the sundry store to pick up a pair of sunglasses Lindsey had forgotten to pack—when they spotted Shelby walking through the lobby, alongside a bellman who carried her two designer bags.

      “Look at her. She’s already tanned,” Lindsey said, shaking her head. The short pink sundress bared her shoulders and most of her legs, and a few more highlights had been added to her tawny-colored hair. She looked relaxed and happy, as if she’d already been here a week. So Shelby.

      “Tanning salon,” Mia murmured and lifted a hand to get their friend’s attention. Mia had planned on using a tanning bed, too, but there had been no time. Up until her final day at Pearson and Stern she’d worked feverishly to make sure all loose ends were tied up and her one open case had been seamlessly turned over to one of the other junior associates. Then there had been some advance orders to place for the new business. Life had been hectic.

      “Shoot, I worked up until the last minute,” Lindsey said. “I didn’t even have time to pick up some bronzing lotion.”

      “I’m just glad we got some sleep on the plane.” They’d met up in Chicago and flown together directly to Honolulu. Since Shelby left from Houston, she’d come on her own. Having company, though, hadn’t mattered much to Mia or Lindsey. After chatting for half an hour, they’d both crashed for most of the flight.

      “Aloha.” Shelby greeted them with a grin, her teeth particularly white against her tan face.

      Mia noticed that she’d gotten a manicure, pedicure—the works—while Mia had been lucky to squeeze in a hair trim. “I hate you,” she said, eying Shelby’s strappy gold sandals and pretty pink toenails. “I really do.”

      “Thank you.” Shelby glanced down at her tanned legs and feet. “I found the sandals yesterday. On sale, too.”

      “We’ve already checked in,” Lindsey said, exchanging a glance with Mia. They both still wore their travel clothes, jeans and light sweaters, because Chicago had been nippy when they’d left that morning. “We scored adjoining rooms but they won’t be ready for another hour or two.”

      “A whole hour? Bummer.” Shelby made a face, and then smiled prettily at the bellman. “Kimo, do you think we’ll really have to wait that long?”

      His brown face split into a grin, and then he winked. “The assistant manager is my cousin. Let me see what I can do.” He put down the bags and set off on his mission.

      His uniform included white shorts, and the three of them ogled his fine ass and muscled calves as he walked unhurriedly toward the front desk.

      “I forgot how disgustingly healthy everyone looks around here, even in winter,” Mia idly observed.

      “And how everyone seems to be related,” Lindsey said, and then turned to Shelby. “What a shameless flirt you are. Not that I’m not totally jealous.”

      A smug smile curved Shelby’s lips. “Do you know if any of the guys showed up yet?”

      Mia shrugged. “We were headed to the bar. If they’re here, they might be hanging out there or at the pool.”

      “Oh, God.” Alarm widened Shelby’s hazel eyes. “You can’t go on the prowl dressed like that.”

      “The prowl?” Mia laughed.

      Lindsey rolled her eyes.

      “Too bad we don’t know their last names,” Shelby said, “so we could see if they checked in.” Her gaze drifted past her friends. “Although if they don’t show, I see a couple of damn fine consolation prizes coming this way. No, don’t turn—”

      Lindsey whipped her head around, and