The Laws of Love
Chapter One
"No. My God, no. Nolan, you can't be serious?"Gwyneth Jacobi had suffered more than her share of setbacks in the past few months. She'd lost her firm's largest West coast client. She'd watched the man she'd thought she could care for cast her asidein favor of his wife. And her brief tenure as head of the San Francisco branch of Silver, Reisbecht andLane had come to an unceremonious and abrupt end when the other lawyers in the office had mutinied.But those humiliations were nothing compared to this."Now, Gwyn, Arley McNamara is a very important client," her mentor, eighty-year old Nolan Reisbecht,said. "We've served his family for years.""You handled his divorce. The man caved.""He chose to be generous.""To a woman who willingly signed a prenuptial agreement. I'm the barracuda, Nolan. I need somethingchallenging."
To keep me distracted.
"I won't let you down. I promise."Unlike her father. Who promised to take his meds religiously while she was in California. Who vowed tobe in remission by the time she returned.She considered sharing her dad's health crisis with Nolan but wondered if he'd even believe her. After all, she'd worked hard to appear invincible."This is something entirely different. Arley wants to help an old woman who is being forced off her land.""Why does he care?""I don't know. He's a bit of a rogue. Takes after his grandmother. Arlene came from cotton mill money.Silver spoon shipped over from England and all that. Not that she acted the part, but she was the trueforce behind that family. By naming Arley after her, his parents secured the bulk of Arlene's estate in hisname."Great. A trust fund baby. Spoiled
and
entitled. "It doesn't matter where the money came from. Tilting atwindmills is a waste of my time and talent. Nolan, my friend, please. I beg you. Give him to somebodyelse.""Alas, my dear, you are not only low lawyer on the totem pole, you are persona non gratis among thepartners."Gwyneth got up and walked to his desk. She sat her fanny on the corner of the highly polished teaksurface and crossed her left leg over her right—a surefire distraction that never failed with men under theage of ninety.Nolan looked down. Her vantage point gave her a perfect view of his freckled bald spot. But only for asecond. His chin snapped back. "Now, don't you try your sexpot tricks on me, Miss Girl. This isbusiness."
Make that men under the age of eighty.She jumped to her feet, poised to stomp from the room. The old Gwyneth would have. The new Gwynethcouldn't. She needed this job, now more than ever.She drew herself up proudly. "Very well. I'll contact him today.""I already took care of that. Meet him at Molly Murdock's at ten. The address and directions are on your desk." As she turned to leave, he added, "Oh, and, dear, you might want to change your shoes."She looked down at her favorite pair of Manolos.
Not likely.
High heels and Armani weren't just her style,they were her armor.
* * *
The pig's skin was tough and bristly. Why had Arley thought it would be smooth? Perhaps because of his china piggy bank, the one he'd smashed when he was seven so he could give the money to apanhandler who had been outside their Manhattan apartment.His father had been appalled. "Give those people money and they'll never quit asking for handouts."But Arley tended to do the opposite of what people wanted him to do. The bum on the street haddisappeared with his bounty wrapped in one of Arley's father's monogrammed handkerchiefs and never again appeared on their doorstep.Probably because Father had him arrested, a cynical voice whispered. Arley hated that voice."Her name is Cuddles," Molly called out.The pig made snuffling noises that seemed to generate from the underside of her belly, which washanging just a few inches above the ground. Her eyes displayed a complete and utter lack of interest inhim, which didn't surprise Arley. After all, they weren't exactly old friends. He'd only met Molly last weekafter reading about the old woman's plight in the newspaper."She's never at her best this early," Molly was saying. "Pigs aren't morning people.""She seems pretty lively to me," Arley said to be polite. Actually, the porcine pet lumbered after thetottering old woman like a dog at heel. The image would have been comical if the situation weren't sodire. Molly was being told Cuddles must go. Nobody seemed to care that Cuddles was here first, thatMolly had raised the animal from a bottle. The two were as close as his grandmother had been withFritz, her demented Yorkie."Bring her a watermelon next time you come," Molly said, motioning him to follow her to the house."Then you'll see her dance with excitement. I had to stop buying them. Luxuries like that are a little out of my budget."Arley's heart did a little flip-flop. To his parent's annoyance, he'd always been a sucker for the old, theweak, the ones who just couldn't seem to make sense of the world.He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and hit the speed dial number for the offices of Silver, Reisbechtand Lane. "Arley McNamara calling for Nolan Reisbecht or whomever he put on my case.""That would be Gwyneth Jacobi. I'll ring her for you now, sir," the receptionist said.
Arley thought he detected a certain air of amusement in the woman's tone. His speculation wassidetracked when a voice came on the line. "Hello, Mr. McNamara. This is Gwyneth Jacobi. I was justleaving for our ten o'clock. Has something changed?"Her voice had a rich, throaty timbre. Businesslike. Falsely perky. And sexy as hell. Ridiculous as it wasto make assumptions, he pictured her as beautiful, slightly exotic and wholly desirable.
I need to get out more.
He cleared his throat. "Yes. I'd like you to pick up three or four watermelons on your way. Any variety."The line went suspiciously quiet."Hello? Did you get that? I'm on my cell and—"She cut in. "I heard you. I just wasn't sure I understood the request. Do you know how much you'repaying my firm for my time? Wouldn't it be more cost effective to call a nearby market and ask for adelivery?"She was irked. He grinned."One of the best parts of being filthy rich is never worrying about trifles," he said. "Make it ten melons."Molly, her watery blue eyes alight with glee, clapped. "Did you hear that, dear girl? We finally have afriend who cares." She reached down and patted Cuddles, whose snout came up as if looking for morefood. Arley held his breath fearing the animal might take off one of Molly's gnarled fingers, but the piggave her palm a little smooch then focused its attention on Arley's shoes.Arley stepped onto the porch. He cared. But not enough to sacrifice his favorite pair of loafers.
Chapter Two
Gwyneth pulled to a stop in front of the single-story home engulfed by overgrown bushes. Not oldenough to be on anybody's historical register nor the least bit interesting architecturally. Boxed in byMcMansions of the newly prosperous, the place clearly was a tear-down waiting to happen.She parked beside a shiny black Hummer that looked as out of place as she felt. Her heart waspounding with uncharacteristic trepidation. She'd just talked to her father's doctor. The word "hospice"had come up more than once.She checked her lipstick in her visor mirror and caught a glimpse of the fat green globes piled into twoboxes on her back seat. Her ire swelled. Instead of visiting her father, she was buying produce for a pig."Watermelon," she muttered, getting out of the car.Her heels twisted slightly in the gravel. Maybe Nolan had been right about her choice of footwear."Hello," she called out, holding on to the car door.A boy emerged from a detached garage to her right. He paused to stare at her. She guessed his age atten or eleven, although she knew squat about kids.
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