A Defender's Heart

Trying to scroll through the bad memories, she faltered, finding far more good ones that outweighed the disappointments—regularly missed occasions, perennial lateness, a constant lack of returned phone calls... Until that last case, the last week, the last day.

While most of Cedar’s clients were wealthy businessmen who were charged with white-collar crimes, during the last year they’d been together, he’d taken on two high-profile criminal cases. She’d never been completely sure why. He’d earned a reputation by then; Cedar Wilson commanded the highest price, but he did what it took to get the job done.

The change in him had been gradual, as winning began to matter more than justice. More than right and wrong. Or even his clients. Maybe that was why she hadn’t seen it coming, because it had happened slowly, over time.

Or maybe because, at home, he was still the man who struggled with insecurities. A grown-up version of the young boy who’d never been good enough to deserve personal acknowledgment from his famous father, the singer Randy Cedar-Jones. He’d called him after every case, telling him—through voice mail—about every victory. Without taking offense when there was never a response.

At home, he was a man who touched her tenderly. One who cooked beside her, who slept beside her, who woke her with a smile and a cup of coffee every morning.

As she dressed for lunch on Monday, she reminded herself of all the hard-earned lessons of the past year. And of the happiness she’d felt the night Charles had proposed to her.

Something Cedar had never done—despite years of conversations about “someday.”

He hated seeing her in leggings, so she wore a pair of pink ones with black cactus shapes on them, topping them with a figure-hugging black tunic and short black boots. Not the professional he’d be expecting to see.

Not even how she’d normally dressed. The leggings were a gift from Raine, who’d become an online distributor for them. Heather had never actually worn them before.

Cedar had left shortly after the toasts on Saturday night, but not without a word in her ear about that day’s meeting. He’d said it was strictly business. And really important.

She felt he’d been telling the truth, so she’d agreed to see him.

She would let Charles know about the meeting just as soon as she knew what it was about. Then she could reassure him about her lack of involvement in this “business matter” before he had a chance to get nervous about the contact.

Cedar was already seated at a table by the window of a local eatery when she arrived. In one of his signature designer suits—this one in tones of gray, his put-at-ease choice—his thick dark hair a little longer than he used to wear it, he’d have stood out from the crowd even without the advantage of his six-foot-two height.

The restaurant was one they’d favored during their time together, not only because of the talented chef, but because of the ocean views. Heather couldn’t get enough of the water that kept rolling to shore, century after century. She wasn’t sure if Cedar had ever given the Pacific’s grandeur a second thought.

Charles had. He respected the ocean’s power. Its unending energy. He’d engaged in long talks with her about it as they’d walked, hand in hand, along the beach, watching the tide come in and go out.

“New outfit,” Cedar said, as he stood to pull out her chair and then, as she sat, took his seat again.

She knew he didn’t like it and was satisfied with her choice. But then she said, “Raine gave it to me. I have to wear it so when she asks me if I did, I can tell her yes.”

She was making excuses. Felt like she was sliding backward. She had no reason or need to please Cedar.

“I like it,” he told her. “It looks good on you.” The sexy grin on his face, the warmth in his straightforward dark brown gaze, didn’t give even a hint of untruth.

She didn’t like the outfit. That was the truth. She’d worn it to spite him. It hadn’t worked; she didn’t like that, either.

“But then, anything looks good on you,” Cedar added, picking up his menu. “Or nothing.”

Her feminine parts filled with heat.

And she was ashamed.

* * *

HE WAS A damned fraud. A man who’d created situations to fit what he knew people needed so he could get what he wanted. He’d vowed to himself he’d stop. And here he was...still orchestrating the situation.

The gray dress pants, white shirt, gray jacket and gray-and-white tie were proof of that. Although he’d gotten rid of most of his closet full of hand-tailored dress clothes, like an alcoholic pouring his stash down the drain, he’d held on to a few things. And he’d deliberately worn some of them that morning because he knew they’d be what Heather would expect to see. They’d put her at ease. He’d worn them purposely, to manipulate her comfort level.

Like he was the same man who’d used his lover to get the information he needed to manipulate a win.

His last win.

He’d ordered her sweet tea and his own black coffee. She glanced at both as she sat down, but said nothing. She immediately went for the tea, though. Took a long sip.

Sweet tea was her weakness.

He used to be, too.

“You said you had business to discuss,” she said, not even looking at the menu. He’d figured they’d order first. Maybe even wait to broach his discussion until after they’d eaten. She’d been on his mind pretty much nonstop since he’d left her parents’ house two nights before.

She was making a mistake, marrying Charles. Not because she wasn’t marrying him—not that he’d ever asked—but because there was no passion between her and the dentist.

If anyone knew and would recognize Heather’s passion, it was Cedar. He’d been prepared to see her sharing it with another man.

That hadn’t happened. Which meant nothing in terms of him. It meant only that she was making a mistake with her dentist.

Probably not a conversation starter at the moment.

“I have a favor to ask,” he said, looking around for Molly, the waitress who’d taken their drink orders.

Heather held her purse in her hands. “I’m not going to—”

“Please, hear me out,” he interrupted before she could walk out on him. No matter how much he deserved it, he wasn’t up to having her leave him again. The first time had just about killed him.

Killed the old him, anyway. It had left him a shadow of a man, one who lived to make amends—not to be happy.

“The favor, it isn’t for me.”

“Of course it’s for you! Couched in a client’s need, perhaps, but it’s about your win. I’m not going back down that road, Cedar.”

He swallowed. Pursed his lips so they wouldn’t open until he had himself in check. He refused to share his truths; he couldn’t play with her emotions that way. The turns his life had taken were personal. His alone. They weren’t to get her back. Or even to show her that he’d become a better man. He was a man who’d lost his way, and that was a burden he would carry forever. Telling her he was trying to change could serve his own good and that was the old him—serving his own good.

He wanted to ask her how she’d been. To know that she really was over him. That she didn’t still carry in the depths of her heart all the pain he’d caused her by putting his need to win above everything else. That there were no lasting consequences in her life because he’d lost sight of what mattered most.

And yet...he suspected her dentist was one of those consequences.

Suspected she was settling for safety because she couldn’t bear the idea of being hurt so badly again.

He didn’t want that to be the case.

Didn’t have time for more amends at the moment.

But this was Heather. If his actions had pushed her into a passionless relationship, if he’d driven her to a passionless life, he’d have to do whatever it took to undo the damage.

He’d figure that out. Take appropriate action if necessary. But first...