My apologies for the lengthy delay between chapter postings.

CHAPTER 9

Della glided into Perry's private office with an armload of folders and smiled at Ken Malansky while circling behind Perry Mason's desk. "Dossiers on Dave Tynen and Frank Bossit, the two security men, Sam Wald, Max Parrish and Hannah Hawkes," she said, placing each folder on the desk blotter as she listed their names. "That's everything I could get on them so far. I'll have files on Kaitlynn, Gary Hawkes and Laura Parrish soon."

"Thank you," Perry said and watched with great appreciation the smooth action of her hips as she walked away from him back to the outer office. She looked particularly nice today in a melon-colored suit, and a blindingly white blouse. He found her more irresistible than usual when she wore white. He flipped open one of the folders and glanced through the neatly typed pages before slapping it shut and moving on to the next folder. After a moment he closed the second folder and opened a third.

"I have something to add on Hannah Hawkes," Ken volunteered. "I saw her in action at a karate lesson this morning and she's lethal with both hands. She answered a few questions and told me she was surprised her uncle showed up at the wedding, but I got the feeling she was hiding something."

Perry rubbed his jawline, digesting Ken's contribution to Hannah's dossier. "I've talked to Kaitlynn and Max Parrish. That leaves the security men, Sam Wald, and..."

"And the girl in this picture." Ken walked behind the attorney's desk and showed a black-and-white photo to Perry Mason. "It's a copy of the photo in the pass Della found. I talked to the owner of the club where she hangs out and if the kid shows up tonight she'll call. Guess all I can do is wait."

"Della and I will do the waiting," Perry responded pointedly, taking the photo and placing it on top of the dossiers. "You need to find out what Lon Hawkes had in that envelope."

"How will I do that?"

Perry picked up the phone and pressed a button. "Della...is Gary Hawkes here?...Send him in." He turned back to Ken Malansky. "Gary will get you access to Hawkes's apartment."

Gary Hawkes, as usual a bundle of nervous energy, bounded into the room, hand outstretched.

"Malansky, right?" He shook Ken's hand more vigorously than the young attorney would have liked. "Right, good, okay. I spoke to the super and he said we could pick up the key any time after six. So, we can leave whenever you're ready."

Ken stood straighter, emphasizing the marked size differential between them. "Actually, I think it's better if I go by myself."

Gary visibly bristled. "Yeah, why's that?"

"That's the way I work," Ken smirked. He wasn't going to humor this punk actor and let him think he could be an investigator simply because he'd played one in a movie-of-the-week.

"Well that's fine, but it's my fiancée who's framed for murder and I want to participate. I mean, I don't want to sit around and do nothing."

"Hey, I never sit around and do nothing." Ken retorted defensively, leaning forward and jabbing two stiff fingers on Perry Mason's desk for emphasis. Who did this soap star think he was, anyway?

"I'm sure Gary just wants to be of assistance, Ken," Perry stepped in as peacemaker.

Ken stared at the elder attorney incredulously – he was grinning! "All right," he capitulated, rubbing the back of his neck to relieve an oncoming headache. "I'll meet you at Lon Hawkes's apartment at seven o'clock, okay?"

It was Gary's turn to smirk. "Okay, I'm on the case." He turned on his heel and hurried from the office.

Piqued, Ken came around to the front of Perry Mason's desk, hands gesticulating after the bouncing ball that was Gary Hawkes. "Perry, I don't want this guy underfoot." Who in the hell says something like "I'm on the case" in real life anyway?

"Ken, he may be helpful," Perry replied insistently. Gary had called literally every hour on the hour for two days pleading to help with Kaitlynn's case, until Perry had the thought in the wee hours of the morning to take advantage of the actor's relationship to the deceased to gain access to his apartment. Having something to do in connection with Kaitlynn's case gave the young man purpose and he had stopped calling...as much.

"Helpful? But Perry, he's an actor!" Ken flung his hand back toward the office door dramatically.

Della, who had been standing in the doorway since Gary Hawkes made his exit, ducked under Ken's arm, stepped between the two men, and handed a piece of paper to Perry. She wasn't a fan of the plan for Gary to assist Ken, which Perry revealed to her at three-fifteen that morning after nudging her awake, but she knew when not to argue with Perry Mason. Her tongue was figuratively sore from all the times she had bitten it so far during this case.

"Before you go to Hawkes's place I'd like you to talk with Sam Wald. He should be at this address right now."

Ken took the piece of paper from Perry, resigned to doing what his employer wanted without further protest. "All right." He paused for a moment, staring at the piece of paper. "You know, Perry, for a second I thought someone was tailing me this afternoon."

Perry's brows knit together in concern. "If you were followed, it might mean that this youngster is doubly important to us." He tapped the photo of the teenage girl. "It also probably means we should find her before the killer does."


Della entered Perry's office with an unimportant document in hand as an excuse to check on him. She didn't like how intently hunched over he was, noisily shuffling papers, occasionally harrumphing, frustrated that the preliminary hearing was tomorrow and very few facts made sense. "I haven't heard from Ken yet," she told him, "and he's not answering his mobile phone. It's been almost twenty-four hours." She picked up a cup and saucer from the desk. "Do you want more?"

He glanced up briefly without actually focusing on her, then right back down at the document in his hand. "No more, thank you."

She leaned against his desk. "You're really worried, aren't you?" she asked gently. He was usually at least outwardly confident; rarely this bothered by a case. As a matter of fact, she hadn't seen him this worried since...well, she hadn't seen him like this since the night before Janice Barton was sentenced to the gas chamber - no that wasn't right. Figuring out Laura Robertson was a murderer had devastated him, and he had stayed up all night wrestling with his thoughts on how to expose what his former flame had done. She had thought he might insist on defending Laura, but in the end he said a final good-bye to the woman he had once cared for; came looking for her, and took her home.

The very first time he'd let his bravura slip in front of her had been that time she'd hid out after witnessing a body being pushed from the upper deck of a cruise ship, and the aftermath of days of worry etched on his handsome face had made her feel awful...and deeply loved. Paul Drake told her afterward Perry had been a total s.o.b. for the few days she'd been missing, and she was certain he had been.

Perry tossed a folder aside with great disgruntlement. "Yes, I am worried. The pieces just don't fit." He had become a very visual person in this second incarnation of his practice and liked to have as much information as possible typed up and in front of him, especially since he didn't do as much legwork as he had in his younger days. Now, instead of pacing and moving facts of cases like chess pieces in his mind, he shuffled documents like decks of cards, scribbling notes and requesting what seemed liked endless edits to documents. Different method, same results: he had yet to lose a murder case or fail to reveal the true murderer.

As a side note, she was extremely thankful for the advent of computers and WordStar.

As Della turned and reached out her hand to touch Perry, Kaitlynn Parrish burst through the door, a veritable whirlwind in a pastel suit and high heels.

"I just saw my father!" Breathing quick and shallow with anger, eyes blazing, Kaitlynn faced the man she called uncle. "What do you think you're doing?"

He met the young woman's fury unblinkingly, acutely aware of how Della shrank into the shadows behind his desk. "Trying to prepare your defense for tomorrow's preliminary hearing."

"No, you're trying to make my father a suspect because of some stupid embezzlement charge," she raged at him, having none of his explanation. How dare he patronize her!

"Everyone who was in that dining room is suspect. Sam Wald...Hannah Hawkes...even your father."

"I won't let you drag him into court. You'll ruin him!"

"Kaitlynn, I know how you feel." He knew she wouldn't believe him, but he did know how she felt. How many friends over the years had he been forced to ruin in order to exonerate his clients? One was too many, and the number was far greater, including those he'd loved...or thought he'd loved.

"No you don't!" Kaitlynn shouted shrilly, shaking her head so that the dangling gold chandelier earrings she wore danced wildly. "I love my father and I'll do anything to protect him." She leaned forward, mustering as much of a threatening stance as she could and lowered her voice. "Anything."

"Young lady, that's exactly what the prosecution wants the court to believe," Perry told her, complete vexation with the case creeping into his words. "They'll try to have the embezzlement charge admitted into evidence to provide you with a motive for murder."

"Then don't let them do it!" To her it was that simple. Why was he complicating matters?

It was obvious to Perry she had no conception of what he was dealing with. "Kaitlynn," he barked, and she jumped. "Kaitlynn, are you afraid your father might be guilty of this murder?"

Kaitlynn grew quiet; posture slumping as she nervously bit her lower lip, which told Perry Mason it had definitely crossed her mind at least once. "No...no, he can't be." She straightened her shoulders into a less uncertain stance. "I know he can't be. I'm sorry, Perry. I just don't want him to get hurt."

"Neither do I." The hardness of Perry Mason's face, oft-described as granite like, softened. "I believe he's innocent, and I'll do whatever I can to protect his reputation while making sure you're acquitted." He removed his glasses and smiled at her encouragingly. "All right?"

Kaitlynn fought back tears as she returned his smile. "All right," she whispered tremulously.

Perry looked down again at the documents in front of him as Kaitlynn left the office in a more subdued manner than she'd entered, but the words were blurred, and not merely because he didn't have his reading glasses on. "She's tough, isn't she?" he said to Della with an emotional rasp to his voice.

Della, who had watched the entire scene with moist eyes, emerged from the shadows to place her hand on his shoulder in loving comfort. "She might say the same thing about you."

Hearing the tears in her voice was a lance to his heart. He was doing it to her again, placing clients on the level she should occupy solely. "She doesn't know me," he said in sad regret, "so she doesn't know how far I'll go to protect her and her family."

She had asked him once how far he'd go to help a friend, and although she knew the answer, needed to hear it spoken aloud. He needed to hear it now from her, no matter what her personal thoughts were toward Laura Parrish, her husband, or her daughter. "How far is forever?"

He took her hand from his shoulder, pulled her onto his lap, kissed her, and cradled her possessively against him. "Yes, forever."

And she knew he meant something very different from how far he'd go to protect the Parrish family.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Uncle Perry," the sweet little girl voice whined, "Tell Mommy I can have a kitty."

He grinned. These phone calls were a private joy in his life, a slice of normalcy he treasured.

"I want a kitty! Tell Mommy I can have a kitty, Uncle Perry."

"Well, Kaitlynn, lawyers needs to ask questions and gather facts before they can do their job. Have you asked Daddy about the kitty?"

"Daddy said yes but I had to ask Mommy and she said no. I need a kitty!"

His grin widened. Max would indulge his daughter's every whim if not for the sensibility of his wife. "When your Mommy says no, shouldn't you mind what she says?"

"Noooo!" Kaitlynn wailed.

"Honey, if Mommy says you can't have a kitty, I think you should mind her."

"Noooo!" Kaitlynn wailed again. "Mommy said I could call you and you would break...um, you broke...Mommy! What did you say Uncle Perry could do?"

He listened to a muffled conversation between mother and daughter for several seconds while giving in to a chuckle. Max and Laura had a habit of calling him to referee disagreements or cast a deciding vote – such as settling Kaitlynn's middle name; weighing the pros and cons of several preschools; debating whether or not Kaitlynn should get her hair cut; selecting the color of her bedroom – and he enjoyed it immensely. He liked each member of the Parrish family separately and together, and now that Laura had finally settled into family life with Max there was less apprehension about the state of their marriage or her previous claim regarding Kaitlynn's parentage.

He had friends, shockingly quite a few, but Max and Laura Parrish were the only friends he hadn't either grown up with, met in college or law school, or currently worked with in some capacity, and the only friends who turned to him for advice other than legal. His friends sought Della's advice regularly on a wide variety of issues, which he didn't mind because she was insightful, thoughtful, and a much better person than he. What he did mind is that his friends, who he would do just about anything for, might not readily return the favor if it weren't for Della's existence in his life.

"Perry?" It was Laura, speaking in her frazzled Mom voice. "Perry, this child is wearing me out. I can't have a cat in the house. They scratch and pee and shed everywhere."

He chuckled again. "What made her want a cat in the first place?"

"Oh, she went to a birthday party and the little girl got a kitten as a present. So now she has to have one for her birthday."

That's right. Kaitlynn's fifth birthday was in less than two weeks. "How does Max feel about getting her a kitten?"

Laura snorted. "You know Max. He can't say no to Kaitlynn. If I hadn't said no, we'd have a kitten already. Maybe two or three."

"Do you want me to get her a kitten?" These inclusions in family life captivated him, even though it wasn't often he had a strong opinion about the subject of the calls to contribute. But like the middle name decision, he had Della to thank for his views on little girls and cats.

"God, no!" Laura covered the receiver with her hand and he again heard muffled voices. "Are you saying you think we should let her have a cat?"

He knew Laura had sent her daughter out of the room before she asked that question. "As a matter of fact, I think all little girls should have a cat." The one bright spot in Della's childhood, aside from her younger brother, had been a beat-up orange tom cat she called Pretty. To hear her talk of her childhood was painful, except for when she spoke of the near-feral cat that liked no human but her. That had been one smart cat.

"If I had known your feelings about cats, I wouldn't have told Kaitlynn you could be the tie-breaker."

"I have no feelings about cats one way or another. I simply have an opinion that a little girl should have a cat if she wants one. But she's your daughter so the final decision is yours and Max's." He always told Max and Laura the same thing, no matter who initiated the call or what the subject – ultimately whatever decision needed to be made had to be made by them.

What he couldn't tell Laura was that he would have gotten his own daughter an entire cattery in a heartbeat, along with unicorns and fairies if she wanted them. It was something he thought about occasionally, and something that had made Della cry when he'd told her about it.

Laura snorted some sort of noise not easily translated into a specific emotion. She didn't like it when Perry sided against her. "Great. Now I'm the bad guy who doesn't want a cat. Of course, I don't have to admit you think she should have a cat...do I?"

"I never counsel clients to lie."

Laura let out that same noise again, which he had never heard before. He thought it might be safe to assume she was displeased. "We'll get her a kitten for her birthday, if you think we should."

"What I think doesn't matter. It's what you and Max think that matters." His phrasing was deliberate; having once made the mistake of saying that Kaitlynn's parents should make the final decision together, which had led directly to an emotionally exhausting circular conversation with Laura he didn't care to repeat.

"I don't want a spoiled child, but since you and Max think she should have a cat, I guess I'll just have to accept it. She's such a Daddy's girl and Mommy deserves a little gratitude once in a while."

"That she does. So it's settled?"

Laura sighed. "I guess it is. She gets a kitten for her birthday."

"Laura...can I make a request? About the kitten?"

"I suppose so," she sounded a bit surprised.

"Get her a male kitten, an orange one. I've heard they make very good pets."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Where have you been?"

Ken Malansky wearily dropped into the leather client chair as Della silently withdrew from Perry's office, sensing things were about to get dicey between the attorney and his associate. Besides, she needed to reapply her lipstick and make a few phone calls.

"It would be easier to tell you where I haven't been," Ken replied a bit dramatically.

Perry took off his reading glasses and leaned forward on his elbows. "Suppose you start from when you left here twenty..." he glanced at his watch. "Twenty-nine hours ago. And please remember it's late and I have a preliminary hearing tomorrow to prepare for." Not to mention a neglected lover who deserves more attention than I've been giving her lately.

Ken heaved a sigh. He should have called, but there was so much to tell he knew Perry would chastise him for reporting over the phone instead of in person. Of course, he knew Perry would also chastise him for reporting in person instead of calling, so he'd tossed a coin. Really, he'd literally tossed a coin – one of those ridiculous Susan B. Anthony dollar coins that hardly anyone could distinguish from a quarter. It was too soon to determine if he'd won or lost the toss.

"I dropped in on Sam Wald while he was working on his race car – his expensive race car. He bragged about how much money he makes and how if anything happens to Max, he's the only one who could take over the company."

Perry chewed thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek. "Max told me himself he couldn't run the business without Sam. I find it interesting that Sam isn't shy about talking like that to a complete stranger."

"Isn't it," Ken muttered. He hadn't liked Sam Wald much, boasting about how much money he made; insinuating a lustful life with dual vices of expensive cars and even more expensive women. Guys who bragged like that usually didn't cross the finish line with either one without major crashes. "By the way, you have noticed that Sam's right hand is heavily bandaged. He says he burned it on a car engine."

"Of course I noticed. I noticed it first at the wedding and again when I saw Sam in Max's office yesterday."

"Did you also notice how well he compensates with his left hand?"

"I did." He'd observed Sam Wald working very efficiently on a computer during his visit to Max's office. "What else do you have? Did you go to Lon Hawkes's apartment with Gary?"

Ken shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "Yeah, we went to the apartment."

"And?" Perry prompted impatiently. Ken was a good investigator, but tended to not be concise in his reports.

"And, this case got even more complicated. I walked in, found a bunch of cassette tapes in boxes, and there was a guy – "

"A guy? What guy?"

Ken shrugged. "Just your average threatening guy. Only not just one threatening guy, but a couple of threatening guys. One came up behind me, conked me on the head, and the next thing I know I'm in a warehouse being advised not to waste 'Mr. Vance's' time and to tell him what I did with the 'goods'."

"Where was Gary all of this time?" Perry asked in alarm. "What 'goods'? What about this Mr. Vance?"

"Thanks, I'm fine. The bump is only noticeable from outer space." Ken said sarcastically, touching the back of his head gingerly. He still had a whale of a headache. "I didn't let Gary go into the apartment with me. I didn't know – or particularly care – where he was after I woke up in that warehouse." He paused for effect. "The 'goods' are bootleg Kaitlynn Parrish cassette tapes that this Mr. Vance imported from China, and which he thinks Lon Hawkes stole from his warehouse."

"Oh boy," Perry Mason said.

"I told you the case just got more complicated. This Vance guy had no idea Hawkes was dead. Once I explained who I was and about the case, he ordered his uh, associates to, uh, take care of me." In hindsight, admitting he was an attorney working for someone as well-known as Perry Mason might not have been the best course of action.

Perry tried to disguise how alarmed he was by that piece of information. "Obviously they did a lousy job of taking care of you."

"They were, uh, distracted. Gary had trailed us to the warehouse, waited outside all night, and, uh, acted his way in after Mr. Vance left." And never once in all those hours thought to call the police or you, the dumb kid. "We managed to disarm Mr. Vance's men and then I had Gary finally call the police. Which if he'd done –"

Perry held up his hand. "Is Gary all right?"

Ken shot the older attorney a disgusted look. "Yeah, he's all right." Even though Gary should have called the police right away, because his little ruse could have gone very wrong and they might have ended up in the morgue, he had to grudgingly admire the actor's courage for busting into the warehouse to help him. Perry could shove bamboo shoots under his fingernails and he wouldn't admit that, not after how he'd been in essence forced to babysit the actor in the first place.

Perry methodically drummed long fingers on his desk. "This case has no end of complications. I interviewed Dave Tynen yesterday. He was in the same correctional facility as Lon Hawkes for several months and Tynen recognized him immediately at the wedding. He knocked him cold before Hawkes could recognize him and expose his past, which is how Hawkes wound up in Max's study under guard."

"Not to pile on, Perry, but I haven't heard from Rocky."

"Rocky?" His brow creased deeply. "Who the hell is Rocky?"

Ken cleared his throat and felt himself blush. "Rocky is the owner of the kid's club where the girl on the pass hangs out." She was also an incredibly sexy woman who had come on to him very strongly. Too bad his heart had been ripped from his chest and stomped on by Amy or otherwise he might have flirted right back with the slinky, tattoo-covered club owner.

"Damn it," Perry muttered. "We need to find that girl from the wedding. She could be the key witness to what actually happened after Lon Hawkes was locked in the dining room."

"Weren't you and Della standing not too far from where the girl bumped into you?"

Perry challenged Ken with a look. "Our attention was directed elsewhere."

Ken accepted the challenge. "I'll bet it was."

To Ken's great surprise, Perry Mason broke into a carefree, boyish grin. "A man's got to do what a man's got to do."

"With the undying affection of a woman as beautiful as Della, I suppose he does," Ken readily agreed. "What if the girl only saw the spectacle of a beautiful woman incomprehensibly necking with the likes of you and nothing to do with the murder?"

I would put her on the stand anyway, he thought, and make my undying affection for that beautiful woman part of the official trial transcript, that's what. "Della and I were around the corner from where I suspect she was hiding, which is why we didn't see more than we did."

"Sure," Ken drawled, "that's why you didn't see more."

Perry jovial mood abruptly swung in the other direction. "Dammit, Ken, she had to have seen something. I'm afraid that whoever killed Lon Hawkes saw her too. We need to find her."

Ken sighed. He much preferred light-hearted Perry Mason to crabby Perry Mason, but sometimes reality was a bitch and the renowned attorney was what he was. "I'll drop by the club again tonight and talk to Rocky." He had definitely lost the coin toss.

"You do that." Perry pulled a folder from the middle of the pile in front of him and opened it. Maybe if he looked at things in a different order... "I don't need an audience, Ken. Find that girl."

Ken saluted, clicked his heels together, made a perfectly balanced turn, and marched from Perry's office to Della's more welcoming office. Almost instantly his tense muscles relaxed and his headache didn't bother him as much.

Della looked up from a leather bound accounting ledger. "Let me guess," she said with a smile, "he gave you marching orders."

Ken slumped against her desk. "Yeah. I need to find the fake concert pass girl."

"Yes, you do," she affirmed quietly.

"Sometimes..."

"Yes?" she prompted. Ken was a member of the bar and she knew he sometimes itched to be what he called a 'real' practicing attorney and not 'just' Perry Mason's investigator. She suspected that he was itching badly right now all over his body.

"Sometimes he annoys me," he admitted, jerking his head back toward Perry's office.

"Well, sometimes you annoy him, too." Perry was a tough but fair boss, generous with monetary rewards but not so much with verbal praise - except when it came to her. Because she knew him so intimately, she saw his cantankerousness as the disguise it was, and wondered exactly when he had begun to hide himself from everyone. Ken only knew this Perry Mason and not the more carefree, boyish man of his younger years.

Ken hadn't expected Della to say anything like that. "Does he annoy you?"

She laughed. "All the time! But the difference between how he annoys me and how he annoys you is very different."

"Of course it is. I'm not the love of his life."

She shook her head and hoped the blush she felt wasn't too obvious. Since reuniting after those awful years Perry was in San Francisco on the Appellate Court, they hadn't been as discreet about their personal relationship as in the repressed '50s, the mixed-up '60s, and even the loosey-goosey 70s. The mid-1980s to the early 1990s were much mellower, and she was more willing to let people see a bit of their very private world without worrying about reputations and ramifications on professional standing in the legal community. "There are no expectations in our personal life, but in our professional life he expects me to do the best job I can. That's all. He expects the same from you."

"He expects too much."

"No, he doesn't," she disagreed vehemently. "He doesn't expect less of either of us than he expects from himself. If you haven't figured that out or can't accept it, maybe you should find another job."

Stunned, Ken just stared at her. He had never known Della to say anything that harsh to anyone, which meant he deserved it.

"Perry likes you," she continued, "and he has complete confidence in you. If even one of those things weren't true, he would have let you go a long time ago."

"But he..."

"But he what?"

This challenge was very different from the earlier challenge made by Perry. He didn't know if he wanted to face it or back down, and grasped at something that had bothered him for a long time. "He doesn't treat you well."

Della sat back in her chair and regarded Ken with narrowed eyes. "You have no idea of how he treats me."

Ken dropped his gaze, thoroughly chastened, understanding he had gone too far. "Has he always been this way?

Della smiled at Ken's continued deflecting, even if his question was dead on to her earlier thoughts. "If you mean has he always been no-nonsense, intense, impatient, confident, and the smartest person in the room, then yes, he has always been this way."

Ken could only stare at her again. She was the possibly the kindest, most insightful person (and arguably smarter than Perry Mason) he had ever met and to this day couldn't understand why she had stood by the lawyer's side for nearly four decades. He thought he had found his Della Street in Amy Hastings, who had stood by him for only eighteen months, and he didn't think he was nearly as annoying as Perry Mason. All he could say was, "Then why?"

"Because he's a good man," she replied softly. "Beneath all the impatience, intensity, and ego, is a man who cares. He's never been able to admit it, but I saw it from the moment I met him."

He would probably never know the full story of Della Street and Perry Mason, although it was no doubt a fascinating tale, and he knew better than to ask Della to elaborate on how the man she so obviously loved was a good man. He had heard many stories about their not-so-secret relationship, and he detected an odd undercurrent in this case that led him to believe that as well as he liked to think he knew his associates, he really didn't know much about them – aside from the fact they unofficially/officially lived together and no longer booked separate hotel rooms when they travelled.

"I know better than to debate that with you." Ken stood up straight and flicked imaginary lint from the lapel of his sport coat. "I'll find the girl. But I'll do it for you, not him."

Della's eyes followed Ken Malansky as he left the offices of Perry Mason, Attorney at Law. When the door clicked shut behind the young attorney, she stood and headed toward the inner office of her employer, her friend, her lover.

Perry knew she was standing in the doorway without having to look up from the myriad documents and folders spread over the surface of his massive walnut Sligh desk. "Did you give him the 'he's a good man' speech?"

"I did. But he didn't buy it."

He took off his reading glasses and smiled wearily, amazed that he'd not only had the good sense to hire her, but to fall in love with her as well. "That's because he's too old for fairy tales."

"He thinks you're the big, bad wolf." She leaned against the door jamb, crossing arms and ankles. Self-deprecation was practiced only in regard to his appearance and the goodness of his heart.

Perry stood, stretched, and approached her slowly, eyes burning with an emotion that still overwhelmed her after thirty-seven years. He gathered her into his arms and breathed in her familiar, individual scent. "The big, bad wolf, huh? That's discouraging. All these years I've aspired to be Prince Charming."

"You know who you are. Do I have to put on Waltz for a Ball from Cinderella to remind you?"

He captured her smiling lips in a deep, soul-purifying kiss. He would get Kaitlynn Parrish acquitted of murder charges and clear up her father's business problems so that she could finally marry Gary Hawkes, but right now none of those things were as important as taking care of the woman who inexplicably loved him. "Let's go home," he said huskily, desire for her exploding every molecule in his body.

She knew that tone of voice, felt the evidence of his need as she leaned toward him. "I have wine chilling in the refrigerator and ordered Chinese to be delivered in two hours," she whispered against his lips.

He pulled her close, up onto her toes. "That's my girl."