Paradise (Second Opportunities 1)

Deafening silence ensued.

Levinson lifted his brows and looked steadily at Stuart. Stuart, who was growing angry again, glared at Farrell. "You shared a roof, not a bed." But Farrell said nothing. Instead, he shifted his gaze and looked quietly and pointedly at Meredith.

Stuart knew then. He knew, even before he turned his head and saw the look of betrayal shimmering in Meredith's eyes and the angry, embarrassed flush on her pale cheeks as she yanked her gaze from her husband's and stared at her hands. Despite the disjointed thoughts whirling through his mind, he lifted his shoulders and said with convincing unconcern, "So they slept together. Big damned deal. I still repeat—why would your client consider refusing to sign a waiver on the two years? Why prolong the inevitable divorce?"

"Because," Levinson said calmly, "Mr. Farrell is not convinced a divorce is inevitable."

Stuart's laugh was genuine. "That's ridiculous."

"Mr. Farrell doesn't think so. In fact, he's willing to offer all the concessions we've discussed here—a five-million-dollar alimony settlement, the property in Houston, the dismissal of all legal action against Philip Bancroft, and a waiver on the two-year waiting period— all of that in return for only one concession for himself."

"What concession?"

"He wants one week for every year of marriage he was denied. Eleven weeks. Eleven weeks with his wife, so that they can get to know each other better .. ,"

Meredith half rose out of her chair, her eyes shooting sparks at Matt. "You want whaat!"

"Define how he intends to get to know her," Stuart snapped, convinced that the phrase carried blatant sexual overtones.

"I think we can leave it to them to work that out," Levinson began, but Meredith's furious voice interrupted him.

"Oh, no, you can't!" She stood up, her eyes alive with fury as she said to Matt, "You've subjected me to everything in this meeting from terrorism to humiliation. Don't stop now. Let's be specific, so they can write it all down with the rest of your offer. Tell them exactly how you intend to get to know me. This is nothing but blackmail, so stipulate your terms, you—you bastard!"

Matt looked at the attorneys. "Leave the two of us alone now."

Meredith, however, was past the point of caring who heard anything anymore. "Sit down!" she warned the attorneys. Nothing mattered. She was trapped; she'd understood the terms; she just hadn't anticipated the grotesque payment Matt was going to exact. Either she slept with him for the next eleven weeks, or he was going to drag her father through the courts, and very likely kill him with the stress. She saw something else then—the gray-haired secretary who'd slipped in and seated herself on a sofa and was busily taking down what everyone said. Like an animal who is cornered, Meredith struck out, mentally circling as she leaned her palms on the table, glaring at Matt, her eyes filled with contempt and hatred. "Everyone stays while you list your obscene terms. Either you kill my father with your lawsuits or you get your pound of flesh from me—that's it, isn't it? Now, start telling these lawyers of yours how you intend to take it! Tell them how often and which way, damn you! But you draw up receipts, you bastard, because I'll make you sign them."

Her gaze shot to the secretary. "Are you having a stimulating time over there? Are you getting this all down? This monster you work for is going to dictate how he wants his kicks, how often—"

Suddenly everyone was in motion. Matt jumped out of his chair and headed around the table, Levinson grabbed for his sleeve and missed, Stuart shoved his chair back and tried to thrust Meredith behind him, but Meredith flung him off. "Stay away from me!" she warned Stuart before whirling on Matt, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Bastard!" she hissed. "Start dictating your terms. How often do you want it—how—" Matt reached for her at the same moment Meredith swung, her palm crashing against his face with a force that snapped his head sideways.

"Stop it!" he ordered, grabbing her upper arms, but his gaze was on Stuart, who was heading forward, reaching for him.

"Bastard!" she sobbed, glaring at Matt. "You bastard, I trusted you!"

Matt yanked her against his chest, shrugging Stuart off. "Listen to me!" he said tautly, turning Meredith aside. "I am not asking you to sleep with me! Do you understand me? I'm asking for a chance, dammit! Just a chance for eleven weeks!"

Everyone was standing; everyone froze, even Meredith stopped struggling, but her whole body was trembling and she covered her face with her hands. Glancing at their spectators, Matt ordered sharply, "Get the hell out of here."

Levinson and Pearson gathered up their papers to leave, but Stuart stayed where he was, watching Meredith, who was neither returning nor resisting Matt's embrace. "I'm not going anywhere until you take your hands off her and she tells me she wants me to leave."

Matt knew he meant it, and since Meredith had stopped resisting, he dropped his arms, reaching into his pocket for a handkerchief to give her.

"Meredith?" Stuart said uncertainly to the back of her head. "Do you want me to wait outside or stay here? Tell me what you want me to do."

Humiliated past all endurance at the realization she'd jumped to erroneous conclusions and made such a scene, and furious because she'd been prodded into doing both, Meredith ungraciously snatched Matt's handkerchief.

"What she wants to do right now," Matt told Stuart with a grim effort at humor, "is throw another punch at me—"

"I can speak for myself!" Meredith gritted out, dabbing at her eyes and nose and stepping back a pace. "Stay here, Stuart." She raised liquid, angry, mistrustful eyes to Matt, and said, "You wanted this all legal and formal. Tell my attorney what you mean by wanting a chance, because I obviously don't understand."

"I'd rather do it in private."

Well, she said with a haughty glance that was spoiled by the tears still sparkling on her lashes, "that's just too bad! You're the one who insisted on doing this today, and in front of your lawyers! You couldn't possibly have spared me this and discussed it with me in private some other time—"

"I called you yesterday to try to do exactly that," he told her. "You instructed your secretary to tell me to deal with you only through your attorney."

"Well, you could have tried again!"

"When? After you flew to Mexico or Reno or wherever you intended to go on your sudden trip this week to divorce me?"