All Night Long (Man of the Month 9)

"Does that mean you'll help me?"

His mouth curved down into a frown. "Not sure how I'm supposed to do that," he said. "But if I can, I will."

"That's why I came here this morning. I need to find an attorney to handle the sale of the distillery. And everyone I've talked to suggests the same man. I wanted to find out who you'd recommend."

"Well, I'm not sure who you're being referred to, but if it were me, I'd talk to Easton Wallace."

Selma's cheeks almost cracked from the force of maintaining her smile. "Actually, he seems to be the perennial favorite. I've heard rumors he's going to run for election in the next judicial race. Considering how popular he is, I'm guessing he's going to win."

Across the table, Elena leaned forward. "But he's not popular with you?"

"Oh, no, it's not that. Easton's great." She felt the warmth creep up the back of her neck and hoped that she wasn't turning red. Since she so rarely blushed, the possibility was especially mortifying. "It's just that we knew each other back when he was in law school. And I know that he works out at Matthew's gym," she added, referring to her brother and the local gym he owned. "And I figure it might be simpler to have an attorney you don't know in real life. I mean, I'm opinionated. What if he doesn't agree with the deal points I want to raise?"

That was a legitimate concern, but she was more afraid of not being able to pay proper attention to the legal issues. Selma had a strict no-return policy with men. But she'd walked away from Easton far too early in the game. She knew that because even after all these years she hadn't forgotten him. Not him or all the wicked things he'd done to her body on their one night together.

Tyree waved her concerns away--or, rather, he waved her concerns about legal disagreements away. "Not an issue. Easton's as professional as they come. He'll tell you his opinion, but he'll also fight for the deal you want so long as it's legitimate and legal. I've hired him for a number of things. Trust me, he's the man you want."

That, of course, was the trouble. She still wanted Easton. She'd been left with a perpetual itch that needed scratching. An itch that was surely the by-product of her too-hasty departure. But still persistent enough that she was tempted to break her own rules.

Because when you got right down to it, if she was about to haul herself all the way to Scotland, then maybe--just maybe--she owed herself one hell of a send-off.

Chapter Two

"Ten days. Two weeks maximum." Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals Judge Desmond Coale stroked his gray-streaked beard as his deep gray eyes--still sharp despite his eighty-plus years--focused intently on Easton. "Anyone who's paying attention knows you're planning to run, but we still want to be deliberate with the timing of your formal announcement. There's an advantage to being first out of the gate. We both know that."

"We do," Easton agreed, feeling a bit like the twenty-four-year-old law grad he used to be, and not the thirty-five-year-old accomplished attorney he'd grown into. Accomplished enough, in fact, that he now occupied a corner office in one of the most prestigious firms in Texas, if not the country. And though he wasn't yet a partner, that wasn't for lack of skill or invitation. Instead, he was remaining a salaried employee so that he would have no formal ties to any particular firm when he officially threw his hat into the ring for the Travis County District Court judicial election.

At the moment he was standing in front of his coveted floor-to-ceiling corner windows looking down Congress Avenue toward the Texas State Capital building. Who knew? Maybe one day he'd be seated there during a legislative session. Certainly, if Judge Coale had his way, Easton would. And his mentor hadn't steered him wrong yet.

He turned away from the window and looked at his friend, mentor, and former boss. The judge was seated in one of the leather guest chairs that faced Easton's massive desk, the top of which was completely clear except for a single yellow legal pad. As far as Easton was concerned, a cluttered desk meant a cluttered mind, not to mention a scattershot lifestyle. And he prided himself on being sharp and laser-focused.

The judge pushed his half-rim glasses up his nose. "If we both agree on the value of being the first to announce, then do you want to tell me why you're still mucking around?"

Easton almost laughed. That was one of the reasons Judge Coale had made a reputation for himself as a federal appellate court judge--the man didn't pull his punches. And that was one of the reasons that Easton considered the older man both a friend and a pseudo grandparent.

"I didn't realize I was."

"Don't bullshit me, son. You've grown into a damn fine poker player, but I'm still a better one."

"That you are, sir," Easton said, hiding his grin.

"This is what we've been working toward since the first day you stepped into my office, all puffed up and ready to save the world one trial at a time."

"No argument. Except possibly about the puffed-up part."

The judge chuckled. "Twenty-four years old and certain you were God's gift to jurisprudence. And, honestly, you may have been right. You're one of the most talented young lawyers I've run across. And those first couple of years in the district attorney's office were a smart move. But I'm glad you've become more strategic about your practice. If your path is going to take you to where I'm sitting--and let's be clear, I think you have what it takes to be a Federal judge--then who you know is at least as important as your legal mind. You can't get appointed if you're not noticed."

"Agreed. And the first step is to sit on a local bench." Easton had made up his mind to be an attorney when he was thirteen years old and watched as his blue-collar parents had lost everything--including their house--because a major corporation stepped in to request eminent domain over a crappy section of land on the outskirts of his small northeastern hometown.

Despite the fact that a state's power of eminent domain shouldn't--and technically didn't-

-extend to forcibly buying property for the use of a business entity, the deal went through. The government bought the land, then rented it to the corporation.

His parents--who had a long-term lease on a section of the property from where they operated a popular hamburger stand--were tossed off with no recourse. They'd lost everything following that debacle, including the house Easton had grown up in, and it had taken the rest of their adult lives to recover.

That's when Easton had decided that he'd become a lawyer no matter what the cost. He'd pursued a clerkship with a Federal judge with relentless energy, knowing that the connections and skills--not to mention the prestige of the position--would only help him in the future. After his two-year stint with Judge Coale, he'd aimed his attention toward criminal law, knowing he could get the best education as a trial lawyer in the fast-paced criminal world. He'd moved next to the prestigious mid-size firm where he now worked so that he would have exposure to several sub-practices of law. His ultimate goal had been to open his own firm and specialize in plaintiff's work, helping people like his parents who'd stood in the shoes of David while facing a corporate Goliath. And Easton would stand in as the stone with which David toppled the giant.

The way had been paved since he was thirteen and he'd dutifully walked the path until he met Judge Coale. The judge had invited him to dinner about two years ago and planted the seeds of the judiciary. It hadn't been something Easton had initially considered, but there was no doubt that a judge had influence, both on and off the bench. And what better way to help people like his parents than to be the arbiter on their final battlefield?