"You should have taken her up on that wink." Drew Kinard thought about walking faster, but he and Daniel were full of fried oysters and Shiraz, and it was just too much effort. Besides, if you ran from the rain in Seattle, you wouldn't stop until you were south of San Francisco. And the Belltown area of Seattle north of Pike Place Market was too interesting to rush through.
Once a featureless area of warehouses and low office buildings, Belltown had become the home of grunge musicians in the 1990s. A creative explosion brought writers and artists, followed by tourists and permanent residents looking for atmosphere and style. Belltown had gone upscale in the last decade and was now a hot neighborhood filled with busy boutiques and fancy restaurants.
"I'm sure she'd have been happy to go home with you," Drew needled his friend, "with a little encouragement."
Daniel's sigh was only moderately regretful. "Yeah, but women are a lot of trouble. And I'm a busy man."
Drew looked skeptical. "Right. You have time to put all that effort into clothes - Armani suits, Gucci shoes - just to look good in front of a judge while you're pleading a case, but you're too busy for women? Doesn't make sense to me."
Daniel laughed as a large raindrop plopped on his forehead. "It's to look good in front of the jury. And why didn't you return her wink?"
"Because it was aimed at you. And she wasn't my type."
"I thought you didn't have a type. There was that brainiac from Yale, and that perky do-gooder friend of Katherine's. Then there was the exotic dancer at ..."
"Why are you keeping track of my love life?" Drew demanded good-naturedly. He and Daniel had been friends since they'd met at a networking session for young professionals three years ago. Harassment was an accepted part of their relationship. "Jealousy? Vicarious thrill?"
Daniel walked faster as that single drop developed into serious rain. "Simple fascination, I guess, that someone who looks like you can attract women."
"They don't all go for the buttoned-down type." Drew indicated his friend's immaculate attire with a sweep of his hand. Daniel's all-business attitude extended to more than just his appearance. Drew figured it had something to do with his childhood, but since Daniel seldom volunteered information about his past, Drew never asked. "Some women prefer a more approachable man. One who looks ..."
"Like a refugee from a dot-com company? Brains but no style?" Daniel pointed to Drew's more casual jeans, beige camp shirt, and thick dark hair, which always seemed a mess, no matter how often he combed it.
Drew pointed to a trash receptacle half a block away. "I'll bet I could slam-dunk you into that from here," he threatened.
Daniel laughed. "Then I'd have to sue you."
"That's all right. I have a good lawyer."
"I'm your lawyer."
"Oh, yeah."
Rain drummed heavily on the sidewalk and the windows of the old Italianate buildings that lined Sandringham Drive. When the wind suddenly picked up, the rain pelted down even harder, and the two men found themselves caught in a summer storm. They ran the half block to the Forrester Square Day Care building at 10, raced through the gate, then up the steps to the slight protection offered by the overhang of the doorway. Daniel's car was parked in front.
"The scuttlebutt," Daniel said, as he brushed water droplets off his suit, "is that you did a great job redesigning this building. One of my clients was talking about it at a Chamber meeting. He said you're the new name to watch in architecture in the city."
Drew was happy to hear that. He'd put everything he'd learned, and a lot of what seemed to be simple instinct, into the redesign of the old three-story sandstone that now housed his sister Katherine's day-care center. "I hope so," he said feelingly. "I like working on my own, but I need a really high-profile job to launch my company. I have dreams of one day having my own place where I no longer have to pay rent to my sister."
"Must be spooky to live above a day care," Daniel said seriously. "All those kids around all the time."
Drew shook his head. He had no problem with children. "The only bad part is having to be quiet if I'm home during the day. The babies and toddlers nap on the second floor, so I have to keep the music down. And, of course, I can't practice my clog dancing."
Daniel laughed. "You're an idiot." Then he sobered. "Hey, your dad's getting out pretty soon, isn't he."
Drew nodded. His chest constricted when he thought about it. Twenty years of a man's life wasted behind bars because of a crime he didn't commit.
"Yeah," he said, trying to sound unaffected. Though he had been only six years old when his father had gone to jail, Drew remembered how drastically his own life had changed. "Mom's excited. So's Katherine."
"And you?"
"It'll be great to have him back." His father had loved him, trusted him, treated him like another man. When Louis Kinard went to jail, Drew's mother and sister had become overprotective, trying hard to shield him from the whispers and accusing glances that came with his father's conviction. He'd balked against their cosseting and complained to his father about it one visiting day.
"You have to be the man of the family while I'm gone," his father had told him gravely in a private moment, "but sometimes that means letting your mother and sister fuss over you because it makes them feel better. Most important, Drew - you mustn't believe all the bad things you'll hear about me. I didn't do what they say I did, but I've been accused and convicted, and to most people, that's the same thing. Just remember how much I love you, and your mother and sister. The fact that I'm not with you doesn't change that one little bit."
He remembered the long drive home after that visit, and the realization that he'd felt braver than he had before.
Now, though, he was a man and not the child Louis Kinard had loved unconditionally. What would his dad think of Drew once he was able to spend much more time with him?
A loud slapping sound overhead snapped him out of his thoughts.
"He's going to think you're great," Daniel said, as though he'd seen right into Drew's mind. "And he'll probably continue to even after I try to set him straight. What the hell is that?"
Both stepped out into the rain to look up in the direction of the noise, which sounded a little like a loose sail.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Reinventing Julia by Muriel Jensen Copyright © 2003 by Harlequin Enterprises Ltd.. Excerpted by permission.
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