“I have no problem with that, Evan,” she said, turning to meet his gaze.

“Well, there is one problem with it.”

“Such as?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

Evan closed the distance between them and looked directly into her eyes.

“Well, if I’m tied up with witnesses for the next several days, including through the weekend, then the trial starts next week and jury selection takes place, that’s a whole lot of time during which I won’t see you. That’s not good. Not good at all.”

“It’s not?” She smiled up at him.

“No, it’s not,” he said, matching her smile. “I’ve gotten used to you hanging around, so to speak. I’ll be looking over my shoulder wondering where you are, which would be hazardous to my concentration.”

“I see.” Jennifer laughed. “Well, is there a solution to this dilemma?”

“Why don’t we go out to dinner tonight and discuss it?”

“Well, I certainly want to do everything I possibly can to assist you, sir.”

“Good. I’ll pick you up at seven. Dress casually. I know a restaurant that serves the best steaks in town, but it’s rustic. You know, wooden tables and benches, that sort of thing.”

“Sounds like fun. Oh. Maybe we’re not supposed to have fun while we’re discussing details of this and that regarding this case.”

“I won’t tell, if you won’t.”

“My lips are sealed.”

Evan’s expression became serious and he drew one thumb over Jennifer’s lips, causing her to shiver at the sensual foray.

“Your lips,” he said, his voice very deep and very rumbly, “are so kissable they should be declared against the law.”

“So, arrest me,” she said, hardly above a whisper.

“No, I’d rather…” he lowered his head toward Jennifer’s “…much rather kiss those lips that are so…”

The hazy mist that was settling over them was shattered by the sound of Belinda’s voice in Evan’s office beyond the conference room.

“You don’t have an appointment,” Belinda said. “You can’t just barge in here and…”

“I can and I am,” a woman said. “Now where is Evan Stone? I don’t intend to leave until I’ve spoken with him.”

“What the hell…” Evan muttered, striding toward the door leading to his office.

Jennifer was right behind him.

“I’m sorry, Evan,” Belinda said, throwing up her hands, “but she wouldn’t listen to me and…”

“It’s not your fault, Belinda. I’ll take it from here.”

“Thank goodness,” Belinda said, stomping from the room and closing the door behind her.

“Mrs. Gardner,” Evan said, “won’t you have a seat?”

So this is Cecelia Gardner, Jennifer thought, the grande dame of Chicago society. Or she was until this scandal broke. This was Franklin and Lyle Gardner’s mother. She was definitely an intimidating figure. Tall, thin, white hair swept up and couture clothes that suited her perfectly.

“You’ve been refusing to accept my calls,” Cecelia said, sitting down opposite Evan’s desk, “so I came in person.” She swept her haughty gaze over Jennifer. “I’d prefer to speak with you privately, Mr. Stone.”

Evan stepped forward and moved the second chair from in front of the desk to the side and away from Cecelia.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible. Ms. Anderson is filming a documentary on the inner workings of the D.A.’s office, per strict instructions from His Honor the mayor. Anything you say to me will be said in front of Jennifer.” He looked at Jennifer. “Jenny? Your chair?”

Jennifer sank onto a chair, her eyes darting back and forth between Evan and Cecelia. The tension in the room was a nearly palpable entity. She studied Cecelia more intently, looking for the sorrow, the mother who had lost one son and had another facing charges of murdering his own brother. All she could see was anger flashing in Cecelia Gardner’s icy blue eyes.

Evan sat down in the leather chair behind his desk. “Now then, Mrs. Gardner, what can I do for you?”

“You can drop the charges against my son Lyle,” she said, lifting her chin. “This trial is a travesty, part of a conspiracy carefully planned by those who are jealous of the social standing, wealth and power that my family possesses. The lies being told about Franklin now that he’s no longer alive to defend himself are further proof of the evil forces who wish to diminish us. I won’t stand for it.”

Evan leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest, but didn’t speak.

“The story in the newspapers,” Cecelia went on, “relating that Franklin was involved in some sordid nonsense about young girls being sold into prostitution is ridiculous, and I plan to sue for slander, believe me. And as if that isn’t enough, you have all gone on to accuse Lyle of murdering his own brother.”

Evan nodded.

“Do you know, Mr. Stone,” Cecelia said, her voice quivering with fury, “that I have been asked to resign from the governing board of six charities that I have helped establish and run for many years? Do you know that the name Gardner is to be removed from the shelters and halfway houses I worked tirelessly to put into operation? Do you have any idea what you have done to my reputation in this town?

“You will pay with your job, as will the mayor and governor. Yes, you will pay for what you’ve done. But you will first petition the court to drop all charges against Lyle so I can begin to reestablish my name and status to its proper place. Is that clear?”

“Dear heaven,” Jennifer said, speaking aloud before she even realized she had done it, “where are your tears? Where is your grief for your dead son and for the other son who faces charges of taking his brother’s life? What kind of mother are you, Mrs. Gardner? All you can think about is you, your wants and needs.” She slid one hand protectively across her stomach. “Your…your baby boys, your babies are… Don’t you care?”

“You have no concept of what is important in my level of society, young woman.” Cecelia glared at Jennifer. “Respect for me, my name, my power and wealth must be reestablished before more damage is done.

“Once I have regained my proper standing, I will see to the clearing of Franklin ’s name and, in the meantime, Mr. Stone will drop the charges against Lyle so I don’t have to be concerned about that. I will have the respect due me. That is first and foremost on my mind.”

“Incredible,” Jennifer whispered, as she stared at Cecelia.

“I trust we understand each other, Mr. Stone?” Cecelia said, getting to her feet. “I doubt seriously that you intend to see your career destroyed over this nonsense. I expect Lyle to be released from jail before this day ends. I will also be looking for a public apology from you. A brief press conference should take care of that nicely. I will, in fact, be making a list of everyone who owes me an apology and I will see to it that they are forthcoming. I assume you have no questions regarding this matter?”

“Just one,” Evan said, a steely edge to his voice.

“Yes?” Cecelia said.

“Do you plan to attend Lyle’s trial,” Evan said, “or just catch the highlights in the evening paper since you’ll be so busy attempting to repair your status in Chicago ’s Gold Coast society? Can you fit witnessing your son convicted of murdering his only brother into your schedule, Mrs. Gardner?”

Cecelia Gardner narrowed her eyes. “You are finished in this town, Stone, and I will see to it that no one, no one, across the entire United States will hire you. You don’t seem to comprehend who I am.”

“I understand perfectly who and what you are,” Evan said, “and I think it’s very, very sad.”

Cecelia squared her shoulders, then turned and crossed the room, leaving the door open as she left the office.

“If I hadn’t seen it, heard it,” Jennifer said, her voice quivering, “I wouldn’t believe it. She’s not a mother. She’s not. How can a woman give birth to two sons and not be a mother?” Two tears spilled onto her pale cheeks. “She’s horrible, Evan. Didn’t she hold her babies in her arms, nurture them, sing to them, read them stories and…” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I just…I’m sorry.”