Order of Protection Read online

  He groaned. That was not a world he wanted to set foot in. He’d been around the elite of the entertainment world, and they were bad enough. Reality shows were pretty much the bottom of the barrel. “Absolutely not.”

  “Come on. You know that’s a gold mine,” David countered, his voice going low. It was the same tone he used when trying to get a jury to see his point. Look at how sensible I’m being. Don’t mind the facts. Isn’t my voice soothing? He had to admit it. David had that shit down. “And it’s publicity, Henry. You’re the one who taught me getting your name out there is half the battle. This would be a great way to announce you’re back and you’re not afraid of anything. It’s work just waiting to happen. They always get in trouble. It’s actually a part of their career paths. If their ratings stall, they get arrested and do an apologetic media tour. That group has been going for more than five years now. They’re all about to hit thirty, and that’s geriatric on their network. Rumors are it’s going to get canceled soon. One of those kids is going to do something stupid, and we could be the lawyers who get paid for mopping up the mess.”

  The thought made Henry’s stomach churn. He glanced out over the beach. It was peaceful. So unlike his former life. At this time of evening, the families had gone in for early dinners and the only person he could see was a woman jogging toward him from the east side of the island.

  She was brave, because that storm was moving in even faster than he’d thought. There wasn’t much the way she was going. No shops unless she made a turn and jogged into Edgartown proper.

  “I’m not getting back into that life—even as the janitor,” Henry replied. “Besides, after the way I left L.A., I don’t think there’s a studio or a network around that would recommend anything with my name on it.”

  That had been the real mistake. He’d followed his bombshell actress wife out to La La Land, and that’s where it had all gone to hell. He should never have left the East Coast. God, there were pictures of him in douchebag V-neck T-shirts and skinny jeans. What had he been thinking?

  He’d come back to New York with his tail between his legs and a big decision to make. Keep the home he’d grown up in or the Manhattan condo that impressed potential clients. In the end, there had been no other logical choice. The Martha’s Vineyard property was worth even more than the condo, but he couldn’t practice out here. Oh, he was perfectly licensed to practice in the state of Massachusetts, but there wasn’t much to do. The worst thing that happened out here was someone’s Maltipoo violating the dog-doo rules.

  Unfortunately, the murders were few and far between.

  “Think about it,” David said with a sigh. “I know you hate the fact that you have to climb the ladder again, but it won’t take as long this time. New York is different than L.A., and you know it. That Harvard degree means something here.”

  So did his public meltdowns. They had been scandal fodder in L.A., but they were serious here in New York. New York lawyers were serious. They did not make headlines for anything but winning cases. “I’ll think about it.”

  He wouldn’t, but he owed the lie to David. He glanced up again, and the jogger was getting closer. She was pretty, from this far out. Not the type he’d gotten used to in L.A. Thank god. This woman looked healthy. Nice breasts that not even her sports bra could force to be still. They moved in a way that let him know they weren’t made of silicone. Her blond hair was up in a ponytail, leaving her face exposed. She wasn’t all angles and planes. There was a softness to her even as she jogged along.

  He heard the first rumble of thunder and saw her glance up at the sky.

  “All right, then,” David said with a long sigh. “I’ll let you go, but seriously think about what I said. That chick Brie Westerhaven alone could bring in millions if she’s anything like her dad. And I seem to remember there was a best friend. Some superskinny heiress.”

  “Yeah, I know who you’re talking about,” he replied. His ex-wife, Alicia, had been obsessed with Kendalmire’s Way. It was a reality show about the über-rich and idiotic. One of the “stars” had been a woman named Taylor Winston. “She was the Billion-Dollar Baby.”

  When Taylor’s parents’ yacht had gone down in a storm on their way to Bermuda, there had been only one survivor—a baby found floating in a life vest. The newspapers had called it a miracle, and Taylor Winston had inherited a multibillion-dollar fortune before she’d turned two. Too bad she hadn’t used it to get an education. He knew little about her and didn’t want to know more.

  The woman jogging by him was probably a local. She was too healthy to be a model. She was at least a whole size six, and in that world she would be plus-sized. Those breasts wouldn’t fit in designer wear, and she was wearing a plain T-shirt, cutoff sweats, and old-school Ray-Bans. Her sneakers were nothing special. There was none of the blingy designer crap the wealthy and desperate-to-be-seen wore. And this was a quiet beach. No cameras or gawkers.

  He nodded her way, giving her a friendly smile. He didn’t recognize her, but then he’d been gone for nearly twenty years. Maybe he could visit some old acquaintances during this last two weeks.

  Or maybe he should get his ass back to New York. “Are you sure you’re all right with me taking this time?”

  “Stop, Henry. Take it. This is the last time you’ll get to be in that house, and you’ll regret it if you don’t pack it up yourself,” David insisted.

  And regret was one thing he didn’t need more of. “Have I told you how much I appreciate you?”

  The old Henry had appreciated nothing. The new Henry wasn’t going to make the same mistake.

  “Never. But you could let me win the next time we play golf,” David suggested.

  “That will be the day.” He hung up, feeling a bit better.

  And then even better, because the blonde smiled back at him and he was damn near knocked over by those sweet dimples. She was soft and sexy and . . .

  Clumsy. She hit something in the sand and went flying.

  He let the phone drop and got off the steps, racing toward her. He’d saved many a woman from tripping in five-inch heels on the streets of Manhattan, but this was his first sneaker rescue. She was facedown in the sand when he got to her. It was shitty and supermale of him, but he couldn’t help but notice that she filled out those sweats. Her backside was gorgeous and curvy.

  She didn’t move.

  “Are you all right?”

  “It depends. Is this a weird anxiety dream?” She stayed down, her face inches from the sand. “Because then I’m sure I’ll be okay. I’m nervous about starting grad school in a couple of weeks, and you could be a stand-in for all those professors at Duke who are going to be grading my work soon. So if you’ll turn into a walrus and start singing, my work will be better.”

  Oh, he liked a quirky girl. It was absolutely where drunk-ass, too-rich-for-his-own-good Henry split from the Henry he’d been when he’d lived here. The blond hair and curves were nice, but the weird sense of humor was what really did it for him. “And if I’m nothing more than a guy sitting on his back porch?”

  “Then I’m planning on lying here until you go away, and then I’ll slink off and never come back again.”

  He didn’t want her to slink away. She might be the most interesting thing that had happened to him in a long time. What would it be like to sit with a normal woman for a few hours? A grad student. Didn’t get more normal than that. “There is a third option.”

  “I’m listening.” She turned her head slightly, and he could see her lips starting to curl up.

  He knelt down. “You could let me help you up and take a look at your ankle.”

  “Are you a doctor?”

  “Lawyer.”

  She groaned and let her head sink back to the sand. “Nope. I’m staying here. Can’t deal with lawyers. This is my home now.”

  “Well, your home is going to get awfully wet in a few h
ours when high tide comes in. How about I promise not to throw any legal crap your way and you let me ice that ankle before it swells, and then you can decide if you want to become a mermaid.” He didn’t usually bring random women inside his childhood home. Hell, he hadn’t brought them back even when he’d lived here.

  But he wanted to talk to her. She was intriguing. Even more now that he realized she was a weirdo.

  She glanced up at him and frowned. “Sure you’re not a ridiculously hot figment of my imagination?”

  That was another plus. She had terrible taste in men and likely no idea who the hell he was. “One hundred percent real.” He could guess at what made her skittish. “And you should know that I found your swan dive charming and attractive. Now let me get you inside. It’s going to rain soon.”

  She groaned. “Yep, that’s what my nana said. She won’t let me live it down if I come home looking like a drowned rat. Is it all right if I ride it out?”

  “Anything for a fellow townie.”

  She pushed up and winced as she got to one knee.

  He held out a hand and helped her up. “I’m Henry Garrison, by the way.”

  She smiled, and those ridiculously adorable and yet sexy-as-hell dimples showed up. “Winnie Hughes. But please call me Win. Not that the nickname is applicable today. It’s nice to meet you. Actually, the ankle’s not too bad. It’s mostly my pride and the fact that if I don’t get in before it starts raining, people are probably going to see way more of me than they want to. I was so sure it wouldn’t rain that I picked a thin white T-shirt. That’s what I get for rebelling against authority.”

  He felt the first drop of rain hit his head and managed not to keep her outside longer. He wasn’t going to be some leering stranger. After all, he wasn’t that far out from his divorce. It had only been six months since he’d signed on the dotted line, and he wasn’t about to be the idiot who threw himself back into the ocean after nearly drowning.

  She was a townie, and he was going to miss the hell out of this place, so he would play nice.

  Also, for the first time in hours, he wasn’t thinking about a drink. “Come on. Let’s get inside.”

  The sky chose that moment to open up and bring down a deluge. Win squealed in a wholly feminine way and ran for the porch. Henry followed her, thankful because he knew he was going to make it one more day.

  That was all he could ask for at this point.

  * * *

  Taylor Winston-Hughes took the tea from her gentleman savior. Outside, the rain beat against the roof of his small house. Her clothes were in his dryer, and she wore a way-too-big-for-her Harvard T-shirt and pajama bottoms she’d had to tie around her body. Her hair was in a towel, and she was absolutely certain she looked ridiculous.

  Naturally, she looked like a crazy person and he was a gorgeous god of a man.

  “Thanks.” She looked up at him, hoping she wasn’t drooling. He was an actual man and not a boy in designer clothes. She would bet he didn’t spend all day checking his Twitter or starting flame wars with other celebs. “So you live here? I haven’t seen you around.”

  She’d been on the island for six months. Six months since she’d gotten back from Sweden. Six months since she’d hugged her counselor and walked back out into the world. Would Helena be proud of her that she hadn’t even hesitated to ask for sugar for her tea? Real sugar. And she was going to eat one of those cookies he’d put out, because they looked really good and her life was going to be about joy now, not fitting into some tiny piece of fabric and having the world celebrate her for not eating.

  “I used to,” he admitted, holding out the plate. He smiled at her. “Don’t get excited. I didn’t make them. Actually, that’s something to be excited about, because I’m a terrible cook. I got them from the bakery in town.”

  “Christina’s.” She knew the place well. She took one of the snickerdoodles. “I love that place. She makes the best madeleines.”

  He put the plate down and sat across from her. “When I was a kid, the place was run by her mom, the original Christina. Though she answers to the name, the woman who runs it now is actually named Dawn. I went to high school with her. Never thought she’d come home to run the bakery. I believe she left the island the day after we graduated with dreams of becoming the next great country singer.”

  Win shuddered slightly at the thought. She knew too many desperate artists. Her house was full of them right now. It was why she’d gone for that jog despite the weather. If she’d had to listen to one more complaint from Brie’s overly injected mouth, she would have screamed. “Yeah, I think that sounds horrible.”

  Henry shrugged. “I suppose when you’re young it all seems like a good idea.”

  “Somehow, I don’t see you dreaming of fronting a band.” There was something serious about the man, even when he was smiling. “When I was a kid I wanted to be a zookeeper. Then I got a real whiff of what it smelled like and I shifted my dreams.”

  He laughed, a deep, rich sound. “I can see where that was a wise move. My grandfather was a fishing boat captain.”

  She fought back another shiver. Though she couldn’t remember the accident that had taken her parents’ lives, it was embedded deep in her subconscious. She could get on a boat, but it bothered her. The storm bothered her, too, which proved how far she’d come. Now she found dealing with Brie and Hoover and Kipton was far worse than a potential storm. “I’m not big on boats.”

  “But you live on an island.”

  She did now. She could tell him about the Manhattan penthouse or the pied-à-terre she kept in Paris. She could mention the manor house outside London or the mansions in Bedford, Malibu, and Palm Beach, but she kind of liked being a townie. “Let’s say I’m working on getting over all my hang-ups. So you grew up here?”

  She didn’t want to talk about herself. She’d spent way too much time doing that. If she could spend a day as Win Hughes, she would count it as a victory. She was trying her hardest to leave Taylor Winston-Hughes as far behind as possible.

  “I did. This house has been in my family for a couple of generations. The Garrisons have lived on Chappaquiddick since long before it became associated with the Kennedys.”

  Her eyes went wide. “I left the main island? Wow. I got on to one of the trails and started following it. I wasn’t thinking.”

  He had to laugh. “Haven’t been here long, have you?”

  “My nana moved here ten years ago.” Right after Win had left for college. Right before she’d fallen in with the ridiculous crowd and wrecked her life. Mary Hannigan had been her nanny all Win’s life, and when Win had moved, she’d decided to take over running the house on Martha’s Vineyard. She’d wanted a quieter life, but Win suspected she’d mostly wanted to be rid of Win’s uncle.

  After the last year, Win had wanted nothing more than to find home again, and for her, it wasn’t a place. Home was a person, a person she shared not a drop of blood with. “I kind of screwed up my life, and now I’m living with her until I start grad school. Typical millennial, you know. Almost thirty and still searching.”

  “Well, I’m moving toward forty and I still don’t have it figured out. I think it’s a human thing.” He sat back. “I miss my grandfather. You’re lucky to still have family. I’m afraid I am the last of my line.”

  She gave him a short smile. She was fairly certain it didn’t reach her eyes. “My family is very small and not warm. My parents died when I was young, and I’ve been raised by my uncle ever since. Not that he had much to do with me. He was busy running the business my dad left behind. It’s been me and Nana for as long as I can remember.”

  It wasn’t like she was going to see Mr. Gorgeous again. She was leaving for North Carolina in a couple of weeks, and according to him, he was selling this place. There wasn’t any real reason for her to explain the complexities of her life to a stranger. Actually, he might be a nic
e diversion before she threw herself into her studies.

  She needed a diversion. Brie constantly trying to get her back on the show was proving to be stressful.

  It was obvious to her this man had no idea who she was, and she liked it that way. Especially since she knew exactly who he was. Henry Garrison, former Manhattan attorney turned Alicia Kingman’s latest victim. She’d heard he’d gone into rehab after leaving L.A., and she believed it. He looked good and seemed calm and centered.

  He was exactly the kind of man she could spend some time with. But once they were both back in New York, their paths wouldn’t cross, since she was staying completely out of social circles as much as possible from now on. There would be her charity work, but since they’d never bumped into each other before, she had no reason to think they would again.

  The house rattled with the next clap of thunder.

  “You all right?” Henry asked.

  “I don’t like storms much either.” She’d almost gotten caught in this one. This part of the island wasn’t filled with houses and shops. It was stark and beautiful and isolated. It was why she spent so much time here, though she was usually on the Edgartown side of the beach. She glanced at the window. Lightning blanketed the sky.

  “It’s okay.” His voice was deep and rich. “It’s hurricane glass, and this isn’t a hurricane. It’s a nasty storm, and from what I read on the weather site when I went to make the tea, it’s going to last a couple of hours. We should talk about what that might mean.”

  It would be dark by the time she could start back. “I can call a cab. Well, maybe.”

  “I’ll drive you back. I have a Jeep up here, but there might not be a road left,” he said. “The beach often floods. In fact, if you’d been here a couple of years ago, you wouldn’t have been able to get lost like you did. Norton Point Beach went underwater for eight years. It could do the same tonight, though it shouldn’t last quite that long.”