Lawfully Unwed Read online

  Is he getting too close to this damsel in distress?

  Coming to the rescue of a wronged colleague is all in a day’s work for Wyoming attorney Archer Templeton. But Nell Brewster isn’t just any lawyer; Archer has long had his eye on his stepsister’s best friend. She accepts his help but when their motion to dismiss a growing attraction is overruled by a one-night stand, there are unexpected consequences...

  New York Times Bestselling Author Allison Leigh

  She jerked and looked up.

  Archer had been in her condo twice now in the span of six weeks. It was a record. And she was far less shocked to see him than she ought to have been.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He held up a package wrapped with brown kraft paper and twine. “A care package from Meredith for Ros. Only since she hasn’t bothered informing anyone of her new address, I don’t know where to take it.”

  “Could have taken it to her office,” Nell pointed out waspishly.

  “Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have an excuse to see your cheerful face. You know, anyone and their mother’s brother could walk in through your open front door.”

  “Anyone did.”

  “I’m not just anyone.”

  She gave him a look. “Seriously. What do you want?”

  “Seriously, maybe I don’t want anything. That so hard to believe?”

  It wasn’t, and that should have been a relief. So why did his words cause her heart to sink to her stomach in disappointment?

  * * *

  RETURN TO THE DOUBLE C: Under the big blue Wyoming sky, this family discovers true love!

  Dear Reader,

  Why is it that it takes so long for some people to just...get...a...clue?

  As usual, from an observer’s standpoint, that is an easy question with a shake-one’s-head response. From the perspective of the individual or individuals involved? Not such an easy thing.

  Such is the case for Nell and Archer. They’ve known one another for a very long time. Occasionally danced around their mutual attraction. More often preferred to stick their heads in the sand.

  But nature tends to shake things out, including truths that may or may not be easy to face. Nell, who has trusted her head over her heart for all of her adult life, learns that life is so much better when she finally starts listening to her heart. Because when it comes to Archer and the things that really are true, her heart has always had the “clue.”

  Allison

  Lawfully Unwed

  Allison Leigh

  Though her name is frequently on bestseller lists, Allison Leigh’s high point as a writer is hearing from readers that they laughed, cried or lost sleep while reading her books. She credits her family with great patience for the time she’s parked at her computer, and for blessing her with the kind of love she wants her readers to share with the characters living in the pages of her books. Contact her at allisonleigh.com.

  Books by Allison Leigh

  Harlequin Special Edition

  Return to the Double C

  The BFF Bride

  A Child Under His Tree

  Yuletide Baby Bargain

  Show Me a Hero

  The Rancher’s Christmas Promise

  A Promise to Keep

  Lawfully Unwed

  The Fortunes of Texas: The Rulebreakers

  Fortune’s Homecoming

  The Fortunes of Texas: The Secret Fortunes

  Wild West Fortune

  The Fortunes of Texas: All Fortune’s Children

  Fortune’s Secret Heir

  The Fortunes of Texas: The Lost Fortunes

  Fortune’s Texas Reunion

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

  For Amanda and Chad with all of my love.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Excerpt from The Marine’s Road Home by Brenda Harlen

  Chapter One

  “Delicious cake, Nell.”

  “It’s going to be a great year, Nell.”

  “Don’t look a day older, Nell.”

  With a smile that felt wooden on her face, Nell Brewster returned hugs as the well-wishers departed The Wet Bar one after another.

  Fortunately, there weren’t as many people at the pub as Nell’s best friend, Rosalind, had expected. She was the one who’d insisted on the party for Nell. Her reasoning was that Friday afternoon on a holiday weekend would be perfect. Prime time for their crowd to escape their offices for a little more R&R before the long weekend. The July Fourth holiday—on the coming Monday—meant no court proceedings until Tuesday.

  “It’s not every day a girl turns thirty-six,” Ros had said on a laugh not even a month ago when she’d emailed the invitations.

  Thank God for that, is what Nell had thought. At the time, she’d been thinking only about becoming another year older and feeling like she was spinning the same wheels she’d been spinning for years.

  Now, as far as birthdays went, she couldn’t have imagined a worse one. If she could have skipped the celebration altogether, she would have.

  Ros had—a fact that had earned more than a few comments.

  Instead of telling the truth behind her absence, Nell had just let everyone assume that her friend was stuck on a case. Anyone who knew Ros knew that she wasn’t the type who would have escaped for an early holiday celebration if she still had work to do. She was too devoted to her career.

  And why not? Rosalind Pastore was the heir apparent at her father’s law firm. She’d just been made a partner. Working was a reasonable excuse for her absence that afternoon, and a far more preferable one than the truth.

  That was going to come out soon enough.

  The legal community in Cheyenne—in the entire state of Wyoming for that matter—was a tight one.

  Nell suffered through a final hug from Scott Muelhaupt—the newest associate at Pastore Legal—as he wished her a happy birthday for what felt like the tenth time. He hugged her longer than necessary, but she supposed he figured he had a right to, given the fact that they’d been casually dating for several weeks now.

  “Sure I can’t take you out somewhere for dinner?” He smiled hopefully. He was a nice-looking guy. Decent. He smelled clean and he even took his mother out for dinner every Sunday afternoon.

  He just didn’t make any real bells ring for Nell, much less any cymbals crash.

  She wondered if he’d be as interested in her once word got out that she’d quit her job at Pastore Legal. Or if he, like Ros—with whom she’d been friends forever—would decide it was time to cut all ties. If he—again like Ros—would land on the other side of the line that had been drawn in the sand between Nell and Martin Pastore.

  Martin. The founder of Pastore Legal. Champion of the people.

  As long as the “people” weren’t an associate named Nell Brewster.

  Quit or be fired.

  Those had been her choices. She’d figured that out quickly enough even though she hadn’t been so quick to see everything else.

  She hated knowing how oblivious she’d been. Hated knowing that she’d been such an easy pawn. Really, really hated facing the fact that for so long she’
d put her trust where it didn’t belong.

  At thirty-six, she was no smarter than she’d been at twenty-six. Or sixteen, for that matter.

  “I’m sure.” She slid off the seat where she’d been tensely perched as those who had stopped by for birthday cake and adult beverages said their goodbyes, and kept the tall metal-backed stool between them. Casually dating a work associate was fine and dandy. Until it wasn’t. “Thanks, though.”

  Scott shrugged, ever good-natured. “Next time.”

  She kept her wooden smile in place as she waved toward the slab of cake that remained on the long table. “Take some cake. There’s plenty.”

  It was sized for the crowd Ros had initially expected. The crowd that hadn’t panned out.

  At another time, the two of them would have laughed about it, just figuring that left more cake and wine for them. Neither of which was ever a bad thing.

  But it wasn’t another time.

  Still, what was a copious amount of leftover cake when the rest of Nell’s life had landed in such an unexpected mess?

  No job.

  No best friend.

  She stifled a sigh, then nearly jumped out of her skin when a tall man brushed against her as he took the barstool next to hers and greeted the bartender by name.

  She automatically shifted aside with a murmured apology, but pressed her lips together when she realized who the man was.

  Well, this was just the icing on the cake, wasn’t it? Proof that she really was oblivious.

  One portion of her pathetic mind heard the newcomer order a drink while the rest of her bristled with fresh awareness.

  It was always that way when it came to Archer Templeton.

  Bristling nerves. Bristling irritation. Bristling...whatever.

  The last time she’d seen him had been almost a month ago, in a small courtroom several hours away from Cheyenne.

  Now, before she could even ask what he was doing here, Archer turned to her, the squat glass Cheri the bartender had given him clasped in his long, square-tipped fingers and said, “Happy birthday, Cornelia.” His lips were curved slightly as he lifted the glass in a toast.

  Even though she knew better, she couldn’t help feeling a secret thrill at the notion that he was there at The Wet Bar because of her. Her pulse quickened, and she felt a vague but inevitable cymbal crash. And it annoyed the daylights out of her. “Why are you here?”

  The faint lines arrowing out from his vivid green eyes deepened with obvious amusement. “Ah, Nell.” He waved his whiskey glass slightly in the direction of the table and the leftover cake. “Is it too hard to believe I’m here to wish an old friend a happy birthday?”

  She steeled herself against the charm that he’d no doubt been radiating since birth. He’d certainly had it ever since they met half her lifetime ago. But it was dangerous to be sucked into that charm. She’d had too many of her own court cases decimated because of Archer’s charm, which made it so easy to forget how fiercely brilliant he was.

  “Yes.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’ve heard, haven’t you.” It wasn’t a question. “That’s why you’re here.”

  His tawny eyebrows rose a fraction. “Heard what? That you and Muelhaupt are a thing?” he goaded, his eyes glinting. “You always did go for the mousy type. What’s he in charge of again at Pastore Legal? Keeping the flowers fresh in the conference room?”

  Her jaw tightened. Scott was a very competent tax lawyer and she knew the more she defended him to Archer, the more he’d make of it. And Archer never had anything good to say about her law firm and particularly the man who’d founded it. “Go away, Archer.”

  He smiled and a dimple flashed in his lean cheek. “Is that any way to treat an old friend?”

  She dragged her eyes away from the dimple and the cheek. Not without noticing it was smooth. Freshly shaven. Which meant he had probably been in court that day. Otherwise, he would have sported the unshaven look.

  She’d seen him both ways so many times over the years and it was a toss-up which was more appealing.

  And now, because of him, she felt too warm in her suit jacket. And she’d rather chew glass than let it show. “Just because we’ve known each other for years doesn’t mean we’re old friends.” Her voice was flat. “You’re just Ros’s brother.” Stepbrother, technically.

  Was it her imagination or had his smoothly charming smile become a fraction less smooth? He lifted his hand and tucked an escaped curl behind her ear. “Your understanding is as faulty as your allegiance to Martin Pastore,” he drawled, with the usual anti-Pastore edge in his voice.

  Then his hand dropped away and he lifted his glass again in salute.

  Only the salute wasn’t for her any more than the relaxed smile that crossed his face was. The aim was off entirely. Instead, both were directed toward a smashingly attractive blonde who was crossing toward Archer, a brilliant smile on her beautiful face.

  Her name was Taylor Potts. Judge Taylor Potts.

  Nell hid a grimace as the judge offered her cheek for Archer to kiss when he stood to greet her. She settled her palm on his chest with the familiarity of a lover. “Sorry I’m late,” she practically purred. “Got caught up on a new ethics case. Hope I was worth the wait.”

  Nell practically choked. She slid back onto the barstool she’d nearly abandoned just minutes ago and caught the bartender’s eye as she turned her back on the couple. “I’ll take that champagne now,” she said, trying with all of her might to tune out Archer and his judge.

  Of course he hadn’t come to The Wet Bar because of Nell.

  The bartender held up the bottle that she hadn’t wanted earlier. The bottle that had been a gift from Ros.

  She nodded and waved her hand in invitation to pour a glass. “That’s the one, Cheri. Open up that puppy,” she said with false brightness.

  After all. It’s not every day a girl turns thirty-six.

  * * *

  “You sure I can’t talk you into coming with me?” Taylor angled her lovely head as she smiled up at Archer.

  It had been several hours since they’d shared a drink at The Wet Bar. After they’d left, they’d had dinner at the most expensive restaurant in Cheyenne. There was nothing fast about the service at Clever Bacie’s and Archer would have preferred a steak dinner to the Asian fusion cuisine, but it was Taylor’s favorite place and the food was good.

  He’d always enjoyed her company. She was smart. Funny. Attractive. And had been as disinterested in serious ties as he’d been.

  Until lately.

  He was thirty-nine years old. He recognized the signs.

  “Sorry,” he said, and he actually was. Because he’d miss their easy, no-ties relationship. “I’ve got to be in Braden early in the morning.” It was the truth. His hometown was several hours away.

  Even when she made a face, she did it beautifully. “Well, a rain check, then.”

  He smiled noncommittally and opened her car door for her. “Drive careful.”

  He heard her faint sigh, though the smile on her face didn’t fade as she sank into the driver’s seat of her luxury sedan. “Will I hear from you next week?”

  “If I’m in town.” He leaned down and brushed a kiss over her cheek.

  “Gage Stanton needing you again in Colorado?”

  “Gage isn’t the only one I do business with in Denver,” Archer reminded her, though it was true the real estate developer had paid the lion’s share of Archer’s billable hours over the last few years. Most recently because of a hotly contested property on Rambling Mountain near Weaver, also several hours north of Cheyenne. Braden and Weaver, situated about thirty miles apart, were both small towns. But together, they managed to meet the needs of the residents in their region and if Gage’s plan to develop a resort came to pass, it would change the tourism landscape altogether for both communities. “I do have a pra
ctice in Denver.”

  “And a few others spread across Wyoming,” she said wryly. “I don’t remember you being so ambitious back in our law school days.”

  He chuckled. “I don’t remember you aspiring to be a judge, either.”

  She shrugged. “What can I say? Legal aid is satisfying but it’s hard to pay the bills on that sort of wage.” She pushed a button and her car started, the window rolled down, her seat automatically adjusted and a soft voice began reciting her schedule for the day.

  “Particularly bills that come with cars like this.” He closed her door for her and backed away.

  Her smile widened and with a light wave, she drove away.

  He blew out a breath and started walking down the street to where his truck was parked outside The Wet Bar. When he reached it, though, he didn’t get in.

  Instead, he stood there on the sidewalk, dithering like some damn fool.

  “Be smart, Arch,” he muttered aloud, not caring that he earned a startled glance from an older couple walking past. Nell hadn’t appreciated his making an appearance for her birthday earlier. If she were still inside—and that was a pretty large if—she wouldn’t feel any differently now.

  He was supposed to be in Braden early in the morning. Not because of the Rambling Mountain deal—that was currently on pause, tangled in the red tape that Gage Stanton was paying him to untangle—but because his sister Greer expected all hands to be on deck for her son Finn’s first birthday party.

  Archer hadn’t been home in nearly a month. He didn’t have a problem helping out even though he knew there were plenty of other able-bodied and willing helpers Greer could count on.

  He pivoted on his heel and pulled out his keys to unlock the truck.

  He’d known Nell in law school, too. She and Ros had been just starting out when he and Taylor had been finishing. He’d known Nell even before that, though, thanks to her friendship with Ros. She’d accompanied his stepsister to Braden one summer during one of Ros’s forced visits with her mother.

  Nell, whose mother had recently died, had seemed to enjoy the time more than Ros had. His stepsister hadn’t been there because she wanted to be. She’d been there only because she had to be. Ordinarily, Ros lived with her dad, Martin, in Cheyenne and wanted nothing to do with her mother or the family that Meredith had made with Archer’s dad in Braden.