dressed than Hannah herself was.
But then—unlike Hannah—Ken Stephens’s daughter didn’t have law school loans to repay, so she could afford designer clothes. Of course, that begged the question of what Kitty Stephens was doing here at all; if she was in the habit of acting as her father’s secretary, Hannah had never heard about it.
Hannah took a chair and entertained herself by making a mental list of the things she would buy, if indeed Isobel had left her a small legacy. A few more really good suits would be first. Clothes might make the man, as the old saying went, but they could destroy a woman. A man could get by with a minimally stocked closet and a good dry cleaner, since one masculine pinstriped suit looked so very much like another. A professional woman, on the other hand, needed a wide variety if she wasn’t to get looks of the sort Cooper Winston had given her this morning.
Not that her desire for new clothes had anything to do with him. For all she cared, he could look at her in the same green suit from now till Armageddon. After all, he didn’t have to pay attention to what she wore.
And it wasn’t that she was getting her hopes up for a legacy, either. She was just killing time. So much for Brenton’s idea that Ken Stephens was waiting for her; it was too bad she hadn’t thought to bring along a carton of Jacob Jones’s old receipts so she could keep working. But of course the musty smell would hardly have been a welcome addition to the senior partner’s waiting room.
A chime on the secretary’s desk sounded, and—looking bored—Kitty Stephens waved a hand toward the heavy door of the inner office.
Hannah tapped and went in.
Behind a desk that was roughly the size of Hannah’s entire cubicle, a silver-haired man half rose and pointed toward a pair of chairs pulled up directly across the polished surface from him. “Have a seat, Ms. Lowe. I’m sorry to have interrupted your day. I understand you’re working with Bannister on the Jones case now.”
Hannah smiled faintly. “I wouldn’t say I’m working with, exactly. I’m simply going through all the papers so I can brief him on the background before the case comes to trial.”
“Well, that’s the kind of support we rely on our young associates to provide.” His gaze coolly assessed Hannah. “I understand you’re also the genius who caused a bit of a panic at the last minute over Cooper Winston’s restaurant chain.”
Hannah wished that he’d made it sound more like a compliment. “Yes, sir.”
“Our client was quite grateful. I thought you’d like to know.” He leaned back in his chair. “In a few minutes we’ll get started on tidying up the details concerning Isobel’s estate. But in the meantime, tell me how you came to be living with her. I’m afraid I never knew the fine points.”
And as Isobel’s attorney, he probably would have known all about me, Hannah thought, if Isobel had left me anything of significance. Obviously, it was a good thing she’d never really gotten her hopes up—much less decided what color her new suits should be.
“It’s quite simple,” Hannah said. “When I first came to town, of course, I was very busy with my new job here at the firm. But after a few months, I went to visit Isobel. It was just a social thing, really, to go and pay my respects to a senior member of the family.”
“You’d known her for some time, then? Years, perhaps?”
“Actually, no. I mean, I knew her name, of course, but I’d never met her before. It hasn’t been a very close family. And it wasn’t a very close relationship, either—she was my grandfather’s cousin—but since much of my family is gone, I wanted to make contact with Isobel.”
“So you visited her often?”
“No. Just the one time.”
Ken Stephens sounded politely incredulous. “And on the strength of that one visit, she invited you to move in with her?”
Hannah’s jaw tightened, and she had to make an effort to keep her voice level. “Yes, she did. It surprised me, too, at the time. I’d happened to mention that my roommate was getting married and I was having trouble finding an apartment I both liked and could afford, and Isobel offered me a place to live for a while. I thought she meant that we could do each other a good turn. I could look after her a bit—”
“Look after Isobel?” Ken Stephens sounded astonished.
“Yes. Of course, that was before I knew her very well,” Hannah pointed out. “It didn’t take long to realize that the last thing Isobel wanted was to be treated as if she was elderly.”
“Quite a nice little arrangement you had,” he mused.
Hannah gritted her teeth. She was grateful that another tap on the door prevented her from saying something she was bound to regret.
“Now that you’re both here,” Ken Stephens said with satisfaction, “we can get started.”
Hannah didn’t even look around at the newcomer. She was still listening to Ken Stephens’s last comment echoing in her mind. A nice little arrangement you had, he’d said.
Past tense.
Well, it was no more than she’d expected. She’d sit quietly though the formalities and start studying the classifieds over lunch…
The new arrival said, “Sorry I’m late, Stephens.”
Hannah froze. It’s your imagination, she told herself frantically. There is no reason on earth for Cooper Winston to be here. This is Isobel’s estate we’re talking about, not some merger.
But there was no denying, when she turned her head to look, that Cooper was standing just inside the office, one hand still on the door. Hannah noted that Kitty Stephens had not only stood up to show him to the door, but she’d ushered him all the way in. And he was looking down at her as if fascinated by the designer scarf at her throat—or, perhaps, the face it framed.
“Thank you,” he said gently.
This was a different Cooper, Hannah thought. For one thing, it was the first time she’d seen him without the frown she had thought was permanently etched between his brows.
So was that irritable expression one he directed only at Hannah herself? Or was Kitty Stephens the exception, the one person who didn’t inspire him to sarcasm?
“Thanks for coming, Winston,” Ken Stephens said. “Kitty, see that we’re not disturbed.”
The secretary murmured, “Yes, Daddy,” and withdrew.
Her shock diminishing, Hannah leaned back in her chair. “I didn’t know you’d be here, Mr. Winston,” she said, with her best sunny smile, “or I’d have brought your friend Brutus. Which brings me to the question of why you are here. What on earth do you have to do with settling Isobel’s affairs?”
“Interesting choice of words,” Cooper said.
Ken Stephens cleared his throat. “You’re both here because you’re both mentioned in Isobel’s will.”
Cooper sat down in the chair next to Hannah’s. He was, in her opinion, paying an inordinate amount of attention to preserving the perfect crease in his trousers. “Please don’t keep us in suspense. I’m sure Ms. Lowe is panting to know how much she’s inherited.”
“As long as Isobel didn’t do anything idiotic like naming you as a trustee,” Hannah snapped, “I don’t care what she might have left me.”
The disbelief in Cooper’s eyes made her long to kick him.
“And why would you be named in her will?” Hannah went on. “It’s not as if you were intimate friends. Did you even speak to her when you met in the lobby?”
“Not if I could help it,” Cooper said coolly.
“As a matter of fact,” Ken Stephens said, “there’s no point in anyone getting high hopes. As I just