Joanna's Highlander (Highland Protector #2)(58)

Lucia retrieved the phone, sat on the bathroom floor beside Joanna, then listened to the message. “Oh shit. That can’t be good.”

“Thanks, Lucia. You’ve made me feel so much better about the whole situation.”

Lucia held out the phone. “Here. Call him back right now.”

“Seriously?”

“Dreading the monster and feeding it with unfounded fears is way worse than fighting it head-on.” Lucia put the phone between Joanna’s hands.

“You’ve been watching too damn many of Tyler’s superhero cartoons.” Joanna rubbed her thumb across the phone, staring at her muted reflection in the darkened screen.

“Do it, sweets,” Lucia countered. “You’re the bravest person I’ve ever known. You’ve got this, now own it. Don’t you let them win.” She took hold of Joanna’s arm with both hands and squeezed. “And you’re not fighting alone this time. Remember?”

Lucia had a point, and that alone settled Joanna’s nerves enough for her to find the courage to push her fears aside and take control. “Watch the bedroom door. If Grant comes up here to check on me, I need you to run interference—okay?”

“You got it.” Lucia hopped to her feet and hurried out of the bathroom. “All set,” she called out. “If he shows up, I’ll just tell him I think you’re queasy ’cause I think you’re pregnant. That should distract him.”

Yeah. That’ll be a big help. Joanna took a deep breath, punched the call-back number, then silently promised herself she could puke after the call. An excruciatingly polite receptionist picked up the call after one ring and put it right through.

“Ms. Joanna Martin?” Jonathan Broadbent sounded as though he was at least ninety years old. Either that or the poor man had one hell of a head cold and was about to lose his voice.

“Yes.” No sense expounding with useless niceties about returning calls or any such bullshit. This needs to be done with. Now. “What do you want, Mr. Broadbent?”

“It’s not what I want, Ms. Martin. It’s what my client wants.”

“Which is?” Damn, the man must be padding the estate he plans on leaving his heirs, because if he gets paid by the minute, he’ll be a fucking millionaire by the end of this call. I wish he’d get on with it.

“Ms. Tasker wishes to meet with you to discuss a business proposition.”

“A business proposition?” Seriously? “The woman helped fire my ass, Mr. Broadbent. There’s no ‘business’ left to propose.”

Lilian Tasker had been on the board of Asclepius Pharmaceuticals three years ago. Probably still was, since her father had started the company and still owned a major part of it. She’d been quite cooperative with everything that Matthew’s brother, Mason, had recommended when it came to getting rid of her husband’s lover and ruining Joanna’s life in Chicago as punishment. Payback had been a bitch, and that bitch’s name had been Lilian. Although—in all fairness—Joanna couldn’t really blame the woman. After all, Joanna had been having sex with Lilian’s husband. But in her own defense, if she’d known Matthew was married, he would’ve immediately been labeled “off limits.”

“And as I’m sure you’re aware, I live in North Carolina now. If your client wants to meet with me, she’s gonna have to come here.” Home court advantage.

“That is not a problem,” Broadbent droned on in his rasping, nasal tone. “Would you be available tomorrow at noon? At the Brady Townhouse Café?”

Feeling as though she’d just been gut-punched, Joanna swallowed hard against the burn of nauseating bile rising in the back of her throat. “How do you know so much about Brady?”

“Let’s just say I take the utmost care of my clients, shall we?” A buzzing in the background, muffled words, then Jonathan Broadbent came back on the line. “Well, Ms. Martin. Tomorrow. Noon. Brady Townhouse Café. Agreeable?”

“I wouldn’t exactly define it as ‘agreeable,’ but it is ‘do-able.’ Tell Mrs. Tasker I’ll see her tomorrow.”

“Very good then.” Then the call was disconnected.

Joanna crawled over to the bathroom cabinets, pulled herself to her feet, then sagged against the counter, sucking in deep breaths to keep from puking. If she puked, she’d ruin her makeup and never make the party. Then Grant would get involved, and that wouldn’t be good. This shit was from her past and her problem to handle. She glared at the redhead in the mirror, then shook her head.

“You can puke tomorrow. After the meeting.”





Chapter 19


The café was emptier than usual for a Wednesday at lunch.

Great. No witnesses when she either pulls a gun, a knife, or just starts throwing shit and then calls the cops to throw me in jail instead of her. Swallowing hard, Joanna wound her way around the several unoccupied tables and headed for the small two-seat table closest to the windows. If all else fails, I’ll do a superhero dive out the window and run like hell.

She jumped when a slight movement registered in her peripheral vision. Shit. I’ve got to calm down. She waved away the waitress heading toward her. “Not yet, Mary. I’m meeting someone. I’ll just wait until they get here to get a drink or look at a menu, okay?”