“Did you have an affair on the island?”
She swallowed. “Yes.”
“How could you have had time for an affair if you were busy every minute of every day?”
“I had to sleep, eat?”
“Having an affair is more than sleeping and eating.”
“That’s not a question,” Goldstein stated.
“How many days were you in Jamaica?”
“Six before we were trapped in the cave. Five after.”
“And of those, how many did you see your lover?”
Monica clutched her hands at her side to stop from throwing a punch. Since when had she become so ready to hit someone? “He wasn’t my lover the whole time.”
“Answer the question.”
It wasn’t possible for her to answer the question without it damning her. “He flew the helicopter to the main hospital the first day there. Early the next he was my ride to the clinic. The clinic that didn’t have any place for me to sleep except beside my patients.”
“So you decided to sleep somewhere else?”
“Trent offered a bed, to sleep. I was exhausted.”
The lawyers smiled at each other.
Monica wondered if she could sue them all twice.
“So the third day you spent with your lover?”
“He wasn’t my lover then.”
Hudson ran a hand through his thinning hair and sneered.
“Since there is no one to agree or disagree with that point—”
Goldstein broke in. “We’ll call the man by his name for the record. Skip the dramatics, counselors. It’s common knowledge that Miss Mann and Mr. Fairchild were rescued together. Miss Mann has told you of her brief affair. Get to the point.”
“Did you see Mr. Fairchild daily while in Jamaica?”
“Yes,” she muttered.
Hudson leaned back, smug. “I think that’s all for now.”
The woman on their team offered a smile to Goldstein. “We’ll break for twenty and bring in the next witness.”
Goldstein nodded.
Everyone stood, except Monica, who felt her knees shaking so badly she didn’t think they would hold her weight.
Once the other lawyers left the room, Goldstein helped Monica to her feet. “You did well, Monica.”
“Really? They made me sound like a whore.”
Goldstein offered a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry for that.”
Not half as sorry as she was. She reached in her purse and sent a quick text to Katie to let her know she was finished. “I’m exhausted.”
“Go home, rest.”
“What’s next?”
“We have one more depo today. We’re meeting with Dr. Eddy tomorrow, and flying to Kansas to meet with Dr. Klein in two days to obtain his statement.”
Stiff from sitting, her leg didn’t cooperate as she took a few steps toward the door. Goldstein lent his arm to help. He opened the huge wooden doors to the law office to let her out. “I have it from here,” she told him.
“You sure?”
She ignored the pain and took a step out the door without his aid. “I’m good. Thank you.”
He stepped into the hallway with her as she turned around.
She gasped and held her hand out when her gaze collided with Trent’s.
Goldstein took hold of her arm again, and kept her from falling. Trent stood outside the door of the lawyers’ office looking nothing like the man she’d met on the island. He wore a three-piece suit that rivaled her attorney’s. His hair had been cut short, much more than it had been when she met him. He was just as tan, just as magnificent as she remembered. His eyes sparkled with appreciation before something clouded over them. “Barefoot?” she whispered.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Trent thought he was prepared to see her again.
He wasn’t.
“Monica,” he said her name, tasted her on his lips.
The man at her side stepped forward and reached out a hand. “You must be Mr. Fairchild.”
Monica moved aside and watched him.
“Larry Goldstein. We spoke on the phone.”
Ah, the lawyer. Trent shook the man’s hand.
“Wait, you two spoke?” Monica asked.
Mr. Goldstein nodded. “Early this morning.”
They all had to step aside as someone from inside the office exited. Monica stumbled and Trent shot a hand out to hold her up.
Her lawyer held her as well. “Are you sure you’re OK to walk downstairs?”
Trent’s hand and arm sizzled with the contact.
“I’m fine,” Monica said. “The more I move, the better it gets.”
Trent’s gaze moved down her leg. A thin pink line where they’d put her back together, peeked from under her skirt. A skirt that hugged her too-thin curves. She’d lost weight. He had too, but managed to put it back on after leaving the cave.
Mr. Goldstein offered a smile and nodded toward the office. “We’ll be inside when you’re ready,” he told Trent, who hadn’t let Monica’s arm go.
“Call if you have questions, Monica. We’ll be in touch.”
He should retreat with the lawyer, but it didn’t seem as if Monica was rushing off and Trent couldn’t let her leave without seeing her smile again.
Why torture yourself, Trent? he asked himself as if he were on the outside looking in. She belongs to someone else.
Without realizing what he did, he glanced at her left hand and noticed it bare.
“I’m sorry they’re dragging you into this,” she said as she took a step back.
He let his hand drop or risk looking as if he was holding her.
“I’m hardly a hostile witness,” he said.
“Still, I’m sure you have better things to do.”
“Not really.” Why had he admitted that?
“Oh? You seemed to be in a hurry to leave Florida.” She sucked in her lip, as if wishing she hadn’t uttered her words. “I thought you’d say good-bye.”
Was that pain in her eyes?
“I tried.”
She pinched her brow together.
“I went to the ICU. Your fiancé was there.” He’d gone over their conversations so many times. Remembered her saying that she didn’t mess around with two guys at the same time. Yet when faced with a man claiming her as his, Trent stepped aside.
Her face went white. “M-my what?”
He swallowed. “Never mind.”
“Never mind? What are you talking about? I don’t have a fiancé.” Her voice was elevated now and her pale skin turned pink with what Trent assumed was anger.