Free Behind the Shadows by Patricia; Potter Page A

a tyrannical foster father who used a belt when displeased. The owner invited him in, fed him a plate of the best spaghetti he’d ever had, and let him pay for it by sweeping the place. That lasted three months until he was kicked out of that home.
    Max discarded the memory and drove to the restaurant. After finding a parking space, he took off his suit jacket and pulled off his tie. He locked the car and went inside. He gave his name, said he was waiting for a lady, and was seated at a small corner table. He glanced around the room. One wall featured an Italian villa overlooking the sea. The others were painted a sea green. Pavarotti’s tenor wafted through the room.
    Max ordered two glasses of Chianti. He wasn’t entirely sure Kira would appear, but if she did, he didn’t want her to think he’d doubted it.
    A few minutes later, she walked in. He watched the proprietor greet her as if she were an old friend. She saw him then and headed toward the table.
    He stood. “Thanks for coming,” he said when she reached him.
    Lucchesi pulled out a chair for her.
    â€œAfter you went to so much trouble to find me, I couldn’t refuse,” she said, but her eyes were wary. “I’m just not sure why you made the effort.”
    He gave her a disarming grin that usually served him well. “I’m not so sure, either. I usually avoid the press.”
    â€œWhy? We’re the good guys.”
    His brows lifted slightly.
    â€œWe inform people. We reveal corruption. We support good causes, such as Leigh’s charity horse show.” She tried to make her tone light but feared she sounded pompous. Yet she tired of the constant criticism of newspapers and reporters these days.
    The glasses of Chianti arrived, so he was saved from answering. He took a sip, found it excellent, then picked up the menu.
    â€œEverything’s good, but I always get the spaghetti with sausage,” she said. “Great comfort food.”
    He laid down the menu. “Tell me about your mother.”
    â€œNot that much to tell. She raised me alone. Built a small cleaning business through sheer hard work. Helps everyone. She’s one of the good souls on this earth.”
    â€œHow sick is she?”
    Something flickered in her eyes and her fingers clutched the wineglass. “As sick as you can get. If she doesn’t get a kidney in the next month, she’ll die.”
    â€œAnd the list is long,” he said.
    â€œEndless. I wish more people were aware of the need and signed up as donors.” She took a sip of the wine. “Now turnaround is fair play. How long have you been a family attorney?”
    Damn, but her eyes were appealing. He’d never seen that smoky blue before, and he would have thought the color bland until he saw hers. They roiled with emotion. He suspected they could also be filled with laughter. They had darkened, though, when she spoke of her mother.
    An odd empathy struck him. Surprised him. He thought he’d buried emotions long ago. Certainly controlled them.
    Silence fell between them as he contemplated an answer, and her gaze bored into him, interrogating him as deeply as he probed an adversary in a courtroom. There was something else there, too. An awareness. The kind of awareness that flared between man and woman. The elemental kind that shook him to the core.
    â€œMaybe family attorney isn’t quite accurate,” he admitted. “I’m a corporate attorney for Westerfield Industries, but I do look after the family as part of that.”
    â€œThe family being Leigh.”
    â€œYes, I look after Leigh.” He paused. “But I think you know that.”
    â€œNot exactly. I did know you were the corporate attorney for Westerfield Industries. And the most eligible bachelor in Atlanta,” she added with the first hint of a smile he’d observed.
    â€œGod, you would have to find that.”
    â€œThe Internet is a wondrous thing.