What do you think?
Rate this book
Project Justice #3
A Score to Settle
Jamie McNair fumed silently as she crawled along a traffic-clogged Houston freeway. Who did Daniel Logan think he was, summoning her as if she was one of his lackeys? When she'd heard that the billionaire wanted to overturn one of her verdicts, she'd been anxious to talk to him and set him straight. But on her terms, not his.
Unfortunately, he'd gone over her head, which tweaked her all the more. Now, because her boss was scared of Daniel and his charitable foundation, she had to make a command performance.
A meeting at the Project Justice office would have been tolerable. But no, Logan had decided he wanted to meet her at his home.
She hated being manipulated. But since Logan had forced her into this meeting, she intended to make it count. In her briefcase she had every piece of information she needed to convince Logan that Christopher Gables was right where he belonged—on death row for brutally killing his business partner.
She had far better things to do than cater to the whims of a spoiled, supposedly do-gooder billionaire. Logan might be wealthy and powerful, but he was also a convicted murderer himself. Her own father had prosecuted Daniel many years ago, and her dad hadn't been one to make mistakes.
To prepare for the meeting, she had learned everything she could about Logan. She'd found lots of data about his arrest and trial, as well as his family's oil company. Unfortunately, personal information was in short supply.
The most recent picture she had found was a blurry wire-service photo of him the day he was released from prison six years ago. Back then, he'd been a tall, thin, pale man with a bad haircut. In photos from his trial—more than twelve years ago—he'd looked like a handsome but scared frat boy.
A few minutes later she pulled up to a set of ornate wrought-iron gates in tony River Oaks, one of the richest zip codes in America. She was steamed, but she couldn't deny a certain curiosity to see the inside of this place. From the outside, it looked like a nineteenth-century English estate home, something that might be found in a Jane Austen novel, complete with ivy-covered walls and worn cobbles forming the driveway.
Jamie was about to get out of her car and walk up to the intercom when the gates opened quietly on well-oiled hinges. She pulled her car—an aging Subaru that must have looked as out of place as a donkey in church—down the cobbled driveway toward the house.
When she got out, one of her heels caught in the cobbles and she turned her ankle. Good night. Who made their driveway out of real cobblestones? Limping slightly and silently cursing at the added annoyance, she made her way to the front door; two huge panels of carved oak that looked as if they belonged on an ancient castle.
She reached for the bell, but before she could press it the door opened.
"Ms. McNair, please come in."
Standing in the doorway was a beautiful young woman with a sleek, blond bob. She wore a snug lavender cashmere sweater, skinny black pants and pointy-toed boots. Though Jamie wasn't exactly a clotheshorse, she knew quality when she saw it.
Even Daniel's servants were well-to-do.
"Thank you. You must be Jillian." Jamie had recognized the slight British accent as belonging to Daniel Logan's personal assistant.
Inside, the foyer was no less impressive than the outside, soaring three stories to a peaked roof with stained-glass windows that shot beams of colorful light to the white marble floor below. At the center of the foyer was a fountain in the shape of a boy riding a sea horse, like something one might find in ancient Greece. On the walls were oil paintings in gilt frames, museum-quality portraits and landscapes.
Holy mother of. was that a Van Gogh?
"You're a few minutes late," Jillian said matter-of-factly.
"Yes. The traffic…" Jamie was damned if she was going to apologize for being twenty minutes late when Logan was the one who had insisted she meet him here, rather than at his downtown office, which was within walking distance of her own workplace at the Criminal Justice Center.
"Unfortunately, Mr. Logan had another appointment. He should be free in about an hour. In the meanwhile, I'm sure you'd like some lunch."
Jamie was starved, but she wasn't going to let Logan's underling lead her around by the nose. "Unfortunately," Jamie said, enunciating every word, "my time is limited as well, and the traffic jam tightened my schedule. If Mr. Logan can't see me right now, perhaps he can come by my office when it's convenient for him."
Jillian's eyes widened slightly. Probably she was so used to people bowing and scraping, eager to please her high-and-mighty boss, that Jamie's behavior came as a surprise.
"Give me a minute and I'll see what can be arranged." Her tone had gone a bit frosty.
Jillian stepped out of the foyer, leaving Jamie alone and steaming. Just because she was a public servant didn't mean Logan could treat her as if she were insignificant. She would walk right out of h...
Unfortunately, he'd gone over her head, which tweaked her all the more. Now, because her boss was scared of Daniel and his charitable foundation, she had to make a command performance.
A meeting at the Project Justice office would have been tolerable. But no, Logan had decided he wanted to meet her at his home.
She hated being manipulated. But since Logan had forced her into this meeting, she intended to make it count. In her briefcase she had every piece of information she needed to convince Logan that Christopher Gables was right where he belonged—on death row for brutally killing his business partner.
She had far better things to do than cater to the whims of a spoiled, supposedly do-gooder billionaire. Logan might be wealthy and powerful, but he was also a convicted murderer himself. Her own father had prosecuted Daniel many years ago, and her dad hadn't been one to make mistakes.
To prepare for the meeting, she had learned everything she could about Logan. She'd found lots of data about his arrest and trial, as well as his family's oil company. Unfortunately, personal information was in short supply.
The most recent picture she had found was a blurry wire-service photo of him the day he was released from prison six years ago. Back then, he'd been a tall, thin, pale man with a bad haircut. In photos from his trial—more than twelve years ago—he'd looked like a handsome but scared frat boy.
A few minutes later she pulled up to a set of ornate wrought-iron gates in tony River Oaks, one of the richest zip codes in America. She was steamed, but she couldn't deny a certain curiosity to see the inside of this place. From the outside, it looked like a nineteenth-century English estate home, something that might be found in a Jane Austen novel, complete with ivy-covered walls and worn cobbles forming the driveway.
Jamie was about to get out of her car and walk up to the intercom when the gates opened quietly on well-oiled hinges. She pulled her car—an aging Subaru that must have looked as out of place as a donkey in church—down the cobbled driveway toward the house.
When she got out, one of her heels caught in the cobbles and she turned her ankle. Good night. Who made their driveway out of real cobblestones? Limping slightly and silently cursing at the added annoyance, she made her way to the front door; two huge panels of carved oak that looked as if they belonged on an ancient castle.
She reached for the bell, but before she could press it the door opened.
"Ms. McNair, please come in."
Standing in the doorway was a beautiful young woman with a sleek, blond bob. She wore a snug lavender cashmere sweater, skinny black pants and pointy-toed boots. Though Jamie wasn't exactly a clotheshorse, she knew quality when she saw it.
Even Daniel's servants were well-to-do.
"Thank you. You must be Jillian." Jamie had recognized the slight British accent as belonging to Daniel Logan's personal assistant.
Inside, the foyer was no less impressive than the outside, soaring three stories to a peaked roof with stained-glass windows that shot beams of colorful light to the white marble floor below. At the center of the foyer was a fountain in the shape of a boy riding a sea horse, like something one might find in ancient Greece. On the walls were oil paintings in gilt frames, museum-quality portraits and landscapes.
Holy mother of. was that a Van Gogh?
"You're a few minutes late," Jillian said matter-of-factly.
"Yes. The traffic…" Jamie was damned if she was going to apologize for being twenty minutes late when Logan was the one who had insisted she meet him here, rather than at his downtown office, which was within walking distance of her own workplace at the Criminal Justice Center.
"Unfortunately, Mr. Logan had another appointment. He should be free in about an hour. In the meanwhile, I'm sure you'd like some lunch."
Jamie was starved, but she wasn't going to let Logan's underling lead her around by the nose. "Unfortunately," Jamie said, enunciating every word, "my time is limited as well, and the traffic jam tightened my schedule. If Mr. Logan can't see me right now, perhaps he can come by my office when it's convenient for him."
Jillian's eyes widened slightly. Probably she was so used to people bowing and scraping, eager to please her high-and-mighty boss, that Jamie's behavior came as a surprise.
"Give me a minute and I'll see what can be arranged." Her tone had gone a bit frosty.
Jillian stepped out of the foyer, leaving Jamie alone and steaming. Just because she was a public servant didn't mean Logan could treat her as if she were insignificant. She would walk right out of h...
368 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 2011
3 people are currently reading
46 people want to read
About the author
Kara Lennox
114 books20 followersKara Lennox is the bestselling author of more than fifty published novels of romance and romantic suspense. She has been published by Silhouette and Bantam Books as Karen Leabo, and currently writes for the Harlequin American Romance, Silhouette Desire and Signature Select lines as Kara Lennox. Some of her more popular series for the American Romance line are How to Marry a Hardison and Blond Justice.
Prior to writing romance, Kara was a freelance writer with hundreds of magazine articles published, as well as brochures, press releases, advertisements and business plans. She has also earned a paycheck at various times as a magazine art director, a typesetter, an exercise instructor, a sales clerk for a boutique that was a front for laundering Mafia money (she found out later), a telephone survey-taker, and a blackjack dealer. But she's happiest now, living her dream as an author.
Kara's books are often cited for their groundbreaking, quirky or otherwise unusual subject matter. She has written about ostrich ranching, Mayan archeology, brain tumors, child abandonment, jewel theft, witchcraft and storm chasing—in addition to a full complement of cowboys, brides and babies.
Kara is a member of Romance Writers of America, Dallas Area Romance Authors and Chick Lit Writers of the World. She is a popular speaker and workshop presenter at writers' conferences around the country. She loves reader mail and answers all she can.
Prior to writing romance, Kara was a freelance writer with hundreds of magazine articles published, as well as brochures, press releases, advertisements and business plans. She has also earned a paycheck at various times as a magazine art director, a typesetter, an exercise instructor, a sales clerk for a boutique that was a front for laundering Mafia money (she found out later), a telephone survey-taker, and a blackjack dealer. But she's happiest now, living her dream as an author.
Kara's books are often cited for their groundbreaking, quirky or otherwise unusual subject matter. She has written about ostrich ranching, Mayan archeology, brain tumors, child abandonment, jewel theft, witchcraft and storm chasing—in addition to a full complement of cowboys, brides and babies.
Kara is a member of Romance Writers of America, Dallas Area Romance Authors and Chick Lit Writers of the World. She is a popular speaker and workshop presenter at writers' conferences around the country. She loves reader mail and answers all she can.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
October 24, 2019
I think this is the first Harlequin Romance I have ever read. It wasn't bad. Could have done without the descriptive sex scenes.
February 12, 2018
This book slowly grew on me. I’m not a huge fan of billionaire books and as a lawyer, books with lead characters can be grating because the characters often act out in ways real lawyers would not (at least the good ones). But I was able to suspend the disbelief a little and enjoy this story. The lawyer may have been misbehaving from the start by getting personally involved in an attempt to free someone whom she’d recently prosecuted. (Seriously, the case is probably still up on appeal). Despite that poor judgement, I liked the lead character and thought her reaction to be romanced by a very wealthy man whom her father had put on death row entertaining. And even though I’m typically not a fan of romantic suspense, I did like the mystery that flowed through it. Enjoyable, though not particularly memorable.
March 29, 2011
Kara writes a charming story and exciting adventure. I liked the reclusive bad-boy billionaire and watching him meet his match in a feisty assistant District Attorney who initially would like nothing better than to send him back to prison.
Read
December 24, 2014Miniseries: Project Justice
Read
December 24, 2014Miniseries: Project Justice
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews