Twist of Fate Read Online Free

disguised in a severely cut navy suit, Val Covington crackled with physical and mental energy. She must be hell on heels in a courtroom.
    How long was it since he had been so aware of a woman? Years. Four years, three months, and seven days, to be exact. Not that he was counting. He was glad that she appreciated the church's uniqueness, but it was just as well she wasn't interested in renting. If she were that near, she would be a temptation.
    Yet he couldn't resist going up to his apartment and plugging "Val Covington" into a search engine. He got plenty of hits, mostly in the Daily Record, Baltimore's business and legal newspaper. She had won some high-profile cases and was a newly made partner at a top city law firm. Having met the lady, he wasn't surprised.
    Nor was he surprised that she was considering her own office. Not only were corporate law firm jobs murderously demanding, but no amount of dressing the part could quite hide the maverick gleam in her eyes. He hoped she did decide to go out on her own and rip some fat-cat throats.
    Preferably in a neighborhood far from this one.
    ∗ ∗ ∗
    Luckily Kendra wasn't at her desk when Val returned, since she would notice her boss's distracted mood. Safely in her office, Val closed the door and tried to concentrate on the most urgent of the briefs she had to write.
    Usually work focused her mind, but not today. She gave up in exasperation and closed the file after fifteen futile minutes. Digging out her calculator, she began playing with figures, estimating expenses and cash flow if she opened her own office.
    Making her best guess on the costs, it appeared that even after paying humongous taxes, the Centurion windfall would give her enough money to pay for start-up costs, then subsidize the business until it was established and could pay for itself.
    And amazingly, that was based on a forty-hour work week. What a luxury that would be! She should be able to divide her time between paying clients and pro bono work and make enough for mortgage money, cat food, and her retirement fund. Having her own office meant she wouldn't be able to do the intellectually challenging work that required a team of lawyers, but working more closely with clients and their needs would compensate for that.
    Her pulse quickened at the knowledge that she could really do this if she wanted to. Her hesitation came not from economics, but fear. The insecurities of her childhood had left her with a craving for logic and order, which was one reason the law appealed to her. Despite her frustrations with Crouse, Resnick, it was a known quantity, and lucrative. Abandoning that to become her own boss would be exciting but unpredictable, and she did not love for her life to be unpredictable.
    Of course, there was a whole range of possibilities between staying at Crouse, Resnick and starting her own office. She could go to work for a corporation, or enter the government sector, which would be less demanding and still provide a steady, comfortable income. That kind of change would be safe and relatively easy.
    And yet, when she had entered the old church sanctuary, she'd experienced such a sense of lightness. Exhilaration, even.
    She stepped into her small washroom and stared into the mirror, knowing she was at a crossroads. One direction was familiar, safe, and exhausting. The other was unknown, enticing, and damned scary.
    The mirror reflected back her lawyer costume: dark tailored suit, a discreet, tasteful gold chain around her neck and matching gold earrings, hair secured in a sleek knot at her nape. This was how she had gone to work every day for years. The image was very different from how she looked on her own time.
    She jerked out her hairpins, then wet her fingers and ran them through her hair to restore the natural bounce of the energetic red mass. Little Orphan Annie on a bad hair day was how she described herself.
    These red curls had been the bane of her childhood. The bright, carroty color had