Deceived by Stella Barcelona Page A

shoulders shook. She lifted a hand to her eye and ran her index finger along the corner, blotting away a tear.
    Aw hell. It was the second time that evening that he had reduced Taylor to tears, and, although he hadn’t cared much about it the first time, now he felt like a heel. Hell, the sight of Anna Maria and the Uzi had made even him queasy.
    “I’m not stupid,” she whispered. “I know that this is a high crime city. I also know that I lead a privileged, pampered life.” She pulled her purse out of the glove box, fished out a folded, monogrammed handkerchief, and dabbed at her eyes. “My foundation work keeps me aware. I don’t delegate everything. I study the grant requests. I analyze the needs. I visit the sites. I go to public schools and community centers. I wanted to be an assistant district attorney so that I could make a difference. It’s my dream job and yet tomorrow is my last day. I haven’t made a difference. When I see a sight like that I realize that I’ll never really make a difference. I don’t know how.”
    As she wiped the tears from her eyes, Brandon considered the possibility that Taylor might be nothing like what he expected her to be. The thought was disturbing, because so far that evening he had ridiculed her for going to Melody Street and patronized her by trying to teach her a lesson. He had acted upon assumptions involving her names and her wealth, and he wasn’t usually so judgmental. In his business, he couldn’t afford to be, because assumptions distorted cold, hard facts, the kind that either won or lost cases. His uneasiness prompted him to say something nice. “I’m sure that you do a lot more good than you’re giving yourself credit for.”
    Taylor gave him a half smile. She straightened her shoulders. She sniffed softly, wiped at the corners of her eyes, then unfolded the handkerchief and gave a delicate press between the tip of her nose and her upper lip. She had either been trained regarding the ladylike way to cry in public, or she was born with knowledge of how to look pretty while crying. Either way, it worked, as her eyes found his. “I don’t often come face to face with that kind of reality.”
    “I’m sorry,” Brandon said as he tore his eyes from hers and focused on the road. “I shouldn’t have taken you there.”
    ***
    Brandon had accused her of being naive and silly, and crying only proved him correct. Taylor willed herself to stop, and somehow, the tears did. “Once I realized what kind of man you were dealing with,” she said, “once I saw that watchdog and that young man, a boy, really, with the gun, I braced myself for violence. Or even to see a drug addict, on some kind of trip.” She drew a deep breath. “I could have handled that kind of thing, but not that beautiful little girl. He was holding an assault rifle while he held her. That little girl shouldn’t be exposed to that.”
    “Marvin’s not usually on edge like that, and Anna Maria isn’t normally around when he is.” He gave her a sideways glance, a serious one, and a slight head shake. “I wanted to keep you from hurting yourself with your investigative efforts and thought the seedy scene at the bar would do that. I shouldn’t have taken you there. I’m sorry, and I really mean it.”
    She decided to take advantage of his remorse by pressing the question that had been bothering her ever since Joe’s interview. “Lisa didn’t originally go to you for legal advice, did she?”
    He gave her a serious glance, one that was even more penetrating than the non-smiling, analytical gaze that seemed to be his default expression. “No.” He parked in front of Lisa’s house as Taylor digested the fact that her hunch had been correct. He continued, “She did not. How did you know?”
    “Joe’s question assumed that she went to you for legal advice,” Taylor said, “and you hesitated when you answered.”
    “I did not.”
    “Yes. You did,” she said. “And something in your