A LEGAL AFFAIR BOX SET

Club Prive - Leslie’s Story

M. S. PARKER

Belmonte Publishing, LLC

 CONTENTS
Copyright
Free Book
A Legal Affair Book 1
1. Leslie
2. Leslie
3. Paxton
4. Leslie
5. Leslie
6. Paxton
7. Leslie
8. Leslie
9. Leslie
10. Leslie
11. Paxton
12. Leslie
13. Leslie
14. Leslie
15. Paxton
16. Leslie
17. Leslie
18. Leslie
19. Paxton
20. Leslie
A Legal Affair Book 2
1. Leslie
2. Paxton
3. Leslie
4. Leslie
5. Paxton
6. Leslie
7. Leslie
8. Leslie
9. Paxton
10. Leslie
A Legal Affair Book 3
1. Paxton
2. Leslie
3. Leslie
4. Paxton
5. Leslie
6. Leslie
7. Leslie
8. Paxton
9. Leslie
10. Paxton
A Legal Affair Book 4
1. Leslie
2. Paxton
3. Leslie
4. Leslie
5. Paxton
6. Leslie
7. Paxton
8. Leslie
9. Paxton
10. Leslie
Bonus 1: Blindfold Vol. 1
Copyright
1. Toni
2. Toni
3. Ash
4. Toni
5. Toni
6. Ash
7. Toni
8. Ash
9. Ash
10. Toni
Bonus 2: A Wicked Lie
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Also by M. S. Parker
About the Author
Acknowledgments
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the
writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any
resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 Belmonte Publishing LLC
Published by Belmonte Publishing LLC
Free Book
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A Legal Affair Book 1
Chapter One
Leslie
Eying the clock, I tried not to think about everything I needed to do
between now and the time I could leave.
Maybe I didn’t punch in and out, but I did have to work so many hours
in order to bill my clients, and since Calvin and Associates didn't actually
have any associates, I did a hell of a lot of overtime.
I needed another me.
Actually, I needed another lawyer or at the very least, a paralegal.
I had an administrative assistant, and Haley was amazing, but I needed
help with more than just administrative tasks. I needed a paralegal and a lot
more than the intern I got on a limited basis too.
I’d been trying to find help for a while, but so far, no dice.
The past couple of weeks had been crazy, but most of that was because
I’d been trying to juggle a personal life on top of business more than
normal.
My heart gave a girly sigh as I remembered the wedding I attended not
that long ago.
Carrie and Gavin were ridiculously perfect together, and so happy.
Seeing Krissy had sent a pang through me, too, though not a good one.
She'd seemed like she was holding together okay after her miscarriage, but
how was I to know? I’d never wanted kids, couldn’t even fathom the idea.
Krissy, she'd been walking on cloud nine ever since she'd gotten the
positive test result...and then it was just gone. She lost the baby, and she’d
gone from cloud nine straight down to the lowest sort of hell.
Although we didn't talk as much as we had when we worked together, I
knew how hard it'd been on her.
I missed my friends.
Which was why, in a couple of hours, I was hooking up with my closest
friend.
It wouldn’t be exactly the same as before, of course. Dena was living
with her boyfriend – or rather, he was living with her. Arik was a defense
attorney for the rich and powerful and wasn’t that a joke. Dena had finally
landed her dream job, which was usually working for the people who
fought against the rich and powerful. The ADA and the defense attorney. It
should've been a Lifetime movie.
But she was happy.
That meant a lot.
So far, I’d only spent a short amount of time in Arik’s presence, but
Dena seemed happier than I’d ever seen her, so that was all that mattered as
far as I was concerned.
The song on the radio changed and I sighed, feeling more despondent
than normal.
The love song rolling out of the surround sound had a knot welling up
in my throat, and all I really wanted to do was put down my pen and shut
down for the day.
No, what I really wanted to do was curl my knees to my chest and listen
to the song, maybe sing along for a bar or two. As the woman wailed about
how love had left her behind, I had to fight not to chime in.
Sing it, sister.
I needed to push this melancholy away before I hooked up with Dena.
Not that long ago, the two of us were the ones who’d meet up and
reminisce over the good old days, when it had been the four of us – Carrie,
Krissy, Dena and me – hitting the town and looking to raise hell and have as
much fun as we could.
Then it was Krissy, Dena and me. Then Dena and me.
Now, it was just me.
The lone wolf...
“You morose bitch,” I muttered. Throwing my pen down, I leaned back
and rubbed at my temples. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”
It wasn’t like I wasn’t happy for my friends. Sure, I’d expected some of
them – okay, I’d always expected Carrie to settle down. Find a nice guy, fall
in love, and get married. She was that sort of girl. The one we'd always had
to drag out, push toward the hot guy.
But then Krissy had gone and fallen in love too.
Then, it happened to Dena.
I was the last girl standing.
I’d always thought Krissy and I would be partying and living the life
for…well...
 Making a face, I snatched my pen. “You thought you’d be on the prowl
with your BFF right up until you were fifty or something.” A mental picture
settled in my mind, the two of us still running around like we’d always
done, hooking up with men half my age. I hoped I aged as well in reality as
I did in my daydreams.
The image shifted to just me, and I found myself wondering just what
I’d be doing in five years, ten years. All my friends had fallen in love. They
were getting married, talking about babies. Even Dena had a live-in
boyfriend. In a couple of years, they might all be sitting around on
playdates with their kids, and I’d be going out clubbing alone.
A year ago, I would have laughed at the idea, but now, it just left me
feeling kind of down.
Sighing, I looked back at the paperwork in front of me.
Sadly, it hadn’t diminished at all during my bout of self-pity, and that
pile still stood between me and the door.
The bad part of being self-employed…there was nobody left to pick up
the slack for a vacation or illness.
I needed to get my ass in gear too.
I had less than an hour to make serious headway if I didn’t want to be
late.
It was the first time we’d actually had a chance to go out in forever and
I wasn’t going to miss it.

Dena’s boyfriend was hot.

Not pretty boy hot, just plain hot.
He also looked at her like she’d hung the moon.
They sat across from me, and when he wasn’t talking to me, he was
looking at her. There was a hint of possession, a hint of satisfaction, all
mixed with a decidedly pleased smile.
It was like he was telling the world, She’s mine, everybody. Mine.
Not bragging, really, just happy with it.
And that made him that much hotter.
There was something decidedly sexy about a man in love. Especially a
man in love who didn't ignore everyone else.
When he looked over at me and asked how my practice was going, he
seemed genuinely interested and talked about some of the cases – sans
names, of course – some friends of his had worked back in Chicago. We
made small talk, and Dena chatted about the move, and I wondered why in
the hell I was feeling so down about the fact that my best friends were all
happy.
“Man, service is so slow tonight,” I said, looking longingly toward the
kitchen. I wasn't one of those women who worried about her figure. When I
was hungry, I ate...unless I forgot. “I never got around to eating lunch.”
“Me, either.” Dena made a face. “I’m getting the crash course from hell
now. The new DA is really putting me through my paces.”
“I bet you love it after that mess you had with the last boss.”
She grinned. “Damned straight. This lawyer actually seems to care…
you know…about being a lawyer.”
“So he’s not a total shark?” I said it lightly.
Dena stuck out her tongue. It was an ongoing joke between us. I hadn’t
gone into law for the same reasons my friends had. I had a good brain, I
liked money, and I didn’t like blood. When the time had come to start
figuring out a career, a counselor in high school had said, you know, you’re
smart enough. You could be a doctor or lawyer.
Again, I didn't like blood.
I went with lawyer.
I liked helping people well enough, but that wasn't why I did it. For the
most part, it didn't suck, and sometimes I even liked my job, but I doubted I
found the satisfaction from it that Dena did. Maybe I was a shark, but I was
a good lawyer, and my clients were typically satisfied with the job I did for
them. Besides, I’d seen what happened when some people didn’t have a
shark, and it wasn’t pretty.
“We live in a world full of barracudas, babe. Sometimes we need
sharks.” Arik lifted Dena’s hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. He
must have been doing something else under the table, because Dena’s lids
fluttered a bit, and I saw her breathing catch.
A moment later, she cleared her throat and smiled at me. “Yeah.
Besides, sometimes sharks make good friends.”
“Spare me the kissing up.” I made a face at her, but was spared the
chore of trying to find something else to talk about – the weather was up
next – when the server appeared with our food.
I didn't know when it became so hard to talk to my best friend, but for
some reason, the things we normally talked about, now just didn’t seem to
fit.
And there was no way in hell I was going to tell her that I was suddenly
feeling the pangs of losing her and the others. Not while Arik was there,
nuzzling on her knuckles and toying with her thigh – or other body parts –
under the table.
I wouldn't do that to her.

“You’ve been quiet tonight.”

Looking over at Dena as we walked down the sidewalk, I managed a
strained smile. It had been good seeing her, nice getting to know Arik a
little better, but…yeah, I’d been quiet. “I’m just tired.” Managing a shrug, I
added, “It’s crazy at the office. I need to hire somebody to help out so I
don't get behind the next time I need to go out of town, but in the meantime,
I’m dealing with all the stuff that piled up while I was gone. My admin is
great for paperwork and phones, but she’s never worked with anybody in
the legal area before, so I’d rather her not deal with anything important until
I have time to teach her more.”
Dena seemed to accept that.
“Krissy looked…well, she looked good, didn’t she?” Dena asked after a
few moments.
“Yeah.” I felt a tug in my chest as I thought about the baby she lost.
“She looked good. DeVon is taking care of her.”
“I think they're both taking care of each other,” Dena said. “He was
pretty broken up too.”
“Yeah.” Blowing out a breath, I lifted my face to the sky. “I can’t
imagine what they went through.”
“I don’t want to.”
We reached the end of the block and stopped. Dena was heading in one
direction with Arik, me in another.
I wasn’t just talking about heading home, either.
Feel sorry for yourself later, I reminded myself.
“Pizza in a couple of weeks?” Dena asked.
“Absolutely.” I pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and nodded at Arik.
After hugging Dena, we went our separate ways, and I found myself
wondering if the night out had been a good idea after all.
 I’d wanted to see my friend, yet somehow, I now felt more alone than
before.
Chapter Two
Leslie
T he entire apartment smelled lemony clean and the surfaces of the
appliances in my miniscule kitchen sparkled.
I, however, was sweaty and dusty.
After shoving the cleaning supplies into the small space at the top of my
closet, I retreated to my bathroom – the shower stall sparkled too. I would
have given my right arm for a long, hot soak, but my budget hadn’t quite
extended to where I could shell out the kind of cash it would take to afford
an apartment that came with a tub.
At least not the kind of apartment I’d want.
If I’d stayed with Webster and Steinberg, I would have been able to
upgrade already, but branching out on my own had taken a lot of cash. I was
now seeing a slow, steady climb in my income, but it had taken cutting back
on a lot of things and focusing on things that mattered.
Sadly, finding an apartment that came with a bathtub wasn’t one of the
things that mattered.
But it was in the plan.
In another year or so, I thought I’d be able to get a bigger place – and
not just a little bigger.
I was waiting until I was secure enough to find the place.
I was nothing if not an excellent planner. And I had no problem with
waiting to get what I really wanted.
Hot water from the shower pulsed down on tight shoulders, and I
sighed, relaxing a little as sweat, dust and stress washed away down the
drain. In a short while, I was going to be sweaty again and hopefully, I’d get
rid of a lot more stress.
I was heading to the club and the plan was to find a man and spend the
night under him, over him, in front of him. I needed sex and I needed to
forget about all the brooding I’d been doing.
My life was good.
I was beautiful, successful and I was doing exactly what I’d planned to
be doing just a few short years ago.
 That my friends had chosen other paths didn’t really matter. I had my
own path and I was happy with it.
Yet, as I climbed out of the shower a few minutes later and dried off, a
small voice in the back of my head seemed to whisper…if you were happy,
you wouldn’t have to work so hard to make yourself believe it.

Club Privé was a study in elegant debauchery.

Sitting at the bar on the VIP level, I sipped my drink and waved at
Carrie once she saw me.
I was surprised she could.
Her eyes seemed locked and focused on Gavin, as if nothing else
existed.
They’d just gotten back from their honeymoon and one might think
they’d be okay to go a few seconds without staring at the other, but I guess
that was what love did to you.
I wouldn’t know. I just didn’t understand love.
I’d had a few boyfriends I’d liked, that I'd cared about, but love?
No.
Carrie grinned at me as she dropped down on the bar stool next to me.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” she said, leaning over to hug me.
“I’m pretty sure cats can’t drag in this.” Smugly, I glanced down at
myself, pleased with the vivid green of my barely-there dress. I stood out
among all the black and the red, which had been the whole point.
My life motto, ironically, came from Dr. Seuss. Why fit in when you
were born to stand out?
Carrie rolled her eyes at me. “One day, you just might find a guy with
an ego to match yours.”
“Why would I want to?” Shrugging, I sipped my drink and studied the
men on the VIP level.
Carrie’s husband, Gavin, owned the club – well, technically, they both
did, I supposed. That was the only reason I had access to the VIP level. I
couldn’t afford it on my own – at least not yet. Although even once my own
finances allowed it, I didn’t plan on telling them I’d be happy to pay for it.
If they were happy to give the membership to me, then I was happy to
accommodate them. I wasn’t cheap, per se. I just enjoyed nice things, and
when I had somebody nice enough to provide me with such things free of
charge, then who was I to argue?
Nobody on the VIP level was catching my eye, though. At least nobody
who wasn’t already paired up with somebody.
There was a sexy brunet at one table, who kept eying me, but he was
with a woman, and while I might be shallow as hell, I didn’t think much of
a man who made eyes at me when he was clearly with somebody else.
Loyalty was one thing I did value.
In my opinion, it was something that was becoming more and more rare
in the world. Even more so in my line of work.
“How has life been treating you?” Carrie asked.
“Busy.” Grimacing, I shifted my attention back to her. “I’m going to
have to hire somebody to help in the office, and the way business is picking
up, I might need to hire a partner before too long.”
“That’s fantastic! You should be on cloud nine.” She flagged down a
server and asked for a drink before turning back to me. Her eyes narrowed
shrewdly as she asked, “So why aren’t you?”
Since when had I become that transparent?
I didn’t know, but I wasn’t about to explain my sullen mood over the
past few days. Carrie would either see too much into it, or just not get it.
Then again, I didn’t get it.
She was right. I should be on cloud nine. My practice was doing
fantastic, especially considering I'd barely been at it for a year. I’d splurged
on a beautiful Michael Kors tote a few days ago and last month, a new pair
of Jimmy Choos. I was even on target to take a trip to Europe next summer
and was in the planning stages of it. It wouldn’t be too long before I could
move to a bigger, nice apartment. I was right on track with my plan. I had
everything I thought I wanted.
And yet…
I pasted a smile on my face as Gavin suddenly appeared at our sides.
“My beautiful wife,” he said, bending to kiss Carrie.
She leaned against him for a moment, and I busied myself with my
nearly empty drink. Then it was a completely empty drink, and I got busy
flagging down the server to order another one. By the time I’d done that,
they’d surfaced from a deep, intimate kiss. It wasn’t that public displays of
affection bothered me – if they did, then Club Privé was the last place I
should be.
 But there was something between people like Carrie and Gavin, Krissy
and DeVon – and now Dena and Arik – that was too intimate to simply sit
and watch. That deep sort of connection was more than just affection, and it
made me uncomfortable to witness. Some things were too private.
“Leslie, you’re looking lovely tonight.”
I swung my head around and smiled at Gavin, careful not to let anything
I was thinking or feeling show on my face. Carrie had seen something. I
could still see it in her eyes, but even if some part of me might have wanted
to share with her, I wasn’t about to do it with Gavin here.
Besides, what was I going to say?
It just dawned on me that I’m feeling kinda…
I didn’t let myself finish that thought. If I didn’t finish it, then I didn’t
have to deal with it.
Sometimes, the only way to deal with things was to not deal with things.
“And you’re looking very…” I paused as I slid my eyes between him
and Carrie. “Married.”
He chuckled as he slid his arm around her waist. “I’ll take that as a
compliment.”
“Do that,” I said sincerely. And I did mean it that way. They looked
wonderful together.
The server appeared at my side with my drink, and I accepted with a
smile before looking toward the railing. Restlessness burned inside me, but
I couldn’t just up and walk away.
I was saved from further questions, though, when one of the men from
the club's security team appeared at Gavin's side and bent his head to
murmur in Gavin’s ear. Gavin nodded and touched Carrie’s arm. “We’re
needed.”
Carrie gave me an apologetic smile and I waved her off. “Go. I want to
dance anyway.”
“I’ll try to find you later.”
“Please don’t.” I wagged my brows. “I’m hoping to be busy.”
She laughed as Gavin took her hand. A moment later, they were gone,
and I took my drink over to the railing. From the corner of my eye, I could
see the man who’d been eying me finish his drink as the woman across the
table from him abruptly stood up and stormed off.
The skin between my shoulder blades crawled, letting me know he was
still watching me. Shit. I really didn't want to deal with some creep tonight.
I kept my gaze locked on the dancers below me. Tossing back my drink, I
pushed back from the railing and saw the creep dropping a few bills on the
table. He slid a look my way, followed by a slow smile. I ignored him as I
gave my empty glass to the server and headed for the stairs.
Time to exit stage left.
He caught up with me just a few feet from the stairs. I couldn't say I was
surprised. Irritated, yes. But not surprised. I knew his type.
“Are you heading out already? He gave me a quick, charming smile. “I
was just coming to ask if I could buy you a drink.”
“I'm not thirsty.” Keeping my voice cool, I cut around him. He wasn’t
so easily dissuaded, though.
I had one foot on the steps leading down to the lower level when he
joined me.
“A dance, then, perhaps?”
Instead of answering right away, I continued my way down the stairs,
and on the landing between the levels, I moved over to the railing and
tipped my head back to look up at him. His precisely styled hair didn’t
move at all as he dipped his head to meet my eyes.
“No dance,” I said levelly. “No drink. You’re not my type.”
His lids flickered a bit at that and a muscle tightened in his jaw. He
hadn't liked that. He recovered quickly, though, flashing me a smile that
was without a doubt one of the best I’d ever seen.
It did absolutely nothing for me.
“Oh, come on…I bet I can prove you wrong. A drink…” He traced a
fingertip down my cheek. “A dance. I bet we could have a lot of…fun.”
Deliberately I stepped away from him, working to control my temper.
While I didn't believe in stereotyping, my own red curls and hot-headedness
didn't go far to dispelling that particular myth.
I made my voice icy. “Somehow, I really doubt that.”
I pushed past him, and this time, when he tried to follow, I nodded to
the security guard at the foot of the stairs. “If you don’t step back now, I’m
going to tell that guy down there you’re putting your hands on me without
permission. Don’t be surprised if your VIP membership goes on instant
probation.”
His face screwed up. “You lying bitch.”
“You touched my face.” Giving him a cat’s smile, I shrugged. “I didn’t
invite your touch or give you permission. In fact, I'd told you no. I’m pretty
sure that the rules clearly say when told no, you’re supposed to accept and
move on.”
Sure, I was being extremely literal with the rules, but the guy was a
sleaze. Chances were there were more than a few women here he’d already
gotten too hands-on with. This time, he'd picked the wrong one. I didn’t get
pushed around – I might push, and push hard, but nobody tried it with me.
His jaw clenched and his face flushed, but he didn’t say anything else,
just cut around me, keeping a wide distance. He hesitated at the top of the
steps and it didn’t take long to see why. The big guy clad in the discreet suit
Gavin preferred his security team to wear was staring dead at him. The look
wasn’t happy.
By the time I cleared the steps, the two of them were having a quiet
conversation that he didn't appear to be enjoying.
I didn’t spare him another look as I lost myself on the dance floor.

An hour later, I was finishing up a bottle of water when somebody bumped

into me – and hard.
I crashed into the person next to me, felt my ankle giving out.
Already prepared to fall, I wind milled my arms anyway.
I didn’t fall though.
Strong forearms came around my waist and a heated body pressed
against mine.
My heart skipped a beat in appreciation.
The scent of clean male sweat filled my head, and I looked up, not quite
ready to get hopeful. But then I met his eyes and hope started to race
alongside my pulse.
Dark brown eyes held mine.
“I…I’m sorry.” Feeling a little breathless, I smiled up at him. “Excuse
me.”
“Please don’t.” He smiled and when he did, his teeth flashed white
against the short, neat growth of his beard.
I had dirty images of just how that beard might feel against my girl parts
and his response took a minute to process. “Um…what? Please don’t
what?”
“Excuse yourself. As a matter of fact, feel free to fall into my arms
anytime you want.” He helped steady me, but didn’t let go of my arms right
away and I didn’t mind a bit. As a matter of fact, he could have held on a
little longer.
“Well, aren't you a flirt.”
“Not much of a flirt. I just speak my mind. And if you hadn't fallen
against me, I wouldn’t have gotten a hold of you.” He held out a hand, that
wicked, sexy smile still on his lips. “Maybe you'll dance with me and let me
hold you again?”
I put my hand in his. “Maybe I’ll do just that.”
Chapter Three
Paxton
“We didn’t do too bad.”
Looking up, I met the eyes of Decker Marley, the man who’d played
lead guitar for me ever since I’d first started singing. He was also my best
friend, and I knew by the look in his eyes that he was being…polite.
“Hey, fuck that. I think we nailed it.” Joker Trammel spun his
drumsticks around, grinning at us as he jogged down the steps to join us at
the door. “We fucking kicked ass. We ought to tell.
Brinke to get sick more often.”
Get sick was delivered with a roll of his eyes.
The rest of the band laughed, save for Decker and me. Brinke was our
main backup singer – and my wife. She told me she’d meet me at the studio
this morning. She never had.
My texts had gone unanswered as well.
We needed to talk once I got back to the penthouse because this bullshit
wasn’t going to keep happening.
“So, are we going to recut the songs we did today?” Decker asked,
ignoring the rest of the crew.
“No.” Staring outside the double doors into the busy New York streets, I
blew out a breath and then turned to look at everybody. They all looked
more than a little surprised, but thankfully, none of them seemed upset. In
fact, they looked relieved. “No. Brinke knows we’re on a deadline. She’ll
understand.”
“The fans might not.” Joker was the one to voice what all of us were
thinking.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I nodded. “Yeah. We’ll cross that bridge
when we come to it. But we can’t keep holding up work on the new album
because of…”
I couldn’t even say the lie this time.
Brinke wasn’t sick – not physically at least – and I had a bad feeling I
knew why she wasn’t there. She’d been out late last night, partying like we
were still nineteen, without a care or responsibility. She didn’t get that our
lives couldn’t go on like that anymore.
“Brinke.” Decker said it for me. Moving up, he clapped a big hand on
my shoulder. “Dude, look, you love her. We get that. But this shit – it ain’t
good for you. Ain’t good for the band. Ain’t good for your career – or
ours.”
He didn’t even mention Brinke’s career, because, without me to keep
her going, she probably wouldn’t have one. And I didn't say the other thing,
that I wasn't even sure I did love her. Not like this.
The energy we’d had going today – without Brinke – I missed that. Just
being able to lose myself in the music again, without being caught up in her
drama had been amazing. But she was my wife – and more.
I sighed. “I gotta go. You all heading out?”
“Nah.” He shrugged and looked back at everybody else. “I think we’re
going to head out, hit a club maybe. Guess you’re not up for it.”
“Not today.”
I hitched my gig bag over my shoulder, then pulled out a ball cap and a
pair of sunglasses. The others were doing the same. It was surprisingly easy
to stay somewhat anonymous in the city with just a little effort.
“Okay, man.” He punched me lightly on the shoulder. “Take it easy,
Pax.”
A few minutes later, I was tucked up in the back of a cab with my eyes
closed.
Some of the guys wondered how I could do that, relax in the back of a
New York City taxi. But I’d ridden in cabs in Beijing, New Delhi, and
Mexico City – so had they. I figured if I’d survived those, then a driver
from the Big Apple was a cakewalk.
I came awake to the sound of a heavy fist pounding on the glass
between the driver and me. Groggily, I blinked my eyes a few times, then
looked over and saw the towering spire that housed my penthouse. It wasn’t
exactly what I’d planned for a home here, but Brinke had fallen in love with
it, and sometimes it was just easier to give in to her when it wasn't
something important.
I’d gone along with it, and now I had to admit, the place was a lot more
convenient than a house a little bit out of the city. Not to mention what a
bitch it would've been to drive back and forth on the days we needed to be
in the studio. Still, I wanted a house. Someplace with a yard and grass.
Maybe we’d do that later. We could always keep the penthouse, stay here
when we were recording, use it for guests and that sort of thing.
I pushed money into the slot to pay the fare, along with the tip, and
mumbled thanks, still half-asleep.
By the time I hit the elevator bank, though, I was awake. Awake and
hungry. We’d ordered in Chinese for lunch, and that had stuck with me for
maybe an hour. I wanted a steak – one the size of Kansas. Maybe we could
all –
The second I stepped out of the elevator, I knew I wouldn’t be inviting
Brinke out anywhere. Hell, she’d be lucky if I didn’t kick her ass out.
Music blasted from the system we’d just installed last week.
Next to my right foot, a puddle of what looked like vomit spread across
the polished hardwood floors that Brinke had cooed over. A bottle of wine
was spilled on the antique Aubusson rug she’d insisted we had to have, and
there was a box of half-eaten pizza on the couch I had wanted. The stains
from tomato sauce looked like they were already smeared in.
Over the souring smell of vomit mingled with wine, I caught the
familiar odor of marijuana and booze, food and cigarettes. The cigarette
smoke was so thick it hung in a thick haze around the apartment, and I felt
my jaw locking on me. There was a couple on the fat armchair I’d put by
the windows so I could look outside at night, and I slammed my fist against
the lights as I realized the two of them were screwing right there in my
living room.
Two sets of glassy eyes turned toward me. The woman smiled, then
giggled. “Heya, Pax…wanna join us?”
“Get out.”
I recognized her vaguely. She was one of the girls Brinke liked to party
with. “Get out,” I said again. “And don’t bother coming back. I’m telling
building security you’re not allowed in anymore.”
While she continued to blink at me, confused, I grabbed the phone and
waited for the front desk to pick up – another thing to like about the
building.
I relayed my message while the couple by the window started to move
again, low moans reaching my ears – and the guy on the phone. “Ah…Mr.
Gorham, do you require assistance?”
“I think I require a lot – but not the kind you can give me. Just
remember what I said, and make sure everybody knows.” Then I slammed
the phone down and strode to the chair.
Drawing back my foot, I kicked it hard enough that it skidded, even
with the two of them screwing on it like wild rabbits.
When they looked at me this time, there was sense in their eyes. At least
a little. “You’ve got two minutes to be out of here, or you’ll be arrested for
trespassing.”
Every single person up here would be stopped on the way out, and none
of them would be coming back. Brinke’s friend – Sanja? Sanya? I couldn’t
remember – gaped at me, but her partner got it. He stood up, and she
would've fallen if he hadn’t caught her.
“Come on, Pax,” she said, her voice slurred. “Why so mad?”
“Get out.”
“Come on, Jay,” he said, finally managing to zip his jeans. He had the
decency to smooth her skirt down, never once lifting his head to
acknowledge me.
It was Sanja then.
From the corner of my eyes, I saw somebody looking at me from the
kitchen. I pointed at her – no, them. Another couple came slinking around.
“Get out.”
Before moving away from the door, I pulled my phone out and pulled
up the number for building security and called down, giving terse
instructions to watch for the people leaving my penthouse. “First of them
coming down now – remember, they are never allowed back in my place
again. Ever.”
“Hey…” Sanja said, a whine entering her voice. “You can’t do that.
Brinke and I are best friends. I come see her all the time.”
“Yeah. When you want to get high and don’t have any money.” Curling
my lip at her, I stepped aside and pointed to the door. “I’m the one who paid
for the place. It’s my name on all the papers. Now get out.”
Brinke couldn’t be trusted to sign for anything as important as our
home. She’d given a two-hundred-thousand dollar car to cover some debts
to a dealer a couple years back. I’d told her then that my name was going on
everything, and that if I caught her trying to give away or sell any of it, I'd
send her to jail for theft.
She’d cried, yelled, smacked me and thrown things.
I hadn't given in that time, and I'd never regretted it.
 My stomach twisted as the door slammed shut behind the people I’d just
kicked out. That better be the last…
Disgusted, I stopped in front of the guest bedroom and opened the door
to find a mini-orgy going on. Four people took up the massive custom king
bed. I hit the light and held up my phone. “You’ve got five minutes to get
out or I call the cops.”
Like Sanja and the others, they were so strung out, it took a few seconds
for my words to penetrate. When it did, one tried to argue, but I cut her off.
“Brinke doesn’t own this place. I do. Get out or I’ll have you arrested.
Now!”
I didn’t bother to see if they listened. I’d called the cops if they weren’t
gone. I had no problem with that.
I strode to the end of the hall and looked toward our bedroom. I saw
Brinke lying on the floor of the guest bathroom just ahead of me, but I
ignored her. She wasn’t who I cared–
“Ah, hell, no…” The door to Carter’s room was open. I took off at a
run.
I burst inside, already processing the low moans. Hitting the lights, I
stared at the couple on my little girl’s canopy style bed. It was round and
outfitted with sheer drape-like scarves that hung from the top. She’d seen it
and the look on her face had sealed the deal without her asking. She’d
wanted a princess bed, and my little girl had gotten her damn princess bed.
“Get out!” I didn’t even remember crossing the room or grabbing the
man.
He was just on the floor, staring at me. The woman screamed and I half-
turned toward her.
“Where is my daughter?”
They gaped at me, confused.
“Dude…she…”
The guy rubbed at his face, and then reached down, scratched at the
curls near his still swollen dick. Fury exploded through me. I grabbed him
off the floor and hauled him out into the hall, slamming him against the
wall. “Where is my daughter?”
“She went into the closet, dude! We told her we needed the bed…she
seemed cool with it!” He blinked at me, looking confused.
A second later, he looked unconscious – and bloody –because I’d all but
punched his teeth through the other side of his head.
 They’d put my little girl in the closet so they could fuck in her bed.
I was going to…
Breathe…
I forced myself to do just that as I turned and looked at the woman. She
was still screaming and sobbing, her hands scrabbling at Carter’s pink and
purple bedspread. She didn't matter. He didn't matter. Only my baby girl
did.
“Get out of that bedroom now unless you want to be arrested,” I said,
barely able to squeeze the words out through my fury. “Get. Out. Now.”
She half fell off the bed and started to reach for the blanket to cover
herself.
“Touch that and spend the night in jail.”
Her hand fell away and she crawled toward her clothes. Ignoring her, I
moved toward the closet.
It was closed, but under it, I saw a thin beam of light. Carter kept
flashlights everywhere. She was afraid of the dark. Maybe a lot of kids her
age were.
What in the hell had they said to make her go into the closet?
I started to grab the handle but stopped at the sight of blood on my
knuckles.
Swearing, I shrugged out of the black button-down I'd worn over my t-
shirt and used it to clean the blood from my hand. It wasn’t perfect, but I
wasn’t leaving my daughter in there a minute longer.
She was crouched there, sitting with her back against the wall, and the
little camping styled lamp by her feet. It was decorated with Disney
princesses, and she held a bow and arrow – Princess Merida, of course –
tightly.
She peeked up at me. “There’s monsters, Daddy.”
My heart broke a little. “No, baby,” I said, shaking my head.
“There’s monsters. I was having nightmares, and then they came in, and
I screamed, and they said I had to be quiet and hide or the monsters would
get me. Is it zombies?” Carter’s big eyes stared up at me and I wanted to
punch something – or someone. Again.
Brinke let Carter watch zombie shows a couple weeks ago, and now,
instead of whatever kind of monsters kids should dream of, Carter thought
zombies were real and might come get her.
 “I told you, sweetheart. Those zombies are just make-up and pretend.
They aren’t real. Come on. Whatever monsters were here? I got rid of
them.”

Carter lay sleeping on the big, beautiful bed of the Waldorf Astoria’s
presidential suite.
Brinke had been passed out when I finally checked on her, so deep
under that I'd ended up letting hotel security contact a doctor – he’s discreet,
I assure you.
I hoped like hell whoever they'd called was discreet, but that wasn’t my
main concern.
Carter was.
And because I had to think about my baby, I’d been sitting in the chair
by the window, staring outside for the past hour as I came to the
understanding that I had to do something. I couldn't just push it aside
anymore.
The woman I’d fallen in love with was pretty much gone.
And the guy I’d been then? He didn’t even exist anymore.
When we found out she was pregnant –
Shit. No big mystery there. I’d grown up. Remembering the shit my
parents had put me through, some of the stories that Brinke had told me
about her folks, I’d known. The moment we'd looked at that little plus sign
and realized we were going to have a baby, I’d known that things had to
change.
Brinke had seemed to get it too. But either she hadn’t meant it or she’d
forgotten.
And I didn’t care anymore.
Whatever we once had was over.
We were done.
Carter made a low noise under her breath, something that sounded
almost like a little puppy whimpering.
Getting up, I went over to the big bed and settled down in the middle,
pulling her in close to me. She snuggled up to me and the crying stopped
immediately.
“It’s okay, princess,” I said softly. “Nobody’s going to hurt you. You’re
safe.”
I’d make sure of it too.
No matter what.
Chapter Four
Leslie
I came awake in a bed that wasn’t mine, tucked up next to a hard, warm
male body, and I put together pieces of a puzzle I wasn’t aware existed until
I’d already solved it.
I wasn’t at home.
I hadn’t spent the night alone.
Also, it was a little later in the morning than I liked. I only realized that
when I saw the glowing red numbers on the clock on the table next to my
head.
It was almost ten.
I needed to get home.
When I stirred, the man next to me grunted and rolled onto his belly, but
he didn't wake.
After a moment, I eased onto my side and stared at him, waiting for my
mind to clear.
Bit by bit, it did.
The guy – we’d met at Club Privé. He'd stopped me from falling. We'd
danced. Had a few drinks.
Then we ended up here.
A few random flashes pierced the haze of alcohol and good, hard sex. I
ached in a nice way, but beyond that, I couldn’t say much about the past
night. Not the first time that'd happened.
Easing out of the bed, I looked around for my clothes and gathered them
up.
My head pounded a little, and I grabbed my purse as well, hoping I’d
remembered to throw some sort of over the counter pain killer in there.
If not, I could always drown myself under the shower.

Twenty minutes later, I was showered, and after having dry-swallowed two
ibuprofen tablets, I felt something closer to normal. My dress from last
night was wrinkled, but it would do for now. My panties would not – they’d
been ripped. I tossed them into the garbage, relieved to see numerous
condom wrappers in there. That was always the risk when mixing alcohol
and sex.
Spying my shoes by the bed, I bent to pick them up.
“Hey, beautiful.”
Shoes in hand, I looked back over my shoulder to see my partner from
last night pushing up on his elbow. The hotel we’d chosen to come was
across the street from Club Privé. It was pristine, discreet, elegant, and nicer
than some other places I'd woken up.
A thin strip of sunlight came through the mostly closed drapes to fall
across his face, highlighting the bronzed beauty of his features. Dreads
secured in a neat tail at his neck left that fantastic face unframed, and I
knew I’d enjoyed the view of that face from multiple angles most of the
night.
But I needed to go.
He trailed a finger down my spine.
I looked away.
Dammit.
“When can I see you again?”
I’d done this often enough that I’d perfected my exit strategy. It helped
that I never left the club with a creep. The security guys and I had
developed our own little silent language. If I was with some guy who
managed to slide under my radar, but who they knew was going to be a
problem, they let me know. I’d only needed their intervention twice,
though. I’d developed a pretty decent radar when it came to creeps.
This guy wasn't one.
He was, however, someone I needed to let down easy.
Swiveling around, I crawled across the bed and knelt over him.
Giving him a quick kiss, I pulled back and smiled down at him.
“Last night was fun…but that’s all it was. I’m not looking for anything
else.”
He grimaced at me. “Ouch.” One hand slid higher on my thigh. “Sure I
can’t change your mind?”
I brushed my mouth across his. “Yes. But thanks for the offer.”
He hauled me down for one more kiss and I had to admit, my heart was
fluttering harder when he let go, but by the time I was on the street less than
ten minutes later, I couldn’t even quite remember the exact color of his
eyes.
And I knew by the time I was home, I’d forgotten a lot more about my
one-night stand.
It was sad, really, but it proved what I'd already known. Love wasn't for
me.

The résumés on the left were going in the shredder as soon as I got up to
refill my wine. The ones on the right, I’d go through again. I had a good
feeling about two of them, and the others were decent possibilities.
One thing was certain – I was hiring somebody within the next few
weeks, before I drowned in paperwork.
I could see my own obituary.
Leslie Calvin – she died buried under mounds of paperwork. Those who
knew her best believe she would be pissed off – she always wanted to die
dancing.
Leaving the firm that had given me my first job hadn’t been a bad idea,
but I hadn’t been prepared for how much work came with going solo. The
paperwork alone was enough to make me want to pull my hair out.
And not everything was even connected to cases.
Like advertising.
That was next on my list of things to conquer for the day, and it was my
least favorite.
With a headache pounding at the base of my skull, I flipped to the final
résumé in my pile. Within a split second, I wadded it up and hurled it across
the room.
“No, I don’t think somebody with two years working as a filing clerk
will count as experience,” I muttered. “Paralegal experience a necessity.
Not optional. A necessity. Maybe I should've mentioned a basic
understanding of the English language.”
Leaning back in my chair, I stared up at the tray-ceiling overhead.
The ceiling fan spun in slow, lazy circles. Outside my windows, I heard
the hum of the city. I wanted to get out there in that hum, leaving the
monotony of work for another day and just do something. That restlessness
that had plagued me for days – weeks – longer – wasn’t letting up, but I
couldn’t think of anything that might relieve it.
 Nor could I understand why I was feeling it.
I had a great job.
I had a decent social life.
A year ago, I would have been completely happy to sit here and work
my afternoon away. Work hard, play harder. Earn money, spend money.
What had changed? Had I changed?
I had a funny feeling the answer was yes. And I had an even funnier
feeling that I knew when that change had started.
But I didn’t want to think about any of that too much, didn’t want to put
a finger on it.
Naming it would just make it worse anyway.
Chapter Five
Leslie
“You look like you need this.”
Looking up, I saw my assistant, Haley, in the doorway, holding a cup in
her hand. Steam wafted up from it, and the scent of coffee hit my system
like a jolt of speed.
“Gimme. You can have my first born, my apartment or my 401k. Which
do you want?”
“You’re too easy.” Haley winked at me and came in, putting the coffee
down next to the filing I’d gotten earlier that morning from a courier. A
client’s soon-to-be -ex was trying to drag things out with bullshit delays.
Haley grimaced when she saw what I was working on. “Ugh. The
McAllisters. You should charge them hazard pay.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I was going to see if you had a minute free to go over the résumés, but
I’ll leave you to have all this fun.”
“No.” Pushing back from the desk, I took the coffee and flipped the
filing facedown. “I need a break from their bullshit. Let’s do it now.”
“What are they fighting over now? Is she saying she wants the dog
every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday?”
I took a small sip of coffee before answering. As I circled around the
desk, I thought about the crap I’d just finished reading and wondered what
they’d do if I called them out for acting like a couple of children.
“No. This time, he is saying he should get the dog because she told him
once ten years ago that she was allergic, and that he fears for the dog’s well
being. Even though he bought her the dog.”
She laughed as we took the résumés over to the sitting area by the
window and settled down with the sun on our backs. Coffee in hand, I
listened as Haley gave me her opinion on two of the possible candidates for
the job. “She looks good on paper, but…well, I get the impression her
previous employer wouldn’t take her back if you paid them.”
“Okay. Bottom of the list. Next?”
 Before Haley had a chance to answer, the phone on her desk buzzed.
She kept it on vibrate, but Haley and I had an understanding about her
phone. Her mother had recently been placed in hospice care and the nurses
contacted her often. She didn't have to turn it off, but if it was anyone
besides family, she left it alone.
“Go on.” I rubbed her shoulder. “As thorough as your notes are, I’m
sure I can handle this.”
Haley gave me a tight smile and answered the phone half between the
second and third buzz.
As she stepped into the small area we used for our employee lounge, I
focused on the next résumé. His name was Daniel Carfax, and he was
practically fresh out of school, but he did have nine months of experience,
and he hadn’t left his last employer per se. He’d worked for an older
divorce attorney named Max Bennett. Max had died in a rather public
venue – in court – cross-examining the lover of his client’s husband. She’d
been so shocked that she’d ended up confessing right there as the man
staggered and fell to his knees in front of her, clutching at his chest.
I heard they’d ended up settling out of court.
Trust Bennett to get the best for his client in the end, even though he
died on the floor of the courthouse.
The door opened and I said, “I think we need to give this guy a call.”
“Excuse me?”
The sound of that voice, low and rough and raw, sent a shiver down my
spine.
Slowly, I looked up.
It hadn’t been the door to the lounge. Rather, it had been the front door,
and now I had somebody in my office.
A hot and sexy somebody too.
Scruffy and hiding behind a pair of sunglasses and a hat, but he was still
a hot and sexy piece of work. My heart kicked up a beat or ten even as the
professional in me offered a polite smile.
I didn’t have any appointments until this afternoon so I didn’t think he
was here to see me. Except I was very much hoping he wasn’t here to see
me.
Because that would mean he was married, and married guys were off
limits.
 “If you’re looking for the modeling agency, they’re on the third floor.” I
really hoped he was there for the modeling agency, because if he was, I
could get his name as I took a few minutes to walk him up. Give him mine.
Maybe ask him about a drink later on…?
“No.” He looked around, a bit lost before shifting his attention back to
me. “I…you’re Leslie Calvin.”
And just like that, my heart sank. If he wasn’t here for the modeling
agency and he knew my name, then that meant one thing.
He’d come here looking for me.
Damn it to hell.
A piece of work like this scruffy pretty boy might've had just what I
needed…
He tugged off the hat and looked around. “Do you have any free time
for a…um…what do you call it, a consult?”
“Are you needing an attorney?” I asked calmly. “I specialize in
divorce.”
“I know.” He gave a short nod. “Do you have time? Is there anybody
else here?”
“Just my – ”
Another door, just to his left, opened and Haley came out. She looked a
little surprised at the sight of him, and more than a little dazed. Her eyes
were damp as she looked over at me. “Leslie, I…”
Shit. She didn’t even need to finish.
“Go.” I managed a smile as I got up and went to her, pausing to collect
her purse and keys from the drawer where she always kept them. “Call me
when you can.”
She nodded jerkily. “I’ll call Agnes about covering for me. I might…
well.”
Agnes was my part-time assistant before I’d hired Haley full-time and
she still came in to help out as needed, although she was moving closer and
closer to retirement.
“Don't worry about it,” I said immediately. “I'll take care of it. You do
what you need to do.”
“Thank you.” After I turned over her purse and keys, I hugged her. She
clung to me tightly for a second and left, not saying another word. I didn't
know what happened, but I knew Haley, and it wasn't anything good.
 Once the door closed behind her, I focused on the man who’d lapsed
into silence the moment he’d seen Haley. “Now there’s nobody else here.”
It was a little unsettling that he’d asked, but he didn't really look like the
psycho killer type.
Then again, they never did...
“Although I do need to make that call to my temp,” I added.
“Okay. I…uh…well…” He swore and all but ripped his sunglasses off.
Then it was my turn to swear, although luckily for me, I managed to bite
my tongue in time to keep the words from actually making it out into the
open. Shit. I knew who he was now.
“Paxton Gorham.”
His jaw went tight at his name. “Everything I say is confidential, right?
Nobody is allowed to say anything about me being here, even your
assistant?”
“Absolutely.” My heart was racing at full throttle now. The sight of
those blue eyes, so seductive and haunting, and the streaky blond hair that
tumbled into his beautiful face – he had the kind of features that had
probably launched a thousand wet dreams.
And he was here to hire me?
“I’ll tell you what…” I moved toward him, taking a deep slow breath.
“Let me lock the door. My assistant has a family emergency going on, and
I'll wait until after you leave to call in my temp, so no one else will be
around to hear us talk.”
As I stood next to him, I caught a heady lungful of his scent and found
myself thinking a hundred things, all at the same time.
He was here to get a divorce.
He’d be single.
He was so hot.
He was about to become my client – maybe.
This could be the kind of case that made my career.
Except…I really, really didn’t want to represent him in court.
I wanted to ride him…or have him riding me.
Talk about a conundrum.

And it was worse than I thought.

 He didn’t just want a divorce. It sounded like he needed one, fast, and in
the worst way because his wife, Brinke Maynard, mother of his child, was a
complete disaster and a danger to their little girl.
“Is this the first time such a thing has happened?” I asked, making
furious notes.
“Fuck, yes!” he snapped.
I met his blue eyes, saw the rage snapping there and understood it. At
least as much as somebody who didn’t have kids could. “Mr. Gorham, I’m
not implying anything with these questions, but you need to prepare for the
fact that if you go through with a divorce, and she fights it, these questions
are just the tip of the iceberg. And I have to ask them so I know the answers
and can plan for them.”
The heat in those blue eyes didn’t change, but he muttered something
under his breath before heaving out a hard sigh. He dropped down and my
heart banged hard against my ribs at the nearness of him. Why did he have
to sit next to me? On the couch?
My heart raced and fluttered, and I gripped the pen tightly, staring at the
notes I was taking. It didn’t help, because from the corner of my eye, I
could see the way his jeans stretched tight over long, lean legs. I wanted to
feel those legs moving against mine. Wanted to feel that hard body against
mine.
Why in the hell did he have to come to me for a divorce?
Of course, if he hadn’t, well…I wouldn’t be sitting here daydreaming
about having that beautiful mouth pressed to mine, now would I?
“I’m sorry.”
The short, succinct phrase caught me off guard, and I looked up to see
him staring off at absolutely nothing. He looked…lost.
It wasn’t the first time I’d seen that expression on a man’s – or woman’s
– face here in my office. Sadly, people either came in here furious or hurt,
or both. I couldn't think of anybody who ever came in looking for a divorce
smiling over it. It didn't get to me. Usually. This was business for me, after
all. While I’d gone into law for the money, there were times when I actually
enjoyed my job. Especially when somebody was married to a real sleaze
and I was able to help them get away.
When I was able to help somebody decent keep from getting screwed
over, I liked that too. I had a feeling that would be the case with Paxton
Gorham when it came time. His wife would push hard. I still didn’t have all
the information, but I’d bet my new Jimmy Choos that he was the only
reason she was even still singing. If he didn’t keep her on as his backup
singer, would anybody else ever give her a chance? She’d look at him as her
meal ticket, even if it was unconsciously.
Drug addicts were notorious users. It might even be an unconscious
behavior, but it was a deeply ingrained one, and until it was acknowledged
and addressed, it would continue.
My job was going to be all about making sure she didn’t have a chance
to do any more harm than she already had.
Reaching out to touch his shoulder, I gave him a reassuring smile.
I’d done this dozens of times.
This time, my reassuring, comforting smile fell flat.
Tension sparked between us.
Slowly, he shifted his gaze my way, his eyes lingering first on my hand
and then coming up to meet mine.
My breath hitched in my chest and I pulled back, my fingers curling
into my palm, as if to hold in the memory of the heat that had arced
between us. Wow…
I wondered if he’d felt it.
He stood up, moving away on jerky strides.
For some reason, it felt like a rejection – like a blow. Of course, he was
a hot musician who had hundreds of groupies hanging all over him.
Gorgeous eighteen year olds who'd drop to their knees in a second. Blood
rushed to my face as I stared back down at the notes I’d made.
“What about my daughter? Should I be able to get full custody?”
He was staring outside. I didn't think it was my imagination that he was
taking deliberate care to avoid looking at me. I hadn't meant for the touch to
be anything but professional.
I cleared my throat and gave myself a moment to take a sip from the
coffee on the table. “Well…” Drawing the word out, I deliberated on the
answer. “The first thing we’d have to do is provide proof that it’s in Carter’s
best interest not to be with her mother.”
“She was shoved into a closet so a couple of her mother’s friends could
screw on her bed while Brinke was passed out in the bathroom,” he said
stiffly. “I’m pretty sure that Brinke’s forgotten what Carter’s best interests
are.”
 “I can see that,” I assured him. “But right now, it’s your word against
hers.”
His shoulders rose up and down on a heavy breath, and I watched as he
leaned forward, bracing his hands on the polished wooden window sill. I
looked down at my notes again, double-checking what I had. He’d given
me his contact information, but only after telling me repeatedly that he
didn’t want me contacting him, not at home and not on his cell. I’d assured
him I wouldn’t. The information he’d given me was for a place in Upper
Manhattan. I didn't know why he’d come looking for an attorney over in
Queens, but maybe he’d wanted to avoid having Brinke see him or having
anybody else run into him while he was here.
Moments passed as he continued to stare outside.
“How would you go about getting this…proof?” he asked softly.
“Same way it’s always gathered.” I shrugged, even though he wasn’t
looking at me. “We hire private investigators. That cost is passed on to you,
of course.”
“I’m not worried about how much this will cost.” He muttered again
under his breath and swore quietly. “Son of a bitch.” Finally, he turned and
looked at me. “Okay. I need to think about all of this. If I decide to go
through with it, I’ll give you a call. Thanks for the time.”
“No problem.” Feeling strangely awkward, I rose from the couch and
moved forward, offering my hand. “I’m sorry about everything you’re
going through, Mr. Gorham.”
He stared at my hand for a long moment and then slowly reached out.
He didn’t shake, though. He just held my hand, his fingers warm and
strong around mine.
After he released me, he left without saying a word.
Once he was gone, I turned around and pressed my back to the door,
staring up at the ceiling.
It felt empty in there without him.
But I was damn glad he was gone.
He was…intense.
Too intense, especially considering I was supposed to be looking at him
as a client.
Chapter Six
Paxton
“Why did she have to be a redhead?”
My driver acted as though he hadn’t heard a word, continuing to handle
the streets of New York City like a pro. I sat in the backseat, trying not to
think about the very sexy Leslie Calvin. It was hard, though. I hadn’t had
that sort of interest in a woman in a while.
I sure as hell hadn’t had that kind of interest in my wife.
The wedding ring on my hand felt heavier than normal and I looked
down, thought about taking it off.
But I didn’t.
Not yet.
It wasn’t because I wasn’t ready to. I was. I already knew it was over. A
part of me had known this was coming since before we’d left California,
even though I’d told Brinke we were coming to New York for a fresh start.
There was just another part of me that wanted to talk to my wife first,
explain. Maybe that part of me was still hoping she’d want to fight this out,
fight for us. But I’d been doing that for the past seven years, ever since
we’d found out we were having a baby. If Brinke didn’t care enough about
us, about our daughter, about our family to change how she was living by
now, then she never would. For Brinke Maynard, she was number one and
that wouldn’t change.
Still, I didn’t take the ring off. Not even as it gained weight on my hand
as I found myself thinking about that pretty lawyer’s sinful mouth,
wondering how she’d taste, how she’d moan.
“We’re here, Mr. Gorham.”
I looked up to see a doorman coming toward the car. “Thanks, Billy. I’ll
be back in a few.”
“Yes, sir. I sent a message to Mr. Marley’s staff. He knows we’re here.”
“Good. Thanks.” I climbed out, nodding at the man who’d gotten the
door. Even after years of that sort of thing, I still wasn’t used to it, but I’d
gotten tired of telling people it wasn’t necessary. Besides, I was too busy
dealing, and trying to lay out a battle plan for the night, to worry about
doors and shit.
I hadn’t seen Brinke since Saturday. Hadn't talked to her since then
either. I needed time to think, and she didn't make that possible.
Both Carter and I had spent the past two nights at the Waldorf and
today, while I talked to the attorney, Carter had spent the day with my best
friend and his kids. Decker and his wife, LaToya, were the picture of
everything I’d wanted for Brinke and me. They were so fucking happy
together, it was almost sickening, but I loved the two of them so much, I
couldn’t hate them for having what I didn’t. I might've been petty enough to
be jealous, but I could never hate them. They were both just so damn good.
I hadn’t even cleared the door when a couple of high-pitched squeals
reached my ear. “Uncle Pax!”
I braced myself for the twin dervishes and just in time. The four -year-
olds always managed to catch me in tender places, and I’d finally learned to
protect myself – and my balls – from their unintentional head-butts.
Catching each of them in one arm, I swung them up and around before
putting them down. “Did you wear Carter out?”
“Don’t take her away!” they shouted in unison.
“I have to. We gotta go home and see her mama.” I kissed Pierce, then
Pike, on their equally sticky cheeks, and then grinned up at Decker. “You
don’t deserve these two, you know. Let me have them. I’ll bring them back
when they’re old enough to teach how to play guitar.”
“I already play,” Pike said. No, wait. It wasn’t Pike. It was Pierce.
“I don’t wanna play guitar. I’m gonna play drums! And sing, like you!
And Carter’s gonna sing with me and be my girlfriend!” Pierce half-
shouted.
“Yuck!” Pike made a face.
“She can’t be your girlfriend,” Decker announced. He had my daughter
sitting on his shoulders and she was smiling so wide, it was a wonder her
face didn’t split. “Carter already told me she loved me the best.”
“But you’re Mommy’s boyfriend.”
“Carter can’t have boyfriends yet. Not until she’s thirty,” I informed
them. They didn't have to know that I was only half-kidding.
I put the boys down and went over to Decker. Holding out my hands, I
beckoned for Carter. She came to me and curled her thin arms around my
neck. My heart clutched in the weirdest damn way. After six years, I’d have
thought I’d be used to it, but then again, after six years, I’d also have
thought I’d be used to the fact that I would never get used to the
overwhelming love I felt for this child. No matter what hell Brinke put me
through, I could never regret my relationship with her, all because of the
girl in my arms.
“How’s my girl?”
“I’m good, Daddy. Are we going home today?”
“You bet.” I nuzzled her neck and she laughed as the scruff I hadn't
gotten around to shaving tickled her neck and cheek.
“You need to shave.” She wrinkled her nose up at me, looking so much
like her mother that it made my heart hurt.
“You need a bath,” I replied. She had marker on her cheek and all over
her hands. “What did you all do, attack a rainbow?”
“No. We colored.” She shrugged and settled her head against my
shoulder. “I’m hungry. Can we get dinner?”
“You bet.” Over her head, I met Decker’s eyes. “See you in the
morning.”
“You got it. Call me later.”
I just gave him a nod. He was the only one who knew where I’d gone
that day, and I knew he wanted to know what happened. I wasn’t sure yet
what I was going to tell him.
A lot of that depended on Brinke, though, and what happened when I
got home.

As we rode the elevator up to the penthouse, Carter squeezed my hand and

bounced on the balls of her feet. “Do you think Alex is back yet? When is
she going to be back, Daddy?”
Squeezing her hand back in return, I shrugged. “She’s coming back
tonight. You talked to her yesterday, remember?”
Alex Howell was Carter’s nanny. She had been taking care of Carter
practically since we’d brought her home, including going on tour with us
and everything else. She’d even been willing to move across the country
when we left California. She loved Carter like she was her own.
I'd bought the apartment one floor below and spent a fucking fortune
making an entrance between her room and Carter’s. I wanted Alex to have
access to Carter and vice versa. Sometimes Carter’s nightmares were
horrible, and Alex was the one who handled them the best if I wasn’t
around. But Alex didn’t need to be around to listen to Brinke’s vitriol,
either.
Plus, I liked my privacy. So did Alex, when she wasn’t working – which
was a grand total of one whole day a week. She'd assured me that was all
she needed and I was grateful for it. I didn't know how I'd have survived
without her.
A month ago, her mother had a stroke and went into a coma. Alex was
an only child, and her father had died a few years back, so we'd given her
all the time she'd needed to take care of her mom. Two weeks ago, her
mother passed away and we'd told Alex to take all the time she needed.
I didn't begrudge her the time, but man, I missed having her around.
When Alex was there, I worried far less about Carter. Brinke had become
more and more flighty since we'd moved to the East Coast, staying back at
the penthouse more often than not, coming into the studio maybe one or
two days a week. This past month, without Alex around, I worried so much
about our daughter that I didn't get much work done. If Brinke came with
us, I had Carter go to Decker’s place after summer school, and that took
care of a lot of problems.
Fucking mess that having her be with her mom was more of a problem
than anything else.
The elevator door slid open and right away, I knew one thing – Alex
wasn’t back yet. Music was blasting so loud, I could hear it from where I
stood. Half the time, I felt like I was paying Alex to take care of two people
– my wife and my daughter. I knew if I went through with the divorce that
Alex would go with Carter – and there was no way in hell I was going to let
Brinke get custody.
I pasted a smile on my face and swung Carter up into my arms.
“Come on. Let’s go see Mommy.”
Carter cuddled in closer and curled her arms around my neck.
The front door wasn’t locked and for a few seconds, nobody noticed as I
stood there, looking from one face to another. None of them looked familiar
and I had to give the building security credit – it didn’t look like they’d
admitted anybody who’d been here on Saturday. Unfortunately, Brinke was
great at making new friends.
Once this mess was dealt with, I’d tell security that nobody was allowed
up unless I specifically cleared them. I could already picture the meltdown
Brinke would have, but I was done with her shit.
Finally, somebody noticed us and the music abruptly went silent.
Putting Carter down, I patted her on the rump and said, “Why don’t you
take your bag on up and put your stuff away? Take your time, okay? I need
to talk to Mom and her friends.”
“Okay, Daddy.” Carter shot a quick look at her mother, half hopeful,
half in dread.
Brinke was too busy staring into her glass to notice.
Closing a hand into a fist, I watched Carter’s thin shoulders slump at her
mother’s obvious lack of interest. It broke my heart that after all the shit
Brinke had put Carter through, she still wanted her mom's love. She turned
toward the stairs and trudged up them, pulling a pair of ear buds out of her
pocket.
Smart move, baby doll, I thought. Smart move.
“Heya, Pax!”
The overly cheerful greeting came from the man who’d been sitting way
too close to Brinke when I came in. He moved away as soon as he'd seen
me, and now he practically sat on the opposite end of the couch.
When I looked at him, he got up, coming toward me with a hand
outstretched. “How ya doin’, man?”
I stared at his hand for a long moment. Was he fucking kidding me?
Slowly, he lowered it, a nervous laugh escaping him.
As he backed away, I looked from him to everybody else in the room.
“All of you…get out,” I said grimly. “Do it now and do yourself a favor.
Don’t try to come back.”
“You can’t do that,” Brinke snapped. “This is my home too.”
“My name is on the paperwork,” I reminded her. “Remind yourself why
that is.”
Her face flushed, but she didn’t say anything. As people began to trail
out, she emptied the rest of her glass and rose from the couch to storm into
the kitchen, grumbling under her breath.
Once she came back into the living room, I looked around. “Is
everybody gone?”
“I don’t see anybody else.” She looked around obnoxiously. “Do you?”
“Your friends don’t always respect boundaries, Brinke.” Without giving
her a chance to ask what I meant, I said, “You didn't say hi to your
daughter.”
 Brinke’s eyes slid toward the stairs. Jerking her shoulders in a shrug,
she said, “I'm going to. I'm getting ready to go right on up there and talk to
her. Where in the hell have you two been all weekend anyway?”
“Funny that you should ask that. The question you really need to be
asking is where did I find her Saturday night.” Renewed rage began to beat
inside me and I folded my arms, reminded myself that losing it now wasn’t
going to do anybody any good. “Kind of funny you’re waiting until now to
ask where we had taken off to – and you haven’t even asked why. Care to
explain that?”
“Please.” She drained her drink – again.
This time, when she went into the kitchen, her steps more than a little
unsteady, I followed.
“I already know why you took off,” Brinke said. “You came home and
found out that I was having a party and you got all uptight about it. I swear,
ever since we had her, you forgot what it’s like to have any fun.”
Her hand shook as she splashed a liberal amount of vodka into her
glass, then added some cranberry juice. There was more alcohol than juice,
and I tried to recall if that bottle had been full the last time I’d seen it. Or
was it a new bottle altogether?
I had no idea.
She turned back to face me, glaring at me with a mix of rage and misery
and I found myself trying to find the woman I’d fallen in love with in the
face of the one staring back at me.
I couldn’t. It was like no sign of her existed.
If she ever had at all.
She lifted the glass to her lips and drained half of it. She might have
emptied it if I hadn’t crossed to her and caught her wrist, forcing the glass
down.
“Fuck, Brinke. Cut back already,” I said, aggravated. “I don’t want to
have to take you to the hospital again.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” she shouted.
“I’m…shit, is it that hard for you to let somebody be worried about
you?” I wrestled the glass away and dumped it. Then, before she could stop
me, I upended the vodka bottle too.
Brinke came at me, slamming her fists into my chest. “What the fuck is
wrong with you?” She hit me again and I caught both wrists. “If I want a
fucking drink, I can have one!”
 “And if you want to get so strung out, you lose consciousness while our
little girl is hiding in a closet and strangers are fucking on her bed, you
going to do that again too?” I demanded, forcing myself to keep my voice
low. Carter might be listening to music, but I refused to let her hear me
shout at her mother.
Brinke opened her mouth, then stopped. She licked her lips and said,
“What?”
I sighed in frustration. “You heard me. You were strung out, dead to the
world Saturday night when I got here. Two of your friends were fucking on
Carter’s bed. I found her in her closet. Apparently, they’d ‘asked’ her if they
could use her room, and she was just fine with hiding in her closet while
they made free with her bed, Brinke. You were too busy with yourself to
even notice.”
She went pale as she jerked away, and I let her go.
As she sagged against the counter, I shoved a hand through my hair and
looked away. She looked guilt-stricken now, and sad, but I wasn’t going to
let myself feel sorry for her. I was too mad, too frustrated. And it wasn't just
about me. I had to think of Carter.
“We’ve got to figure out what we’re going to do, Brinke. You can’t keep
acting like this. You’re a mother and you need to grow up, damn it.”
She sniffled and I tried to shut out the sound.
There was a sound from out in the living room – the door opening.
“Hey…anybody here?”
“Alex,” I said quietly.
A delighted shriek from upstairs had Brinke flinching. I was even more
glad now that I hadn't yelled at her. Carter had apparently been listening for
Alex.
Brinke tried to reach for me as I passed, but I kept on moving. Right
before I left, I said, “We need to figure this out, Brinke. This can’t
continue.”

Two hours later, with a whole shitload left unresolved, I stood with my
hands braced on the tiles of the shower stall while water blasted me from all
sides.
When the door opened and I felt a blast of cooler air, I wasn’t surprised.
 Brinke slid her arms around me and I caught her wrists before she could
do anything else.
“This isn’t going to solve a damn thing,” I said bluntly, staring at the
water as it beaded on the surface of the wall.
“Who said we’re trying to solve anything?” she asked, her lips moving
against my skin.
My cock stirred despite my heart's lack of interest.
“I just want to fuck, baby.” She rubbed her breasts against my back.
“All the crazy shit, it will be there later, right?”
Her words sparked the anger that had been just starting to fade and I
spun around. Catching her shoulders, I pushed her against the wall of the
shower. Her body was familiar. Small breasts, slender frame. She'd always
looked like I could break her, but I knew she was more likely to break me.
At least now she wouldn't break my heart.
“It’s been there a long time. You never want to deal with it. It’s just
getting worse and worse,” I said, glaring down at her. I told myself to be
smart about this, to remember how much I didn't want her.
She arched up on her toes and nipped at my lower lip as her hand slid
across my chest. My muscles tightened. It'd been too long since I'd had
anything except my hand, and even then, it'd been a while.
One hand wrapped around the back of my neck to pull me in for a kiss
even as her other wrapped around my too-interested cock.
I bit her, hating myself for responding to her touch. I shouldn't want her,
not after what she'd done, but she knew all the ways to touch me, how hard
to grip me.
She groaned, pressing her hips forward so that the tip of my cock
pushed against her bare flesh. “That’s it…please, baby.”
Swearing, I picked her up and carried her out of the stall. Blood rushed
through my veins, the sound filling my head until it drowned out everything
else.
Wet hair framed her face and she pouted. “Hey…I like shower sex.”
Ignoring her, I put her down on the counter and grabbed a box of
condoms from the cabinet. I didn't want to hear her talk. Didn't want to
think. I just needed relief from the pressure building inside me.
“We don’t need those, baby,” Brinke said.
I shot her a dark look. Like hell we didn't. I may have wanted to fuck
her, but I didn't trust her. That was lost long ago. “We need it or we don’t do
this.”
Brinke sulked but didn't argue. Once I had the condom on, I moved
back to her, and she curled her legs around my hips as I drove into her. She
cried out, and the sound echoed around us, broken and rough.
Just like what we had become, I thought.
Broken and rough.
Chapter Seven
Leslie
Parking in New York City was a bitch. Which was why most people didn't
own cars and just relied on public transportation.
There were times when I really, really wished I’d never decided to buy a
car, especially when parking cost more than the damn car. And then there
are days like today, when somebody stole my reserved space, and I hated
people as well as cars.
If I'd been a nice person, I’d have just found another space, but I wasn’t
a nice person when it came to the reserved space I paid out the ass for. If
someone wanted a space, they could damn well pay for it themselves.
After contacting the twenty-four-hour number for the garage, I had to
wait for them to call me back, and in the end, I was given a number to write
down and stick in my window since I had to find another empty spot
anyway – you won’t be charged, Ms. Calvin, you have my word. Yes, the car
using your spot will be towed. Damn right I wouldn't be charged and that
car would get towed. I was a divorce lawyer, but I could still file a civil
lawsuit if they pissed me off enough.
It took thirty minutes longer than it should have to get inside my
apartment, and I was bitchy and tired.
More, I was also hot and bothered – the kind of hot and bothered that
came from thinking about a certain man most of the day. My nipples were
tight and swollen, rubbing against my bra, and I kept thinking that I should
find a way to get in touch with him and tell him he needed to find a
different attorney.
I wouldn’t, though.
I knew I wouldn’t.
I’d always loved playing with fire, and even though I’d never make a
move in his direction, the thought of not spending at least a little bit of time
around him was enough to drive me mad.
“You need to get laid,” I told myself as I stood at the stove, making up a
quick dinner of stir-fry. A glass of wine, sweet and cold, helped my parched
throat, but it did absolutely nothing to relieve the mounting frustration.
 And I'd just gotten laid Saturday night.
It didn’t even matter either.
I’d had fun with… what’s his name, but it had been like eating a handful
of potato chips. A snack, nothing more, nothing less.
I needed something more.
My mind drifted. To the club – to Gavin and Carrie, Dena and her new
guy Arik, DeVon and Krissy.
Then, inexplicably, I found myself thinking of Paxton again.
“More,” I muttered, irritated with myself.
I was starting to think I didn’t know what I needed.

Standing under the shower, trying unsuccessfully to drown out images of

Paxton, trying not to wonder if he made love the way he sang, I brooded
about what I was going to do if he ended up hiring me.
I was already way too attracted to him to be as objective as I needed to
be, and I was too honest with myself not to realize that.
Maybe he wouldn’t call.
Maybe it would all work out and he could talk his wife into rehab.
They could all live happily ever after, and I could dream happily ever
after until my mind got tired of the fantasies and I found somebody to take
my mind off of things. Or maybe I could even find some guy to get serious
with.
My mind did a sharp one-eighty when that thought finally registered.
Get serious?
I’d always planned to enjoy the single life for as long as I could, and I’d
never seen any reason why I couldn’t enjoy it forever. I was beautiful and
confident, and I’d be that way in ten years, twenty years. That had been my
thought even just a year ago. Hell, six months ago.
Now, loneliness was an ache inside me.
Closing my eyes, I tried to banish the image of Paxton as he'd stood in
my office, looking so lost. So many people had come in there looking like
that. While I felt sympathy for almost all of them, I’d never felt the desire to
comfort anybody until today.
Comfort…a sly inner bitch laughed at me. You want to do more than
comfort.
 I found myself thinking of his mouth, the beautiful masculinity of his
face.
My nipples tightened and I shivered as water slid down the slope of my
breasts. More rivulets ran down my belly and through the curls between my
thighs. The shower had become a taunting exercise in erotic torture.
Groaning, I pressed my back against the shower wall and slid a hand
down my abdomen, my fingers slipping through the folds between my
thighs until my clitoris throbbed under my finger. Already hard and pulsing,
I hissed at the quick, light contact. Biting my lip, I let myself pretend. It
wasn’t me caressing myself. It was Paxton. It wasn’t the brush of fingers
circling around the swollen knot, but his tongue.
My whimpers echoed off the walls as I bit my lip to keep from
disturbing my neighbors. Damn the thin apartment walls.
I imagined what it would be like to look down and see his head between
my legs, that unruly ash blond hair brushing my thighs. Have his gorgeous
eyes meet mine. A strange shade of blue, like those flowers that weren't
quite blue but not quite purple either. I wondered what they would look like,
staring into mine as he pleasured me with his mouth and fingers.
The climax came hard and fast, easing some of the tension inside me,
but it wasn't fulfilling, the knot in my stomach coming back as soon as the
pleasure faded.
Sighing, I opened my eyes and stared through the steam and spray of
water.
I was in so much trouble if he did call back.

His lips slid down the curve of my neck. When he bit me there, I shivered. I
couldn’t help it. I loved it when a man did that. There was something almost
primal about it that just turned me on.
“The first time I saw you,” he whispered in my ear, his voice low and
rough. “I knew that I was going to touch you like this.”
Dazed, I tilted my head back and gazed at him.
“You look surprised.” Paxton bit my lower lip. “I don’t know why. You
felt it too. I saw it in your eyes. Those big green eyes…staring at me. You
wanted me the second you saw me.”
I blinked at him.
Had I stared at him?
 “You did.” Paxton answered the question I’d only asked in my mind as
he stroked a hand down my neck, along my collarbone before cupping my
breast. “Your nipples were tight and you kept pressing your knees together,
like you were already feeling me inside you. Did you imagine it?”
Sucking in a breath, I nodded.
He tugged up the short, silky night shirt I wore and I braced my hands
against the wall. It was a shock when my hands touched rough, exposed
brick. I didn’t have brick in my house. In my office, yes.
Confused, I looked around and saw that we were in my office.
And I was in my nightshirt. This didn't make sense.
Paxton pushed his thigh between mine, his erection hard and heavy
against me. At the same time, he twisted his fingers in my hair. “Stop
thinking and kiss me.”
I did, more than happy to go along with that idea. Shoving logic aside, I
opened my mouth for him and bit his tongue when he slid it between my
lips. He growled, boosting me up against the wall.
The rough brick scraped my skin as he drove inside me, hard and deep
and fast. He stretched me and it hurt even as it delighted.
“Harder,” I demanded, clutching at his shoulders. “Harder.”
“Leslie…” He savaged my mouth, his fingers digging into my ass. The
kiss so deep, so hungry, it was like he wanted to devour me. And I was
going to let him.
I moaned his name when he pulled his mouth away from mine. I could
feel the pulsing of his cock as he thrust up into me, the climax rushing at me
with breathless, ruthless intensity.
“You’re going to come for me,” he said, voice rough and raw. “Come
for me, Leslie. Come…” He eased back until just a couple inches were
inside. Before I could protest, he caught my hand, guiding it between my
thighs. “Touch yourself and let me watch you make yourself come, Leslie.”
“I don’t want to. I want you to make me come.” But then he pressed his
fingers on mine at the place where we were joined. Groaning, I circled my
clit with my fingers and watched him, all but mesmerized by the intense
blue of his eyes.
“That’s it,” Paxton rasped. “That’s it.”
I cried out his name.
That was the sound I woke up to. His name on my lips as I climaxed, one
hand between my thighs. Seconds later, the intensity of the orgasm fading
away, I rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling.
“Great.” Another aftershock rippled through me and a harsh breath
shuddered past my lips. “I’m having wet dreams about a guy I just met.
Paxton Gorham. World famous rock star. And a guy I just might be
representing in court.”
Flinging an arm over my eyes, I blew out a breath. “You sure do know
how to complicate your life, Leslie Calvin.”
Chapter Eight
Leslie
“Ms. Calvin?”
I looked up to see Haley standing in the doorway.
Her face was set in a professional line, although her eyes had a slightly
dazed and glassy look to them. It'd been a rough day for her yesterday, but
she'd insisted on coming in. Her mother was okay, but it wasn't looking
good. She wanted to stay busy though.
“Yes?”
She glanced back over her shoulder and then edged inside. “Do you
have a few moments available? You have...the guy from yesterday, he's
back.” Her eyes widened, trying to communicate something she couldn't put
into words.
But I didn’t need her to. I figured it out the moment she said last week.
A shiver raced through me and I pressed my hands to the surface of the
table, staring at the résumés for a moment, as though focused on finishing
that task. “Ask him if he can wait a few minutes, please,” I said softly. “I
believe I have an hour before my next appointment, yes?”
“An hour and a half.” She turned away and I heard them speaking, the
low sound of Paxton’s voice making me remember the dream from the
night before.
Shit. That was the last thing I needed to be thinking about.
Haley turned back to me and nodded. “He’s more than happy to wait
until you're available.”
She closed the door and I dropped my head down on the desk. If it
wouldn’t have made a noise – and an ugly red mark on my forehead – I
might have hit it a few times in an effort to knock some sense into me.
Go out there, the voice of reason said. Give him the name of your old
firm and recommend a couple of people.
That was what I should do.
The lawyers at the firm I’d left were excellent. One or two had even
branched out on their own and could offer more privacy than a large firm
could.
 But I knew I wouldn’t send him away.
After another moment, I selected the two résumés from the pile and
took them with me to the door so my hands would have something to do.
Taking a deep breath, I opened it and stepped out with a brisk smile on my
face. “Hello, Mr. Gorham.”
He turned and met my eyes, offering a short nod in greeting. His eyes
didn’t linger on my mouth, and he didn’t stare at me hungrily the way he
had in my dreams.
I didn’t let myself stare at him. But I wanted to.
Looking at Haley, I handed her the résumés. “See if they’re available
sometime this week for an in-person interview.”
“Of course. Shall I bring in coffee?”
I looked at Paxton.
“No, thanks.”
I desperately needed the caffeine fix, but I shook my head at Haley. It
might be better if I didn’t have anything to add to my nervousness.
As he passed by, I caught a headful of his scent and my mouth started to
water. I closed the door and allowed myself a quick look at his ass before
clenching my fingers and forcing myself to focus.
“Have a seat, please.”
Calm and collected. Good for me.
He went to the chair near the window, so I settled on the couch and
waited for him to start.
It took almost a minute for him to say anything and I had to force
myself to hold my silence. It was harder than normal and the nerves were
insane. I couldn’t ever remember feeling like this around a client and again,
I told myself I needed to suggest he find another attorney.
I could just picture him asking why and me being brutally honest.
Because you’re too fucking hot and I keep picturing the two of us naked
together.
“Okay, let’s do it.”
He spoke abruptly and the words, delivered right in the middle of my
mental scenario, had heat rushing to my face. I covered by reaching for the
ever -present notepad I kept on the table in front of the couch. “Just what
are we doing, Mr. Gorham?”
“Paxton.”
 It took all the professionalism I had not to react in a way that made it
clear the thing I wanted to do was him. I smiled. It wasn’t the professional
smile it needed to be, but it didn’t scream let’s get naked either.
“I’m sorry?”
“Don’t call me Mr. Gorham. It’s just Paxton.” He shrugged, looking
restless as he leaned back in the seat. It drew the material of his jeans tight
across his thighs – and other parts of him. For a quick moment, my gaze fell
away and once more, heat began to rush through me.
Fortunately, he began to speak and it brought my mind out of the gutter.
“I need to start filing proceedings for the divorce, figuring out what we
need to do so I get custody of Carter.”
“Alright.” I made a couple of notes.
“I don’t want to keep Brinke away from her altogether.”
Glancing at him from under my lashes, I saw that he was staring past
my shoulder, one fist pounding absently on the arm of the chair. “She loves
our daughter, she’s just…not exactly a good influence, and I can’t risk her
endangering Carter again.”
“Supervised visitations might be the best for a while, until she’s gone
through rehab and shown she no longer presents a danger.”
Paxton opened his mouth, then closed it. A moment later he blew out a
sigh. “Yeah, fine. Okay.” He rubbed his hands over his face and when he
lowered them, he slid his eyes my way. “We have to keep this quiet. If
Brinke finds out too soon, she’ll…” He tilted his head back against the
chair. “She won’t take it well, okay?”
“Is she likely to do something that could pose a danger to Carter or
herself? You?” It was a standard question, one I never liked having to voice,
but that didn’t explain the unusual cold feeling I got in my belly at the
thought of something happening to this man or his daughter.
“She won’t take it well.” Paxton got up to pace and ended up by the
window, staring outside. “She’d never set out to do something that would
hurt herself, our daughter, or even me, I don’t think. But she’s reckless and
doesn’t think things through. When she gets mad, she gets a little stupid.”
“Very well.” I tightened my grip on the pen, staring hard at the paper
until my brain settled. Then, after scratching out a few more notes, I looked
up at him. “Keeping it quiet isn’t an issue. It’s fairly standard.”
I placed the notepad on the coffee table and stood. Sitting still wasn't
doing my nerves any favors. Moving over to my desk, I took a sip from my
water bottle and then glanced over at him.
Heat suffused my face when I realized he’d been staring at me –
specifically, he’d been staring at my ass.
My heart started to pound hard and fast and I found myself oddly
frozen, uncertain how to react. Slowly, his gaze slid up to meet my face.
Before our eyes connected, I turned back to my desk and put the water
down. My hand was shaking and some of it splashed out, but I ignored it.
“Let me explain what we’re going to do and how things work, as well as
my fee.” Forcing a note of professional distance into my voice, I strode
back to the couch and sat down, once more taking up the notepad as though
it was some sort of barrier.
Generally, talking about money annoyed people, even though they knew
they'd have to pay for my services, but Paxton didn’t so much as blink an
eye. My fees weren’t on the outrageous end anyway, and there was no
doubt he could afford it.
“Since custody is coming into play, specifically regarding the welfare of
your daughter, we'll need a private investigator as well. The best ones come
with a higher dollar tag.”
“Get the best, and make sure they know to keep things quiet, even if
they want a bonus for extra discretion.” He’d gone back to staring outside.
“I don’t want to run the risk of her realizing what’s going on. The cost
doesn’t matter.”
“Very well.” I hated to do it, but I needed to make sure it was clear.
“You do understand you’re responsible for those costs, not the firm.”
His lips quirked as he shot a look at me. “I assumed as much. Money
isn’t an issue, Leslie.”
The sound of my name on his lips sent me straight back into my dream,
and I found myself hearing his words, let me watch you make yourself
come, Leslie…
“Understood. I just like to get that matter out of the way up front. While
I imagine your…financial situation is different from most of my clients,
I’ve had a number of people who are…unhappy with the bill in the end,
regardless of their financial situation.” I said all of this to my notepad
instead of looking at him, because my body was undergoing a sensory
overload, thanks to the memory of that very intense, very wicked dream. I
needed a new pair of panties now – and a new brain. I couldn’t believe I
was taking him on as a client. There were a million different ways I’d love
to take him, and at least one way I shouldn’t. But I was going to be stupid.
Because I wasn't sure I trusted anyone else with it. Maybe if my friends
were still practicing divorce law, but I wasn't even sure I would've passed
him off then.
“What else do you need to get out of the way?”
Stop being a coward. Putting the notebook down, I looked up and met
Paxton’s eyes. “Well, not to be a nag or anything…” I managed an easy
enough smile. “But again…it’s finances. I’ll need to take a look at your
current finances, and I need your okay to do that.”
His eyebrows drew down low over his eyes, but after a moment, he
nodded. “You’ve got my okay to do whatever you need to do, as long as
you’re discreet about it.”
“Discretion is part of the job, Mr. Gorham.”
“Paxton.” He said it with an air of authority as though he expected
nothing but compliance. He didn't seem to be one of those rich people who
thought they were entitled to the world, but there was no doubt in my mind
that he didn't have a problem getting what he wanted most of the time.
Arching a brow at him, I inclined my head. Calling him by his first
name wasn’t going to help me keep some much-needed distance between
us, especially not when I was still reliving my dream, and the way my name
sounded on his lips. But I wasn't going to get into an argument over it,
either. I'd just try to avoid it altogether.
“There’s some paperwork I need you to sign. If you can give me a
moment…”
I stepped out, using the time to compose myself, and when I came back
in, he was standing in front of the window again, staring outside. He
seemed oddly mesmerized by the rush of the city.
When I closed the door, he turned back, watching me. I sat back down
and flipped open the file, tapping at the pages with a pen. “I just need your
signature on the pages indicated. A few places, you just need to initial. I
also have the information for the retainer. I don’t think we discussed it.”
He came back over and my heart skipped a few beats when he sat down
next to me instead of in the chair. His nearness could explain my sudden
issue with drawing air into my lungs, probably even why my fingers
seemed to have trouble holding the pen.
“How can you take payment? I don’t carry a checkbook.”
 Turning my head, I found him just a few inches away.
Kisses. Your hands on me. You can work it off…
The words sprang to mind.
Out loud, I said calmly, “My assistant can run credit and debit cards. Or
you can mail a check. I can’t begin work until…”
He shifted on the couch, and for one brief moment, he was even closer.
Then he held out a shiny, silver card. “Here. Put it on this. I’ll be
leaving my studio number and cell number here too. If you need to call, use
one of those numbers, and just leave your first name and the number. No
message. I’ll get back to you. If you can, leave a cell number or something
so if Brinke hears the message and calls back, she doesn’t get your assistant
answering and find out that I’ve contacted a lawyer.”
“Yes. Of course.”
I grabbed his card and strode out of the room as quickly as I could.
If I stayed that close to him for even another thirty seconds, I probably
would have done something stupid. Like reach up and scrape my nails
down the scruffy stubble that darkened his jaw just the faintest.
Or kiss him.
Chapter Nine
Leslie
“I can tell you this…” The slender, scholarly man sitting across from my
desk placed a file down on the surface and shook his head.
Stanley Kowalski didn't look like much, but he was the best private
investigator I’d ever worked with. He wasn’t always in the price range my
clientele could afford, but, fortunately, Paxton didn’t seem to have a price
range, so I’d gone for the best.
“While I’m not yet done collecting information, the past two days have
already netted enough material, that if this woman was raising my child, I’d
do everything in my power to keep her away.”
“Has she harmed the girl?” I asked, flipping the file open. My insides
twisted at the thought. I'd worked some pretty nasty divorces, including
some where the parents squabbled over kids, but I'd never had to work one
where neglect or abuse had been involved.
“No. Not directly.” Kowalski grimaced and leaned forward, using a pen
to tap somebody on the first picture. “However, she puts her in harm’s way.
This here…she went out with her daughter and the girl’s nanny. While they
were eating lunch, she got up to buy drugs from a known dealer. The dealer
was fifteen feet away from her daughter.”
“A decent lawyer can argue that nothing happened.”
“Can’t argue with the evidence I got.” Kowalski’s serene smile had my
eyebrows going up.
Intrigued, I flipped to the next picture and whistled sharply at the
perfectly framed image of a bag being passed, then an envelope.
“How in the hell did you get a picture like this?” I asked, still gaping at
it.
“I followed them into the bathroom. They never looked at me twice.”
Now my stunned surprise shifted to him. “If a man follows a woman
into a bathroom, that usually catches attention, Mr. Kowalski.”
“I was dressed as a woman.” He sipped at his coffee. “A blind woman. I
had a friend – a trusted one, confidentiality is guaranteed – acting as my
escort. As I had a cane and shuffled around a bit, they were quite convinced
I couldn’t see anything. They didn’t even wait until I went into a stall to
finish. The camera on the outside of my bag caught every detail.”
“You’re a genius,” I said sincerely.
He gave a modest shrug and fixed his glasses. “I’m simply experienced,
Ms. Calvin. Moving on…” He leaned forward and tapped the next picture.
“At some point, she put the pills in her purse. I know this because when
they left, I followed them. It was a simple matter of me shedding my skirt
and losing the wig and cane. They were outside a toy store in Times Square
when we saw this. It was very...troubling.”
He spread several images out and I had to look at them a few times
before I pieced it together. “You were shooting video?” I asked quietly.
“Yes. I took the stills from the video. There’s a small unit of officers
there at Times Square.”
“I know.” I studied the cute little kid Brinke had swept up to hug,
wondered if she’d even noticed what her mom had done. If I hadn't seen the
proof of it, I probably wouldn't have even believed it myself.
When the woman picked her child up, she’d been holding a small,
silvery pouch in one hand. She’d transferred the pills into it, I’d bet
anything on it. And when the nanny wasn’t looking, she’d tucked that
pouch into her daughter’s backpack. There was a quick sidelong glance
toward a cop standing a few feet away, his back to them. Then she took her
daughter’s hand and led her right into the massive Toys R Us down on
Times Square.
“She was using her daughter to carry the drugs.” I swallowed, feeling a
little sick.
“Most cops won’t bother a child. She was definitely acting nervous. I
could see it the moment she realized how many cops were there. She
probably hasn’t gone down there much since she moved into the area.
Maybe she’d even had a run-in with one of the cops before and was worried
they'd recognize her.” Kowalski straightened the stills back into a tidy pile.
“These images, while definitely damning, won’t be particularly useful on
their own, but in just a few days, she’s already showed a…” He paused,
pursing his lips thoughtfully. “She has a recklessness to her, perhaps an
inability to think about how her actions affect those around her.”
“I’d say so.” I accepted the stack of images from Kowalski and tucked
them neatly inside the folder. “Are these mine?”
 “Of course. There are also duplicates of the photos and my initial report,
in case the husband wants to be kept apprised.”
Personally, I didn't want to have to tell Paxton any of this. It knew it
would kill him to know that the mother of his child was doing this, but I
also knew that he needed to know how bad things had gotten. “Thank you,
Mr. Kowalski. I appreciate the time you've put into this.”
We both rose, shaking hands over the table. “I expect I’ll have more
than enough evidence within another few days, a week at most.”
“Thanks.”
Once I was alone, I went through the rest of the photos and the report.
Then I did it a second time, letting my mind take in all the information.
In a few more days, I’d put in a call to Paxton.
I couldn’t decide if I was excited about the chance to talk to him, or
dreading it, because while these things would be good for our case, none of
them were really good news.

It took a total of four more days, including the weekend.

The final report was left with Haley while I was in court, arguing for
more child support from one of the biggest deadbeat dads I’d ever dealt
with. Fortunately for my client, Kowalski wasn’t the only good private
investigator I knew. Jeannie Graham was also one of the best – and
cheapest – and she had a personal loathing for deadbeat dads, so she’d gone
to the wall on this job, digging up all kinds of dirt.
Thanks to her, I’d left court feeling like a champion.
My client had been teary-eyed and sniffling, hugging me multiple times
while her ex sent me threatening looks. I ignored him, but in a day or so, I
would gently remind my client to be careful. Men like that didn't lose easily
or well.
But for now, I'd take the win.
Paging through the final few photographs, I blew out a breath and
leaned back in my chair. I had what I needed. Once, not too long ago,
Brinke had gone out with Carter, and while they were at a restaurant, she’d
gotten up and left the little girl at the table by herself while she slipped
outside into an alley. Kowalski had gotten time-stamped images of both the
girl and the mother. Carter had been left alone for more than twenty
minutes, long enough that the manager had eventually approached.
Kowalski had been seated at a corner table, and had asked about the 'pretty
girl sitting up front alone.' The manager assured him he was keeping an eye
on her and would call the cops soon if her mother didn’t return.
He’d made sure to take note of the manager’s name, and I’d just called
and gotten a statement from him myself. While he was reluctant to confirm
the name of the patron – he had recognized who Brinke was – he was
willing to admit that yes, a young minor had been alone in his place for an
unusual length of time, especially considering her age.
Kowalski had noted that the child colored throughout the entire episode,
making him think that she wasn’t unused to that sort of thing. And I had the
proof to support it. There were other times where the child’s mother had
failed to supervise, but most often, the nanny had been around to step in and
take care of everything.
We had enough, though. Between the earlier report, the incident, the
restaurant, and how much Kowalski had on Brinke away from the child, no
judge in his or her right mind would see the woman as a fit guardian for the
little girl. The very most Brinke could hope for was eventually getting joint
custody after a long time of supervised visits.
I started to read through the report a third time when I abruptly snapped
the manila folder shut and slapped it with my hand. “Quit stalling already,”
I muttered, annoyed with myself. “Just call him.”
Before I could find another way to delay, I punched in a number I’d
memorized within minutes of him giving it to me. The studio first. I figured
I wouldn’t reach him there right away, and I’d have time to prepare myself.
Nobody answered. I just left a simple message, as requested.
This message is for Paxton. This is Leslie calling. If you can get back to
me, I’d appreciate it. I gave him my cell number and disconnected,
slumping back in the seat and staring up at the ceiling.
A light knock sounded at the door.
“Come in!”
Haley came in, carrying two cups of coffee. “I hear you kicked butt in
court.”
“Grapevine news still travels fast.” I smiled at her and straightened,
accepting the coffee gratefully.
“Think the bum will pay up this time?”
“If not, he’ll be in contempt, and he just might be looking at jail time.
Since he got arrested for DUI, and that sentence was commuted to parole
with community service, I don’t think he’ll want to risk it. If he’s found in
contempt…”
Haley made a twisting motion with her wrist, then mimed throwing
away a key.
“Yep. But damn, you should have seen the looks he was giving us.”
Haley’s response was cut off by the sound of my phone. I looked down
and immediately, my throat constricted. It was one of the two numbers I’d
memorized. Paxton’s cell phone.
“Ah…I need to take this. If you’ll excuse me?”
Haley didn’t bat an eyelash.
As I answered the phone, she was closing the door behind her.
“Hello.”
“Leslie, this is Paxton Gorham.”
“Hello, Mr. Gorham.”
“You know, you called me Paxton when you left the message,” he said,
sounding amused.
My face went red. Shit. He was right. I’d also called him Paxton in
several extremely hot and dirty dreams that I had absolutely no intention of
talking about. That didn’t mean I was going to call him Paxton to his face.
“Yes, well, that aside, I believe it’s time we set up another meeting. I’ve
gotten a report back from the private investigator I hired.”
A taut silence followed and then he spoke softly, all humor gone.
“Already? It’s barely been a week.”
“I’m aware.”
A few more moments of quiet tension pulsed between us and then he
blew out a breath. “Yeah, okay. Look, things are at a crucial point here at
the studio. I’m working ten, twelve, fourteen-hour days right now. Brinke…
hell, she oughta be, but she’s blowing us off so she might not even show up
in this album at all. I can’t risk her waltzing in and me not being here,
though – hey, I know lawyers don’t really work on holidays, but is there any
way we could meet on the Fourth?”
“The Fourth?” Blankly, I stared at my desk calendar. It hit me a second
later. “The Fourth of July?” Today was the first, so that'd be this Friday.
“Yeah. Brinke’s promised she’d take Carter to go see a Broadway play
earlier in the day, then hit some sort of street festival before heading down
to where a friend of mine lives on the river. I’m meeting them in the
evening for fireworks, but she'll be busy all day, so I know she won’t show
up here. I’ve got to get some work done – can you just meet me here?”
My head was still spinning with all the information he’d just thrown at
me and I rubbed my temple, processing it.
“Or you might already have plans.”
“No,” I said absently. In the past, my friends and I usually spent the day
together, but this year, they were all busy with their significant others. I'd
toyed with the idea of going to a club, but I hadn't made any decisions. “I
don’t have plans. I’m just…thinking.”
“I know we need to get this done, but I’m needed at the studio too much
right now.”
Grimacing at the phone, I looked down at the neatly written out
schedule on my calendar that Haley always kept up to date. It wasn’t like
my days were exactly open. If he was going to push for me to come to him,
then actually, the Fourth of July was probably the best bet anyway.
“If you can’t make it to my office between then and now, I believe that’s
probably the best solution,” I said after a moment. Grabbing a pen, I asked
for the address.
He gave it, and then ended the call with a terse, “See you then.”
I was torn between irritation and the anticipation I knew I shouldn’t
feel. The last thing I needed to feel was excitement over seeing him again,
but there it was.
Chapter Ten
Leslie
A bsolutely nobody but me and my mirror would ever know that I’d spent
nearly an hour picking an outfit that wasn’t too casual or too dressy. Since it
was the Fourth, and I didn’t plan on going to the office, I’d gone for a
‘casual Friday’ sort of feel, a pair of white capris and a dressy red camisole
with a white waist-length jacket for when I was inside.
It was cute, comfortable and casual – and the capris showcased both my
legs and my ass.
Not that I wanted Paxton to notice my ass.
He’d already noticed it.
Ignoring that voice, I turned my keys over to the valet, muttering a
quick hallelujah that there was valet service available today. Trying to find
a place to park on the Fourth was nightmarish.
Paxton had given me a code and told me to ask the valet for the studio
entrance. There was an elevator that would take me straight up to the floor
where the studio was, and I wouldn’t have any trouble getting inside. I
punched it in, and the door opened without a hitch.
Parking had been a breeze. Getting inside had been a breeze. I could
only wish that someone had told my body. My nerves were going haywire,
jumping and jittering around inside my belly. I hadn't felt this on edge about
a meeting with a client since my very first one, and that case of butterflies
had been for an entirely different reason.
The elevator had a second, separate code, and I punched it in, then
stepped inside and closed my eyes.
I’m meeting a client. That’s it. Just a client. I wasn't going on a date. So
far, he was oblivious to me as anything other than a lawyer. Well, other than
the time I'd caught him checking out my ass. But that just meant he had a
pulse.
I'd almost talked myself down when the elevator doors slid silently
open, and I stepped out to find Paxton in the wide-open hallway. He was
alone, or at least it looked like it.
He looked like he was waiting for me too.
 “I'm not late, am I?”
Before a new set of nerves could settle in, Paxton shook his head. “No.
Security is set up to alert me when somebody gets in the elevator. I heard
you coming.”
His eyes swept over me, seeming to linger in certain places, before
moving to rest on the bulging file that I had tucked up against my side. I
thought he was going to ask something, but instead, he abruptly turned on
his heel, jerking his head to indicate that I should follow.
“I need coffee. You drink coffee?”
“Who doesn't?”
His response was a short laugh, and the sound of it warmed something
inside me. I tried not to look at his ass as he turned the corner. When I
caught up with him, I found myself in a bright, open kitchen area. I stared,
feeling more than a little off balance. I’d had more than a few well -off
clients, but Paxton Gorham wasn’t well off.
He was loaded.
Half my apartment could fit in the spot alone. “Do you…own this
studio?”
He shot me a look over his shoulder. “Partially. The guys who play with
me, and a few other groups, we all went in together and bought it. We prefer
to be in charge of our own music.” He stopped at the counter and reached
for a pot of coffee. It was half-full, and he lifted it to his nose, sniffed it,
before lowering it with a shudder. “I'm making fresh. This stuff could
power a diesel engine by now.”
As he dumped it out, I said gamely, “You should probably just give it to
me. I need the charge.”
“Nobody should do that to their stomach.”
I sat down at a table, watching as he went about making coffee with the
competence of a pro. He didn't look uncomfortable with the task. It was
surprising, I had to admit, but then I wanted to kick myself. Just because he
was a mega-rich rock star didn't mean he couldn't take care of basic tasks by
himself. Besides, he hadn’t been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. I'd
done my research on him as well as Brinke.
It paid to do that when you were a lawyer. Cut down on the surprises.
He’d grown up rough, both parents getting in trouble for possession and
assault – on each other more often than not – plus resisting arrest and the
typical petty criminal’s laundry list of crimes. Paxton had a few issues of
his own, some of them the same as his parents, including assault and drug
charges, but he’d straightened his act up seven years ago. Right about the
time he would have found out he was going to be a dad, if my calculations
were correct. He’d gone in for rehab and when he'd come out, he hadn’t
gotten in any trouble, period. He was like an after-school special on turning
your life around.
No, I shouldn’t be surprised that he could fend for himself with typical
things, like making a pot of coffee. He probably lived on the stuff,
especially since he didn't do drugs anymore.
It didn't escape my notice that while he was comfortable with the task,
he wasn't relaxed. There was a fine tension to his body, something that kept
his shoulders rigid, and while he kept his face averted, I could see how it
kept clenching and clenching his jaw.
“If you're not ready to do this, or if you're having second thoughts, we
can reschedule this.”
Paxton shook his head. He shifted, reaching into a cabinet. With almost
deliberate care, he took out a pair of mugs and set them on the counter.
Once that was done, he braced his hands on the surface next to them,
lowering his head. His wide shoulders strained the faded material of his t-
shirt as he took one, then another, deep breath.
“I'm not going to change my mind, Leslie. I should've done this a long
time ago. But that doesn't mean any of this is easy. Brinke and I have been
together a long time.”
I couldn't say that I understood. I'd never had a relationship longer than
a couple of months. Ever.
“Okay.” Looking away from him, I reached into my bag and pulled out
the information Kowalski put together for me.
The woman must've been crazy, I couldn't help but think, to throw away
a life with that man and a beautiful little girl. A part of me wondered how
long he'd been trying to make it work, but it wasn't my place to ask. My job
was to facilitate a divorce and make it as smooth as I could for him.
And make sure his crazy ex didn't get custody of their daughter.
The scent of coffee filled the air after another moment, and I kept
myself busy organizing, and then reorganizing everything I brought with
me. By the time I finished, Paxton came over and placed a mug of coffee in
front of me.
“You drink it black or do you take anything with it?”
 “Black. I used to drink it loaded, but law school pretty much help me
kick that habit. Cramming and a tight budget doesn’t always…” I stopped
and shrugged, forced a laugh. “Well, college students and budgets. Familiar
story.”
What was wrong with me? When had I developed the habit of running
off at the mouth like that? I liked to talk, but it was never babbling. Chatting
with a client to make them feel more comfortable was one thing, but telling
one of them bits and pieces of my life was a different matter altogether. I
needed to pull myself together.
“Why don’t you sit down so we can get started?”
“I don't do well sitting still. If you don't mind, I'll move around.” And
he proceeded to do that, moving over to the window that faced out over the
city.
In his defense, it was one hell of a view, but it wasn't going to shield
him from the nastiness he was about to see. It would be easier if he’d sit and
read the report, look at the pictures, so I didn't have to say any of it.
“Of course.” I took a sip of coffee, finding to my delight that it was
extremely good. After putting it down, I reached for the report from
Kowalski. “I have a pretty thorough report from the private investigator I
hired. It might be easier if you just read it.”
Paxton lowered his head, and I had a feeling he didn't want to know
what was in the report. I didn't blame him.
“Can you just cut to the chase and make it short?” He sounded so tired.
So much for hoping for the easy way. “Yes.” I needed to make it fast,
like ripping off the Band-Aid. “The investigator's findings support my
original opinion that it’d be best to immediately pursue full custody and
request that the court limit her mother’s rights to supervised visits, only
after she’s gone through a court-mandated, supervised drug rehabilitation
program. After she's proven herself responsible, you can revisit the custody
agreement.”
As he turned to stare at me, his eyes hard, I looked down. In this job, I
often had to speak hard truths, but this was harder than usual.
“Mr. Gorham, I'm sorry, and I'm sure you're aware of this, but your wife
has a serious problem and she's placing your daughter in jeopardy.”
“Look,” he said, his voice rough. “Brinke loves our daughter. Yeah, I
know she's got a fucking problem. Why else do you think I'm divorcing
her? I already said I should've done it a long time ago. But she wouldn't do
anything intentionally to hurt Carter.”
“In all likelihood, you're right.” I needed to be careful here. “The
problem is, your wife's problem has made her reckless, very reckless. I’m
not sure she even understands how careless, how thoughtless she has
become.”
As his eyes continued to flash, I took a deep breath and reached for the
pictures from the day at the toy store. “Perhaps you should look at this.
Would you please sit down? Even just for a few moments? You need to
understand what I'm talking about.”
Ten minutes later, the silence was starting to get to me. I'd explained
everything that Kowalski had detailed in his report, everything he had
explained to me. Paxton had gone through the pictures now three separate
times. Now he held one. His fingers had brushed over the little girl’s face
before he'd plucked the picture up and now he was staring at it, a muscle
pulsing in his jaw.
I knew exactly which image it was – the one where Brinke had picked
up their daughter and hugged her, the silver pouch clearly visible above the
partially opened zipper of the backpack. The picture that had showed his
wife using their daughter to commit a crime.
As I watched, he slowly crumbled the photo in his fist. When he relaxed
his fingers, the image fell to the floor and his gaze slid to mine.
I needed to fill the silence. Opening my mouth, uncertain what was
going to come back out, I started with just his name.
That was where I really screwed up. I shouldn’t have used his name.
“Paxton...”
His pupils spiked, flared. “See. That wasn't so hard. You can say my
name just fine.”
The sudden rush of color that flooded my cheeks was humiliating. I
wasn't some naïve, inexperienced kid fresh out of high school. Although
sometimes he made me feel like one. “Whether or not I can say your name
isn't the point.”
“Trust me, I know what the fucking point is.”
He shot up, shoving a hand through already tumbled hair. His booted
foot kicked something, the picture. He bent down and grabbed it, hurling it
across the room. It didn’t go far.
“Where was Alex when all this was happening?”
 Alex? Right, the nanny. “My PI said that these were times when Brinke
sent Alex out to do something. That picture,” I gestured toward the floor,
“was taken after Alex was sent back to get something for Carter that was
left behind.”
Paxton started to pace. “So Brinke could put drugs in Carter’s backpack
without Alex seeing.”
“More than likely. A good lawyer could argue that – ”
“Fuck arguments.” He turned, his eyes narrow. “That little silver clutch?
She calls that her party bag. She’s had it forever. There were a few times
when we both got wasted on the shit she’d have tucked inside there. I know
damn well what she carries in it.” He shook his head, the pain obvious in
his eyes. “I kept hoping after Carter that she’d get clean. I did. I wised up,
knew I couldn’t live like that with a kid. But Brinke…”
He stopped and spun away, slamming a fist on the counter.
The ferocity of it startled me, but I understood it.
Using a child that way...your own child...
Even as I was trying to figure out something to say to him, he came
back to the table and pulled out the chair, sitting back down. “I’m sorry,” he
said, voice flat. “None of this is your fault. I just…”
Unable to stop myself, I reached out a hand.
Touching him would be a mistake, and I knew it even before I did it.
I did it anyway.
Brushing my fingers down his wrist, I tried to smile, to make it a
harmless gesture, but it was too late. I’d already touched him, and the shock
of it went through me like lightning.
Slowly, I withdrew my hand and busied myself with reorganizing the
photos, hoping my face didn't show what I was feeling. “You don’t need to
apologize. I don’t have children myself, but I can’t imagine how outraged
I’d be if I were in your shoes.”
He didn’t say anything, and when I looked up, he was staring at me.
Look away.
I couldn’t do it though. Just like I hadn’t been able to not touch him.
His gaze lowered to my mouth.
My heart skipped a beat – then a few more. Again. As it started to race
away inside my chest, I sucked in a deep breath.
Was he –?
 The phone rang and the moment fractured, then splintered into a
hundred pieces.
Chapter Eleven
Paxton
T hat mouth of hers had driven me crazy almost from the very minute we’d
met. If I was smart, I would have gone and found some boring, suit and tie
lawyer, somebody who charged thousands on the hour and didn't make me
think about bending her over her desk...
I’d chosen the attorney in Queens partly because she was in Queens,
damn far from anywhere Brinke or her friends would be seen and because
Leslie had looked…sharp. Her picture had jumped out at me from the ad in
the phone book, looking like somebody who wouldn’t be manipulated by
Brinke’s games. Like somebody who knew how to play those games herself
and win.
But that mouth…
Yeah, if I'd been smart, I would have just found somebody else after the
initial consult.
Now, a split second away from kissing her, I told myself again…Fire
her. Find somebody else.
I wouldn’t though. She was too damn good.
The phone rang.
Her eyes widened for a brief moment, then her lashes swept low,
shielding the mesmerizing green. Standing, I pulled my phone out of my
pocket and walked over to the window.
“Hey, Alex. What’s up?”
“Paxton…”
Immediately, dread settled inside, a heavy, ugly weight, and I hooked a
hand over my neck, staring outside. “What’s she done now?”
“She left to go run a few errands…or so she said. She never came back.
That was like three hours ago and Carter is getting pretty upset. I was going
to take her to the play myself, but the tickets for the show aren’t here and…
well. She was really looking forward to spending the day with her mom.”
Shit. I shifted my hand from my neck to my forehead, then pinched the
bridge of my nose. So much for finishing up that last song. I was hoping to
have something to show the guys on Monday, but that wasn’t going to
happen. “Alright. Tell Carter I’ll be there soon. Look, if Brinke shows up…
hell, just call me. And make sure you go with them if they go anywhere. I’ll
catch up with you and take over, okay?”
“You got it. But you know she isn’t…” Alex didn’t finish.
She didn't have to. “I know.” Brinke wasn’t going to show. She was out
partying. She’d already forgotten the plans she’d made with our daughter.
After disconnecting, I turned to Leslie. She was already gathering up
her stuff, her face a carefully blank mask. “I’ve gotta go. Is there…do I
need to sign stuff or anything to move forward from here?”
“No.”
She gave me a quick smile – the professional one she used almost every
damn time she looked at me. I knew why she used it too. She felt the same
tug I felt, only I was better at hiding it.
It was those eyes that gave her away.
“From here on out, a lot of the work is going to be mine. Well, up until
it comes time to go to court.”
Court. It left a bad taste in my mouth. “I…look, I don’t want to keep
Brinke away from Carter completely. She does love her.”
“I’m sure she does. But she’s also unstable. She…” Leslie sighed and
set her bag on a chair.
This time, when she looked at me, there was no pretext or false smiles,
nothing but seriousness – and concern, I realized. For a kid she didn’t even
know. My kid. My heart gave an unsteady thump.
“You have to understand that she’s committed illegal acts that have
placed your daughter in danger. I mean, I know you understand that. That’s
what drove you to take action, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you need to take that action. Who knows, maybe this will be the
thing that forces your wife to realize just how badly she needs help.”
I turned away. I guess a guy could hope. It might be like hoping for
snow in July in New York City, but hey, anything was possible, right?

“This is fucking impossible.”

Staring at the dashboard of the 1962 Shelby Cobra I’d bought at auction
the first time we'd gone platinum, I threw my head back against the butter
soft leather and proceeded to mutter a long and steady stream of curses.
Then I did it in Spanish. I was trying to help Carter become bilingual and I
figured I’d do the same thing. All the fun words were cuss words. Not that
I'd taught her any of those.
Climbing out of the car, I debated between throwing up the hood and
kicking the tire. In the end, I kicked the tire, because there was no way I
was going to touch the engine. That car was my baby and she was more
temperamental than Brinke. No one but a pro touched her.
At the sound of a car stopping close by, I looked up, saw the valet just
across the lot passing the key over to Leslie. She glanced up, smiled at me,
but then the smile faltered. She said something to the valet and then trotted
across the road to where I stood.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, the piece of shit engine won’t turn over.”
Leslie slid her eyes behind me. There was a gleam of appreciation in
them as she studied the silver coat. “I don’t think you can call that car a
piece of shit.”
“You're right. The car is fine. The engine is a temperamental piece of
shit. It won’t turn over when I need it to. The damn car loves to screw with
me.”
“I’m surprised you don’t have a driver who takes you wherever you
want to go.”
Restless, I shrugged, tossing my keys into the air before catching them.
“I do have one. He’s got kids, a wife. It’s a holiday. Besides, if I use him all
the time, how am I ever going to drive my baby?”
“And that’s your baby…the car that’s screwing with you?” A smile
curved her lips up.
I wanted to kiss that mouth, bad.
“Yeah.” With a curt nod, I sidestepped around her and headed toward
the valet. It was Joey working today, so at least my luck didn’t totally suck.
“Hey, can you call your brother? Tell him she’s acting up again?”
He gave me a pained look. “I can, Mr. Gorham, but he’s out of town for
the Fourth. I know a couple of the guys are on call, though. Good guys,
really. Tony doesn’t put up with losers.”
“That’s cool. If you keep an eye on her until somebody can get her to
the garage, I’d appreciate it.” I pulled a few bills out of my pocket and
passed them. Joey's older brother Tony ran a high-end repair shop, just for
people who had cars like mine, expensive relics that liked to test their
owners' patience. It was in good hands. “Thanks, kid.”
Turning, I saw Leslie still standing there. Figuring she needed to get her
keys, I stepped away. “Enjoy the rest of your holiday.”
“How will you get to your place?” she asked to my back.
“The way anybody else does in New York, I guess. Take a taxi.”
She laughed and I heard the jingle of her keys. “On a holiday? You'd
have better luck walking. Why don’t you let me give you a lift?”
Don’t do it.
I’d already reached the street and from where I stood, I saw two familiar
yellow cars. One had their service light on, but as I watched, a woman with
an arm full of bags flagged it down and she stepped up to the curb.
The other was parked off to the side of the road, light off.
Taking it as a sign, I turned back to her. “It’s a drive from here.”
“I’m not doing anything in particular.”
Unable to stop myself, I let my eyes drift back down to her mouth.
Don’t do it, Pax…
“Okay, yeah. Thanks.”

Driving with Leslie was a damn sight better than riding in a cab, I had to
give her that.
For one, she smelled fantastic.
The way she smelled made me think of sex and hot summer nights,
spent out on the lake, spread out on a blanket. That made me think of
having her on a hot summer night, spread out on a blanket, by a lake. I even
had a lake in mind – my place up in the mountains. Where no one was
around for miles.
That clear, pale skin of skin of hers would gleam under the glow of the
moon. I could imagine her mouth falling open as I trailed my fingers down
her neck, her torso –
“Do you think your wife made it home?”
Head out of your ass, I told myself.
As the car glided to a stop in front of my building, I debated on the
answer. “No. If she made it home, Alex would have let me know.”
“The nanny lives with you, right?”
 “Sort of. She’s got an apartment that’s connected to our penthouse, so
yeah, I guess she does, more or less. Good memory.” I climbed out of the
car and grabbed the messenger bag I used for work, and started to close it.
Abruptly, I stopped and looked back inside. “You want to come up? You
could…” I paused, faltering a bit, before deciding to just brazen it out. “You
probably want to see that Carter’s happy and all, right? What’s the phrase…
well-adjusted?”
“That’s a social worker, not me.” Her hands gripped the steering wheel.
“I’m just here to help take care of the divorce.”
“Yeah, but at some point, she’ll drag a lawyer in it too, right? Maybe if
you have a heads-up on whatever she plans to do to argue…” I was
floundering bad here. Let it go, Pax. Let it go.
That smile again, quick and brilliant, and then she turned off the car.
“You’re not the first client who's ever suggested such a thing. It’s never
made much of a difference, and I'm sure you’re a great father. But yes, I can
come up for a few minutes. My car?”
“Valet will take care of it.” I held out my hand for her keys after she
came around, even though the man heading the stand was already on his
way over. Her fingers brushed my palm.
As much as I wanted to, I didn’t close my hand over hers.
She was coming upstairs. That was good enough.
Maybe if I spent a few more minutes around her, I could get her out of
my head. Chances were, I was just obsessing because she was so…steady.
Beautiful, hell, yes, but steady. So different from everything I was used to.
If I had any luck at all, she’d be lousy with kids and nothing was likely
to sour me quicker than that.
Chapter Twelve
Leslie
I hadn’t lied.
I'd met the families of my clients several times in the past, but that
wasn’t why I’d agreed to go inside with Paxton Durham.
I was having a hard time separating my personal interest already, but I
couldn't seem to stay away.
It’s business, I reminded myself as we stepped inside the elevator. I
needed to be professional. The doors slid silently closed and I settled back
against the far wall with a quiet sigh, readjusting the bag on my shoulder
and trying to convince myself this wasn’t a huge mistake.
Then Paxton shot me a grin and I smiled back.
I was so screwed.
The elevator doors opened to a wide, airy entryway that was clearly
private. As soon as I stepped out, I could see there was only one residence
on this floor. A matching pair of elegant tropical plants framed both sides of
a regal looking set of carved wooden doors.
“This way,” Paxton said unnecessarily. He glanced at me, the expression
on his face one I hadn’t seen before.
He looked…nervous, although I couldn’t understand why.
Unless he really was concerned that I might not think he was a good
father.
He really did love his daughter. I could see that already, and I hadn’t
even seen the two of them together. Everything he did seem to be centered
around her. It kind of blew my mind that someone like him would be so
involved, but even as the thought occurred to me, shame slid through me.
He might be some big rock idol, but he was still a guy, a guy who
clearly cared about his child.
“Come on,” he said, clearing his throat before reaching out and
unlocking the door. He stepped inside but didn’t have a chance to take more
than that one step before a small girl came barreling toward him.
“Daddy!”
 He caught her up in a hug and stepped further into the penthouse,
moving off to the side so I could come in.
“Hey, baby.” He pressed a kiss to her head, all his attention on her. She
tucked her head against his throat and curled her arms around his neck like
it was her favorite place in the world to be. “You maybe wanna go hang out
with me today? I’m tired of being cooped up in the studio. I wanna go have
fun with my best girl.”
She sniffed. “Me and Mommy were supposed to go do fun stuff. She
left and forgot about me.”
Paxton’s eyes closed briefly, his expression clouding. “Mommy
wouldn’t forget. I bet something happened and she’s probably lost or
something. You remember how she got lost with you in SoHo and had to
use somebody else’s phone to call me because she left hers at home?”
There was a faint pause and then she nodded. “Yeah.”
“Bet it’s something silly like that.”
“But what if she’s lost again, and she can’t find us to see the
fireworks?” Carter said, her voice rising at the end.
“I’m taking my phone. And Alex will have hers on. If Mom tries to call
one of us, we’ll be able to talk to her. Okay? Come on, princess. Don’t be
all down. You’ve been so excited about today.”
I watched as she slowly eased back, her eyes locked on her dad’s face.
My heart twisted a little, and I felt a flare of anger at a woman who could be
so careless with her child's feelings.
“Okay. But…we’re going to miss the show. It’s already started.”
“I’ll make it up to you. You and me, we’ll pick one out – or better yet,
you can pick it out, and we’ll get the best seats. I’ll even see about getting
you backstage too. It’ll be a date, just you and me.” He reached up and
wiped at the tear on her cheek.
“Okay.” She sighed, a shaky little sound that was evidence that she had
been crying harder than that earlier. She gave her dad another tight hug and
then shoved at him, clearly ready to get down. She started to say something
else but caught sight of me.
Her eyes widened. “Who are you?”
The question took Paxton off guard, but I’d been expecting it. She was
six. I might not be a parent, but the past few years had giving me some
experience with kids, and I knew this was a curious age. I smiled at her.
“I’m a friend of your father. I’ve been working with him on something.
You’re Carter, right?”
“Yes.” She narrowed her eyes and studied me with the seriousness only
a child can muster. “Why are you here? Are you going to the fireworks with
us?”
Now it was my turn to be caught by surprise. I opened my mouth, then
closed it, uncertain how to respond to that. Before I figured it out, Carter
kept going.
“We still don’t know the city too good – too well…” She rolled her eyes
like she was sixteen instead of six and looked over her shoulder.
That was when I noticed a tall, slim woman – she looked barely out of
her teens, dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. The nanny, I assumed. Alex? Yes,
that was it. The woman grinned at Carter and tapped her nose. Carter gave a
long -suffering sigh before continuing.
“Alex does though. She’s been here before and even lived here for a
little while when she went to college. She says she knows all about New
York City. But she's supposed to be off tonight, and she’s going to do stuff
with her new boyfriend. She’ll probably kiss him a lot too. She does that
when nobody is looking.” She lowered her voice and leaned in to whisper
very loudly, “I see them kissing. It’s gross.”
I managed to disguise my laugh as a cough. Paxton just looked amused.
Judging by the lovingly exasperated look on Alex's face, this wasn't
anything she hadn't heard before.
“Mommy was going to take me out into the city with a friend of hers,
and she knows where all the good stuff is on the Fourth, but Mommy isn’t
here. We’ve never done fireworks or nothing here. So…” She paused and
took a deep breath, then rushed on. “Is that why you’re here? Do you live
here? Do you know the city?”
“I…um…” I felt a little dazed. Okay, I thought I was used to kids, or at
least experienced with them. Usually, though, they tended to be a bit quieter
– or at least, not all but tripping over themselves with fifteen hundred
questions a minute. Finally, I latched on the last clear bit of her explosive
dialogue and answered. “Yes, I live here.” I managed to smile a little. “I bet
I know the city even better than…Alex, right?”
Alex inclined her head, smiling a little. She looked a little sympathetic.
“She’s a talker.”
“I noticed.”
 “I have lots of stuff to say,” Carter said matter-of-factly. “We’ve never
done fireworks here. You should come with us then. You can help us find
all the good stuff.”
“Ah, you know you can’t set fireworks off here, right?” I shot Paxton a
quick look.
“Yeah, we know.” He tugged on Carter’s ponytail. “She’s talking about
finding stuff to do in the city. We can’t set them off in California, either. We
were going to find one of the street festivals or something, then we planned
to head down to the Hudson this evening. A friend has a place on the river.”
Rubbing at my temple, I managed to smile. “You really haven’t done
the Fourth here before, have you?”
Carter giggled. “I just said that. We only moved here a couple of
months ago.” Some of the animation left her face and she wandered over to
the couch, dropping down on it and picking up a ragged looking bear. “I
don’t like New York. We lived in California before and I love California.
This place is boring. My old house had a big yard and I had a tree house
and a swimming pool and I could go outside and play – as long as I didn't
go by the pool. Now I live here and I’m stuck inside all the time.”
She shot her dad a mutinous look and Paxton blew out a breath before
moving over to sit on the coffee table in front of her. “Honey, you go to the
park with Alex all the time. And the zoo, the museums…you’ve made a
bunch of new friends at school.”
“No, I haven’t. Some of the kids are mean and they think I’m stupid
because I’m in summer school.” She sniffed, looking dejected.
“You’re not stupid,” he said in a firm ‘father’ voice. It was clear this
was a discussion they'd had before.
She buried her face in her bear.
“I miss my old friends,” she said softly. “It’s no fun here.”
Heart tugging, I moved closer without realizing I’d even done so.
Paxton glanced up as I sat on the edge of the arm of the couch. “There’s
lots of fun things here, Carter,” I said. “I bet I can show you.”
She looked up at me, a quick, nervous look. “Are you going to come
with us? Take us to some of the fun stuff in the city?”
Paxton cocked an eyebrow at me.
“Ah…well, I’m not sure how your dad feels about that.”
“He doesn’t mind,” Paxton said neutrally.
Hours later, I collapsed on a lounge and stared out at the river.
“I’m going to say this…I don’t think I’ve ever had a view like this for
the Fourth of July,” I said when Paxton settled down on the lounge next to
mine and offered me a frosty cold bottle of some dark beer.
I couldn’t make heads or tails of the label, but I really didn’t care. I was
hot and exhausted, but I’d had more fun than I’d had in a very long time.
Carter was curled up on a fat, round chair, sleeping. Nodding toward
her, I asked, “Is she going to wake up for the fireworks?”
“I’ll wake her up after she’s had a chance for a nap. She won’t let me
live it down otherwise.” He smiled at me before taking a sip from his bottle.
When he lowered it, his eyes were still locked on mine, and my heart
started to race, my blood burning inside my lungs.
It was enough to make my head feel all funny and light, especially
combined with the exhaustion and heat of the day, and now, putting alcohol
on top of it, I was practically buzzed. Maybe I should have stuck with
water.
“Thanks for coming out with us,” he said. “I know that wasn’t what you
had in mind, but Carter had fun.”
“So did I.” I smiled, then shifted my gaze away, looking down the
crowded street. It was all shut down to vehicular traffic, standard for
Independence Day. Once I explained how awful traffic would be, Paxton
suggested I leave my car parked in the guest valet parking and we’d taken a
taxi – Carter had loved it – for part of the day, then walked down here. He’d
assured me he would have my car brought to me in the morning. He also
promised to make sure I got home.
The wind kicked up, and I looked off into the distance, staring at the
slowly building clouds. Bad weather was supposed to move in later, but the
forecasters were saying it shouldn’t affect the fireworks.
The scent of ozone hung heavy in the air, and I could almost feel the
promise of rain. I just hoped it held off so Carter could see the fireworks.
“Me too.” Paxton's voice was low.
I swung my gaze back to his, momentarily unsure of what he was
referring to. By the time I figured it out, he was up and moving away. I
watched as he stopped maybe five feet from where I was, pulling his phone
out.
He lifted it to his ear.
 Although I couldn’t hear the words, something about the tension
creeping into his body told me who it was. When he glanced around and
seemed to realize how many people were looking at him, he froze even
more. That protective streak started to heat inside me and I got up, moving
toward him.
He caught sight of me as well, stopping in mid-sentence.
I caught his arm and he frowned, clearly not understanding my intent.
Still, he allowed me to lead him back to the relative privacy of the corner
where we’d been. I nudged him down onto the lounge chair – farthest from
the crowd – and then I moved to stand in the entryway of the small alcove,
barring it and offering him whatever privacy I could.
A few people gave me appraising looks, but I ignored them, drinking
my beer and playing deaf to the conversation going on behind me.
Not for the first time, I found myself thinking…She must be crazy.
Brinke had taken off. Even though I was trying not to listen, it was
impossible not to pick up on that much. She was crazy. She had a guy like
Paxton. How could she not appreciate him? And their daughter was
amazing. I knew that from just one day.
If I had a family like this, I might not have minded the thought of
settling down.
Chapter Thirteen
Leslie
“T hanks for asking me to come with you, Carter.” I rubbed my cheek
against her hair. Her shampoo was strawberry-scented. “I had a lot of fun.”
“Me, too. New York isn’t too ter’ble, I guess.” Her voice was a sleepy
mumble, a smile on her face as we pulled up in front of their building.
“Gee, thanks.” I rolled my eyes at Paxton. He sat watching us, his
expression unreadable. The car stopped and I eased Carter upright, stealing
a look at the time. After midnight, whoa. No wonder she was all but asleep
on top of me. “Well, sweetheart, it’s about time for me to go. I’ll turn into a
pumpkin soon.”
The driver opened the door, but before I could slide out, Carter found
her second wind, grabbing my hand. “You can’t go yet!”
“Carter, honey…” Smoothing a hand down her hair, I smiled at her. It
was impossible not to fall in love with her. “It’s late. I need to go, and you
need to sleep.”
“But…” She squeezed my hand and watched me with big, imploring
eyes. “Just a few more minutes. You…you didn’t get to see my bedroom!”
Paxton remained silent throughout the exchange, and I finally shot him
a look. I didn't want to intrude, but I also wasn't sure I could say no to
Carter either.
Our gazes locked and he hitched up a shoulder. “It’s up to you, Leslie.”
Great. I gave Carter a smile. “Sure, honey. I’d love to see your room.”
Although I was exhausted, saying no seemed impossible. I could face
the angriest people on the stand and face down the most hard-ass judges,
but one six-year-old child made me crumble. As we climbed out of the car,
a thunderous crack tore through the sky overhead, bouncing off the
buildings and echoing through the concrete canyons of New York City.
Lightning followed closely after.
A split second later, the rain started. Although rain wasn't entirely
accurate. It was a downpour.
We all rushed for the awning just a few feet away, making it under just
in time to avoid being completely soaked as the skies opened up. A
doorman rushed out to meet us halfway, an umbrella already open in his
hand.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Gorham.” The doorman lowered the umbrella once
we were all under the awning. “That blew up out of nowhere.”
Paxton shook his head, flicking some rain out of his eyes. He’d shoved
Carter and me under the umbrella, racing to the awning ahead of us in the
rain, so he got the brunt of it. With an easy smile, he shrugged at the
doorman. “No problem, Pete. It’s just rain. We don't melt. At least, Carter
and I don't.” He slanted a look in my direction.
I rolled my eyes. “I'm pretty sure I’m still intact.”
Carter giggled. “People don't melt, Daddy.”
“People don't,” he said. “Witches do. Haven't you seen The Wizard of
Oz?”
Following them into the elevator, I made a face at him, making Carter
laugh again. “Are you calling me a witch?” I made my voice sound
indignant.
“What makes you think that?” he asked easily, leaning back against the
wall and meeting my eyes.
My heart lurched, then started to race. Licking my lips, I dragged my
gaze away and looked at Carter. “Okay, let’s see this awesome room of
yours.”
As we exited the elevator, the lights flickered. Carter barely noticed, her
hand clasping mine as she tried to drag me to the door, but both Paxton and
I stared out the window as rain lashed and wind howled.
Dread curled inside me as I thought about driving through this, and I
struggled to keep my voice calm as I told Carter that we would have to
make the trip to her room a fast one.
She sounded unconcerned as she called back, “Okay,” over her
shoulder.
We were halfway up the steps when Paxton caught my hand, tugging
me to a halt. Sensations raced across my nerves. Damn.
“Why don’t you stay?” he asked, his voice low.
I gaped at him, but he just shoved his phone into my hand.
Bemused, I looked down. It took two read-throughs to make sense of
the message. By the time I’d read through a second time, my phone was
buzzing, and I suspected it was an identical message, a severe weather alert
text.
 Severe weather blah blah blah torrential rains blah blah blah flash
flooding could occur blah blah.
I pushed the phone back into his hand. “That’s kind of you.” I was damn
proud of myself, the way I was able to look at him and hold his gaze
without completely melting. The rain wouldn't do it, but Paxton Gorham
could. “But I’ll be okay. I’ll catch the subway instead.”
“You want to go outside, down into the subway, with a flash flood
warning going on?” He raised an eyebrow. “Thought you were a native
New Yorker. You know what can happen in the subway during a flash
flood, right?”
Groaning, I turned around and continued on up the steps after Carter.
“It’s not going to keep up long enough for that to happen.” Although the
subways had flooded not that long ago, it wouldn’t happen again.
But the rain continued to pound down and lightning flickered in
sporadic intervals as I rounded the corner where Carter had disappeared.
It would stop soon enough, I told myself. Just enough time for Carter to
show me her room.
Except, twenty minutes later, it was still coming down.
Torrential rains indeed.
Brooding, I stood downstairs at the floor to ceiling windows while
Paxton finished tucking Carter in.
I should have just taken the subway from where we'd watched the
fireworks. I would have already been home before the rains hit. My car
would have been fine here in valet parking. But Carter had been curled up
against me and it'd been too hard to let her go.
I’d hoped the rain would lighten up. It had, for maybe five minutes, but
now it was coming down in a hard, driving rhythm, showing no signs of
letting up. My stomach sank with the realization that this storm wasn’t
going to pass any time soon.
The lights had flickered a few more times, but Paxton told me there was
no danger of them going out. The building, naturally, had backup power.
“Have you seen reason yet?”
Looking back, I saw him jogging down the stairs, his feet bare.
For some reason, the sight struck me as unbearably sexy. He had a light
growth of stubble on his face, and his hair was messy. I wanted to mess it
up even more.
Dammit.
 “Reason?” I asked.
“Yeah.” A smirk curled his pretty mouth and he shrugged. “You would
think that a lawyer, of all people, would be reasonable.”
I shot him a dark look before turning back to the window less than a
foot in front of me. “Staying here would be, well, let's just say beyond the
boundaries of what would be considered professional.”
In the reflective service of the window, I could see him as he moved up
behind me, so I had some warning. Still I had to take a steadying breath,
disguised as a sigh, as Paxton came to stand next to me, muscled arms
crossed over his chest.
Jutting his chin out toward the lightening show taking place outside the
window, he said, “In my opinion, it may not be professional, but this is
what I think would be considered extenuating circumstances.”
I had to admit, he was probably right. Still…
Shaking my head, I said, “When Brinke comes home, the cat may be
out of the bag.”
At least that was a better reason than I don't trust myself not to jump
you.
“She's not coming home.” His voice was flat. Without saying anything
else, he turned on his heel and strode away.
After a moment, my brain processed, and I turned to follow.
I caught up with him in the kitchen, found him standing at the counter,
splashing some whiskey into a glass. He tossed it back and then lowered the
glass to the counter, setting it down hard enough that I was almost afraid it'd
break.
“Was that Brinke who'd called earlier?”
His eyes narrowed to slits. “Yeah.” He turned those angry eyes toward
me before he continued, “Apparently, my dear wife had to rush to a friend’s
side due to an emergency. Her friend had to have an appendectomy, and she
doesn’t have any family so somebody just had to be there for her.”
The look on his face was so cold and cutting, it almost hurt me – and he
wasn’t even angry with me.
“Any chance it’s the truth?” I asked.
“Hardly.” He lifted his empty glass and studied it, almost mesmerized.
“Unless of course her friend has the ability to regenerate body organs. She
fed me the same excuse, with the same friend less than a year ago. That
time, it was Carter’s first day of kindergarten. Carter was heartbroken.”
 Silence fell between us, and he slowly lowered the glass. I watched as
his eyes moved back to the bottle.
For a moment I thought he was going to pour himself more, but to my
surprise, he simply put the bottle away. Then, with slow, methodical
precision, he washed the glass out and put it in the dish rack.
“I know what it’s like to be addicted.” His voice was a monotone. “I
know how hard it is to fight that demon. I also know you can beat it...if you
want it enough. Brinke doesn’t want it enough – want us – enough.”
I had been staring at the cabinet where he’d put the whiskey. He turned
and saw me watching. My face flushed as I looked at him.
He asked softly, “You think I’m tempting fate?”
“Yes,” I said bluntly.
“Alcohol was never my poison,” he responded with a shrug. “Cocaine
was my addiction. Tried heroin once or twice. Hell, it’s a wonder I’m even
still alive.” He paused, and then added, “It’s a wonder Brinke is still alive.”
This was one thing that I could discuss from a professional standpoint, I
knew that. But why didn’t I feel like I was doing it for those reasons?
“You know, for Carter’s sake, you probably shouldn’t drink it all. At
least not in the house.”
Paxton’s eyes narrow to slits. Lifting a hand, I held his gaze. “Look,
she’s got a rough deal already. You know that. Some part of her knows that
her mother is lying to her, and as she gets older, she’ll understand more and
more. It would be better for her if her father didn’t drink around her.”
“Do you see her down here?” Paxton glared at me.
Choosing my words carefully, I took two more steps into the kitchen
and stood behind the island. “No. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know.
Kids see more than people think. I’ve been a lawyer long enough to learn
that lesson, and I see it time and again in court.” I hesitated then, not
wanting to add to the weight he already carried, but he needed to know.
“Look, there’s another thing you need to consider. Let’s look at this from
another angle. Let’s say I was representing Brinke. If you were trying to
claim you were the steadier parental figure, and yet you drank while you
had her in the house, I would dig into your history, and use it against you.”
Something flashed in his eyes – it almost looked like hurt.
He took another step toward me while that hurt burned into anger. “I’m
not a fucking drunk,” he growled.
 “You’re not listening to me,” I said gently but firmly. “I’m telling you
how a good lawyer would argue it. I’m a damn good lawyer, and that’s what
I’d do. Whether you have a problem or not – and I don’t think you do – that
wouldn’t be the issue. Divorce is all about mud-slinging.”
“I’m not planning on slinging mud!”
“You won’t have to.” Sighing, I braced my hands on the counter. “She’s
covered in it, and she likely knows that. And I'm sure she's not an idiot, am
I right?”
“What’s your point?” he demanded.
“She’ll find a good lawyer. Her lawyer is going to know that Brinke is a
disaster, and the only chance Brinke has is to make you look like even more
of a mess than she is.” His face tightened and I held up a hand. “The
opposing counsel will have to go to the wire to even have a fighting chance.
Trust me, I'm good at my job. But, you can’t have any dirt for them to find
right now. Period. In court, all it can take is the suspicion of doubt.
Especially for the father. Is that what you want?”
A moment later, he turned away and moved back to the cabinet. As he
did so, the t-shirt he wore rode up, baring a flat, lean belly. My fingers
itched to touch the cut muscles, and I busied myself with the fascinating
surface of the island’s smooth surface. Marble, I wondered?
Something splashed.
Jerking my head up, I saw him pouring the whiskey down the drain.
His eyes held mine the entire time.
When he headed in my direction, I started to back away, but he cornered
me against the island. Frozen in place, I stood there, unable to move. The
heat of his body reached out and caressed me.
Something clunked.
Then he was gone, striding out of the room.
Dazed, I looked down and realized he’d dumped the bottle in a recycler.
Over his shoulder, he called out, “Are you going to stay?”
There was another thunderous crack.
The lights flickered.
Lifting my eyes to the skylight far overhead, I blew out a breath.
Despite my better judgment, I said, “Yes.”
Chapter Fourteen
Leslie
T he room Paxton showed me to was along the lines of what I might have
found if I’d given in and indulged myself to a five-star hotel. But unlike a
hotel, this place was clearly a home. A guy’s home. I’d almost swear that no
woman lived here. Well, other than Alex, but she was Carter’s nanny, and
her apartment was one floor below. That was different. I knew she was off
for the next few days too. She'd had a recent death in her family and he
hadn't wanted to push. Paxton apparently believed in treating his employees
well.
And his guests. There had been fresh, brand new pajamas for both men
and women in several sizes in the closet, as well as toiletries, and now I was
back to standing in front of yet another window. “He does like his views,” I
murmured, watching as rain pounded the city.
Such a panoramic scene usually would have made me smile, especially
in this weather. I liked storms.
Tonight, however, it made me melancholy, and I turned away, staring at
the bed. I needed to get some sleep, but I was strangely energized.
“Strangely.” I snorted at the fanciful thought because there was really
nothing strange about it. I was too worked up at the thought of sleeping so
close to Paxton.
So close, but so far away…
“At this rate, I’ll never sleep.” As I turned away, my purse sitting on the
chair caught my eye, and I remembered the antihistamines I kept in there in
case my allergies flared up. There was bottled water in the fridge. I’d go get
some, take the medicine, and in thirty minutes, I’d be out. And probably
dreaming of Paxton, but at least I’d sleep. Then I could wake up, leave this
living temptation before I got myself into trouble.
It was the first smart thought I planned on following all day. Opening
the door, I listened, but everything seemed quiet. Slowly, I made my way
down the hall. The penthouse was large, the layout relatively simple, but I’d
never been here before, and with all the lights out, it was definitely
confusing.
 Once I found the kitchen, I got myself some water from the mammoth
refrigerator, then took a moment to crack the bottle open and take a drink.
And on the way back to my room, I promptly got lost.
Swearing under my breath, I backtracked, and stood at the hall I thought
led to the guest quarters. It didn’t look familiar, though.
A door opened and I spun around, heart racing.
Paxton stood framed in a wedge of light, a bathroom behind him, and a
towel slung around his hips. Water rolled down his chest and I found myself
thirsty, as if I’d been wandering the desert for days.
“Um…”
I couldn’t get anything else out.
“Everything okay?”
All my life, words had come easy to me, but now they seemed frozen in
my throat and all I could do was lift the bottle of water. “Got lost.”
Paxton stepped forward, and my gaze followed a bead of water as it
rolled down his throat to his chest. I stared, mesmerized, before jerking my
gaze up to realize he was staring at me just as intently.
I didn't think it was my imagination that his voice was a little rough
when he spoke. “Back to the end of the hall, right, then past the living
room, and left.”
“Right.” I swallowed. “Right, then left.”
His lips curved. “Don’t go right twice.”
“What? No, I was just…”
He jerked his head. “Come on. I’ll walk you.”
“I don’t…” But he was already walking, and if I stared after him, I’d be
tempted to grab that towel and yank. My hands were practically itching.
Catching up with him, I busied myself with taking the lid off the water,
cooling my burning throat with another sip.
“Thanks for being so cool with Carter. Alex is great with her, but she…
well, Brinke is really starting to do a number on her head. Her teachers have
talked about how needy she is.” His jaw clenched a little.
“She’s a sweetheart. It’s not hard to have fun with her.” I stared straight
ahead, seeing the open door of my room.
“You wouldn’t be able to tell by the way her mom acts.” His bitterness
laced every word.
“Her mom has problems. You know that.” I made the mistake of
pausing in front of my door, looking up at him as I spoke.
 He looked down at me, that cold anger flashing in his eyes. It faded as
he reached toward me. When he touched my cheek, all the oxygen in my
lungs seemed to disappear.
“Paxton…”
His eyes darkened, and he pushed his hand into my hair, dislodging the
loose knot I'd twisted up. When he lowered his head, I had one split second
of sanity telling me not to do it.
But then sanity died a quick, violent death the moment his lips touched
mine. I dropped my water bottle to the floor as heat flooded my entire body.
Cold liquid spilled over our feet as he backed me up against the wall. The
water bottle wasn’t the only thing that fell either. Paxton's towel was gone,
and the only thing that separated us now was my panties and the thin cotton
of the pajama top I had on.
I felt the heat of his body through the thin cotton, and I knew I was
going to burn for this. His hand tightened on my hair, arching my head back
and I whimpered as he raked his teeth down my neck.
“Leslie,” he growled out my name before biting me, then sucking
lightly on my skin.
He moved lower and lower, one hand working between us to unbutton
the pajama top ahead of his mouth, baring more and more of my torso.
When his lips closed over my right nipple, electrical shocks jolted through
me, the pleasure more intense than anything I’d ever felt. I arched against
him and he swore, grabbing my wrists and slamming them against the wall
beside my head. He lifted his head, glaring down at me.
Hot, hungry blue eyes met mine and my knees started to quiver as I
realized just how much hunger there was burning inside him. Oh, shit. I was
in trouble. If he didn’t pull back, I didn’t think I’d be able to.
“This is stupid,” he said, voice raw, all but throbbing.
My heart, my blood, my pussy pulsed in tandem. I nodded. “Yes.”
“Tell me to stop.” It was a demand.
This time, I shook my head. “I can’t.”
“Damn us both.” His mouth crushed back down on mine as he scooped
me up.
I wrapped my legs around his hips, moaned as I felt his erection through
my wet panties. The feel of his cock throbbing against me was almost
enough to make me come right there. He laid me down on the bed and I felt
a jerk, heard fabric tear. The cool air brushed across my damp skin.
 It looked like I was heading home tomorrow without underwear.
“Don’t move,” he warned me.
He didn't have to worry about it. I wasn't planning on going anywhere.
My entire body was a giant, pulsing need.
He moved around and I heard a drawer open. I already knew what he
was doing. He was a very thorough host – condoms provided for his guests.
In reality, I knew it didn’t take long, but it felt like forever before he came
back to me, and some part of me was afraid that he wouldn't.
Catching my wrists, he drew them over my head. His searing eyes held
mine and he asked roughly, “You certain?”
I gave him a sultry smile. “No. But if you stop, I think I might kill you.”
He drove into me hard and fast, and I arched up, crying out in shock and
pleasure. Electric waves echoed through me, reaching every last part of me,
and I jerked against his hold. There'd been enough foreplay to make me
wet, but I was still tight.
He pulled out and thrust into me again, deeper this time, claiming me
fully. With a sob, I arched my hips, trying to hold him inside me. It did no
good. With my hands pinned above my head, I couldn't touch him, couldn't
make him do anything I wanted. He controlled the depth and rhythm. He
controlled the way his cock dragged against my skin, how much my nipples
pressed into his chest.
Just as I was ready to come, he pulled out, and before I had a chance to
protest, he flipped me onto my belly, dragging my hips up. I scrambled at
the bedclothes beneath me, barely getting my arms under me before he
filled me again. I gasped, my eyes closing. It was too much. He was so deep
now, I thought I could feel him pulsing somewhere near my heart.
His hand fisted in my hair, tugging me upright until my spine was
arched at a near impossible angle. I didn’t care. In fact, the pain set off a
new set of fireworks inside me. He settled into a slower rhythm now, and I
had no choice but to take it – take him – or let him take me. Impaled on his
cock, I moaned and twisted, seeking the release that was just out of reach.
“For someone who isn't a witch, you sure cast one hell of a spell,” he
said, fingers flexing on my waist.
Then he swiveled his hips, reaching around and down with his free
hand. His fingers sought out my aching clit, and I jolted, first in shock, then
in delicious satisfaction as his touch set off the most explosive climax of my
life. I clenched around him and heard him curse.
 His hips jerked against me, losing his rhythm as he slammed into me
twice more, each stroke sending another burst of pleasure through me. Then
he stiffened, his cock pulsing inside me as he came. His fingers pressed
even harder against my clit and I cried out, my arms giving out on me as a
second orgasm crashed into me even harder than the first.
Face down on the bed, as my high ebbed, I tried to level out my
breathing because I was pretty sure no oxygen was making it to my head.
And I needed oxygen because I had to think. I was almost certain I’d done
the stupidest thing of my life, and I had to figure out what to do.
But I was still having trouble with that breathing thing.
I needed to get up.
If I got up and moved, I’d put some distance between Paxton and me,
and then thinking would probably come easier. Then I could maybe figure
out what to do next.
Before I could do that, though, he moved.
Was he going back to his room?
I figured out the answer pretty fast. The bathroom. He’d go back to his
room now, though. Then I could think. That was a good thing –
Hard hands rolled me over.
He came down on top of me and smoothed my tumbled hair back.
“Again,” he said.
No, he demanded.
That was all. Then he was inside me again, and I was clinging to him as
he started to drive us both toward climax again.
Thinking was sometimes really overrated.

I didn't know what time it was when he stirred, but it had finally stopped
raining. We'd both dozed after the second – or had it been the third round? I
wasn't entirely sure of anything other than the fact that I'd come more times
than I ever had before.
Muscles inside my body ached and pulled in the sweetest way, and if it
hadn't been for the doubts – and a different sort of ache that was starting to
settle in my heart – I could have been quite happy.
But when he rolled out of bed, I wanted to curl up on myself and wish
the rest of the world away.
 He bent over me and I looked up at him as he kissed my cheek. He
didn't say anything and was gone a moment later.
After the door closed behind him, I brought my legs up to my chest and
reached for the pillow.
I’d been wrong. It wasn’t any easier to think with him gone. It wasn’t
any easier at all.
Chapter Fifteen
Paxton
O ut in the hallway, I grabbed the towel I’d dropped.
I saw the water on the floor and swore, cleaning up the mess before
picking up the bottle and striding back toward the room where I’d been
sleeping for the past month.
Brinke’s stamp was all over the master bedroom, and I’d gotten tired of
her stumbling in, drunk out of her mind or high, often both. Her waking me
up and dealing with all that shit had been bad enough, but it was more than
that. I worried one morning I’d wake up to find her dead of an overdose,
right there in the bed next to me.
Now, at least, I had something else to brood about.
Leslie.
Finally alone in my room, I slammed the door and hurled the water
bottle across it. “How could you be so stupid?”
There wasn’t any answer, but I hadn’t expected one. I walked over to
the bed and dropped down, flinging an arm over my eyes. If I was hoping to
block out any memory of the past few hours, then I was out of luck. I could
smell her on my skin, taste her. She'd tasted so fucking amazing, and
watching her come apart on my tongue had almost been as good as feeling
her around my cock.
Son of a bitch.
What in the hell had I been thinking?
My cock pulsed against my belly, and I slid my hand down, fisted my
still aching dick. I had the answer to my problem right there – in hand,
even. Sometimes men really did think with their cocks. I’d wanted her
pretty much from the second I saw her, and after spending a whole day with
her, I realized I didn’t just want her – I liked her.
I’d forgotten what it was like, to actually be attracted to a woman and
like her. To not just want to fuck someone, but to want to spend time with
her.
There was plenty there to like, too, and not just those long legs or big
green eyes. She was smart and sexy and funny and sweet. I had a feeling
she’d get pissed off by the sweet thing, but she was.
Rolling onto my belly, I snagged a pillow and closed my eyes.
“It’s over,” I told myself. “Over and done with.”
Another thought hit me not even a second later.
What in the hell was I going to do if she decided I needed to find
another lawyer?

The coffee in front of me had gone lukewarm. My head was fogged with
fatigue, but I knew how to operate when I was running on empty. Shit, I
could be past empty and still function. Who said you couldn’t learn survival
skills when you were an addict?
“Recovering addict,” I muttered. Pressing the heel of my hand to my
right eye socket, I tried to will the headache away, but that wasn’t going to
happen. I might have gotten thirty minutes of sleep once I’d left Leslie’s
room.
While I’d been with her, I’d slept pretty damn good – when I hadn’t
been busy gorging on the taste and feel of her. She'd calmed me in a way
nothing had. Ever.
Now, though, I was just waiting for her to walk in here, and tell me I’d
have to find somebody else to handle the divorce. I wasn’t looking forward
to that, but with every hour that passed, I’d grown more and more
convinced she’d decide we should part ways.
It was my fault. Well, not entirely. I'd given her the chance to say no.
But I’d been dreading finding a lawyer to begin with, then I found one who
wasn’t bad at all, one who would fight for me. What happened if the next
one was all the bad shit I’d expected to find the first time around?
It was my own dumb fault.
I should have told Carter that Leslie couldn't come with us. Hell, I
shouldn't have even asked her to come meet my daughter to begin with.
I was so busy brooding that I didn’t hear her come in, and when she slid
onto the stool across from me, I almost came out of my seat.
“What the – shit.” Laughing tiredly, I picked up my coffee and bolted it
back. Cold or not, the need for caffeine was now urgent. Getting up, I went
to the coffee pot and poured more. “You want a cup?”
“Please.” Her voice was cautiously polite.
 Squeezing my eyes closed, I paused for a moment before reaching up to
grab her a cup. After pouring her some coffee, I turned back and went to the
island, stopping at the end of it, a few inches away from her. Close enough
that I could touch. And if she was going to tell me to get another lawyer, I
was damn well going to try to touch again.
“Listen, Leslie…about last night…”
“It’s okay, Paxton. We’re both adults.” She reached over and took the
coffee from me, lifting it to her lips. She took a quick sip, then lowered it.
She shrugged and smiled. “I doubt it’s the first time either of us have had a
one-night stand. Everything’s fine.”
One-night stand.
The words settled wrong, although I didn’t understand why. I should've
been relieved. She wasn't angry or hurt. She wasn't acting like we were
going to get married after just a single night, no matter how mind-blowing.
“So…” I blew out a breath. Trying to stall while I gathered the courage
to ask the question, I took a sip of coffee and then put the cup down. “Are
you still planning on handling my divorce?”
“Yes. I can separate the two. This…the past twenty-four hours were a
fluke. A personal thing. The divorce is a professional – and separate –
matter. If you’re comfortable with it, I am.”
A fluke. Unable to stop myself, I slid my eyes down to study her mouth,
remembering the feel of it, the taste. I should've just let it go, but I could
still feel the connection between the two of us.
“I’m not sure I could say I’m…comfortable, but I don’t want another
lawyer.” I gave her a flirtatious smile to judge how she would take it.
“Okay.” She slid off the stool exactly when I reached out to brush her
hair back.
Her lashes fluttered, and her cheeks flushed.
Damn. She felt it too.
“I’m really not comfortable.” I cast a meaningful glance down.
“You…” Her mouth twisted as if she didn't like what she'd intended to
say. “You know what? Neither am I.”
A moment later, she was in my arms, and I boosted her back up onto the
stool. She was tall and curvy, so different from anyone else I'd dated.
“I want you naked. Now,” I said against her mouth.
She laughed and the sound was like whiskey and silk. A sweet torture,
the kind I could get drunk on.
 I reached for the waistband of her pants, then stopped.
“Shit.”
“What?” Her eyes widened, body stiffening.
“Carter…she…I doubt she’ll wake, but I…” Looking around, I swung
Leslie up into my arms. Judging by the expression on her face, that wasn't
something she that happened a lot. A few minutes later, we were inside the
bedroom where I’d been sleeping. I put her down by the door. “Stay.”
“You’re bossy.” There was no malice in her words.
A seductive smile curled her lips, and I was tempted to kiss it off. I
would, too, after I got a damn condom.
In less than a minute, I was gloved up and kissing her again. Fighting
with her pants, I jerked them down to her hips and then pulled back.
Dammit! I turned us both and then spun her so that she was facing the table
just inside the door.
“Bend over.”
“My…I need to take my pants off.”
I nudged her down, pressing my hand to her upper back. It didn't seem
possible that I could want her so badly after I'd had her so many times last
night, but I was so hard that it hurt.
“Just bend over, Les. I want inside – now.”
She whimpered and obeyed. The sight of her sweet, lush ass lifting for
me had my cock jerking almost painfully. I ran my finger across her to find
her wet enough that I could take her without hurting her. That was all I
needed to know.
I pushed inside her slowly, shuddering as she closed, hot and snug,
around every inch of me. I wanted to feel all of her, without the condom,
feel the honey-wet silk of her cunt. I wanted to lick her dry, then make her
wet all over again. I wanted to take her so slowly that she begged me to let
her come.
I withdrew, and then thrust back inside, hard, tearing a cry from her lips.
“Shhh…” I reached up and covered her mouth with one hand, using the
other to steady her hips.
Her teeth sank into my palm as I sank into her.
I growled, and without thinking, I brought my hand down on the curve
of her ass. “Bite me again, baby.”
She did, and heat rushed through me. Impossibly, I got even harder. She
wiggled her ass and I swatted her again, sweat forming on my temple and
starting to drip down as I pumped into her harder and faster. But it wasn't
enough.
Mindless, I freed her mouth to grip her hips with both hands and thrust
deep, pounding into her as something deep and primal coursed through us.
The sound of our flesh coming together filled the room as she pushed back
against me, just as eager as I was. The thought that she needed me as much
as I needed her was heady.
She came only a breath before I did, and the sound of her low, raw
moan was the best damn music I’d heard in a long time.
Chapter Sixteen
Leslie
When I’d woken up, I told myself that I’d talk to Paxton, and tell him that it
would be best if he found another lawyer. I could make several
recommendations.
But then I’d seen him sitting in the kitchen, and knew I wouldn’t.
I was starting to understand his wife to some extent, even though I’d
never met her. She was an addict. There was something she craved, thought
she couldn’t live without. Drugs and booze were her weakness.
Paxton was becoming mine.
I’d slept with another woman’s husband. Yes, they were shortly going to
be divorced, but that wasn’t the point. I'd never slept with a married man
before.
And I’d slept with a client.
More than once.
Paxton’s hand smoothed over my hip before he curled his arm around
my waist, dragging me upright even while he was still inside me. Lips
pressing to my ear, he said, “I’m still not comfortable. Are you?”
He surprised a laugh out of me. “I’m not sure. But…Carter?”
“I’ll go check. Be naked when I come back.”
“Bossy,” I teased.
In response, he bit my earlobe and sent a bolt of arousal through me.
He was gone a moment later, and I sighed, reaching up to tug my cami
off. It was already looking worse for wear. My panties had been a victim of
the night before. My capris were tangled mid-thigh, and I pushed them
down, stepping out before looking around the bedroom. Before I had the
chance to form any kind of impression, the door swung open and he came
back in.
“She’s still sleeping. Probably have another hour as late as we were
out.”
He strode past me, and I watched as he went straight to the bedside
table. I couldn’t help but remember that was the same place condoms were
kept in the guest bedroom where I'd slept.
 “Is this…?” Licking my lips, I hesitated a brief moment before deciding
the hell with it. “Is this one of the guest bedrooms?”
He came back to me, box in hand. “Sort of. I’ve been sleeping in here
for a month now.”
That made me feel a little better.
A few seconds later, I was on my way to feeling a lot better. He boosted
me up so that I was sitting on the table and he went to his knees in front of
me.
I really hoped that meant what I thought it did.
“I’m going to taste you now, Leslie,” he muttered against my thigh.
The sound of his voice, raw and hungry, had my toes curling, and I
sagged backward, my shoulders coming to rest against the wall.
The first brush of his tongue had me biting my lip to keep from making
any noise. The second had me covering my mouth with my hand.
When he bit my clit, scraping it with his teeth, I couldn’t stop the harsh
cry, could only muffle it. He growled in approval before stabbing his tongue
into me, over and over again.
But right when I thought one more touch would send me over, he
shifted and began to press soft kisses to the crease of my thigh.
“You bastard.”
He laughed quietly. “Anticipation makes it better. Haven’t you ever
learned that?”
“Bastard,” I repeated.
He stroked a finger down my folds, opening me, and then he licked me
again, kissed me. Pressed his mouth against me and proved again that his
tongue was talented at more than just singing.
He worked me right back up to the edge, doing it over and over until I
was begging him to make me come. Only when I was almost in tears, my
body throbbing with a need like nothing I'd felt before, did he stand.
He gripped my hips and pulled me to the edge of the table, thrusting in
deep with one stroke. We were eye to eye, and the intimacy of it cut right
through to my core. His blue eyes seared me, lighting up places I hadn’t
even realized were cold and dark.
“Leslie…” My name was a raspy growl and then he was kissing me and
I never wanted him to stop.
Not ever.
Was it possible to want somebody too much?
I doubted it had even been thirty minutes since we’d disappeared into
the bedroom, and we’d had sex twice. And I still wanted more of him.
As we slid out of the bedroom, I gave into the urge and moved up
behind him, sliding my arms around his waist. He tensed for a moment,
then stopped. Pressing my face against his back, I breathed in the scent of
him and let myself wish, let myself wonder.
His hands covered mine and we stood like that for a few moments.
I don’t remember which one of us pulled away first, but when we
walked into the kitchen, we did it without speaking and sat back down in
the seats where we’d been earlier.
Our coffee had gone cold. I picked up mine and drank it anyway.
After a moment, Paxton did the same and we just sat there, staring at
each other.
Eventually, he got up and moved over to the refrigerator and opened it.
“I’m going to make some breakfast. Would you like some?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
He nodded, not looking at me.
I almost laughed. I’d come out here earlier and told him that everything
was fine, we were both adults and could handle the fact that we’d gone and
had sex.
Then we’d gone and done it again, and now we were walking on
eggshells.
Or were we?
It…something felt different.
I couldn’t even explain what it was, but something was just…different
Determined to think about something else – anything else – I got up and
carried my coffee cup over to the sink, washing it out, and putting it in the
dish rack where the glass he’d been using for whiskey the night before still
sat.
“How long have you been clean?”
From the corner of my eye, I could see the way his hands stilled.
Turning my head, I looked at him. He cocked his eyebrow.
“Little details,” I said. “Sooner or later, we’ll have to talk about that in
detail.”
A humorless smile curled his lips. “Great pillow talk, Leslie.”
 “It’s not like we’re lovers.” It was just as much to remind myself as
anything.
A muscle in his jaw pulsed, but he shrugged casually. “True. Just a
couple of acquaintances. We had a couple of good hard fucks, right?”
“They were very good.” My heart stuttered and blood rushed to heat my
cheeks, but I didn’t look away from him. “That doesn’t mean I don’t have
questions I need to ask as your lawyer. I figured I might as well get some of
them out of the way.”
“Sure. Why not?”
He was quiet for a moment, and I watched as he got an omelet started.
“It took two tries before I kicked everything, but I was clean before Carter
was born. I…well, I grew up seeing my parents abuse drugs, each other…
me.”
He shrugged, the motion lacking his normal, smooth grace. That told
me more than his words how much he hated talking about it.
“I told myself that if I ever had kids, that wouldn’t be me. Of course, I
also told myself I wouldn’t get hooked on shit like they did, and what did I
do? But at least I was able to quit.”
He was smiling to himself now, and the love in that smile told me
exactly who he was thinking of.
“You had a good reason to quit.”
He looked up at me. “Yeah. The best. But I had to do it for me, first. I
promised myself I’d do better than my parents, and I am. Of course, some
wild animals eat their young, and they would make better parents than my
folks did.” He flipped the omelet, silent for a few moments before
continuing. “Once I was able to stop, though, for good, the world was more
real. Things were clearer, music was better, and I found myself wondering
why I’d ever gone down that rabbit hole to begin with.”
“Did you ever figure that out?”
“It was easier.” He shrugged. “No one thing set me off. I’d have some
weed here, some coke there. Then I was using more and more, and before I
knew it, I was addicted. Then Brinke and I got together and we were both
using and…”
He blew out a breath and turned away, grabbed a couple of plates from a
glass-fronted cabinet.
Once we were sitting down, he looked at me. “Next question?”
 Laughing, I said, “I think that will do it for now. I need to eat and then
get out of here. It’s way past time to go.”
He looked like he wanted to say something, but he just nodded. Part of
me wished he'd argued, but we both knew the truth of it. Our time together
had pretty much come to an end.
And that was for the best.
Chapter Seventeen
Leslie
We ate in silence, and although the omelet was delicious, I was only able to
eat half of what he gave me. I wasn't nauseous, but I didn't have my usual
appetite. When I couldn't eat anymore, I stood, intending to take my plate
into the kitchen when we both heard the door open.
Shit.
Paxton set his jaw and stood up, his eyes skimming me from top to
bottom.
Bad enough that I’d slept with him, but it was pretty obvious – or at
least it was to me – that I’d spent the night. He bent down, scooped up the
jacket I’d draped over my file bag and helped me slip into it. “Let me
handle this.”
My gut twisted into hot, slippery knots as I reached for my coffee so I
could have something in my hands.
The woman who appeared in the doorway bore little resemblance to the
glamorous creature featured next to Paxton in online promo shots. Although
she was still lovely, she was too thin, her eyes sunken, face gaunt. I could
still see the resemblance to Carter though.
Pale blue eyes skewered me. “Who the fuck are you?”
Before I could answer, Paxton rested a hand on my shoulder. “Brinke,
this is Leslie. She’s a lawyer handling some issues we’ve been having...”
He stopped abruptly and laughed, not even trying to disguise the brittle
sound of it. “What in the hell do you care? You haven't bothered to show up
for anything on our new album.”
I had to appreciate the skillful way he'd implied I was a studio lawyer
without actually saying it. While I doubted she'd made the distinction when
she finally did find out, she couldn't say he'd actually lied about who I was.
He moved past me and opened the refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of
water. “Guess I ought to start looking for another backup singer. Raina and
Leona can’t do it all.”
Color flooded her face, hot little splotches that rode her cheekbones and
accentuated the hollows there. She was thin, almost to the point of skeletal
with shadows under her eyes. She was still very pretty, but it was obvious
she was no longer using drugs, they were using her. Using her up.
“I haven’t been feeling well, you know that.” She gave him an
imploring look and ignored me. That was good.
“Seems to be a lot of that. You aren’t feeling well, Darla isn’t either.
Kind of weird, how she had to have her appendix removed twice.” He shot
her a cutting look.
I pretended to be enraptured with my coffee, not wanting to draw
attention to myself. But from under my lashes, I watched Brinke’s face, saw
the way her lids flickered, saw understanding in her eyes, and then
something else.
“Oh, honey…” She smiled and walked up to him.
My temper sparked as she started to curl her arms around him, but he
stopped her, grabbing her wrists before she touched him.
Brinke gave him a mock pout and then glanced over at me, winking.
“He doesn’t like public displays of affection.” Sighing lustily, she moved
back to the island and sat down, picking up his mostly untouched coffee and
drinking it. Then she cut into his omelet. “It wasn’t Darla last year. It was
Daria. I must have mistyped when I sent you the text. I was so upset at the
time…”
She slid him a look, trying to gauge his response. He turned away, a
disgusted noise escaping him.
I saw the way her mouth tightened, and then, for a brief moment, our
eyes connected. The vitriol I saw there probably would have made a lot of
people leery. I thought about Carter, how hurt she’d been by her mom
taking off. I thought about Paxton, and how much he hated what he had to
do. But I couldn't react to her the way I wanted to, couldn't react like the
woman who hated everything Brinke had done to her family. Slowly, I lifted
my coffee cup to my lips. Over the rim, I smiled at her.
“Just what exactly do we need a lawyer for anyway? Everything’s going
fine with the album, isn’t it?” Brinke demanded, her voice going from
cajoling to commanding.
“I need a lawyer because there are issues I want looked at,” Paxton said
evenly.
The speculation in her eyes grew, and I could tell right away she was
already suspicious. Not good. The evasive shit wasn’t going to fly.
 “Licensing.” I cut Brinke off when she started to ask another question.
Me lying to her was different than him doing it. “There were licensing
issues early on in Mr. Gorham’s career, and I’m taking another look.”
“We do this every year.” She rolled her eyes.
“Sooner or later, we’ll get it to go the way we want to.” Paxton smiled
at me faintly over her head. I could see the relief in his eyes that I'd spoken
out.
“You oughta just let it go. You waste more money on the damn lawyers
than it’s worth. So, there are a few songs that you got fucked over on. Big
deal. You make more than enough to make up for those. Besides, lawyers
will screw you in the end anyway. They are all a bunch of crooks and liars.”
I could feel my smile tightening.
She dismissed me and turned to Paxton. “Listen, honey, with everything
that happened yesterday, I wasn’t able to take Carter out, and I want to
make it up to her.”
“Do you think you can?” Paxton leaned back against the counter.
I eyed my bag and wondered if I’d be able to grab it, and make it out the
door without being drawn into this.
“Don’t be like that.” Brinke waved a hand. “Kids are resilient.”
“That doesn’t mean you treat them like shit,” he growled.
“I had an emergency!” she snapped. Then, she stopped, sucking in a
deep breath of air. “Okay. Okay. I’m not here to fight. I want to take Carter
out today. We’ll go to the park, grab some lunch, maybe even find a
different show out on Broadway.”
“Mommy?”
Shit.
Paxton muttered something that didn't sound like English under his
breath as a sleepy, pj-clad Carter appeared in the doorway.
Her eyes landed on Brinke and she rushed over to her.
Brinke, to her credit, leaped up and caught the child, swinging her up
into the air. The smile on her face looked real and she pressed a loud kiss to
Carter’s cheek. Even I could tell the affection was genuine.
“My baby girl. I’m so sorry about yesterday. A friend got super sick.
Please say you’re not mad at Mommy.”
“I’m not mad.” Carter rested her head on Brinke’s shoulder. “I was sad
for a little while, but Daddy and I had fun anyway. I watched the play
online because I didn't think we were going to get to see it.”
 “Smart girl.”
I wonder if Brinke had any idea what Carter’s statements said about her
belief in her mother as a parent in general. It sure as hell didn’t say good
things.
Carter started to say something else, but she glanced my way, and
whatever she’d been going to say ended in a squeal. “Leslie!”
A moment later, she was running toward me, and I self-consciously
hugged her around the shoulders as she pressed her face to my belly. “Hi,
there, Carter.”
“Mommy! This is Leslie! She went to the fireworks with me and
Daddy!”
When Brinke looked at me this time, there was an all-new level of
hatred in her eyes. I simply stared back, working to keep my face blank. I
wasn't going to give her anything.
“So, you went to the fireworks with them and are back here bright and
early? Wow. You’re one dedicated lawyer,” she said, her voice full of
venom.
“By the time we got back, the storm had settled in,” Paxton said flatly.
“There were flash flood warnings and the wind was hell. Leslie used the
other guest bedroom. Feel free to get all paranoid about that, Brinke. It’s
your favorite thing to do.”
She continued to stare at me for a long moment.
Finally, she cut the connection and looked at Carter. “Come on, sugar.
We need to get you dressed so we can hit the town.”
They started out, but before Brinke got out of the room, Paxton caught
her arm and leaned in. “Carter, you head on up, Mommy will be there in a
minute.”
Once she was gone, I pretended not to hear as Paxton softly said, “Alex
is going with you.”
Brinke’s eyes narrowed. “I can spend the day with my kid without a
chaperone, Pax.”
“Yeah? Since when? The last time you were alone with her, you got so
stoned, you ended up passed out on the bathroom floor.” He took a step
toward her. “Alex goes, or Carter doesn’t. Take your choice.”
“Fine.” Brinke rolled her eyes. “It’s better if she comes anyway. She
handles Carter better when the kid gets whiny.”
Wow. Talk about mom of the year.
 “Listen to me, Brinke. I'm not playing around. You will stay sober
today. You won’t do drugs. If you get high or even have a single drink, I’ll
know, and I’ll have your ass locked up. You will not do that shit around her.
Not again.”
She rolled her eyes and jerked her arm away. “I know how to take care
of our baby, Pax.”

I didn’t leave right away. It seemed a little too obvious to just sneak out
right after we’d managed to come up with such a convincing story. I was
torn between guilt and aggravation as I drank another cup of coffee,
watching as Paxton busied himself with washing up the dishes.
He seemed comfortable doing it, almost happy to have something to do
with his hands, although his gaze kept straying toward the hall and I knew
he was thinking about Carter…and Brinke.
When he heard them coming downstairs, he moved away from the sink
to the fridge, grabbing something from inside it before heading out of the
room.
I heard them talking but stayed where I was.
Brinke’s voice carried, and I had to grit my teeth as she snapped, “I can
handle it, Paxton.”
I had no idea what she was going on about, nor did I really care, but I
wondered if she had to handle everything like such an uber-bitch. The part
of me that felt sorry for her was getting smaller all the time.
There was a lower, softer voice, and then Paxton laughed. “Yeah, kid. I
know you’re a big girl. Getting too big, if you ask me. Have fun, okay? Call
me if you need me.”
They appeared in the doorway of the kitchen a moment later, and Carter
trotted over to a cabinet, a backpack dangling from one hand. She waved at
me before opening the cabinet and reaching inside.
“Gotta get my snacks,” she said seriously while Brinke rolled her eyes
from the hall. At least there wasn't anything malicious about it.
Alex smiled at me and spoke softly to Paxton while Carter tucked a few
things into her backpack. Her, I liked.
“You two have fun dealing with that…licensing issue.” Brinke gave me
a simpering smile, and the snide tone in her voice rubbed me wrong.
 Paxton moved back to the counter and sat down across from me,
drawing Brinke's attention to him. “I’d invite you to hang around, but we
both know how you hate discussing business. You just enjoy spending the
money.”
“It’s just that you’re so much better at all that boring stuff, sweetheart.”
A muscle in his jaw flexed, and I recognized the signs of an old
argument easy enough. She spun around, Carter’s hand in hers while Alex
flanked Carter’s other side, already chatting. A few seconds later, they were
all gone.
Paxton and I were now alone.
Seconds ticked by and he kept his head cocked, listening.
“Think she’s going to come back to try and catch us in a lie?”
He shrugged. “Wouldn’t put it past her.” Another minute or so went by
before he seemed to relax, and then he gave me a slow smile. “Licensing
issues. That was fast thinking.”
I shrugged. “Not so much. I read up about you – part of the job – and I
remembered reading that you had some issues with the first music label you
signed with. It was the first thing that came to mind. I'm just glad she didn’t
push for details.”
“She wouldn’t have. Like I already mentioned, business isn’t her thing.”
His mouth twisted again and he looked irritated all over again.
Reaching out, I touched his hand. It wasn't a good idea, but I hated
seeing him upset way more than I should have. “What is it?”
He twined our fingers together, rubbing his thumb across my skin.
“Nothing.” He continued to stroke my palm, and after a moment, his gaze
slid up to mine.
The heat in his eyes scorched me, and I started to tug my hand away. “I
should go.”
Chapter Eighteen
Leslie
“Why?” He lifted my hand to his lips, kissed the inside of my wrist.
“There’s no reason for our day to end. Not now. We've got at least half a
day to ourselves.”
My heart leaped up at the press of his lips, flipped around a few times
inside my chest, and my body started to go molten as the heat from his kiss
spread. My common sense, however, was kicking me in the ass. “Didn’t we
already agree this was stupid?”
“Yes,” he said amicably. “We agreed that last night. It didn’t stop us
then. You going to let it get in the way now?”
I should. I knew that. But in the end, I just shook my head and reached
for him. I'd never wanted anyone as badly as I wanted him. He grabbed my
hips and picked me up, sitting me on the table even as I tore at his shirt.
His hands went to the hem of my shirt, yanking it over my head, and
taking my mouth only seconds later. His lips were hard against mine, his
tongue greedy as it swept into my mouth. We only broke apart to deal with
the rest of our clothes, and then he was inside me again. There was no
foreplay, no gentle caresses. This was need, fierce and primal. I clung to his
body, wrapping my legs around his waist and matching him thrust for thrust
as best I could without falling off the table.
The fire inside me was blazing, licking across my skin until I was
burning. I felt the orgasm building inside me, relentless. His teeth scraped
across my bottom lip and I bit his in return. I dug my fingers into his hair
even as one of his hands moved between us. It squeezed my breast, fingers
twisting and tugging at my nipple until the pain-laced pleasure sent me
rocketing over the edge.
I tightened around him as I started to come, and suddenly, he froze.
“Son of a bitch!”
He pulled out of me with an urgency that left me floundering, my now-
empty pussy spasming as he came too...on my belly. Semen jetted all over
my lower abdomen and trickled down as I stared at him. It took my brain a
long moment to catch up and realize what we’d done.
 “Fuck,” he said, panting. “Damn it, Les. I’m sorry. I can’t believe I…”
I reached up, touched his cheek, drawing his attention to me.
“There are two of us here. I’m just as capable of thinking as you are,
and I didn't remember either. I’m clean. I get checked regularly. You…?”
His face was still tight. “As far as I know. I get checked every few
months. I…” He blew out a breath and reached up, cupping my face.
“That’s supposed to be a thing of the past when you’re married, but…”
I didn't need him to say it. Instead, I did. “Brinke.”
“Brinke,” he agreed.
Despite the circumstances, I allowed myself to enjoy watching his ass
flex as he walked over to the sink and grabbed a paper towel, then wet it
under the faucet. He washed himself, and then came over with a new one. I
shivered under his touch as he gently cleaned me. Neither of us spoke, but I
knew he had something he wanted to say.
After he’d disposed of the towel, he came back to me and rested his
hands on my thighs.
“The room we were in earlier, that’s been mine pretty much since my
family moved here. My marriage is over.”
His mouth twisted as he said it, and for a few seconds, he stared past my
shoulder. I had a feeling this was the first time he’d ever said those words
out loud.
“It’s over,” he said again, shaking his head. “I’ve known that for a while
even if I’m just now letting myself admit it. Brinke and I haven’t shared a
bed in a long time. I would have been able to tell you for certain that
everything's fine, but...” He swore and looked away. “We had a fight right
before I came to see you. And…hell...it was habit as much as anything. I
used a condom, but nothing is foolproof.”
I didn't want to see him getting down on himself. Covering his hands
with mine, I leaned in and pressed a kiss to his chin. “Mistakes happen.”
“Yeah.” His gaze slid away and he said, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I
was thinking. I'll get checked again, just to be on the safe side.”
“Thank you,” I said sincerely.
He sighed as his eyes slid back to mine. “See, this is why I insinuated
you might melt. I really think you might be a witch. You do bad things to
my brain.”
“You do bad things to mine too,” I replied. I rested my head against his
chest, wiggled closer. His arms went around me and it was all I could do not
to moan. Part of it was the way the golden hair on his chest rubbed against
my nipples, but a lot of it had to do with the strength and safety I felt in his
embrace.
The contact was doing things for Paxton too. His cock twitched against
the folds of my pussy and we both shivered.
“I don’t have any right to ask,” Paxton murmured as he slid a hand up
my back, fisted it in my hair. “I’m doing it anyway. Please stay.”
I sighed and looked up at him. “We both know that’s a bad idea. I really
shouldn’t.”
“Agreed. It’s a bad idea, and you really shouldn’t.” He brushed his lips
across mine. “Do it anyway.”

An hour later, we were soaking in a tub that was almost the size of a small
swimming pool, and I’d never felt so decadent in my life.
“I want a bathtub like this. I want a bathroom like this. I could live in
here.” Water lapped against my breasts as I cuddled back against his chest,
the heat soothing away aches and pains from spending a day wandering the
city, and half the night under Paxton. I was in good shape, but all of that
combined had been too much for me to get away completely unscathed.
Not that I was complaining at all.
He kissed my temple, and I felt his smile.
“You might eventually want a kitchen, maybe a bedroom.”
I shook my head. “No.” Closing my eyes, I sank a little deeper into a
daydream that was going to end far too soon. “I’ll order takeout and I can
fit a bed in here.”
He laughed, the sound low and rough and sexy enough to make my toes
curl. Arms coming around me, he tugged me more fully against him. His
erection pressed against the small of my back.
“And when you have to get work done?”
“I’ll dictate. I’ve got a headset, and I'll figure out a way to deal with
court.” Wiggling loose, I turned around and braced a knee on either side of
his hips. “You’re a smart ass, you know. And you’re raining on my parade.”
Blue eyes met mine. The only warning I had was his body tensing, and
then we were moving. He grasped my hips, yanked me down into his lap. I
gasped as he filled me completely. We rocked together, the motion rubbing
my clit against the base of his cock until I cried out his name.
 “Damn, that sound...” He pressed his face into the curve of my neck, his
lips and teeth working at the skin even as he thrust up into me. “Say my
name again.”
He did something with his hips that made his cock hit my g-spot and I
had no problem calling out his name again as I came. This time, he waited
until I was coming down before he eased out of me and grabbed a nearby
washcloth. He finished himself off quickly, and I couldn't help but feel a bit
disappointed that I didn't get to feel him come inside me. I was on the pill
and he said he was pretty sure he was clean, but he clearly didn't want to
take any chances.
After a few minutes of silence, he spoke, “Raining on your parade, am
I? I guess I should make it up to you.”
He lifted me onto the edge of the tub and, still watching me, he lowered
his mouth to the curls between my thighs.
My breath caught and my body throbbed in anticipation. My skin was
so sensitive that this was going to be almost too intense, but I wasn't about
to stop him.
One slow lick and he had me open.
Another one had me arching.
The next one circled my clit and made me moan.
When he began to pump his fingers inside me, I closed my eyes and
gave in, enjoying the ride.

After a shower to clean up from our bath, I made lunch.

He argued and I insisted. I liked to cook, and I didn’t get to do it for
others often.
He finally relented and sat down at the table, nursing a ginger ale while
I poked around to see what I could find. To my delight, the answer seemed
to be…everything.
Somebody here liked to cook as well, it seemed.
I went for simple, because why waste time on something fancy when we
only had today? There was some leftover chicken he told me I was free to
use, so I went with a rustic sort of chicken salad, adding some walnuts and
grapes, then pulled out some of the brioche rolls I found on the counter.
The best part was the potato chips – made in the microwave – and the
look on Paxton’s face when I said what I was doing. He seemed to be
awaiting disaster. That was fair. I hadn’t expected the recipe I found online
to work the first time I'd seen it either, but it did.
When we sat down, he plucked up one of the crispy pieces and studied
it for a moment before taking a bite.
The surprise made me laugh. “Never doubt my cooking skills, Paxton.
Never.”
“I think it’s safe to say I won’t.” He grabbed a handful of the chips and
dug in while I cut the sandwiches in two and served them.
We ate in easy silence, although every now and then, I caught him
looking at me. It wasn’t hard to catch him, either. I kept looking at him too.
He wore nothing but jeans.
I was wearing nothing but his shirt.
I was also wondering if it would be easy to sneak it out when I left. It
smelled of him, and I wanted to wear it until the smell was gone. Then keep
on wearing it, trying to remember the scent long after it faded.
You’re getting sappy, lady, I told myself. This isn't some romance novel.

Although I didn’t say anything, and neither did he, urgency seemed to fill
us both.
I’d have to leave soon.
We were in the living room, in front of the TV, although it wasn’t on.
Nothing was more interesting than what I was looking at.
He sat on the couch while I sprawled between his thighs. His head was
thrown back, and his eyes were closed while I slid my hands and lips across
his firm torso. I could spend hours just exploring him.
When I finally reached his cock, I closed my hand around it and stroked
up, learning the feel of him, the weight. He was thick, and the silken
smooth skin stretched over the length of him. Hungry for him, I licked my
lips and looked up.
He was staring at me through slitted eyes. I smiled at him, and leaned
forward, pressing my lips to the crown of his cock.
“Do it like you mean it,” he said, tangling a hand in my hair and tugging
me closer.
“Do what…this?” I took his cock in my mouth and begin to suck,
moving up, then down in a slow, lazy rhythm that belied the hunger driving
both of us. If I only had today, I wanted to make the most of every moment,
and that meant getting to taste him.
“Yeah. That.”
I shifted, adjusting my pace until I found a rhythm that had his breath
catching and a groan rolling out of him. One big hand cupped my jaw while
the other tangled in my hair.
“Leslie,” he rasped. Breath coming out in rough pants, he arched up, the
muscles in his thighs straining.
I pulled up, letting his cock leave my mouth with a faint pop.
He was up a moment later, and I was bent over the couch. There was a
ripping sound, and then he thrust into me hard and fast. Two strokes and
then he pulled me up against him, his hand arrowing down to manipulate
my clitoris as he slowed his rhythm until he was barely moving within me.
He held me pinned to his chest, hips swiveling even as his fingers
mimicked the motion on my clit.
Whimpering, I clenched down around him.
He turned his face into my hair. “Do that again.”
I did, clenching my inner muscles tight around him.
His cock pulsed inside me, and I gasped at the exquisiteness of it. I felt
each ripple straight to the tips of my toes. My head sagged against his
shoulder as he shifted his cock, rubbing against that spot inside me.
He bit my ear and demanded, “Again.”
We continued like that until we were both so ready to come that one
more minute, one more second was too much to ask. Paxton grabbed my
hips and lifted me up, pulled me down. Again, again, again –
I arched my spine and cried out as my orgasm ripped through me.

It was over.
I didn't know how the day had gone by so quickly, but it the same time I
knew it was time to go.
Brinke would be home with Carter in an hour or so, and I needed to be
gone before then. Once I was dressed, we moved toward the front door,
almost by unspoken agreement.
Paxton had gathered trash while I got dressed, dumping it down a shoot
hidden behind a door I hadn’t even noticed. Handy. I really wouldn’t mind
it at all, being able to afford a place like this.
 I knew what he’d dumped too. All the wrappers from the condoms, the
now empty box. Disposing of the evidence, as it were.
“I’ll walk you down.”
“No.” I hovered in the doorway, blocking him. “It’s better that you
don't.” He started to argue, and I reached up, touching his lips. “It's over,
Paxton. She'll be back soon, and if she says something to any of the
valets…” I let my voice trail off, shaking my head.
Paxton snorted. “She treats them like crap. To her, they're invisible.”
“For some people, everybody's invisible until you want something from
them. Let's not take the chance.” I gave him one last kiss before opening the
door. As I walked away, I told myself not to look back.
This time, I actually listened to my own advice.
Chapter Nineteen
Paxton
T he penthouse was too quiet.
That was the first thing I noticed after I closed the door behind Leslie.
I had the insane urge to open the door and call her back – fuck Brinke. It
wasn’t like she hadn’t been running around on me for years. I wasn't an
idiot.
But Leslie was right.
Besides, everything was about to change.
The divorce was going to be hell on Carter. Even though Brinke was
hardly ever there for her anyway, it was going to change things in a big way
and before long, I’d be…
“Shit.” I shoved the heels of my hands against my eyes. “I’m going to
be a single dad.”
More than that, I’d be a single dad with sole custody if things went
right.
I didn’t want to keep Carter from Brinke, and if she ever got herself
together, we could change things. Leslie was right. Shared custody would
eventually be fine, but not while she was messed up like this.
Worry started to gnaw at me, and I tugged my phone out, sent a quick
text to Brinke. She didn’t respond so I tagged Alex.
The nanny responded immediately.

Everything is fine, although we’re probably going to be late. She decided

she was starving and we ended up at one of the busiest places in
Manhattan…and she was recognized.

Well, that was just great.

But not entirely shocking.
 Brinke ended up responding a few minutes later, and the text was more
than a little bitchy.
For fuck’s sake, stop checking up on me. Everything is cool. She ate a
nice healthy breakfast and lunch – no sweets, just like we agreed. You
worry too much.
Sighing, I shoved the phone away and then pushed away from the door,
moving into the tomb-like silence of the penthouse. Why hadn’t I ever
noticed how quiet it was here? Probably because I was hardly ever here
alone. But once the divorce was final, there would be times when I'd be
here by myself. I’d probably arrange for Alex to go with Carter whenever
she was with Brinke. Brinke got along with her well enough, and I knew I
could trust Alex.
A hell of a lot more than I could trust my wife.
Ex-wife. Soon to be ex-wife.
Guilt rubbed me raw inside because part of my brain was still occupied
with thoughts of Leslie, and now with Brinke and the upcoming divorce
weighing down on me, I had to think about what I’d done. It pissed me off
all over again, and I stormed into the living room, randomly grabbing up a
few toys that hadn’t gotten picked up from yesterday. The cleaning people
were in twice a week, but they couldn't be here around the clock, and still
have plenty of work.
Carter and Brinke made sure of that. At least my daughter was only six.
She was still learning.
I burned through nervous energy setting things to right, trying hard not
to think about why I was anxious.
“Everything’s fine,” I told myself.
This wasn’t like the last time Carter had been with her mom all day.
That had been in California, and Alex hadn’t been with them then. In the
end, that was why we’d left California and moved to New York. The rest of
the guys had already called the city their home base, but we’d always been
fine traveling back and forth when it came time to record. After that mess
with Brinke, I realize we needed a clean slate.
What happened still tore me up inside when I thought about it. They’d
gone to an aquarium, then shopping. Everything had been fine up until
Brinke got 'thirsty.' I could still hear her explanation.
I don’t know what the fucking problem was – she was in the car maybe
twenty minutes and the windows were down. Not like she was going to die
of a heat stroke. Everybody is all up in my ass because I’m famous and that
fucking judge had a hard-on for me. That’s the whole problem, baby.
But a guy had come into the little open air restaurant where she’d been
belting back her third martini and said somebody left a kid alone in a car –
anybody know who she belonged to? He’d already called the cops.
Then, to make matters worse, Brinke had tottered on off and gotten into
the fucking car – drunk.
Sometimes I got sick thinking about what might have happened if
somebody hadn’t put two and two together and followed her, managing to
get the keys while she'd still been trying to get them into the ignition.
She’d done a six-week, court-ordered stint in rehab, and had come out
more level. I’d hoped she'd stay that way. Now I was kicking myself for
thinking things might work out.
I grabbed my phone after dumping an armful of toys in the giant crate
Alex had found for just that purpose.
Pacing over to the window, I pulled out my phone and almost sent
another message.
But what was the point?
Alex was there. Carter was safe with Alex there.

I stood in front of the windows and stared outside.

I wasn’t seeing the city’s brightly light skyline, though.
In my mind’s eye, I was seeing Leslie.
Her and Carter. For a while, it had been easy to just kind of…wish.
Stupid, maybe, but easy.
I’d had a million things go through my head once I'd found out I was
going to be a dad, but none of them had been like the reality. The reality of
picking Carter up when I realized Brinke was getting sick in the bathroom
because she’d drank half the night.
The reality of not just baby proofing the house, but daily – and nightly –
checks to make sure my wife hadn’t left pills laying out.
I was an idiot.
I should have ended this a long time ago. The reason I hadn’t was
because Brinke had gotten me. Before. She’d been the first one to ever
understand who I was. But now, we were so far apart, we might as well be
strangers and worse, she was a stranger who wasn’t good for my kid.
 I’d started to think that maybe the only way my daughter would ever
have somebody good around her would be through people I paid – like
Alex – or through the friends I was lucky enough to have, like Decker and
LaToya.
Then Leslie had sort of just dropped into Carter’s life and made my
baby girl laugh. She’d talked to her like she mattered.
With Brinke, sometimes Carter was like a doll, something fun to play
with when she had time – and was sober enough. But beyond that? Brinke
was what mattered to Brinke. I knew she loved our daughter, but never
enough to put Carter's well being above her own.
Maybe if Leslie had been a little less amazing, I wouldn’t still be
thinking about her. Maybe I wouldn’t have coaxed her into staying the day.
Laughed with her, talked with her.
I’d had fun with her, and not just when I was balls-deep inside her
either.
And I’d cheated on my wife with her.
I could rationalize the hell out of it. Brinke hadn’t been faithful since the
first year of our marriage. I’d seen it with my own eyes. I’d walked in while
she was fucking a guy from some other band.
He’d seen me.
She hadn’t.
I'd walked back out and told myself to find a woman, but I hadn’t. All
these years, I hadn’t. And now when it was almost over, I’d cheated.
I didn't know why it bothered me so much. It'd clearly never bothered
Brinke to break the promises she made.
I’ll have her back by eight, sugar. Promise.
Promises.
Setting my jaw, I looked over at the clock and saw that it was just after
seven.
I wasn’t going to think about it.
Heading to the practice studio I’d set up, I grabbed my guitar and
moved back into the living room. I was no master with the instrument. I
could strum my way through a song, and that was it, but having a tune
helped when I was trying to put new lyrics to paper.
Killing time, I played with the melody that had been going through my
head for weeks – longer. The song had been chasing me.
Broken promises.
 I knew plenty about those.
Although the song was there, dying to be written, it hadn’t wanted to
come; but tonight, whether loosened by stress or something else, I managed
to get a few more lines down and fix the opening.
I had Leslie in mind as I played.
Wrong as it might’ve been, I could no longer pretend that Brinke was
any kind of inspiration. She hadn’t been for a while, and I’d been writing
without a muse.
There was nothing romantic about the lyrics coming out of me – it was
all sex and heat and that was fine.
It felt like the sun coming out after months of storm.
I looked up only when the phone rang, and I realized it had gotten dark.
Dark. And it was still quiet in the penthouse, which meant it was well past
time for Brinke to have been home with Carter.
Swearing, I started to fumble for the phone I almost always had in my
back pocket when I realized it was already ringing. On the coffee table.
I grabbed it, seeing a picture of Alex and Carter flash on the screen. My
gut, already slippery and twisted with tension, eased a little.
“Yeah?”
“Paxton.” It was indeed Alex and her normally calm, confident voice
was not calm or confident.
Don’t panic, I told myself. Don’t panic.
“What’s up, Alex? You guys running late?” Obvious answer is obvious,
genius.
“We were finally getting ready to go, and I got up to use the restroom.
Carter didn’t want to go with me so I left her with Brinke. I just got back to
the table and they're gone.”
I blinked, my brain not processing. “Alex?”
“They're gone, Paxton,” she nearly screamed. “The manager is here
telling me that Brinke said I was taking care of the tab because it was her
birthday – the bill is over three thousand dollars – ” Her voice hitched and
then steadied. “I’ll handle it, but they're gone.”
“The fuck you’ll handle it,” I said, furious and getting more so. “Give
him the business card I gave you for expenses and…” My brain stopped
functioning after that because that was the only thing I had a definite
solution for.
Don’t panic, I told myself. Don’t panic.
 “She’s probably fucking with us,” I told Alex, forcing myself to calm.
“We both know she was pissed off because I insisted you go with her. Go
on outside and see if you can find them anywhere nearby. I’ll try calling
her.”
Don’t panic, I thought again. And I managed to listen to my own advice.
For a while.
I sent text after text to Brinke. No response to any of them.
Alex came rushing in less than thirty minutes after she’d called, her
eyes half-wild.
I’d shaken my head and after a little while, I told her to go ahead and go
on down to her place. No reason for us both to sit there and stare at my
phone like it was a snake.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic.
But by the time midnight rolled around and I still hadn’t heard from
Brinke, fuck it, I was ready to panic.
Chapter Twenty
Leslie
T he hours drifted by in a haze.
I knew I’d gotten in my car, driven back home, and put my car back into
my space. I knew I came inside and changed into my pajamas.
After that?
I thought I sorta drifted around the apartment, smiling stupidly as I
gazed toward Manhattan and the general direction where Paxton would be.
Carter would be home by now.
Hopefully, she’d had fun, and now she and Paxton were settling in for
the night. Having dinner maybe, or she was taking a bath, and he was
cleaning up in the kitchen. The mega-rich, mega-beautiful Paxton Gorham
didn’t mind getting his hands dirty in the kitchen. It was kind of hot.
At some point, those silly daydreams turned into real dreams, and I fell
asleep on my bed, curled up on my side.
Paxton was there and this time, we didn’t have borrowed time or a few
stolen hours.
We just had each other.
When the phone rang, it jolted me out of a hot, sexy dream, and I sat
there a few seconds, confused. The phone rang again, and I grabbed it,
staring at it blearily before the number clicked and I realized who it was.
“Hello?”
“Leslie. It’s Paxton.”
“Yes?”
A few taut moments of silence passed before he said anything, and my
heart began to beat in hard, slow beats, each one of them becoming more
and more deafening until I could barely hear anything past it.
When he finally spoke, I was aware of nothing but his voice.
“It’s Brinke,” he said finally.
I swallowed, my hand going damp where it clutched the phone. Shit.
“Leslie…she…she hasn’t come home yet. She and Carter…they’ve
disappeared.”
I heard the words – they made sense, logically.
 But, in that moment, all I could do was picture Carter and the way she
and her father looked at her.
Carter…
“Leslie!” Paxton’s voice barked out of the phone in harsh demand.
“I heard you,” I said quietly, struggling to keep my voice level. My
mind spun.
“They’ve disappeared, dammit! What in the hell am I supposed to do?”

A Legal Affair continues in Book 2. Get the complete four book box set.
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A Legal Affair Book 2
Chapter One
Leslie
I refused to let myself panic.
At least, I was trying to tell myself that I wasn’t panicking. That
should've counted for something, right?
But I kept seeing those pictures in my mind. Seeing Brinke putting
drugs in her daughter's backpack. Brinke leaving Carter in a restaurant by
herself. I kept seeing the sad way Carter looked at her mom, the way she'd
so readily accepted that things wouldn't work out the way she'd wanted
them to.
And, of course, I kept hearing Paxton’s voice.
They’ve disappeared. What in the hell am I supposed to do?
As I whipped around the corner and pulled up to the curb in front of his
building, I fought back a hysterical laugh. I was supposed to have an
answer. I was supposed to be calm and objective and tell him exactly what
he needed to do.
But all I could think of was all of the bad things that could be
happening.
You fucked up, Calvin, I told myself. No shit, Sherlock.
This was why it was a bad idea to get involved with clients. Loss of
objectivity. Inability to think clear. Without either of those things, I couldn't
do my job.
And if I couldn’t do my job, Carter…
“Stop,” I said out loud as I climbed out of the car. I was developing a
reputation as a ball-buster in my field, and I’d be damned if I let this slow
me down. I would do what needed to be done, no matter what.
The doorman surprised me as he greeted me by name. “Ms. Calvin, is
everything alright?”
I was glad I didn't even have to think about how much information to
give. Attorney-client privilege said it all. “Urgent matter. I need to see Mr.
Gorham.”
“Of course, you’re on his cleared list.” He nodded and took my keys to
hand off to the valet.
 I strode inside, my mind finally clearing as I focused on what my next
step had to be. I needed to call hospitals, of course, just in case this wasn’t
intentional on Brinke's part. We couldn’t call the cops, not so early on. They
hadn't been gone more than twenty-four hours, and we couldn't claim a
custody dispute since there hadn't been any papers filed.
But there were certain steps to be taken, especially considering that
Brinke wasn’t precisely stable. Since I was involved, it also showed that
he'd been concerned about Brinke's behavior with their daughter even prior
to this.
When the elevator doors slid open, Paxton was there waiting for me,
and he cut me off before I could say a word.
“We’re calling the cops,” he said immediately.
“We can’t.” I kept my voice calm, holding out my hand when he opened
his mouth to argue. “Let’s go inside. We need to talk.”
He stared at me for a long moment, before turning on his heel and
storming inside. I didn’t let myself feel the cut of his rejection. He hadn’t
meant it that way, really. We weren't even like that.
But it still stung more than I liked.
After I closed the door behind me, I followed Paxton into the living
room where he stood by the window, staring out. The sky was clear, and if
it hadn't been for the light pollution, we would have been able to see
forever. But I knew he wasn’t seeing the city, the skyline, or the lights. I had
no idea what his internal eye was showing him, but I could imagine it had
everything to do with his daughter.
“Paxton.”
He looked over at me finally, his expression grim.
“Let’s sit down.”
I thought he’d refuse, but after a moment, he came toward me, and this
time, he was the one who reached out a hand. I wrapped my fingers around
his, hoping that my touch could offer him some comfort. I guided him over
to the sofa, trying not to think about what we’d been doing the last time we
sat here.
“Tell me what happened.” He didn't say anything, so I prompted him,
“Alex was with them.”
He nodded, staring stonily at the table in front of us.
“They were already running late,” he said after a few minutes. “I called
Alex. I was…edgy, but not worried too much yet. She’d told me they were
probably going to be late because Brinke had picked this splashy spot to eat
at. Just like her.”
His hand clenched into a fist and he slumped back on the sofa, staring
up at the ceiling. I could see the anguish written on his face.
“Son of a bitch, what was I thinking?”
“You thought Alex was there, and that Carter was in good hands. You
did nothing wrong.” I managed to keep my voice firm despite the anger
building inside me. I couldn't imagine someone treating their child the way
Brinke treated Carter. “Tell me what else. I need to know everything so I
know what to do next.”
“Yeah, yeah. What the fuck ever.” He scowled. “A little while goes by.
I’m messing with my guitar, playing with some lyrics and I lost track of
time. Dumbass.” He closed his eyes.
I covered his hand with mine and squeezed. “What happened next?”
Lashes raising slowly, he looked at me, cornflower blue eyes so full of
pain that I flinched. “Alex called. She’d gone to the bathroom and when she
came out, Brinke and Carter were just gone. That bitch stuck her with the
dinner bill. Cost over three grand.”
My jaw dropped.
“Alex told me when she got back that Brinke invited some of her
friends along.” Paxton’s jaw was like steel, his eyes hard and brittle. “So
much for them having a girl’s day. Some of them ended up buying bottles of
wine that cost a few hundred bucks a piece, and they were there so late,
Carter fell asleep at the table. She gets worn out pretty easy some days.
Alex went to the bathroom, and like I said, everyone was gone when she
came back except for the waiter with the bill.”
He caught sight of my face. To my surprise, he turned his hand over,
lacing our fingers together. “She's okay. She has an expense card I gave her.
But Carter…” Abruptly, he shoved up and started to pace, his normally
smooth movements jerky, almost frantic. “She’s out there with my baby.
Brinke can’t even take care of herself. How can she take care of Carter?”
I didn't even have to think about it. I got up and went over to him,
gripping his arms. “Let me start making some calls. You said Alex is back?
It would be helpful if I could talk to her.”

“She doesn’t even have Carter’s medicine.”

 I was in the middle of making phone calls while Alex and Paxton sat at
the table.
So far, she wasn’t at any of the hospitals I’d called, and I’d seen
Paxton’s face go white when he realized what I was doing. After I hung up
from that call, I explained it was standard procedure, and he’d nodded, but I
could already see the horrific scenarios that were running through his mind.
My phone rang and I turned away to answer.
“Officer Dunne.”
“You always want the sun, moon, and stars, Calvin,” he said, sounding
tired. “Usually, I’m happy to help, but there’s not much I can do tonight. I
can tell you that we haven’t arrested your superstar, but that’s about it.”
Before answering, I left the kitchen, walking into the living room, trying
to find the illusion of privacy. “Can you ask…” Then I stopped. This whole
thing was an ugly hornet’s nest, just waiting to boil over. I had to be really
careful, or I was only going to make matters worse.
Dunne seemed to pick up on my unasked question on his own. “If I go
asking people to keep an eye out, word will spread. That isn't what you
want?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so.”
Hearing a door close, I glanced back. My heart leaped for one minute,
but the sound had come from too far off to be the front door. Sensing that I
was no longer alone, I shifted my gaze a little more, and found Paxton in
the hall, watching me.
“Just keep me posted, okay?”
“I will.” He hung up, and I tucked the phone into the pocket of my
trousers before turning to face Paxton.
“Alex is going down to her place to rest,” he said, his voice stark.
“She must be feeling awful.”
“Yeah. I keep telling her it's not her fault.” Paxton prowled toward me,
his face in shadow. “It’s mine. I was a fool for letting her take Carter out.”
“Don’t do this, Paxton,” I said. “It’s Brinke’s fault. She did this. Not
you, not Alex.”
When he didn’t say anything, I moved closer. I couldn't care about
things like staying professional when he was so upset. Slowly, I slid my
arms around his waist.
 After a moment, he grabbed me. The abruptness of it caught me by
surprise, and then he held on tight, as though he was drowning. I slid my
hand up to his neck, ran my fingers through the hair at the base of his skull.
Paxton pressed his face against my throat, and deep inside, I felt my
heart clench.
This was it, I realized.
This was what Dena, Krissy, and Carrie had felt.
And I was so screwed because there was no way this could work.

It took several hours to finish making calls, and when we were done, we
didn't have anything new. I tried to act like it wasn't a big deal, but I felt
sick.
At the moment, Paxton was on the couch with his guitar, while I sat
across from him making notes and planning. The plans I kept inside my
head.
I didn’t want to tell him how grim things were looking right now.
New York wasn’t the best place when it came to custodial kidnappings,
and since we hadn’t gotten around to actually starting divorce proceedings,
much less pressing for custody, that’s what we were looking at.
I did think we had solid ground when it came to making a case that
Brinke wasn’t a fit guardian, but it was still an uphill battle. And it didn't do
us any good at the moment.
It was almost three in the morning when he finally stopped playing and
collapsed back against the couch to stare at nothing. My eyes were gritty
with fatigue as I moved to sit down next to him, uncertain what to do or say.
It wasn’t a good feeling.
It was a shitty feeling, really. I was used to being the one with the
answers.
The one who knew what to do or say.
And now, when it mattered more than it should, I couldn’t figure out a
single step to take to make things any better for him.
He reached out and took my hand, and when I looked over at him, his
eyes were closed. Slowly, I twined my fingers with his. The penthouse was
horribly, awfully quiet. It was like I could hear my own heart and nothing
else. Panic started to well inside me. What if I fucked this up?
 What if Carter ended up hurt because I wasn’t quick enough, smart
enough, good enough?
Calm down. Think. Focus…
But the silence was making it worse. Desperately, I searched for
something, anything to distract me from that silence.
I heard Paxton’s breathing and I latched onto that. The steady in and
out.
After a few moments, the panic eased back, and I closed my eyes.
I could do this.
I would do this.
His hand tightened almost reflexively on mine, and I looked over at
him.
He was asleep. That was good. He needed the rest. I, however, had work
I should probably be doing.
Instead, I closed my eyes and drifted off.
Chapter Two
Paxton
T he sound of a door closing, quiet as it was, jerked me straight out of my
restless sleep.
Eyes open, I looked around. To my right, I caught sight of Leslie. She
was curled against the arm of the couch, her chin tucked against her chest
and her feet drawn up under her.
She looked…beautiful. Sweet, soft and beautiful, even though I knew
she could be tough and fierce when she needed to be. My heart did a weird
little flip inside my chest, and if I’d had the time, I might've thought about
just what the sensation was.
But I didn’t have the time. I didn’t have the luxury.
Besides, a new sensation – a new emotion – started to boil inside me,
churning up to the surface so hard and fast, it shoved everything soft and
tender out of the way.
Rage.
A low, ugly voice came from the doorway while I was struggling not to
totally lose my temper.
Brinke, of course, had no such issues.
“What. The. Fuck.” She drew out each word, slowly and clearly, her
voice rising with every word so that she was shouting by the time fuck left
her lips.
Slanting my gaze at her, I took in the sight of her standing in the
doorway. Only one thing could have salvaged the moment, and that would
have been if I’d seen Carter standing there.
It took less than a second to ascertain that my little girl was most
definitely not with my wife.
Soon to be ex, I told myself. Very soon.
Not soon enough, another voice muttered.
That rage inside spilled out, threatening to burn out of control before I
managed to reign it in. Storming around the table, I cut Brinke off before
she could reach a shocked-looking Leslie.
 The huge granite slab that served as a coffee table and my body now
stood between Leslie and Brinke, although really, I doubted Leslie needed
either one. She might've been caught off guard being woken up by Brinke's
shouts, but she wasn't the sort of woman who needed someone to protect
her.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Brinke shrieked, trying to cut
around me, her eyes wide, voice loud enough to hurt my ears. She was
glaring at Leslie like she wanted to peel her skin from her bones.
I could see her from the corner of my eye as she came off the couch,
smoothing down her trousers, and brushing her hair back from her face. The
second that my concentration was split, Brinke slammed her hands against
my chest and shoved. It was hard enough that I stumbled a bit, and when I
looked into her eyes, I saw how huge her pupils were – she was on
something. Shit. No way was she that strong on her own.
Grabbing her wrists, I forced them down. “Where’s Carter?”
Brinke continued to struggle, trying to tear away from me. “Licensing
issues, my ass! You fucking whore! Are you sleeping with him? He’s
mine!”
Leslie didn’t respond.
I caught Brinke’s shoulders and shook her, finally capturing her
attention. “Brinke!”
When her pale, almost icy eyes connected with mine, the rage drained
away and she reached up with a sappy smile. Before she could touch my
cheek, though, I caught her wrist.
“Where’s Carter?” I asked, trying to keep my voice controlled.
“I…” Brinke licked her lips. Then, apparently forgetting we weren’t
alone, she stepped in closer and kissed my jaw. “Baby, I wanted us to have
some time alone. Carter’s fine. She’s just…with some friends.” She pouted,
her voice changing into a whine. “We’re never alone anymore and I wanted
us to talk.”
Alone? Talk?
I was hard pressed not to start laughing, but I knew that wouldn't help
me find Carter. I needed to know which friends she'd left Carter with.
“Where's Carter?” I asked again.
Brinke jerked against my hands and I let go, but she tried to reach for
me again. “Let's not worry about her. She's fine. We had fun last night.”
 Stepping back, I shook my head. “Fun? What the hell is this, Brinke?
You stiffed Alex with a three thousand dollar bill –”
“You pay her too much anyway.” Brinke rolled her eyes. “She acts like
she is Carter’s mama, not me.”
“She busts her ass to take care of our kid, Brinke! Damn right I’ll pay
her well. You invite a bunch of your loser friends to a dinner you're
supposed to be having with your daughter, and then expect her to pay that
bill when you skip out of there with my child!”
“You care more about the nanny than me.” Brinke glared at me. “You
fucking her too?”
I ignored the comment and focused on what was important. “You didn’t
even take her glucose monitor or her insulin, Brinke! What in the hell were
you thinking?”
Her gaze slid away, but only for a second. “Chill out, baby. Alex kept up
with Carter’s sugar all day long.”
Carter was diagnosed with juvenile diabetes less than a year ago, and
I’d done everything I could to stay on top of it. While I never missed a
doctor’s appointment, Brinke still couldn’t work the glucose monitor, and
she freaked out at the idea of giving her daughter medicine. Alex and I were
the only ones who would administer the insulin right now, although
considering how little Brinke knew about Carter’s condition, I’d just as soon
keep it that way. I'd given Leslie that information last night, and the look
she'd given me had said that Carter's medical condition would come into
play during the custody hearings. Now, I was wishing I didn't have that
particular leg up on her.
“Alex isn’t with her right now, is she?” I said, forcing the question out
through clenched teeth.
“She was stable all fucking day.” Brinke rolled her eyes. “What’s it hurt
if she goes a day or two without getting her finger pricked?”
For a few seconds, I wasn’t quite sure I understood that question, then I
realized I understood it exactly right. How had I been so naïve as to think
that maybe, just maybe, Brinke actually got it? That she was mature enough
to realize that Carter had a condition that was serious, potentially fatal,
even. Manageable as long as people paid attention. But Brinke only ever
paid attention to herself.
“What was I thinking?” I said, more to myself than anything else.
Brinke cocked her head.
 Turning away, I dragged my hands down my face.
I caught sight of Leslie standing by the window. At some point, she’d
tied her hair and smoothed out her clothes. She had her shoes back on and
she looked all neat and put-together. Her clothes weren’t even very
wrinkled. She looked calm and capable, everything I wasn’t. Everything
Brinke could never be.
“What was I thinking?” I said it louder, even though I wasn't really
expecting an answer. “Letting you actually take her out – not just yesterday,
but ever?”
“It’s not like you can stop me. I’m her mother,” Brinke said, her voice
snide.
Spinning around, I glared at her.
She backed up a step, then stopped herself. Pasting a smile on her face,
Brinke started toward me. “Come on, baby. Don’t be mad. I’m telling you,
Carter is just fine.” She shot Leslie an ugly look and jerked her head to the
door. “Come on, tell your lawyer to go so we can talk.”
She reached up and trailed a hand down the deep vee of her shirt, but
the idea of talking to her – much less anything else – turned my stomach.
Never again, I promised myself.
“That’s all I wanted to do, Paxton.” She took one step, then another,
towards me, smiling. “I just wanted to talk to you. You said we needed to
figure out what we were going to do and you’re right. That’s why I did
this.”
When she reached for me again, I caught her wrists.
“It’s a little too late,” I said as I made a decision.
The smile fell away from Brinke’s face. Forcing her hands down, I
backed away, circling around so that the coffee table stayed between us.
“I’m tired of waiting for you to get your act together. It’s done, Brinke.”
“Done…?”
In her pale blue eyes, I saw the acknowledgment, saw the
understanding. But she shook her head and laughed. “Look, we can’t talk
about our marriage when some stupid studio lawyer is here. Make her go so
we can make this work.”
“She’s not a studio lawyer,” I said flatly. “And save the arguments.
There’s nothing left for us to talk about, Brinke. It’s over. I’m filing for
divorce.”
Brinke came at me then.
 I was ready for it. Her temper had never been a pretty thing, and I let
her get one blow in. My cheek stinging from the slap, I caught her wrists
before she could land another. All of this felt far too familiar, but at least I
knew it'd be the last time.
“You son of a bitch! The fuck it’s over! You aren’t…you think you can
humiliate me like this?!”
She jerked away and I let go of her, circling around to keep myself
between her and Leslie. Brinke's gaze followed my movement and landed
on the woman still standing silently by the window.
“You,” Brinke said, the word coming out so raw and full of venom, it
didn’t even sound like her. “It’s because of you.”
“It’s not.” I shifted, drawing her attention back to me. “This was coming
long before I met Leslie.”
Right now, she thought I was having an affair and she wasn’t entirely
wrong – one day of hot sex didn’t make an affair. But I didn’t want her to
know that Leslie was my lawyer, either. Not unless I had to.
Taking a step toward Brinke, I waited until she met my eyes. “This has
been coming since you got wasted in a bar while you left our little girl alone
in a car in California. I tried to make it work. I told you if you got help and
got sober, we could work, but you didn’t do it. You don’t care enough.”
True to form, Brinke’s face crumpled. “Baby…please…” She started to
sob. “Don’t…you can’t do this to me. You two, you’re all I have! I love you
more than anything.”
“Bullshit. You love drugs way more than us.” I shook my head,
disgusted.
“That’s not fair!” The tears turned off like a faucet, anger taking their
place. “Just because you quit at the drop of a hat doesn’t mean it’s as easy
for everybody.”
Slashing a hand through the air, I cut off the argument. It was an old
one, and frankly, whether she quit or not no longer mattered. If it'd just been
me, maybe I would've given her yet another chance. But, unlike Brinke, I
knew it wasn't just about me.
“I’m doing this,” I said, raising my voice to be heard over her when she
tried to argue again. “I want my daughter back, Brinke. Where the hell is
she?”
Finally realizing that I was serious, Brinke went silent, staring at me.
“Where is she?” I repeated.
 After another moment of rigid silence, I took a step toward her, holding
onto my temper by a thin thread.
“She doesn’t have her meter. She doesn’t have her meds. She could drop
too low or run too high while you sit here and have a tantrum, Brinke. I
want to know where in the hell Carter is. Bring my daughter home now, or
you're going to regret it.”
She slid her eyes between Leslie and me, then a small smile appeared
on her face. “Fine. Go get your keys and we’ll go together.”
I exhaled, relief making my legs grow weak. I turned on my heel to go
get them but was only a few steps down the hall when I heard the front door
slam.
“Wait,” Leslie yelled, and I knew exactly what the bitch had done. By
the time I crossed the room and had the door open, she was in the elevator.
“Dammit, Brinke!” I shouted.
She flipped me off. “Go on back to your little whore, honey,” she
taunted in a cooing little girl voice. “I’m going to go and take care of our
baby.”
I ran, trying to beat the closing elevator doors. Brinke only smiled again
and held up her hand.
I stared at the keyring.
My keys.
For my car.
My less important, but still much-loved baby.
“I lost my apartment keys,” she said, blowing me a kiss. The elevator
door was nearly shut, but I was almost there. “I borrowed yours,” she yelled
through the five-inch crack. “Oh, by the way…your car isn’t ready yet. It’ll
be another week at least.”
Then she took the keys and hurled them at my chest just as the door slid
shut.
Chapter Three
Leslie
T he entire episode between Brinke and Paxton kept playing over in my
head long after she'd gone.
Even knowing it’d be impossible to catch her, he’d raced to the stairs
and apparently ran all the way to the bottom, then out onto the street, trying
to find her. He’d come back with sweat pouring down a face that looked so
haunted, it broke my heart into tiny pieces.
Since then, he’d been pacing the floor like a caged wild animal, while I
sat at the table in the kitchen, making phone call after phone call.
Dunne had nothing new to report, although he did tell me that if Carter
was out of her parents’ custody for long, we could probably take action,
especially since Brinke hadn't taken Carter's medical condition into account.
It would probably be pushing the envelope, but it was an envelope I was
happy to push, and chances were, any judge in family court would be
willing to listen, especially once Brinke Maynard ran her mouth. And I
knew once we started asking for drug tests, she'd be toast. She hadn't even
been able to refrain from using this morning.
Had Paxton realized she was high?
Yes. Of course. That irritating little voice piped up almost immediately,
but of course, like most little voices, it was right. Paxton knew his wife
better than I did, and more, he probably knew junkies better than I did.
Immediately, I felt ashamed, but I tried to quash it by telling myself I
was being pragmatic. Paxton had a past and that was just all there was to it.
More importantly, it was in the past.
He’d not just overcome his problems, he’d kicked them in the teeth. I
thought he felt pity for Brinke, but at the same time, he knew her addiction
could be beaten. It might have been harder for her, but it was clear that she
was choosing the drugs over their daughter.
And that was where she hurt him the most.
He could handle his own pain, but it was his daughter's hurt that killed
him.
 The pacing off to my side stopped, and I glanced up, saw him bent over
the island, the muscles in his arms bunched, one hand clenched into a fist.
I wanted to say something, but I had no idea what. There was nothing I
could say to him that would fix this.
But I could do my job.
So I kept working.
I made another call, this one to Stanley Kowalski. I had to leave a
message, but less than a minute after I’d disconnected, he called back and I
breathed out a sigh of relief.
“Hey, Stanley.”
“Leslie…I thought I might be hearing from you again. Are we going to
keep looking at Ms. Maynard?”
I shot Paxton a look and jolted when I realized he was staring at me.
Hard.
“We…well, we’ll discuss that aspect of the job later. Right now, I need
something else. It’s…” Blowing out a breath, I tore my gaze away from
Paxton and grabbed my pen, jotting down Stanley’s name. “Okay, bear with
me, I need to explain real quick.”
In a short, terse voice, I summarized everything that happened since
Paxton’s phone call last night, neatly censoring anything that might hint at
the fact that we’d slept together. When I was finished, I paused to take a
breath and rub at my pounding temples.
“Damn. That’s a mess,” Stanley said softly.
“You’re telling me.” Bleakly, I stared at my notepad, wishing it could
offer some sort of answer, but logic, and the determination that had gotten
me through law school and even the worst cases, just wasn’t coming
through right now. “I need your help, Stanley.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” He was quiet a moment, but I’d worked with
the older man long enough to know when he was thinking. “I spent enough
time following her to pick out a few people she seemed to be closer to. I’ll
take a look at them. I’ll run her credit cards again, see if I can triangulate an
area where she might be staying. She didn’t seem to carry a lot of cash
unless she was looking to meet up with her dealer, so chances are she’s
using her cards somewhere.”
“Or staying with a friend.”
“Her friends are more likely to be using her for money than the other
way around, if patterns hold true.”
 We spoke a few more minutes and agreed to touch base again in the
evening, sooner if he discovered anything important. When I lowered the
phone to the table, Paxton came over and picked it up. I should have taken
it away, pointed out the fact that I had confidential information in there –
and I did. Phone calls with other clients, emails.
I wasn’t thinking.
I couldn’t think around him.
He was bad for me in so many ways.
All he did was bring up the last call, though. I could tell because after a
second, he laid the phone face up, and I saw Stanley Kowalski's contact info
on the screen.
“Who is he?” Paxton asked, his voice a flat monotone.
“The private investigator. He’s going to start –”
“I’m not deaf. I heard the fucking discussion.” He turned away and
started to pace, but after a minute, he came right back. “Don’t suppose it
could have occurred to you to call him earlier? Like last night? Brinke’s out
there with who the hell knows, and my little girl is…”
He stopped and sucked in a breath. I reached out to touch his hand and
he jerked back. A lance of pain went straight through me, but I shoved it
down, tried to offer a comforting smile.
“Paxton –”
“Shut the fuck up!” he shouted. He glared at me, his eyes glacial and
forbidding, the look in his gaze full of disgust and fury.
He’d looked at Brinke like that.
Now that look was directed at me.
A disconnected sort of thought rolled through my mind and I found
myself remembering calls from my girlfriends after fights with their guys.
Had it been Carrie? Krissy? I couldn’t remember, but I just found myself
remembering the pain I heard in their words, and how I could recall telling
myself that this was one of the reasons I never intended to get into anything
serious. Ever. If they didn’t matter that much, they couldn’t hurt you.
I’d let Paxton start to matter, and he wasn’t supposed to matter to me at
all.
Not personally.
He was a client.
And here I was, hurting more than I could remember hurting over a man
ever.
 Woodenly, I said, “What exactly do you want me to do, Paxton? I’m
doing everything I can.”
“It’s not enough!” He slashed a hand through the air, his eyes bright
with anger. “It’s your fucking fault, don’t you get that? If I hadn’t had my
head in my pants, and if I hadn’t been so damn determined to get my dick
inside you, none of this would have happened. I would have been thinking
clear yesterday when she wanted to take Carter out, and I wouldn’t have let
her go.”
He paused to suck in a breath and in that span of time, I tried to make
myself drag in some oxygen as well, but I couldn’t seem to do it. My throat
was too tight, and my lungs were resisting the attempts to drag it in.
“You…” He stopped again, shaking his head.
As he turned his back on me, I pushed back from the table. Sitting down
left me feeling more vulnerable than I already felt. Swallowing around the
knot that had taken up residence in my throat, I floundered for something to
say, for words that would fix this.
He wasn't wrong…
That stupid little voice.
I wanted to say that he was wrong. That it wasn't my fault. But that
stupid little voice…
Because in a way, I was to blame.
I was supposed to be objective. I was supposed to be looking out for my
client’s best interests, and he'd already told me that Brinke wouldn’t react
well once she found out he was filing for divorce. Maybe she’d already
suspected.
Then again, it hadn’t been my idea to stay yesterday, or even stay the
night when the storm started.
But if I’d listened to common sense, it wouldn’t have been an issue.
The silence between us was ugly and weighted, and it was choking me.
I started to gather my things up, collecting my notes and stacking them into
a neat pile. I needed to go. I'd gone too far past professional and into
personal.
“If I hadn’t been so caught up in you…” Paxton said, his voice raw.
“You’ve made that point clear.” My voice was even, but not cold.
Sweeping another look around, I made sure I had everything I needed.
Phone – it was still there, sitting where Paxton left it. I grabbed it, clutched
it for a moment before shoving it into my back pocket. “I need to head out
and follow up on some things, see if I can light a fire under some people.”
Paxton turned and stared at me. I forced myself to meet his eyes.
“I should have known better than to let Brinke take her. If I hadn’t
been…” He stopped, shaking his head.
“If it makes you feel better to blame me, go ahead. But I have a job to
do and I can’t do it, I can’t help you or Carter if I sit around here while you
rage at me.”
The tears were threatening now, too close to the surface, and my pride
absolutely refused to let me cry in front of him. How had this happened? A
few weeks ago, I hadn’t even known him. Now he had me this close to
crying. Men didn’t do that to me.
I didn’t allow it.
I grabbed my things and cut around him, picking up my bag from its
place on the floor and hurriedly shoved everything into it.
“How in the hell can I keep up with what’s going on if you leave?” he
demanded.
“I’ll keep in touch,” I said, not looking at him. “Keep your phone on. If
you can think of the names of Brinke’s closest friends, please text me their
names. Phone numbers if you have them.”
Another mistake I’d made. I should have already gotten that information
too.
I was acting like a lover, not like a lawyer.
Stupid, stupid, stupid…
Okay, so maybe some of what I was berating myself for were things that
were more on the police end of things, but I should've been organizing for
when the cops could finally get involved.
He followed me to the door and before I was able to open it, he caught
my arm.
“Wait.”
“I need to go.” Jutting my chin up, I glared at him. “You made it clear
that having me here caused this. If you want me to help fix it, then you need
to let me go so I can do my job.”
“You seemed to be doing damn fine a few minutes ago, making calls to
cops and private investigators. Just…fuck. Give me a few minutes and I’ll
find phone numbers, names.”
 “You can do that without me here to distract you.” I knew he was
hurting, and I hated that I was leaving him like this, but it was for the best.
A muscle pulsed in his jaw, and I knew he wanted to argue.
“I need to go. Some of the conversations I need to have are best made in
person…and in private.” I lied. “I’ll say in touch, Mr. Gorham.”
“Leslie…”
“It’s best if we keep this on a professional level from here on out, I
think. I've done enough damage.” Part of me wanted to grab him, kiss him.
Hold him.
But this time, I listened to my common sense and left.
On my way down, I pulled out my phone and put in a call to Dunne
again. I actually did have a few names to get already.
The first time Paxton came to my office, he’d talked about the party
Brinke had here at the penthouse, the one that set everything off. He’d
given a list of names to the security staff here at the building. I’d asked for a
list of those names as well, and I had them inside my notes. As I waited for
Dunne to answer, I dug my notepad out and flipped through it.
“You’re calling again…damn, Calvin. Let a man drink a cup of coffee
already.”
“I’ve got names and news.” The elevator opened with a soft chime and I
strode out. The valet saw me and started to smile, but then stopped and
nodded, holding up a hand to indicate it would be a moment before he had
my car.
Dunne must've heard something in my voice, because all he did was
blow out a sigh and say, “Let me have them.”
I did, as well as a quick update on what happened with Brinke that
morning.
After a few seconds, Dunne grunted. “Okay, okay. I can work with this.
I’ll have to do it off the clock, but I can do that.” He hesitated and then
quietly, he asked, “Hey, Calvin…are you okay? Sounds like you’re getting
kind of close to this.”
“It’s a kid, Dunne.” I wasn’t lying, either. Carter’s involvement was part
of the reason I was upset. Cops knew how it was with kids.
“Yeah…it’s always ugly when people use their kids against each other.”
There was a moment of silence, and then he said, “Okay, I’ll check into
these names, do what I can.”
“Thank you.”
 As I tucked my phone away, the valet drove up in my car and I set my
professional mask firmly in place. I had more work to do.
Chapter Four
Leslie
A s determined as I’d been to get away from Paxton and his hurtful words,
going home didn’t help.
I spent another hour making calls and digging around, but there was
only so much that could be done at this point. It was infuriating. I felt
insanely helpless and I couldn’t imagine how much worse Paxton felt. His
little girl hadn’t come home last night, and the fact that her mother
apparently knew where she was and claimed she was safe wasn’t really
much solace.
I felt even worse now because now I knew something I hadn’t known
until last night. Carter had a medical condition. I didn’t know much about
diabetes but I knew it required supervision. Personally, I wouldn’t have
trusted Brinke Maynard to supervise a houseplant, much less a child.
My phone rang. Despondently, I picked it up, half-expecting it to be
Paxton, ready to tear into me again.
But it was Carrie.
My heart lifted a little and I answered.
“You sound lousy,” Carrie said bluntly.
“I’ve had a bitch of a weekend.” Uneasy about going into it on the
phone, I looked outside. “Hey, you busy? I could use an ear right now.”
“I’m never too busy if you need me. Calling Dena too?”
“Yeah.” We spent a few minutes figuring out where to meet, and then I
disconnected. As I walked through my apartment, I called up Dena. She
came on the phone, sounding breathless, her voice filled with laughter. “I’m
not interrupting, am I?”
“No, of course not,” Dena replied through a giggle.
“Yes…whoever it is can call back later,” the low male voice grumbled.
“Go away, you pervert,” Dena said, her voice muted for a moment.
“What’s up, Leslie? You sound down.”
Clearly, she was with Arik, and I'd usually have told her to have fun and
that I'd talk to her later. Today, though, I needed her.
 “Bad day. Bad, bad day. Wanna meet Carrie and me for lunch so I can
bitch?”
“I owe you a venting session or ten. Gimme a minute.” She must have
covered the phone with her hand, because there was nothing but silence and
when she came back on the line, she said, “Where and when?”
I gave the details and then hung up.
I loved my friends.

After I finished explaining, I picked up my sangria and tossed it back.

We’d gone to one of our favorite places, a Cuban restaurant with a
minuscule patio out back. It wasn't that late in the day, but we’d already
gone through one pitcher of sangria. I'd drank most of it, and my head was
spinning quite a bit.
But I could still remember too many details of the lousy weekend so I
refilled my glass and looked up to find my friends studying me, both
wearing concerned expressions.
I didn’t know if it was because of the booze or what I’d told them.
Probably both.
“Go ahead,” I said, settling back in my seat. “Let me have it. I deserve
it.”
“Honey…” Carrie smiled at me.
“You were stupid. You already know that.”
“Dena, damn it.” Carrie shot her an annoyed look.
“I’m not going to pretend she didn’t do something that could end up
getting her in trouble with the ethics committee.” Dena shrugged and then
looked at me. “And Leslie knows that.”
“Yeah.” I gave them both a tight smile. “I know that. You want to know
how stupid I am?”
Dena cocked a brow.
“I’d do it again.” Blowing out a breath, I slumped down in the seat. The
heat of the sun and the alcohol, combined with my lack of sleep and not
having eaten anything yet were doing a number on me.
“Okay, ladies…I’ve got your food here…”
I looked up as the server came to a stop at our table. My head swam a
little as he put a plate of chicken, rice and plantains down in front of me
while my belly rumbled in rude demand. Dena and Carrie both thanked
him. Normally, I would have flirted – he was hot – but I was too busy
brooding.
I scooped a bite of rice into my mouth. The plantains were delicious and
despite my dark mood, hunger took over, and I spent the next few minutes
eating. Once food started to soak up the alcohol, my head stopped spinning
and my thoughts started to clear. Feeling Dena’s eyes on me, I looked up.
She tore off a piece of chicken and ate it, her eyes shrewd. “So what are
you going to do now?”
“My job.” I shrugged. “I’ll go home and –”
“About him. This guy. You know you aren’t thinking objectively. How
can you do what’s best for him and his daughter when you’re all caught up
with him and his daughter?”
“I’ll manage.” Grimly, I reached for my glass – the water this time. “At
this point, I don’t think I’d trust anybody else to handle that harpy he
married. Except maybe one of you, and neither of you are handling divorces
anymore. I’ll get through it, Dena.”
Narrowing her eyes, she stared at me hard for a long moment, then she
nodded. “If anybody can, it’s you. Although I have to say, I never thought
I’d see you get all twisted up over a guy, Leslie. It’s like…I don’t know…
finding out Santa Claus isn’t real.”
“You mean he isn’t?” Carrie gave us both a wide-eyed stare.
We all broke out laughing.

“What are you going to do when you see him again?”

We stood out in front of the restaurant.
Carrie had a driver waiting for her. It must be nice to have that kind of
money. Dena was taking the subway, although she’d let it slip once that her
man was loaded. He was an attorney at one of the top defense firms in the
city, but something told me the money was from more than that. Being a
lawyer could pay well, but it took a while to really make bank as a lawyer
and even then, it didn’t necessarily translate to loaded.
Lifting my shoulder in a shrug, I worried the strap of my purse. “I’m not
sure. He’s so mad at me right now…”
“He’s scared.” Carrie hugged me impulsively. “You know that.”
“Yeah.” Throat tight, I looked away.
“Are you serious about this guy?”
 Looking at Dena, I smiled weakly. “What’s serious, anyway?” It wasn’t
like I had much experience with it.
My friends shared a look, and I wanted to snarl at both of them. Ever
since they’d both found their happy endings, they had their own little way
of communicating that I couldn’t understand.
“I need to go,” I said, struggling to keep my erratic emotions from
showing in my voice. Raw as I was from having Paxton tear into me, I
wasn’t about to lash out at my friends because my emotions were in
turmoil.
We hugged and separated, both Dena and Carrie telling me to call when
I needed them.
When, not if.
Strangely enough, I knew I’d be needing them soon.
Carrie climbed into her car while Dena headed north and I went south
for our subway stops.
Once I was on the train, I settled with my head against the window and
stared outside. The rocking of the car was almost enough to put me to sleep,
and I was glad I only had a few stops before we got to mine.
The heat of the day had gotten more oppressive, and my hair was
sticking to the back of my neck by the time I turned the corner to my street.
Grabbing a clip from my purse, I started to twist my curls up off my neck.
A neighbor called out from the curb and I glanced back, losing my hold
on the clip and it fell, bouncing down on the concrete. The plastic broke and
I groaned.
As I stooped to pick up the hair clip, my purse strap fell off my
shoulder. Swearing, I tried to catch my bag but it fell, striking the ground
and spilling the contents out onto the sidewalk.
“Just great,” I muttered. Grabbing things at random, I called out to Li.
“What do you need?”
“I was going to tell you that you have company,” Li said, laughing.
“But...”
“Company?” Frowning, I started to look over at her, but a pair of
tanned, beautiful hands appeared in my line of sight. My heart kicked up
and began to race, pounding hard against my ribcage. Slowly, I lifted my
gaze upward and found myself staring into a pair of reflective sunglasses
shielding a pair of painfully blue eyes.
I had to practically bite my tongue to keep from saying his name.
 He held out my wallet. Dazed, I took it from him and shoved it into my
purse. Feeling like an idiot, I scooped up things at random, finally able to
tear my eyes from his. Normally, my purse was as neatly organized as
everything else in my life, but now it resembled the way I felt. A complete
wreck.
My sweet, nosy neighbor was going to be all over us too if we didn’t get
moving. I grabbed a package of tissues and a pen, then blushed furiously as
I realized Paxton was holding the little case that held a couple of tampons
and condoms. Snatching them away, I pushed them into my bag and then
stood, fighting the urge to shift my feet.
“Ah…”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Li.
Dammit.
Starting for the door, I glanced over my shoulder at Paxton. “Why don’t
you come up?”
He seemed to notice Li as well and nodded. Falling into step with me,
he shoved his hands into his pockets and lapsed into silence.
I called back to Li and told her I’d see her around. She gave me a mock
pout but waved us on. The older woman couldn’t be any nicer, but if she
recognized Paxton, the entire neighborhood would know he was here before
the hour was up.
Once we were inside, Paxton looked over at me. “I just wanted to talk
for a minute. If you have plans…”
“You’re fine. Come on up.”
There was an awkward, stilted silence between us as we started up the
steps, and neither of us spoke as we climbed the three flights up to my
apartment. There was an elevator, but I so rarely used it, didn’t think about
it until we were already on my floor.
Once we were in my place, I locked the door and put my purse down,
double checking to make sure I had everything. Paxton still hadn't said a
word, and I went to the small kitchen to get myself some water.
“Would you like a drink?”
When he didn't answer, I turned to look at him. Shoulders slumped,
Paxton stood at my window staring outside.
“I still haven’t heard anything,” he said, voice listless. “Brinke isn’t
answering my messages, won’t text back. I’m not having any luck getting a
hold of her friends either.”
 “I’m sorry.” Throat tight, I put the glass of water down, and focused on
the tips of my shoes. “We’ll find her, Paxton. I’m sorry –”
“Don’t.” The words were steely and hard.
My spine stiffened, and I braced myself for yet another attack from him.
I’d take it. I'd hate it, but I'd take it. He was scared. Hell, I was scared. I was
also a safe target and –
He reached out and caught my hand. My head jerked up.
“Don’t apologize to me, Leslie. I need to be the one apologizing to
you.”
Shaking my head, I tugged my hand free and backed away. Turning on
my heel, I moved into the kitchen. Because I had nothing else to do, I went
to the kitchen to get him a bottle of water. “You…if we hadn’t been –”
He was insanely quiet. His tennis shoes made absolutely no noise on the
scuffed hardwood floors, so when his arms came up to bracket me in
against the refrigerator, I was startled enough to drop the bottle of water.
He whispered against my hair, “Look at me. Please, Leslie.” His voice
was full of raw emotion, and my heart twisted in my chest.
Slowly, I turned and faced him.
This man was bad for me.
I thought about what I told Dena and what she had warned me about.
Was Paxton worth possibly throwing away my career?
He pushed his hand into my hair and lifted my chin up. “I'm sorry,” he
said again. “Don't apologize to me, and don’t tell me an apology isn’t
necessary on my part. And don’t you dare try to blame this on yourself. I
was a bastard for trying to make it seem like it was your fault. I know
Brinke. You don't. And I'm Carter's father, it was my responsibility.”
He wasn’t wrong, but regardless, there were things I knew I should have
done differently. Things I’d done that I knew I shouldn’t have. The knot
inside my chest grew.
His eyes bore into mine. “Leslie…”
“Okay.”
He seemed to be waiting for something more, so I managed a smile.
Catching his wrist, I tugged his hand away from my face and eased out
from between him and the refrigerator. It was still open so I nudged it shut
and stooped to pick up the bottle. Handing it to him, I went to the counter
and picked up my own. Twisting it in my hands, I racked my brain for
something to say, some way to fill the silence. This time, I did hear him as
he came up behind me, and when he slid his hand through my hair, I wasn't
surprised, but I couldn't stop the slight shiver that slid through me.
“Why do you keep turning away from me?”
Be smart, I told myself. I wanted to do just that – I wanted to do the
wise thing here.
But as he turned me toward him, I knew that wasn't going to happen.
Wise just didn't seem to exist when it came to Paxton Gorham. With mere
inches separating us, I fisted my hands in the faded material of his t-shirt.
My eyes locked on his and I tried to catch my breath.
Only moments ago, I'd asked myself a question, and the answer had just
now hit me.
This man was absolutely worth throwing my career away.
He was worth everything, anything, and all things.
I was so fucking screwed.
Chapter Five
Paxton
T he misery I'd seen in her eyes ripped my heart out. Even as I'd continued
to verbally pummel her, I’d wanted to kick myself. I hadn’t been able to
stop the ugliness coming out of my mouth, though. It'd been like a dam
inside me had broken, and nothing I could do would stem the flow.
It wasn’t until she’d fumbled open the door, her hands shaking, that I
somehow managed to get a grip on the surreal rage gripping me, and I’d
started for the door, only to stop and tell myself it might be good to have
time to think.
I needed to think because I needed to figure out what to do, figure out
just what was going on inside Brinke’s head. I used to know how she
thought, but ever since I'd gotten clean and she hadn't, we hadn't been on
the same wavelength. I needed to be alone to get my shit together.
But the look in Leslie’s eyes wouldn't let me go, and it wasn’t even sixty
seconds before I was out the door after her. I could barely stand still in the
elevator; I was so desperate to get to her. Except, by the time I got
downstairs, she was already gone.
Hardly anybody was going anywhere today, and the valets were sitting
around waiting for things to do, so I hadn't even had the advantage of her
waiting for her car to be brought around. I saw the tail end of her car pulling
off down the street, and I wanted to kick something.
Instead, I’d gone back upstairs, gotten my wallet and a pair of
sunglasses, jammed a baseball cap on my head, and then found my other set
of keys. It wasn’t like I only had one car or one set of keys to the penthouse.
I'd have to get all new ones though. I was going to say something to
whoever was on the door today about changing the locks. Brinke wasn’t
going to come and go as she pleased anymore. She'd be lucky if I didn't
throw her shit down in the lobby after what she'd just pulled.
I took an extra five minutes to put in a phone call to a reporter. He
wasn't a friend, exactly, but the band had used him when we needed to
control a story. Like I needed to do about the divorce. He knew how to find
out the kind of information I needed now. I promised him a huge exclusive
without specifically saying what it was, then told him that I wanted the
home address of Leslie Calvin. I figured once he saw who I wanted to talk
to, he'd figure out what my exclusive would be about.
Ten minutes later, he had it for me. I promised I'd call him to schedule
an interview as soon as I was ready to talk.
The drive to Queens seemed to take forever. Tourists clogged the
sidewalks, and construction had various detours up throughout the city.
Thanks to one of those detours and the shitty GPS on my phone, I ended up
taking a wrong turn and somehow, the forty-minute drive ended up taking a
little over an hour. It was fifteen fucking miles from Manhattan to Queens,
and it took an hour. No wonder so many people didn’t bother with cars in
the city. Public transportation made more sense all the time.
“She’s not here,” a soft voice said from behind me as I leaned into the
buzzer and called Leslie’s name.
I looked back over my shoulder to see a small lady smiling at me. She
was Asian, and it was impossible to tell how old she was. She could've been
in her twenties or in her forties.
“I’m sorry?”
“Leslie. She’s gone. Left maybe twenty minutes ago. I can let her know
you came by, Mr…?”
“That’s alright.” I nodded at her and looked back out over the minuscule
yard. No way in hell was I leaving just to make the drive back here in a few
hours. Hell, by the time I got home, I'd have to turn around and come back.
The woman studied me a few more seconds, and then nodded,
disappearing around the side of the building. I dropped down to sit on the
stoop, bracing my elbows on my knees. The sun was beating down, hot on
my head and my stomach grumbled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten
since…hell, had it been breakfast yesterday? No. Lunch. We’d had lunch.
An hour and a half passed before Leslie came back. I was pretty sure
she would've completely ignored me if her purse hadn't spilled, giving me
the chance to help her pick it up before she realized who I was. Her entire
body had been stiff when she'd invited me up, making it clear that she was
doing it to protect my privacy from prying eyes rather than any desire to be
alone with me.
She barely even looked at me during the walk up, or even after I
apologized. I needed her to look at me.
 “Why do you keep turning away from me?” I whispered against her
hair. Look at me, talk to me…There were a hundred other things I wanted to
say, but for now, I’d be happy if she would just look at me. Happier still if
she would let me touch her without tensing.
As I turned her, I stared into her damp eyes as she lifted her hands to my
chest.
Shit.
I’d damaged something precious. Something I hadn’t even realized I
possessed until it was too late. My whole life, the only person to ever mean
that much to me was Carter. She was still number one, and always would
be, but I hadn't realized just how much Leslie meant until I watched her
leave.
I knew the smart thing to do would be to let her go, to keep this distance
between us. Let her finish my case and then walk away without looking
back.
But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
Cupping her face, I pulled her against me and brushed my mouth across
hers in a mere shadow of the kiss I wanted to give her. She shivered and I
tangled my hands in her hair, let the curls twist around my wrists.
It was stupid, losing myself in her again, but when I touched her, I
didn’t have to worry about all the ugliness and the worry and the fear. She
took me away from all that.
Leslie moaned against my mouth and I swallowed the sound down as I
slid my tongue past the barrier of her lips. Her taste was the most addictive
thing. Heady and potent, it made my heart race and hardened my dick to
pure steel.
Boosting her up on the counter, I shoved her skirt up, then caught her
panties and dragged them down her thighs.
Once I had them dealt with, I practically tore her shirt away, leaving her
in her bra and short, flippy skirt. The bra took seconds to get off, and then I
pulled her down off the counter and turned her around. I cupped her breasts
in my hands and she arched her back with a moan. I rocked my hips against
her, already desperate to be inside.
“Condoms?” My voice was rough as I rolled her nipples between my
fingers and thumbs.
She shivered and gestured to her purse. I caught it by the strap and
dragged it over. She’d pretty much dumped it upside down out on the
sidewalk, and I hadn’t seen a single rubber, but then she reached inside and
pulled out the sleek purple pouch I’d picked up. Too impatient to wait, I
grabbed it from her and all but ripped the zipper off in my haste to open it.
“Hey…” She wiggled, trying to turn and grab it back.
I rolled my eyes when I saw the contents. “Believe it or not, Leslie, I’m
not worried about seeing a couple of tampons. I know what they are and
what they do.”
The important thing was what else the pouch held. A strip of four
condoms.
I pulled the entire strip out and ripped one off, putting it between my
teeth as I yanked my jeans open. One of these days, I wanted to take things
slow with her, see how often I could take her to the edge, make her beg and
sob with need.
This wasn't the time.
“Lift your skirt up and bend over,” I ordered.
She did as I said, leaning her elbows on the counter so that her hardened
nipples brushed against the countertop. The sight of that perfect ass had my
usually steady hands shaking ever so slightly. Once I had the rubber on, I
smoothed my hand over the curve of her ass. She raised herself up on her
toes, and I saw her eyes on me, staring with a burning, desperate hunger.
I brought my hand down on her firm ass, still staring at her as the sound
of flesh against flesh echoed in the kitchen.
She moaned and whispered, “Yes.”
I did it again. Harder. This time, she cried out, but there was no pain in
that sound. The skin I'd struck was already turning pink.
Cock throbbing, I rested the head of my dick against her waiting cunt
before I spanked her again. She bucked under my hand and I swore as she
took the first couple inches of me inside.
“Be still or I’ll stop,” I warned her through gritted teeth.
The hunger was brutal and sharp, tearing at my guts as I slowly fed her
my cock, alternating thrusts with sharp blows to those deliciously hard
muscles. Her ass blushed bright red, and she tightened around me until it
was a struggle just to finish sliding inside.
Leslie cried out my name when I stopped spanking her and worked on
fucking. I drove into her again and again, and she brought one hand back to
clutch at my thigh, nails digging in. Wrapping a hand in her hair, I pulled
her up. Her spine arched and she cried out as I slid my free hand up her
torso to palm one heavy breast. A nipple hard and tight as a little stone
stabbed into my palm, and I twisted it lightly. She whimpered and I almost
came right then.
I wanted to hear her make that sound again. Whimpers and moans.
Screams and sobs. I wanted it all, wanted it so badly that it almost hurt.
I bit down on her neck, teeth and tongue worrying at the skin until I left
a mark. I was driving in hard enough now to raise her onto her toes with
each thrust and I could feel her muscles quivering. She was so close.
I scraped my teeth along the shell of her ear and whispered, “Touch
yourself. Come for me, beautiful.”
She dropped her hand and I felt her entire body jerk a moment later. I
tightened my grip in her hair as she began to come, the orgasm making her
body clench around me.
“Fuck,” I ground out as I squeezed my eyes closed. She was so tight. I
couldn't hold back anymore and I followed her over the edge.

Her room was dark, and the bed smelled like her skin. If I closed my eyes
and tried not to think, I could pretend, for a few minutes at least, that
nothing was wrong.
It didn’t last very long though, and the thought of pretending when I
didn’t know what was happening with Carter twisted my gut.
“Are you hungry?” Leslie asked softly.
I didn't answer. She twisted around in my arms and reached up,
touching my cheek.
“It’s not a hard question,” she said.
“It’s harder than you think. I haven’t eaten since yesterday, but the
thought of eating…” I grimaced and shook my head.
“You should eat. You probably know that.”
“Yeah.” But instead of getting up, or asking her what she wanted, I
reached out blindly and picked up the next to last condom. I opened it,
pulled it on, then rolled her onto her back and mounted her. She was still
wet, her body ready for me.
“This first.”
“This anytime.” Leslie stared up at me as I slid into her, her mouth
parting on a moan.
 Unlike the last two times – the first in the kitchen and then again in here
– I didn't allow my need for her to drive me. I took her slow, each stroke
deep and languid. Her hips rose to meet mine, matching my pace so well
that it felt like we were dancing. When she finally came, I felt like a fucking
hero and whispered her name when her climax triggered my own.
And everything was good and right because she was in my arms.
Until I started thinking again and I knew things weren't all right. Not at
all.
Chapter Six
Leslie
T hunder rumbled overhead and rain started pounding against the window.
A flash of lightning bright enough to illuminate my entire bedroom
followed a crack of thunder so loud, it seemed the window rattled in the
casement.
But that wasn't what woke me.
No, I was being woken by something much, much more pleasant.
Warm hands held my hips and a clever mouth moved between my
thighs. I was already hovering on that sweet edge, about to tumble headlong
into oblivion by the time I realized this wasn’t some, hot, wicked dream.
It was dark out, and I had no idea what time it was, but I really didn't
care. Paxton swirled his tongue around my clitoris as I pushed my hands
into his hair, arching up against him. He smoothed a hand down my thigh,
along the taut muscle of my calf before gripping my ankle and pushing
upward, opening me more completely to his ministrations.
“Leslie,” he murmured against me, his voice ragged.
While a storm raged outside, another one raged in my room, one of need
and passion and desperation. It was so easy to give over to the pleasure he
gave. He scraped his teeth against my clit, tugged until I came. I shuddered
against his mouth as he coaxed a full, long climax from me.
What felt like hours later, I moaned out his name as he began to kiss his
way up my body. When he covered my mouth with his, I wrapped my arms
around him, clinging to him. His cock was throbbing, full and thick, when it
brushed against me. I felt bruised from him already, but I spread my legs
further to allow him to slip inside.
Paxton caught my hands and drew them over my head as he entered me
with one fluid thrust. In the darkness of the room, I could just barely make
out the glitter of his eyes, but the desire was still enough to make me shiver.
“Look at me, Leslie.”
He shifted my wrists to one hand and covered my throat with the other.
With his thumb under my chin, he guided my face up.
 “Look at me,” he demanded again. “I want to see you. I want to see you
break for me, come apart for me.”
As though I could look anywhere else but him.
There was something desperate to his lovemaking, a wild tension in his
body as I clung to his shoulders. Sweat beaded on our bodies as he drove
into me, harder and harder still, until I knew I would be bruised and sore
tomorrow. I didn't care though. All I cared about was the feel of him inside,
the pleasure he sent through me with every stroke. Him. Only him.
Just as I started to come, he let go of my wrists and shoved up, his fist
slamming into the mattress next to my torso. The hand on my throat
tightened ever so slightly as a shudder wracked to his body, and I gasped.
His hips pressed against mine one last time, driving him deeper, pressing
the base of his cock hard against my clit. A low, harsh noise left his throat,
and I felt his dick jerk as he came.
I was already slipping back into slumber when he pulled away. I started
to wake, and he stroked his hand down my spine, murmuring to me to stay.
The bed dipped and he left. I heard his steps, then the toilet flushing, water
running. I didn't remember him coming back to bed, but some time later, I
wiggled around, seeking his warmth and his arms came around me. They
tightened, and I fell asleep again.

The next thing I knew, something was croaking.

Something was…croaking?
Eyes still bleary with sleep, I pushed up onto my elbows to see Paxton
doing the same. For about two seconds, I couldn’t remember why he was
here.
He shot me a squinty-eyed look. “Sorry. My phone.”
“Why is it croaking?”
“Carter…” His mouth spasmed. “She thinks it’s funny.”
My body ached, but he was more important. I sat up and stroked a hand
down his back while he answered the phone mid-croak. Under my touch,
his spine stiffened, and I knew something was wrong. Leaning my head on
his shoulder, I listened to his conversation as best I could without being too
obvious. I could only hope that my presence was a comfort and not a
distraction.
 “Yeah, I know she’s not in school, Ms. Mayhue…I’m sorry…I know, I
know…she…her mother decided to…well, she’s with her mom.”
He paused as the woman on the other end of the line spoke again.
“I know she needs to stay up with her attendance if she wants to move
on with the rest of her class in the fall. I’m working with her mom, believe
me.”
From the angle I was sitting, I couldn’t see his face, but I watched as his
free hand balled up into a tight fist.
I could hear snatches of her end of the conversation. “…classes…try to
be understanding…but she must…”
“I will. I’ll update you as soon as I’m able.”
A moment later, he lowered the phone and tossed it down. When he
stood, I stayed where I was, watching in silence as he paced. After about a
minute, he stopped to look at me.
“That was Carter’s school.”
I'd already figured that out on my own. It was pretty clear that things
weren’t okay, so I didn’t bother with that asinine question. I went straight to
the heart of the matter. “What’s going on?”
“She’s not there,” he snapped. Immediately, he swore and shook his
head. “Fuck. I’m sorry. Carter has to be in summer school. If she misses
more than a couple of days, she’s going to have to repeat kindergarten, and
it'll devastate her.”
Dragging the top sheet with me, I got up and went to him. “Why don’t
you tell me what’s going on?”
His eyes met mine, and I knew I wasn’t imagining things when the
chaos in his eyes eased. He tugged me closer, tucking me against his chest
and resting his chin on my head.
“She’s in summer school because she missed a lot of school during the
regular year. She ended up in the hospital twice. Once was for three days,
and we had to keep her home a couple days after that. It was…shit. We
found out she had diabetes, and it took a while to make sure Carter
understood what was going on, then things weren’t going well with the
insulin. Then we finally got her leveled out and bam –”
The savage fury in his voice had me squeezing my eyes closed even
though I knew it wasn't directed at me. I had a bad feeling that I knew what
he was going to say next.
 “Brinke apparently couldn’t get the idea of no sugar through her
fucking skull, and gave Carter some candy. Now if she wants to start first
grade with the rest of her class, she has to do summer school, and what in
the hell is Brinke doing?”
He eased away from me and started to pace once more. I moved back to
the bed and sat down, needing a few minutes to think. My head spun as he
continued to walk back and forth.
Son of a bitch. Why hadn’t I thought about that before?
They’d mentioned medicine, a glucose meter. Childhood diabetes.
Except now I knew more. Now, I knew Brinke had caused her own
daughter to be hospitalized by disregarding Carter's medical needs.
“Hey…can we….” Paxton looked over his shoulder at me. “This is kind
of interfering with her education. Can't that be used to force Brinke into
telling me where Carter is? Truancy is a big deal, right?”
“No, that won't do it.” Absently, I shook my head and got back up from
the bed, leaving the sheet there as well. I needed to get to the office. Needed
to start researching, make a few calls. Getting my robe from the back of the
door, I belted it around my waist. And coffee. Damn, did I need coffee.
Paxton caught my arm. “Leslie –”
Stopping, I looked up at him. Impulsively, I laid a hand on his cheek
and gave him a soft smile.
“One day of missing school won’t cut it, especially summer school. If it
was the regular school year and she missed a few days, it'd be different. It’s
possible that with the attendance issues last year, we could push it after
she’d missed several days, but you don’t want to wait that long.” I gave him
a serious look. “I won’t wait that long, and Carter can’t.”
Mouth flattening out into a hard line, Paxton started to speak, but I
pressed my finger to his lips.
“That doesn’t mean we’re back to square one. You said that Carter’s
been hospitalized. How many times?”
“Twice.”
“Both because of the diabetes, right?”
“Yeah.” He studied me, eyebrows furrowing. “Where are you going
with this?”
“Both times were in the past year?”
“The past nine months, actually. Leslie –”
 I held up a hand and turned away, pacing for a minute as my thoughts
settled. That would do it.
It was officially time to get my hands off, and get my ass moving.
“And at least once was because Brinke gave her candy?” I asked,
making sure I had my facts straight.
“Yes.” Paxton folded his arms across his chest. “What are you
thinking?”
“If Brinke isn’t responsible regarding Carter’s medical care, especially
considering that Carter has a medical condition that requires close
monitoring, and there is a history of non-compliance with the care that’s
been ordered by a doctor, then I can go before a judge and claim medical
neglect.”
I watched hope flash across his eyes.
“And that means…?”
“If I can get a judge to understand that Brinke is a danger to Carter, then
I can push for you to be granted full custody now.” I was kicking myself for
not having figured it out before. “You and Alex both said that Brinke left
the glucose monitor with Alex when she left the restaurant, and she has a
history of ignoring Carter’s medical condition. That's medical neglect. I
have to get to work.”
I started for the closet.
Paxton caught my arm and tugged me back against him. His blue eyes
were searing in their intensity as he stared at me. “This might work?”
“This most likely will work. I can’t make promises, but no judge in their
right mind is going to see the logic of having a minor with a woman who
wantonly ignores her child’s health needs.”
His entire body sagged with relief. “Thank you.”
I pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Don’t thank me yet.”
Chapter Seven
Leslie
I t felt good to have something to sink my teeth into.
Something substantial. Something I could fight. I hated custodial
kidnappings because they were so hard to deal with when it came to judges
and the cops. It was even worse when one of the parents was either
dangerous or presented a clear danger, but there wasn't any proof.
I’d had a bad feeling about Brinke Maynard almost from the first time I
met her. Of course, I couldn't deny that part of that was because of my
attraction to Paxton. But then I'd seen how she treated her daughter, after
hearing all the crap she’d pulled…yeah. Even if I had just met her on the
street or bumped into her somewhere along the way, I doubted I would've
liked her. She put herself before anything and everything. That much was
obvious.
She probably did love her daughter. I could believe that, but love or not,
she didn’t have Carter’s best interests in mind. She didn’t even have her
own best interests in mind. Doing drugs, partying until she drank or coked
herself right into unconsciousness. She had no regard for her own physical
health, so how could she be expected to be in charge of her daughter's
health.
No, I couldn’t be unbiased in this, but whether I had feelings for Paxton
or not, I knew I could argue this case and argue it well. Brinke was a danger
to herself and her daughter, that was a fact, no matter how I felt about
Paxton.
I wouldn’t have taken Brinke’s case for any amount of money. I knew a
losing battle when I saw one.
Now that I had the medical neglect case to argue, everything had
become a lot simpler. Thanks to a friend at the courthouse, I even had a
good chance of getting before the most reasonable judge for this particular
case. In the eyes of the court, justice was supposed to be blind, but that's
pretty much bullshit. Personal prejudices came into play more often than
they were supposed to. The good lawyers were the ones who were wise
enough to realize where certain biases were and compensate, deal with
them, acknowledge them.
Knowing judges was just as important as knowing the ins and outs of
the legal system.
Judge Randall was in fbamily court for one reason, it’s where she felt
she could do the best for the most kids. Unlike a lot of judges, she didn't
automatically give the mothers the benefit of the doubt. She'd understand
what was going on with Carter, and she wouldn’t be snowed by any lines
Brinke tried to feed her.
There was a knock on the door, and I looked up to see Agnes standing
there. She was acting as my administrative assistant while Haley dealt with
the recent death of her mother.
“I've got those briefs typed out for you, Miss Calvin. Just need you to
sign them, and I'll arrange for them to be delivered.”
I motioned for her to come in. “Thank you so much for coming in while
Haley takes some time off.”
She smiled at me. “I remember what it was like when I lost my mother.
Trust me, it's no problem.”
“Will you be able to stay for the next few weeks?” I didn't want to guilt
her into staying but at the same time, I really didn't want to hire a temp who
knew nothing about my office either. Agnes had been my previous assistant
and had semi-retired when Haley had come along full-time.
She laughed and nodded. “I appreciate you not trying to give me the
puppy dog look. But yes, I'm going to stay. I won't leave you to fend for
yourself.”
I was hard-pressed not to get up from the chair and throw my arms
around her. I did, however, give her a grateful smile. “Once I get this settled
with the Gorham case, we'll go out to lunch. My treat. Wherever you want
to go.”
Arching her eyebrows, Agnes said, “Wherever?”
“Within reason,” I clarified with a stern look. “I’m not taking you for
tea at the Waldorf or something crazy like that.”
She rolled her eyes. “Like I’d waste a good lunch on that place. Give
me a good burger any day.” After giving me a wink, she pushed a pen into
my hands and waved at the briefs.
A few minutes later, she was out of the office, and I heard her on the
phone, making a request for a courier.
 Batch one out of the way.
Now for batch two.

Hours ticked away.

It was easy to get lost in the endless flow of information, and when
Agnes knocked again, I realized that the angle of the sun had changed
enough that my office had gotten dim.
Frowning, I switched on the desk lamp. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t realize how
late it had gotten.”
“You were absorbed.” She nodded at the computer. “I went ahead and
downloaded the briefs you’d uploaded to your cloud drive and cleaned them
up, printed them off. They're on my desk, waiting for your signature.”
“Thank you.” I heaved out a sigh. “You’re a miracle, you know that?”
“That’s what all the lawyers say.” She had a fat purse hanging over one
shoulder, her sweater draped over a plump arm. “If you don’t think you’ll
be here much longer, Miss Calvin, I’m going to head out.”
I looked at my desk and the document I was still drafting. A last ditch
effort in case my other motions got shot down.
“Did you hear anything back from the court? Are we on for tomorrow?”
I demanded. How could I have forgotten?
“Yes.” With a calming smile, she came over and held out a slip of paper.
“Here. You’re down for nine-twenty with Judge Randall. I left another note
on top of the papers on my desk.”
Relief crashed into me as I took the note with a trembling hand. “Thank
you, Agnes. You don't know how much that means to me.”
“You’re stressing out an awful lot over this one, Miss Calvin.”
“It’s…” I struggled to smile and shrug it off. “The mom's something of
a mess. The girl got to me.”
“I can tell.” She came around the desk and rested a hand on my
shoulder. “But do yourself – and the dad – a favor. Get it under control
before tomorrow. The judge won’t be impressed if you go in hot and
bothered. Judge Randall is a good one, but she won't like to see you get
emotionally involved.”
“I know. Thank you.”
I gripped the note long after she left, trying to imprint her words on my
brain. Although really, it was almost laughable.
 Emotionally involved?
I was so beyond involved now it was almost pathetic.
But Agnes was right. She’d practically taken me under her wing when I
bought this place – and inherited her with it. I learned a lot from her. She'd
sniffed when I asked her to stay on as an administrative assistant and had
told me, I was a secretary long before that phrase ever existed, but if that’s
what you want to call me, so be it.
She knew almost all of the judges in town, and quite a few of the
lawyers. She'd probably forgotten more about law than some lawyers would
ever know.
And she was right this time as much as she'd ever been before. I needed
to calm down and focus, get my head in order so I looked like the
professional I was when I stood in front of Randall tomorrow. If I let on that
I’d gotten emotionally involved – or worse, personally attached – not only
would the judge not be impressed, it would snowball from there.
I had to detach myself from the situation and do my job.
But, if Carter ended up sick or hurt because of Brinke’s recklessness…
Tightening my hand on the pen I held, I set my jaw and forced the
thought into a dark little corner of my mind. If that happened, then there
would be hell to pay. One of my best friends now worked for the district
attorney’s office, and I’d do everything I could, call in every favor I had, to
make sure Brinke couldn’t do Carter any more harm.
“Focus,” I murmured to myself one more time, looking back over the
brief.
Once I checked it again, I’d go home. I could edit it there, and if I was
lucky, I wouldn’t need it at all.

Two hours later, I had curry cooking on the stove and my heart was aching.
I hadn’t heard from Paxton all day. I’d sent him two texts and an email,
updating him on my progress, but he hadn’t responded even once. He’d left
the house with me, but I hadn't asked where he was going.
I glanced at the door, thinking of how he’d pressed me up against it
right before we’d gone outside, kissing me as though he wanted to devour
me. Then we’d gone outside, and he’d murmured goodbye before moving
away. A car had glided up to the curb, and he’d disappeared inside. That
had been it.
 No calls.
No emails.
No texts.
No nothing.
I really hoped that meant he'd found Carter and that he'd been too busy
with her all day to remember to talk to me.
Even if I'd been working my ass off and worrying about her.
“Quit sulking. The man is going through hell right now.” I made myself
say it out loud, as if hearing it would make more of an impact.
Immediately, I began to feel guilty and focused on the spicy chicken
concoction I had going on the stove. Hoping to soothe my mind, I poured a
glass of my favorite red wine. As I lifted it to my lips, there was a knock.
It startled me.
People couldn’t get in to knock unless somebody in the building opened
for them, which meant I would've gotten a head's up that I had a visitor.
Unless it was a neighbor – Li?
Putting the wine down, I hurried over and looked through the small
peephole. Heart fluttering, I flung it open as quickly as I could. The stiff
look on Paxton’s face kept me from throwing myself at him.
And it, unfortunately, answered my question about whether or not he'd
found Carter already.
“Hi,” I said, breathless.
He shifted on his feet, looking nervous and out of place. With his ball
cap pulled low and the same mirrored shades on his face, he glanced back
over his shoulder before offering a crooked smile.
“Your neighbor…Li? She let me in. She was out front with her flowers
again.”
“She lives out there, I think.” Stepping aside, I gestured for him to come
in.
He did, brushing against me and sending a rush of heat through me. I
sucked in my breath, and he turned his head, staring at me. Slowly, he lifted
a hand and cradled my cheek.
“Am I interrupting?” he asked, voice rough.
“No. I was just making something to eat, then I was going to finish
working on some things for tomorrow. You got my message about when to
be at the courthouse?”
 He nodded tersely. I shut the door behind us and leaned back against it,
my hands tucked behind me as I stared at him. He stayed close, and after a
minute, he turned and came back to me, tugging me against him.
“I can’t stop thinking, Leslie. My brain…it just won’t shut down.”
Turning my face into his neck, I kissed him. “It'll be okay, Paxton.
You’ll see.”
Chapter Eight
Leslie
I talked him into eating.
I always made too much food. Half of it ended up getting tossed out, but
I got so tired of take-out, and I could only eat so many salads before I
turned into a bunny, so I kept cooking.
It was…nice, sitting down with somebody else across from me. Or it
could have been, had the circumstances been different. Neither of us spoke
about Carter or the hearing before the judge, but we were both all too aware
of it, as well as its importance.
We talked about little things. They might not have seemed important,
but we didn’t know each other, not really, and those minutes, spent around
my small little table for two let us change that.
Sports bored him, unless he was playing. He liked basketball and
baseball, but didn’t care for football, and he hated golf.
I’d been on the girl’s golfing team all throughout high school and
college. Basketball was okay. I loved football, but baseball put me to sleep.
He loved anything that had to do with World War I and II, but history
before that bored him, and he wasn’t much into comedies. I loved comedies
and action flicks. Neither of us could stand chick flicks, so that was a good
thing.
He hated green vegetables.
I couldn’t stand tomatoes.
He didn’t like closed in spaces. Elevators were an exercise in patience
for him.
I didn’t like heights, but I was okay with a view if I was inside.
By the time our plates were empty, some of the tension had faded from
his eyes. And by the time we were done cleaning up – he insisted on
helping – the tension was back.
Once the last dish was taken care of, the last fork put away, I caught his
hands and led him into the living room. It wasn’t a living room exactly
since the kitchen flowed into a dining area that flowed into the living room
area, but I liked it. There were only three true rooms – this wide open space,
my bedroom, and the bathroom. Leading him over to the couch, I nudged
him back onto it and knelt down in front of him.
His eyes went dark, turbulent.
When he started to speak, I pressed my fingers to his mouth.
“No talking right now,” I said. “No thinking. Let me make it all go
away…for a little while at least.”
When I nudged him back against the padded back of the sofa, he went.
When I started to unbutton his shirt, his eyes closed.
When I moved to his jeans, a harsh breath came out of him.
And when I took his cock in my mouth, his hands tangled into my hair,
a shudder running through his body.
His beautiful face twisted into a rictus of pleasure, and I knew it was a
sight I’d carry for a long while. Maybe forever.
Swirling my tongue over the head of his cock, I took him deep,
following the cues of his body as I learned what he liked and what he loved,
what made him groan and what made him shake. I learned the weight of
him, the taste. I listened to the gasps and sighs, the curses, and the way he
breathed my name, like he held it in awe.
When I felt the muscles in his thighs harden, and the vein along the
underside of his cock begin to throb, I pulled back and stroked him until he
came, a heavy white jet of cum splashing up on his muscled belly.
One hand loosened in my hair enough to stroke, and I rested my face
against his thigh, my eyes closing.
This man was coming to mean way too much.
I couldn’t let him down – couldn’t let Carter down.

“Here.”
I’d curled up with a glass of wine after washing up and putting on a
nightshirt. Paxton had disappeared into the bathroom shortly after I
emerged. Now, as he crouched in front of me, I looked down at the piece of
paper he held out.
Puzzled, I put my wine down and reached for it. As soon as I opened it,
I realized what it was and my eyes widened. “You must have rushed it.”
It was a series of blood tests. The standard panel one might want to do if
they wanted to make sure their partner was clean…or if they wanted to let a
new partner know they were clean.
 He laid his hands on my knees. “I’ve got a friend, a doctor. He’s
discreet. He’s the one who handled things after I realized Brinke wasn’t…”
He trailed off, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “Anyway, I figured you’d feel
better the sooner you knew.”
“Thank you.” Folding the piece of paper, I laid it on the table and leaned
forward, placing a kiss on his lips. “You didn't have to do it while all this
other stuff is going on.”
He gave me a sultry smile. “Maybe I was hoping it could lead to
more...distraction.” He brushed his thumb across my bottom lip, then leaned
forward for another kiss.
This one wasn't soft. It was strong, demanding. And when his tongue
swept into my mouth, I groaned. I'd always enjoyed sex, craved the rush
and release. But I'd never felt anything like I felt for him. This need to be
close to him.
He hadn’t bothered putting his shirt back on after he’d cleaned up, and
when he tugged me down onto his lap, the only barrier between the two of
us was the shirt I’d pulled on and the jeans he was still wearing. My nipples
were already throbbing, hard little bullet points. Squirming and wiggling as
I tried to get closer, I curled my arms around his neck.
He slipped his hands between us and began to work at the buttons of my
nightshirt. It was styled like a man’s dress shirt, but a lot softer and with
fewer buttons, so it took no time for him to get it open, and then there was
nothing between his chest and mine. The rough material of his jeans
abraded my thighs, but that was a pleasure in itself, and I rubbed against
him as he scraped his teeth down my neck.
“You’re driving me mad,” Paxton muttered, his hands grabbing my ass
and holding me still.
When I tried to move again, he swore and pushed his fingers between
my legs. He plunged two fingers into my cunt and twisted them, pressing
right against the bundled nerves deep in my pussy. I came, hard and fast,
caught off guard by the suddenness of it.
While I was still shaking from the force of my orgasm, he flipped me
over his lap and ran his hand along my ass. I shuddered when his fingers
slipped between my cheeks, then I tensed as he pressed his thumb against
the tightly puckered hole of my anus.
“Should I, Leslie?”
 I shivered a little, and in answer, pressed down. My body resisted him.
He hadn’t prepared me, and it had been a while since I’d had anal sex with
a man.
I couldn’t think of anybody I’d prefer to end that dry spell with than
Paxton.
“I…” I panted as he rotated his thumb, pulled it out, and slowly started
all over again. “I’ve got lubricant. If you want.”
He stilled, twisted me around so we were face-to-face again.
“We're out of condoms,” he said with an almost smug smile.
His eyes burned as I raised myself and caught his lower lip between my
teeth. “We don’t need them. You’re clean. I’m clean.”

Paxton was the most intense lover I’d ever had.

I’d had rougher.
I’d been with men who'd wanted me to call them master, and I’d
laughed and moved on.
I’d been with men who'd taken all the control and I’d been happy
enough with it. For a night.
But I’d never been with any man who left me so completely
overwhelmed.
On my knees in the middle of my bed, I struggled not to move as
Paxton slowly and thoroughly invaded me. One hand gripped my hip while
the other tangled in my hair to hold me in place. I whimpered, helpless
against the onslaught of sensation as he continued to work his cock inside
my ass.
He hadn’t even filled me half-way and I was already pushed to my limit.
He was bigger than any other guy I'd let do this, and I couldn't take any
more. I felt like he was going to split me in two.
“Touch your clit,” he ordered. “Let me in.”
I closed my eyes and brought my shaking fingers between my legs. I bit
my bottom lip as I began to make small circles, let myself feel the pleasure
ripple through me, let it take over the pain, contain it, change it.
“Fuck your pussy, Leslie. Push those fingers inside,” he told me, his
voice dark and dirty.
I did, unable to do anything other than what he commanded. My fingers
slid inside, moved through the slick, wet heat. I was so tight, and I could
feel the pressure of his cock.
“That’s it…”
That voice of his, low and raw and hot. I'd never imagined that there
was anything sexier sounding than him singing. This, however, was so
much more.
He kept up an unending stream of words, some dark and wicked, others
light and teasing, and by the time I realized I’d taken him fully, it was
already done and I didn’t have to think about how I couldn’t handle any
more. I was more full than I'd ever been, my body humming.
“Please tell me I can move, baby.” His voice was strained.
“You can. Please, just do it.” I sucked in a shaky breath, my hands
opening and closing on the sheets as I struggled to process everything I was
feeling.
He moved slowly at first, and I arched my spine, whimpering as
pleasure sliced through me, bright and hot, laced with the kind of pain that a
part of me craved. He kept his hand braced on my hip, holding me steady.
Hungry grunts fell from his lips, his body taut as a bowstring, while I
shivered under each thrust, my hands twisted and tearing at the sheets.
“It’s not…Paxton…please!” I didn’t even know what I was asking for,
begging for. I just knew it wasn’t enough, even as it was everything.
I bit my lip instinctively as things I couldn’t say tried to spill out of me.
“Leslie,” he rasped.
His hips slammed against mine harder now, so hard it hurt, but I'd
reached the point where every sensation just added to the intensity, and I
knew I was going to come hard. Then I was doing just that, my muscles
clamping down on him so hard that he let out a strangled curse even as he
came with me. Even through my pleasure, I could feel it, his naked cock
jerking inside my ass, the hot splash of his semen, the slick slide of skin
against skin.
He curled over me, and I froze, unable to move, unable to breathe. Then
he pulled out and I collapsed, face down onto the bed, both throbbing and
aching. He pulled me next to him, against his side, his face in my hair.
I didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to move. It felt like if I did, I'd
shatter whatever this was between us.
If Paxton did it though…
“Shower,” he said a few moments later. “Come with me?”
 If my bathroom seemed small for me, it was positively cramped with
him in there.
Not that Paxton minded.
In the shower stall, on his knees, with his mouth pressed to my cunt, he
didn’t seem to mind much of anything. The hot water wrapped around us,
the air foggy and thick, turning everything into a misty, hot haze.
I climaxed against his mouth for a second time, my fingers tightening in
his hair. Then he was standing up, pushing me back against the wall. He
hooked one leg over his arm and drove into me.
My eyelids fluttered as he filled me over and over, rough thrusts that
made unfamiliar mewling sounds fall from my lips.
“I can’t get enough of you,” Paxton said.
“Good.” I yanked his mouth to mine and kissed him, desperate for all I
could get.
I clamped down around him and whimpered, intoxicated by the feel of
his naked cock inside me. I’d taken my time soaping him up, then rinsing
him off. I would have taken him in my mouth again if he hadn’t distracted
me, first with his hands, then with his mouth.
Some other time…
Blue eyes held mine as he moved inside me with the sort of sure, steady
strokes that he knew would make me come again. As I raced toward my
climax, I had to fight the urge not to say the things that were becoming
more and more obvious.
I needed him more than I'd ever needed anybody.
He pulled back slowly, his teeth catching my lower lip and letting it go
with one last, slow tug.
“I can’t get…enough,” he growled, slowing his thrusts, timing each one
to a rhythm only he could hear.
By the fourth stroke, I was coming – again.
By the seventh, he was too.
By the tenth, I could have sworn I was about ready to black out. And if I
collapsed into a loose puddle, and never again opened my eyes, I'd go
happily, with no complaints.
Chapter Nine
Paxton
Standing in a courtroom was a new experience for me.
Jaded as I was, most of the times I’d gotten in trouble with the law, I’d
been able to pay fines or have a lawyer deal with shit before it ever got this
far.
I wasn't the one in trouble, but I wasn't exactly calm.
There I was in a suit that cost more than I used to make in three or four
months, and I hated the damn thing. I was trying not to fidget as the bailiff
called for everybody to rise.
Leslie was a piece of work, dressed in a skirt with a fitted jacket that
pulled off feminine without being too in the face about it. I guessed it was
what women called a power suit. The red shoes matched the bit of lace
visible in the vee of the jacket and her bag. Sort of made me glad I’d gone
with a red tie. We matched. Two black suits. My red tie and her red
accessories. We actually matched in a lot of ways, and it was a bitch
because I only knew her on account of a hateful divorce.
As I stood there, I kept reminding myself of everything Leslie had told
me about the judge handling our cases.
She’s fair, but she’s tough. I’ll be honest, she’s the best chance we have,
but she can be an ogre, so I want you to be prepared.
Wear a suit.
Don’t talk unless she asks you a question.
Don’t fidget in front of her.
Make sure you look her in the eye when she’s talking to you.
Be honest with her, I swear the woman can smell lies.
If I had to tell the truth, the moment she came through the door, she
scared me to death, and not just because this woman would decide what
happened with Carter. At least for the time being. The judge just had this air
about her that scared the shit out of me.
I was already on my feet before the bailiff said, “All rise…”
I barely heard the next few minutes, responding only because Leslie
prompted me. Thankfully, she had the hard part, because I would have
looked like a drooling idiot if I'd had to say much of anything those first
few minutes.
By the time it came for me to actually say anything, my brain kicked on.
“Ms. Calvin, you say here that the minor has been with her mother since
Saturday?” Randall looked up at me, a brow arched. Her blonde hair was
going gray and cut short, spiking up at the top.
She reminded me of an aging hawk, one who might not be as fast as
some of the others, but was far more cunning and that made her even more
deadly.
“That's what her mother claims, Your Honor.” I clasped my hands
behind my back to keep from fidgeting. Leslie had warned me about that,
and part of me wished she hadn’t because I never was much for it – pacing,
yeah, but even I knew I couldn’t do that in a courtroom. But now I wanted
nothing more than to drum my hands, twiddle my thumbs…something.
“So if Mrs. Maynard is such a danger to the minor child, then why
weren’t you in front of me yesterday? For that matter, why was the child
even allowed to go with the mother?” She pointed at me, those shrewd eyes
narrowing. “You answer.”
I gave a nod and hoped like hell I could manage to put together a
competent sentence. “Judge Randall, I want my daughter to spend time with
her mother, as much as possible. But I want her safe and cared for as well,
that’s why her nanny was with her.”
“The nanny.” Judge Randall’s eyes narrowed and she tapped her pen
against the brief in front of her twice, then looked back at the pages in front
of her again. “Tell me about the nanny.”
“What about the nanny?” Alex? What in the hell was I supposed to say?
She was Carter’s nanny.
“You heard me. I want to know about the nanny.”
“She’s been with us since Carter was a baby. To be honest, ma’am, she’s
a life saver. Brinke…” My brain went blank while my hands got sweaty.
Next to me, I could all but feel Leslie thinking, Don’t panic…don’t
panic.
Too bad. I was panicking. I opened my mouth and instead of saying
anything about Alex, I just started to ramble. “My wife loves our daughter,
Your Honor. I know that. But she can’t take care of herself, much less a
child. She’s been arrested numerous times for drunk driving and several
times after being pulled over, she was found to be in possession of
controlled substances.” A red haze came over my eyes and I paused to take
a breath.
The judge cocked an eyebrow.
“The last time she was pulled over, Carter was in the car. She lost her
license that time and almost went to jail. Alex is a stable figure in Carter’s
life. She understands Carter’s disease, makes sure Carter has a healthy diet,
and she’s always there for her when we’re on tour.”
Judge Randall pursed her lips. “So, Mr. Gorham, tell me. Why aren’t
you the stable influence?”
“I…” I blinked. The urge to tell her to shove it up her ass leaped to the
tip of my tongue, but I bit it back.
Leslie laid a hand on my arm and spoke, her voice firm. “Your Honor,
that’s hardly fair. My client is a wonderful father and spends a great deal of
time with his daughter. But he does have a demanding career. Having a
nanny is his way of making sure she has the support and care she needs
when he can’t be there.”
“Perhaps.” Judge Randall did her two taps with the pen again, her
expression saying that she was thinking. “Why hasn’t the mother been
given additional instructions regarding the child’s diabetes? You seem to
have a good handle on it. Why haven’t you talked to her more about it?”
“I’ve talked with her until I’m blue in the face,” I said, unable to keep
the frustration out of my voice. “Have you ever felt like you were talking to
a brick wall? That’s like talking to Brinke. She doesn’t listen. She put
Carter in the hospital last fall because she thought giving Carter candy
would make up for missing our daughter’s Halloween party. I had to go to a
meeting in LA and even with Alex in the house, Brinke just snuck it to her,
saying it was their little secret. By the time Carter was throwing up, she was
in bad shape. You can’t watch a grown woman twenty-four hours a day.”
“No. You can’t,” the judge said softly, nodding.
She asked a few more questions, who took Carter to the doctor and who
helped her with school work – the answers were always me and/or Alex.
Who took her shopping for clothes? Me and/or Alex. If I was in town, I did
all of that. Alex came too, unless it was her day off.
We were lucky that Alex loved Carter as much as she did.
“Are you and Alex involved, Mr. Gorham?”
“No.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “I swear, she’s like a kid sister, Judge.
She’s there to take care of my little girl. That’s all.”
 A few more questions – if I had to choose between my career and my
child, which would it be? Carter, absolutely. And my band knew it. Did I
ever engage in parties or trysts while my child was in residence?
Resisting the urge to point out that my wife might not care about Carter
being exposed to things like that, I did, I simply shook my head.
“How do you discipline your daughter?”
“She doesn’t need much discipline, honestly. She’s a good girl. Time-
out or taking away her video games usually does it.” I was getting
impatient. How much longer was this going to take? Could she just see that
I was best for my daughter?
“Ever lifted your hand to her?”
I set my jaw and tried not to look insulted. “No.”
She studied me for a long moment, then nodded her head. “Very well.”
She gathered everything up and tucked the numerous pages inside a
folder, then handed it to somebody off at her side. “I’ll review all the
relevant data and make my decision by tomorrow morning.”
“Tomor –”
Leslie touched my arm and smiled at the judge. “Thank you, Judge
Randall.”

“Tomorrow.” Disgusted, I turned away from Leslie’s window and started to

pace. “I thought you said she was our best bet.”
Leslie lifted one shoulder and offered me what I assumed was supposed
to be an encouraging smile. “She is. Nothing moves at super-speed in this
world, Paxton. Sometimes, judges don’t make decisions for weeks.
Tomorrow is pretty fast for the legal world. It’s because a child is involved
that we’re getting anything done so quickly.”
“And what if Carter ends up in the hospital today?”
Leslie had no response.
After a moment, she rose and came to me. She took my hand and I let
her, although I got no comfort or anything else from that gentle touch. “I
know you’re frustrated –”
“I’m not frustrated,” I said brusquely.
I tugged my hand away and went back to the window. Outside, the
street was busy. My eyes landed on a little girl walking with her mother.
They looked too much alike for them not to be related. The little girl
pointed at something and laughed, the mother grinning down at her. It made
me furious.
Why couldn’t Carter have that? Didn’t my daughter deserve that too?
Safety. A mom who took care of her instead of using her.
That’s all this was, another one of Brinke’s games.
“I’m not frustrated, Leslie. I’m pissed off and fed up. Dammit, I thought
you could help me get Carter back. Get custody. You made it seem simpler
than this.” I turned around, the anger I felt at Brinke boiling out of me and
spilling over.
Right onto Leslie.
Her face was a professional mask. But maybe if I hadn’t spent so much
time around her, on top of her, inside her, I wouldn’t have seen the flicker in
her eyes. I kicked myself not even a second after the final word left my
mouth. Why was I doing this?
“Leslie…”
Shaking her head, she moved behind her desk. I recognized her need to
put a barrier between us. In more ways than one. Dumbass. I kept screwing
up with her. Every time I thought I was done being an idiot, I just went and
did it all over again.
“I’m sorry if I gave you the impression it would happen immediately,
Paxton. That’s just not how it works when it comes to the legal system.
Things move slowly. I'm not giving up on finding Carter, but this is the only
way we're going to get the police involved, and nothing I can do will speed
it up.” She sat down and picked up a pen, scratched out a few notes.
I had a feeling they weren’t anything important. She could have just
written herself a reminder to get more pens and notebooks. She just needed
the distraction.
I'd hurt her. Again. And I knew if I didn’t get out of there, I’d do it
again.
“Look…” I cleared my throat and looked around.
My hands felt big and empty and useless. I felt big and empty and
useless, too. There was nothing more I could do. Everything now rested in
the hands of a judge who had looked at me like I was a bug on a slide. I
hadn't been able to tell anything she was thinking, and while Leslie seemed
optimistic, that wasn’t helping me much.
“I think I’m going to head back to my place. Maybe fate will stop
kicking me in the balls, and Brinke will bring Carter back. She’s not really
big on playing mom all the time anyway. I’m surprised she’s managed to go
more than two days on her own.”
“That’s a good idea. Let me know if that happens.” Leslie gave me
another polite, professional smile.
It pissed me off, just like everything else seemed to do. I wanted to kiss
it off her face, and then kiss her some more.
But I just nodded and left.
There was nothing I could do that wouldn’t mess things up more
anyway.
Chapter Ten
Leslie
T he look on his face right before he walked out the door made me want to
run after him and grab him.
Except part of me still wanted to grab something heavy and throw it at
him. Then, there was a smaller part that wanted to curl up on the couch and
indulge in a good long cry.
The jerk.
As soon as the thought went through my head, I felt bad for it, because
it wasn’t like he didn’t have reasons to be scared, angry, frustrated. I’d be
the same way if it'd been my daughter on the line. And I'd had clients in
similar positions before too. I'd always identified with their pain. I’d been
attacked, though not physically, called every name in the book, and then
seconds later, had somebody crying and asking me what they should do.
And I'd always taken it in stride.
But nobody had ever really hurt me like Paxton just had.
“It’s your own fault,” I muttered, rubbing at my temples. A headache of
massive proportions pulsed there and it had me wishing I could go home
too. Going to bed and sleeping the rest of the day away sounded sublime.
But I had another client coming in and phone calls to make.
The next client was going to make the headache worse if I didn’t take
something, so after asking Agnes to get some coffee started, I dug around in
my purse and found a bottle of over the counter painkillers.
Once I’d downed a couple, I turned on my computer and found the file
for my next appointment.
I hadn’t even had ten minutes alone with the file and my coffee when
she showed. I’d expected her to be early.
But thirty minutes?
That was a little much.
After telling Agnes to ask her to give me another ten minutes, I locked
myself in the bathroom to give my drugs and caffeine a chance to kick in.
I’d get through this and go home.
The phone calls could be made from there.
Clarissa LeBeau-Mason was thirty-one, beautiful and bitchy.
To be fair, she'd recently found out that her fifty-year-old husband was
having an affair with her younger sister, and he’d decided he was going to
divorce her and go for the twenty-six-year younger model.
She had a reason to be bitchy.
If she hadn't been loaded – and connected – I probably wouldn’t have
taken her on, but clients like Clarissa did great things for lawyers like me.
She was referred to me by another client I’d helped when I’d still been with
the firm. And it wasn't like she'd done anything horrible.
Like endanger the life of her child.
She’d sniffed in disdain at my small office, but had said, “I was told you
were a cold-hearted bitch in the courtroom. That’s what I want.”
Now as we wrapped up, I tried again to make her understand how
important it was for her to appear sympathetic. She’d refused to settle so we
were going to court.
“I am sympathetic,” she snapped. “He’s cheating on me with my cunt of
a sister.”
That headache pulsed out of control as I gamely kept my professional
mask in place. “Trust me, Ms. LeBeau-Mason. I understand. If somebody
was cheating on me, I’d go for the balls too. But if you sit on the stand and
refer to somebody you’re related to by blood as a cunt, the court won’t see
you as sympathetic.”
After another ten minutes, I think she started to see the light. It was a
good thing because I was out of patience.
“Remember to dress sedately. A modest suit. No cleavage. Something in
a neutral color and keep the jewelry to a minimum. Classic, pearls would be
best.”
“Yes, I know.” She rolled her eyes, then she smiled, looking a little
more open and friendly. “I’m to look like a soccer mom, right? I can do
that.”
I laughed a little, mostly out of relief, and when she left, I collapsed
onto the couch. Tempted to just curl up there and sleep, I blew out a breath
as my heart pulsed in time with the pounding of my skull.
“Agnes?”
“Yes, dear?”
 “I’m done for the day. No calls unless it’s an emergency. Lock the
doors.”
“Of course,” she said softly. Her voice was closer and I cracked an eye
open to see her standing there. “Are you feeling well?”
“Just a headache. Rough day in court. Judge Randall was…well, she
was Judge Randall.”
“And Ms. LeBeau-Mason was herself as well,” Agnes added dryly.
“True.” I shoved myself up and gathered my laptop, phone, and bag. I
had to get out of there and get home before I ended up falling asleep here.

The phone woke me.

I’d been home less than two hours, and I’d managed to get two of the
business calls out of the way before the headache had driven me to my bed.
When I saw Paxton’s number, I almost ignored it, mostly because I
didn’t think I could handle the emotional upheaval, but in the end, I
answered. Mostly because I couldn’t not hear his voice.
“Hello.”
“Leslie.” His voice was ragged and rough.
Instantly, I was awake. Sitting up, I tightened my grip on the phone,
staring into the gloom of my room. I’d drawn the room-darkening curtains
and it was almost as dark as if it were twilight. Squinting at my clock, I
could see that it was just after three.
“Is something wrong, Paxton?”
“Every fucking thing,” he said, his breath coming in hard draws. “Les,
the cops just called me.”
Oh, no…
“They’ve found Carter. She’s…”
I didn’t remember standing. My hand covered my mouth while denial
rose inside me.
“They’ve got her at the police station. But they won’t let me see her,
Leslie.”
Relief crashed into me, followed immediately by confusion. “Why?”
“I don’t fucking know. I’m here now and nobody will tell me anything.
Can you please get down here?”
I took the subway.
It was quicker, and I didn't have to deal with parking. It also freed me
up to start making phone calls.
I only had a few contacts at the precinct where they’d taken Carter, but
fortunately, I was on friendly terms with at least two people there, and one
of them was a detective with the special victims unit.
And thankfully, she was in.
“Lewis, it’s Leslie Calvin.”
Hilary Lewis answered, the familiar twang of Queens thick in her voice.
“Hey, Calvin. Make it fast – we’ve got a circus here. You oughta be here,
I’m telling ya. It’s front page news stuff.”
“Don’t count on it. I have a feeling my client is why you have a circus –
Paxton Gorham.”
There was a pause, followed by, “So he’s yours. Is he a decent sort?”
“More than.” Sweat started to bead on the back of my neck and it turned
my hands slick at the pulse of energy I sensed in Detective Lewis’ voice.
She didn’t get worked up over much. At forty-six, she’d been a cop too
long. “Can you give me some info on what’s going on?”
“It’s not pretty. So far, we got nothing but the wife’s word, but if she’s
dealing straight…”
“She’s an alcoholic who got wasted and passed out while her friends
decided to screw each other in her daughter’s bed while her daughter hid in
the closet.” It was time to take the gloves off. A few people flicked glances
my way before focusing their looks back out the window at the vastly
entertaining subway system.
“That a fact? You got evidence?”
I wanted to scream, but I understood the caution in Lewis’ voice. She
was a cop through and through. “I only have his word on that. I do have
evidence of other things though. She was seen in the company of a known
dealer, trading cash for pills, then she tucked something into her daughter’s
backpack when she saw cops in the Square. I’ve got photographs. She was
followed by a private investigator, one of the best. Do a background on her.
Her rap sheet isn’t pretty.”
“Neither’s his,” Lewis said, her voice easy.
“Nothing on him is recent. I’ve checked. His wife – soon to be ex –
however, is still getting in trouble. She was arrested for drunk driving with
the daughter in the back of her car and she got into it with the cops in LA
when she left her little girl alone in the car while she ran into a restaurant
and hung out in the bar for a while to wet her whistle. The kid's got diabetes
and the mom doesn't monitor it worth shit. Landed her in the hospital once.
I've already got a motion in front of Judge Randall for emergency custody.”
Lewis blew out a breath. “Okay. Get in here, Calvin. I can’t do anything
to help you, but you can probably help him.”
Clenching my teeth together, I had to resist the urge to snap out
something ugly. “You better lock your department down, detective. My next
call is to the PR people he uses. Their lawyers will be all over that place,
and if anything about this appears in the news…”
She grunted.
I didn’t know what that meant, but I hoped it was something good. We
disconnected, and I made good on the threat to call the PR group. He was
going to need them.

Lewis hadn’t given me much, but one thing I’d been able to figure out. She
had the case.
If she had the case, then there was a very big problem. She only handled
things involving kids. Also, there shouldn’t be a case. They still weren’t
letting him see Carter, either. If they were, he would have let me know.
All I’d gotten from him was a terse text a few minutes ago asking when
I’d be there.
I’d told him less than ten minutes and then beat my own time. I was a
little out of breath as I strode into the precinct, but I didn't care about that.
He wasn’t in the front, but Lewis must have had somebody looking for
me because a uniform caught sight of me and approached. “Ms. Calvin?
This way, please.”
A few murmurs followed us as he led me through the bullpen and I
grew more and more uneasy. Swallowing the hard knot in my throat, I took
a deep breath to steady myself.
It wasn’t enough.
Lewis saw me coming and she stood, heading toward me.
Paxton beat her.
He grabbed my arms and the look in his eyes was pure hell.
“They won’t let me see Carter, Leslie. They…” His voice was shaking,
and I could tell that only part of it was from anger. “Brinke is claiming that
she took Carter because I’m still using. Says I’m drinking all the time
and…”
He stopped and drew in a ragged breath.
I felt sick. “What is it, Paxton?”
His eyes blazed with all the rage he felt inside him. “She’s claiming that
I hurt my daughter.”

A Legal Affair continues in Book 3 - Turn the page to keep reading.

A Legal Affair Book 3
Chapter One
Paxton
“T his…”
Shoving my hand through my hair, I turned away from the woman
behind the desk and stared out over the sea of faces. All of them seemed to
be looking at me with accusation and disgust, believing the lies Brinke had
told. All I wanted to do right now was get to my daughter, hold her, make
sure she was okay. Then get the hell away from here. Away from my soon-
to-be-ex and all of her insane drama. But I knew I couldn’t run from this.
Not if I wanted to keep Carter safe.
“This is a nightmare, right? I’m having a bad dream.” I directed the
question to the red-head next to me.
Leslie laid a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “Let’s take a seat,
Paxton, okay? We'll get this sorted.”
I forced myself into the seat in front of Detective Lewis and met her
eyes. She looked back at me, and I didn’t let myself avert my gaze,
although I’d always hated that kind of stare. It was a cop’s stare. They had
to teach it in training or something. It cut right through me and left me
feeling like she’d rifled through my brain and seen all the shit I’d done.
Guilty.
She’d see me as guilty because of my past. If I'd done all that, why not
this too?
“We can’t let you see your daughter,” she said, her voice firm.
“That’s not –” I bit my tongue before the words could explode out of
me. Dropping my head into my hands, I found myself starting to rock, and I
had to make myself stop. I was pissed off and scared, but if I was scared,
Carter had to be more so. I tried again, calmer this time. “I just want to
know that’s she’s okay right now. She’s diabetic. Her mom doesn’t know
how to handle her blood sugar, didn’t take her meter or medicine. She feeds
her junk food and candy. It’s been days.” My voice cracked. “Carter needs
bedtime stories to sleep and Brinke, she doesn’t...” I closed my eyes. “Fuck,
I sound pathetic.”
“You sound like a dad,” the detective said.
 I jerked my head up and found her studying me with curious eyes. She
might've been a cop, but she also might give me the benefit of the doubt.
“Did you bring what you need for her blood sugar?” she asked after a
moment.
“Um…yeah.” I held up the bag that Carter usually took everywhere. It
was left behind at the restaurant the night Brinke disappeared with her. Alex
brought it back when she realized Brinke and Carter had left.
Detective Lewis rose. “Come on.”
Hope leaped inside me as I followed her out into the mess of officers.
They suddenly seemed a lot more interested in what was going on in front
of them or next to them than they did me.
The detective stopped by the desk of a middle-aged African American
man. “Ramsey, could you take somebody’s blood sugar?”
He glanced up, a brow arching. “Detective?”
That hope inside me died, but I told myself that at least I’d know she
was okay. If this could prove that I had Carter's best interest at heart, I could
wait.
She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at me. “The case I have, the
minor in question has diabetes and apparently the mom didn’t take the kid’s
meter with her.”
“You’re shitting me.”
The cop looked at me, and if I wasn’t mistaken, there was a flicker of
something in his eyes as he dragged a hand down his face. Something that
said I might have an ally.
“Yeah, I can do it.” He nodded at the bag. “That her stuff?”
“Yeah. I…” Feeling stupid and awkward, I held it out. “She’s pretty
good with it now. I mean, she's only six, so she wasn’t at first but…”
“It’s okay, man. I get it. I’m diabetic. So's my step-daughter. It takes
kids some time.” He gave me a smile as he unzipped the bag and looked
inside. “Insulin?”
“Yeah. She’s not on a pump yet.”
“Okay.” He shot the detective a look.
“We’ll all go back.” She gave me a hard stare. “I’ll let you see her
through the glass. You can’t talk to her yet.”
A knot settled in my throat as I nodded, and I was achingly close to
bursting into tears. “As long as I know she's safe and healthy, I can wait.”
 It was killing me, but I could do it. I had to constantly remember that
how I behaved here would go a long way to supporting my case as the
stable parent. And disproving the horrible accusations Brinke had thrown at
me.
Five minutes later, I was staring at my beautiful little girl through one-
way glass. The last time I’d seen her, her long, golden blonde hair had been
done up in two braids – French braids, tied with neat little bows, thanks to
Alex.
Her hair was shorter than mine now.
“What happened to her hair?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
“Excuse me?” Detective Lewis gave me an odd look.
“She had…Carter’s hair. It was long. Almost to her waist. She keeps
telling me she wants Rapunzel hair. I have to bribe her just to get it
trimmed. Why is it short?” My eyes burned as I stared at her, moving closer
to the window. I placed my hand on it as though that would bring me closer
to my little girl.
I heard Leslie murmuring to the detective, but over the roar in my ears,
none of the words made sense. What had Brinke done?
A moment later, I saw the detective going in to join Ramsey. He hadn’t
checked her blood sugar yet, but I could tell that he was talking to her so
that she wouldn't be scared when he did.
Carter's soft voice filled the room.
“Mommy gave me Fruit Loops at first, but I had to remind her, I
couldn’t eat that kind of cereal so she made somebody go get a different
kind.” She gave Ramsey a shy smile but didn’t look at Detective Lewis.
The detective asked, “What all did you and your mom do?”
Carter shrugged and looked away.
Ramsey rephrased Detective Lewis's question. “Did you have fun with
her?”
“Maybe. Sorta. I didn’t like the game. And I couldn’t eat much of the
food. I’m hungry. And thirsty.” She looked at the backpack. “Is Alex here?
Or Daddy? I didn’t have my backpack and I couldn’t get my snacks.”
“Well, let’s check your blood sugar. Do you mind if I do it?”
“I know how.” Carter held out her hands, and despite my misery, I felt a
stab of pride as she industriously set about going through her bag, taking
out the small zippered kit and opening it up. The adults watched in silence.
 “It’s kind of high,” she said pragmatically. “I was starving and Mommy
brought me a hot dog, and they didn’t have water. She told me I should
drink the coke because I’d be able to get my blood sugar checked soon. I
thought that meant we were done with the game.”
She showed the meter to the cops. Detective Lewis gave Ramsey a
questioning look and he shook his head before rising. As he approached the
door, I could feel the tension burning in me. Damn Brinke! She gave my kid
a soft drink. What the hell?
“Who taught you how to do all this?” Detective Lewis asked. “You’re
pretty smart to be doing all this so young.”
“Daddy and Alex. Daddy says it’s important I know as much as I can so
I can take care of myself. Knowing what’s going on inside my body makes
it less scary, and if I know what happens when I eat bad stuff, maybe I
won’t want to sneak candy.” All of this came out in a parroted voice.
“Sounds like you all talk about it a lot.”
She heaved out a dramatic sigh. “We do. Daddy worries about it all the
time.”
Ramsey came into the room and took up the spot next to me. “She’s a
little more than kinda high.” He gave me the level and I swore.
I told him how much insulin she needed, and then asked, “Can you give
it to her, or do we need to take her to the hospital?”
He grunted and looked disgusted. “I’m not supposed to.”
“I called Alex.”
Whipping my head around, I looked at Leslie. She lifted a shoulder. “A
few minutes ago. I had a feeling this might happen. She’ll be here in less
than ten minutes. Since Brinke didn't say anything about Alex, she should
be allowed to go in and give Carter her medicine.”
Ten minutes…I breathed out a sigh. “Thank you.”
Back in the room, Detective Lewis smiled at Carter. “You know, I think
I’ve seen a picture of you with your daddy before. You used to have really
long hair, didn’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Carter’s head drooped, and the defeated set of her shoulders made me
want to hit something. My hands curled into fists, but I knew I couldn't
respond with anger. It'd play right into Brinke's accusations.
“What in the hell did Brinke do now?” I muttered.
Ramsey looked over at me, raising an eyebrow in unspoken question.
 I shook my head. It'd be better if the cops heard it for themselves rather
than me sounding like the disgruntled ex.
On the other side of the one-way glass, the detective reached out and
touched Carter's hand. “You look awful sad, honey. What's wrong?”
Carter hitched up her shoulder. “It was for the game. I didn't want to,
but Mommy said it would help us win. She likes to win, and I like it when
Mommy's happy.”
I ground my teeth together.
Leslie spoke up from where she was standing behind me. “She keeps
talking about 'the game.' Do you have any idea what she's talking about?”
I shook my head. “No idea.”
Ramsey’s eyes took on a speculative cast, and after a moment, he gave
us both a nod. “I’m going to let her know her nanny is coming. Excuse me.”
He slipped into the room and rejoined the other cop. Carter brightened a
little when she saw him.
“She reacts better to guys than she does to women.” Leslie looked at
me. “She always like that?”
“She's always been close to Alex, so I hadn't noticed it until we moved
here.” I shrugged. The absent gesture sent pain up my neck and into my
head. All the tension from the past few days was catching up to me. “My
friend Decker…his son is like that. Loves women, but it took him forever to
warm up to me. I used to figure Carter was the same, but now I think it's
because of Brinke. Carter's always around me and the guys from the band.
They treat her well. A couple of them are married and she’s pretty good
with their wives once she sees them with their families. But women she
doesn’t know…”
I sighed and looked over at Leslie. She was watching me, but her
expression was guarded.
“I don’t think she trusts women because of her mother. It surprised me
she took to you so well.”
I turned my attention back to my daughter.
Inside the room, Detective Lewis got Carter to look at her again. “You
keep talking about a game. I’d like to know about it.”
Carter looked dubious.
Ramsey picked up the ball. “Is it a fun game? I'm always looking for
games to play with my kids.”
 “Don't play this one.” Carter looked unhappy. “I haven't got to see my
daddy since we started. And Mommy made me cut my hair. She said we're
gonna hide from him until he found us, and I had to pretend to be a boy.
That's why had to cut my hair. I don't like the game.”
I closed my hand into a fist so tight, my knuckles cracked.
Leslie blew out a low breath. “That bitch.”
I almost thanked her for saying what I'd been thinking, but a new voice
caught my attention and I frowned as a woman approached from a corner. I
hadn’t even noticed her until then.
“Who's that?”
“The social worker.” Leslie rested a hand on my arm.
Young and smiling, she came closer to Carter and knelt by her side.
“Why would your mommy want to play a game like that? Maybe she
thought you’d like the haircut, and you changed your mind.”
“No.” Carter's lower lip started to tremble. “I wanted to have Rapunzel
hair, but Mommy said I had to cut it if wanted to play with her.”
The tears rolled out of her eyes and I took a step toward the door. I
didn't care about their rules or about anything other than holding my baby.
Leslie laid a hand on my arm. “Don't. We have to let this play out.”
I didn't think I would've been able to if I hadn't heard a familiar voice
right then. “Paxton!”
I turned as Alex came rushing up to me, and I opened my arms to hug
her.
“Oh, man. Is Carter okay? I’ve been so scared.”
“She’s fine.” I didn’t say anything about the hair. Alex would see soon
enough, and I didn’t want her angry when she went in there. “She does need
her insulin and I…”
The words trailed off as I realized there was no avoiding the anger. Alex
would want to know why I couldn’t go in there. Furious, helpless, I looked
over at Leslie.
“Brinke said some things,” Leslie said, taking over for me. “We’ll
explain later. Right now, it's important that you go in there and stay calm so
Carter doesn't get upset. She's already unhappy. Can you take care of the
shot and not upset her any further?”
Alex looked at me and I saw her jaw clench. “Said some things,” she
said hollowly. “Yeah. I bet she did.” Fire burned in her eyes and I knew it
was going to get ugly once she heard the whole story, but she took a deep
breath and blew it out, her face settling into a calm mask. “I’ll be fine. For
Carter’s sake.”
Once Alex slipped into the room, I looked over at Leslie. “Do whatever
you have to, but I want Brinke away from Carter. This is going to stop.”
Chapter Two
Leslie
Mommy made me cut my hair.
Carter’s voice rang in my ears as I strode out of the police station,
tapping the Bluetooth as I went. Dena, fortunately, was in her office and
available. “Do you have time for me to come by?”
“Ah…yes…” she said slowly. “Although I might retract that response in
a second. What’s the matter? I hear dragon lady in your voice.”
I didn't even laugh at the good-natured teasing. Usually, jokes about my
temper didn't bother me, but right now, I was all business. “It’s my case.”
Dena sighed. “As in the case? As in the one I’m scared is going to bite
you on the ass?”
“Yes. So far, my ass is fine. I’m heading over.” Without waiting another
second, I hung up. Studying the traffic, I decided to hoof it and paused by
the steps to slip off my heels, trading them out for the flats I kept in my bag.
Like numerous women in New York, I was used to having to walk to any
given destination, or having to take the subway and then walk, so keeping a
decent pair of walking shoes on hand was simply a matter of survival for
the feet.
Once I’d swapped out the shoes, I started to walk, striding down the
sidewalk like it was crumbling behind me.
She said we're gonna hide from him until he found us and I had to
pretend to be a boy.
That wasn’t what Brinke told the cops. It had taken some nagging and
bitching, but I’d gotten the official statement out of them.
Apparently Brinke told them that Carter had picked up lice from school
and that was why Carter didn’t look like she did in her most recent pictures.
As far as lies went, it was a bad one to go with. A call to the school
would confirm or refute the claim of a lice outbreak. And since there'd been
nothing sent home to Paxton about it, I doubted that was the case.
Brinke also said the stylist who cut Carter’s hair recommended just
cutting it, as opposed to treating the so-called lice. I knew that was bullshit.
This wasn’t the first time I’d dealt with a parent who’d cut a pretty girl’s
hair out of spite, targeting the other parent when the girl was the one who
really suffered.
Just like the other times, I was betting on it all being bullshit and I was
going to demand proof from both the school and the salon. I dug out my
Bluetooth as I continued to stride down the sidewalk.
She said we're gonna hide from him until he found us and I had to
pretend to be a boy.
“Did she even look at her daughter to see how unhappy she was making
her?” I muttered as I crossed the street. The DA's offices were just ahead
and I lengthened my stride, anger firing inside me. I’d gotten pissed off on
behalf of clients before, but nothing like this.
This was enough to make me want to hit something – no. Someone.
Like Brinke.
I might had a temper, but I'd never been a violent person. Sure, I had no
problem defending myself, but this was the first time I'd ever wanted to
instigate a fight.
“Then, on top of worrying about whether or not somebody finds out
you’re sleeping with your client, you can deal with assault charges too.” I
slowed down as I neared the doors and reminded myself it was time to quit
having one-sided conversations. Maybe the typical New Yorker wouldn’t
pay any attention – we were like that – but cops tended to take a bit more
caution when people walked around ranting to the thin air.
Pasting a smile on my face, I went inside, nodding at the few familiar
faces I saw as I made my way to Dena’s office. She was inside and held up
a hand as I knocked. The door was open so whatever the call was, it wasn’t
anything confidential.
I shut the door behind me and Dena arched a pale eyebrow as she hung
up her phone.
“So….” Lips pursed, she studied me. “What’s up?”
“If I need bail money, will you cough it up?” I said through gritted
teeth.
“Absolutely.” Now she smiled. “And I’ll never let you live it down
either. I’ll even hire you as my research gopher when you lose your license.
Unofficially, of course.”
“Prosecutors for the state don’t make that much.” I sat down across
from her.
 “Yeah, well…” She shrugged, a blush turning her cheeks pink. “I
apparently have more disposable income now. Arik went and paid off the
mortgage for my townhouse.”
My jaw started to drop open, but I picked it up off the floor faster than I
normally would have.
“Must be nice,” I said. Even I could tell there was only a shadow of my
typical sardonic humor in the words. I didn’t even spare the energy to feel
envy.
“What's wrong?” she asked, her expression sobering.
“It’s confidential.” I held her eyes so she knew I meant it.
“Do I need to call Arik?” She looked worried. “You do know I’m the
prosecutor, right? You aren’t really going to need bail money, are you?”
“No.” Making a face, I shelved the idea of punching Brinke Maynard
pretty little nose as I buried my face in my hands. “It’s Paxton, Dena. You
won’t believe what that bitch has done.”
“I handled divorces too,” she reminded me. “Now I’m prosecuting. Try
me.”
“Well, maybe you will believe it then.” After taking a deep breath, I
proceeded to tell her everything.
My friend listened without comment. She tapped her fingers on her
desk, pale gray eyes flashing from time to time, but other than that, her
expression didn’t change.
Finally, I neared the end. At some point, I’d gotten up and wandered
over the small, narrow window. The entire office would have fit into my
lobby, and still had room to spare, but Dena seemed happy with her new
job.
“The look on Carter’s face just about broke my heart,” I said, rubbing
the heel of my hand over my heart. It ached there, and I had to stop myself
from thinking about just how deeply Paxton and his little girl had settled
inside me. “Dena, you wouldn’t believe what that woman did to her own
daughter. She had all this long pretty hair. Rapunzel hair, she called it. Then
her mother tells her they’re playing a game and she’s got to cut it so she can
pretend to be a boy.”
“I feel bad for her,” Dena said slowly. “Sounds like she’s being jerked
around, but you know how easy it is for a kid to misunderstand things. Are
you…” She paused, clearly taking her time with whatever it was she wanted
to say.
 I turned and looked at her, jaw set. “Carter isn’t making this up.”
“That wasn’t where I was going,” Dena said calmly. “One of the reasons
kids are easy to use in a divorce is because they believe almost anything, for
a while, at least.”
“Some do,” I agreed. “But you and I have both met kids who are wise
beyond their years. Carter is one of them. She knows how to check her own
blood sugar, and she was the one arguing with her mom on what she could
and couldn’t eat, for fuck's sake. She sounds more mature than the woman
who gave birth to her. And both of us have seen cases where that was the
issue.”
“True enough.” Dena rubbed at her brow. “Paxton…you’re sure about
this guy?”
Immediately, I stiffened. “Don’t go there,” I warned.
“Honey, I have to.” Her voice was gentle. As she came around the desk,
I glared at her, but she didn't flinch. “You know I do. How many times have
people said, oh, he’d never do that…and it turned around the guy in
question did, in fact, do that? It’s a kid we’re talking about too. That means,
yes, I’m going to ask.”
Rage beat inside me, but the misery in Dena’s eyes made me hold it in
check. She was right. I knew she didn’t want to ask, and I also knew that
she had to. It was why I'd gone to her in the first place.
“I’m sure about him,” I said finally. “I’m more sure about him than I’ve
ever been about anything and anybody. If you could see them
together...Carter adores him. Hell, it’s her mom she’s leery of.”
Dena studied me solemnly for another few minutes and then nodded.
“Okay. Then we need to figure out what to do.”
As she turned away, I let myself breathe out a sigh of relief. I'd made the
right choice coming to Dena. She was zealous when it came to justice. It
wasn't about results and wins for her, but about doing the right thing. And I
knew she'd move heaven and earth to do the right thing for Carter...and
Paxton.
“Right now,” Dena said, continuing on in a brisk tone. “I'd have to talk
to the investigating officer. If she’s made fraudulent statements to a cop, I
can push there. More than likely, though, it’s the drugs that will be the main
point of interest. You said you had pictures of her buying?”
“There is no actual sign of the drugs themselves, but we have the dealer
on film.” Slowly, my brain began to move from emotion to the clearer,
clinical type of thinking I needed. Another reason I'd gone to Dena.
“Name?” She grabbed her notepad.
I told her and her eyes lit up. “We might be able to do something there.
He’s out on parole, and I know he doesn’t want to go back. If we pin him
down, he might give her up in exchange for a deal.” She made a few more
notes and gestured. “Go on.”
I leaned against the wall and thought. After a moment, I told her about
the matters in California, although that wasn’t likely to help much here.
Those would play out in family court, but Dena could only take care of the
criminal side of things. “I can tell you that she knowingly neglected her
daughter’s medical condition.”
“How serious is Carter’s diabetes?” Dena’s pen flew.
“She’s been hospitalized twice in the past year. Once led to the
diagnosis, but the other time, her mother gave her candy to make up for
missing a Halloween party.” Rubbing my hands together, I stared at the
carpet. “Paxton tells me he’s tried to get her to go to the doctor’s
appointments, says he’s tried to make her understand and she acts like it’s
no big deal. Then this morning, she let Carter have a coke. She didn’t have
the girl’s insulin, her…the meter thing. However you check blood sugar.”
“The glucose monitor. A friend in high school who had diabetes.”
Dena’s lips thinned out. “She took off with her daughter, knowing she had
diabetes and didn’t take the stuff Carter needed to keep her blood sugar
stable. I can work with that.”
Something in Dena’s voice had me studying her more closely. “Who's
the friend?”
“She died,” Dena said quietly. “She was out partying one night, started
drinking. Alcohol and diabetes don’t mix well. None of the guys she was
with knew about the diabetes and when she passed out, they just left her
there, thinking it was from how much she drank. By the time anybody
realized they couldn’t get her to wake up, it was too late.” Before I could
offer any words of sympathy, Dena cleared her throat. “I think you should
have Paxton talk to Arik. He should have a lawyer – a defense lawyer, just
in case someone decides to go ahead with Brinke's accusations. Arik’s one
of the best, and clearly, money isn’t an issue for the mega-rockstar.”
Chapter Three
Leslie
T he day had been long enough. Morning at the police station. Early
afternoon in front of Judge Randall, who, in light of Brinke's accusations,
was going to wait to rule on custody. The rest of the afternoon and into the
evening with Dena.
Now, all I wanted was to get some rest, because tomorrow wasn't going
to be much better. I had two court appearances, another appointment with
one of my clients, and that case was turning out to be nothing more than a
schoolyard fight between a couple of kids who were afraid to tell each other
they still like-liked each other. And now I had everything going on with
Carter and Paxton.
I’d never been tempted to tell one client to take a hike just so I could
focus on another, but now I wanted to call all of them and tell them to go
away so I could fix things for Paxton and his little girl.
But that wasn’t going to happen.
At some point in the future, this would be over and I’d still have a
practice to run. So I couldn’t send my career packing straight to hell.
Assuming I hadn’t already done so by sleeping with Paxton. If that word
got around, I'd be screwed.
But as I lay in bed, eyes closed, my mind wouldn’t stop spinning. I just
wanted it to shut down but I couldn’t make thoughts running through my
mind go quiet. My entire body was a mass of tension, and I couldn't relax.
After nearly an hour of tossing and turning, I got up and headed to the
shower. It was almost midnight. Maybe if I took a long, hot shower, and
dealt with the physical tension, the mental would ease as well.
I climbed out of bed and lit a few candles, turned off the lights. So I
wouldn’t hear the endless hum of traffic, I turned on some music, too.
Because of the neighbors, I couldn’t turn it up loud, but all I really needed
was the background noise, something to take me out of my head.
I twisted my hair up so my curls wouldn't get wet, then stepped under
the hot spray and leaned back against the wall. Falling into a fantasy to
relax was something I’d done a hundred times before when the idea of
finding some random guy to hook up with just didn’t sound at all appealing.
And if I was being honest with myself, even if I'd had the time tonight, I
probably wouldn't have gone.
The warm water pounded against my breasts, dripping down to tease
my nipples, making me shiver. I took the massaging shower head down and
let the water tease against my flesh. Imagination drifting, I pretended it was
a man’s hands stroking down my sides, not the water.
When the drops hit between the folds of my pussy, I imagined it was his
tongue, teasing, caressing. His lips applying just the right amount of
pressure.
“Paxton,” I moaned.
The sound of his name on my lips had my eyes flying open.
The fantasy could have shattered there.
I hadn't come in here to get off while thinking about him. I was trying to
not think about him. Trying pretty hard too, but he was there, hovering on
the edge of my thoughts.
I sighed. I was tired and I needed to sleep. I didn't have the energy to
fight it anymore. I knew it wasn't smart, but I gave myself over to the
fantasy anyway.
The fingers I slid down to circle around my clitoris were his.
His lips were trailing across my thigh, moving between my legs.
I closed my eyes to block out the sight of everything, focusing on the
images spinning in my head.
I want you to come for me, Leslie…
I bucked against my hand, his voice clear in my mind. I slid two fingers
inside my pussy while I aimed the spray of the shower against my clit.
It was his cock, thick and full, filling me far better than fingers could.
His arms came around me, lifting me up as he drove into me. His lips
sought out mine, tongue exploring, teeth scraping. He told me that he
needed me, that he couldn’t imagine being without me.
It was a fantasy, right? So I could have him say the things I never
wanted to hear a man say. Things I'd only recently realized I very much
wanted to hear, but only from him.
And when it ended, I wanted to cry.
So much for relaxing.
I should have known this would be a bust. He was pushing his way into
every other part of my life. It was only natural that he push his way into my
fantasies as well. And that those fantasies would break my heart.
Almost an hour later, I lay in bed, finally relaxed enough to sleep, even
if my thoughts did keep drifting toward Paxton.
It would've been fine if it was just sex.
Sex was simple enough.
Sex was easy…and fun.
There was nothing complicated about it.
Which meant this was different. Even if I wasn’t prone to overanalyzing
everything – it came with being a lawyer – I’d have known there was
something bigger going on.
This was complicated.
The sex was fun, but it definitely wasn’t simple.
I found myself thinking about Paxton long after we'd parted, and that
just wasn’t me. I was thinking about him and about Carter, worrying about
them.
A part of me wanted to go back to the uncomplicated, care-free woman
I’d been just weeks before because I knew this would only lead to trouble. I
was getting too close, too involved, and it wasn’t going to end well.
There was no way I could pull back now, though.
He needed me, and I…
“Don’t,” I mumbled, trying to rein my wayward thoughts.
It was hard, though. I was tired and my thoughts were always prone to
ramble when my guard was down.
Flopping onto my belly, I pulled my pillow in tight. “We’ll think about
it all tomorrow.” Then I sighed. “Or maybe the next day. I just want to get
through tonight.”
Chapter Four
Paxton
T he thought of having to talk to this guy rubbed me the wrong way.
It helped that Leslie believed me, that she trusted this guy, and that he
didn't look like a schmuck.
In my experience, most of the defense attorneys I’d met were just ass-
wipes, out to make a buck, and it didn’t matter if their client was guilty or
not. I understood why guys like Arik Porter were necessary in theory, but I
sure as hell didn’t like having to be here.
“This would be a lot easier if you’d talk to me,” he said, easy humor
underscoring his words.
I stood by the window, my hands jammed into my pockets as I tried to
figure out if there was any way I’d come through this whole fiasco with my
sanity intact. If they took Carter away…
“Can’t think like that,” I muttered to myself.
“We’ll get your daughter back.”
I turned to him with a scowl.
He leaned forward in his chair. “I’d be thinking the same thing if I were
in your shoes, worrying about what would happen if they decide to take
Carter away.” Arik's expression was serious now, all previous humor gone.
“But should this all come to a trial, it’s my job to prove that you’re innocent
and that the state has no reason to see you as an unfit father. But to do that, I
need you to talk to me.”
Blowing out a breath, I nodded and moved over to one of the chairs in
front of his desk. I sank down into it and ran a hand down my face. I didn’t
even know where to start.
“Why don’t you tell me about your daughter?” he prompted.
“Tell you what?” I looked up at him. “She’s six. She’s diabetic. She’s –”
“I’m not looking for her vital statistics.” He waved a hand. “Tell me
about her. What's she like? What do you two like to do together?”
I looked away, thinking about Carter and not about any of the other stuff
going on. “She’s all girl. When that movie about the ice queen came out, I
had to watch it every day for almost two weeks.” Smiling a little, I added,
“We sang every song. It wasn’t enough for her to sing. She wanted me to
sing too. And I had to be the younger sister.”
“Did her mom watch the movie with you?”
The very idea almost made me laugh, but there wouldn't have been any
humor in it, so I held back. “No. That’s not really Brinke's thing.”
Uncomfortable now, I shoved upright and started to pace. I didn't want
to talk about Brinke. He'd asked about Carter, so I went back to her.
“Carter's really smart, but she had trouble in school last year. She ended
up sick. Her nanny found her unconscious in her bedroom one morning and
we rushed her to the hospital, found out she was diabetic. She spent a few
days in the hospital while they got her stabilized, and then again just over a
month later. She handles it all really well, though. She loves reading.
Already reads on a third-grade level, but she likes it best when somebody
reads to her. That’s because of her nanny, Alex. Alex has been reading to
her pretty much from the beginning.”
“Do you read to her?”
I jerked up a shoulder. “Some. She tells me I’m not as good as Alex.
Alex can do the voices better than me. Carter says it sounds funny when I
try to talk like a princess.”
Arik chuckled. “And her mom?”
I shook my head. “Brinke likes to take her shopping. Sometimes they go
for manicures and that kind of thing. Girly stuff.”
“I guess her dad isn’t as much fun for girly things.”
“She sure as hell likes to force me into it,” I muttered.
“How is that?”
With a soft laugh, I explained, “Thanks to Carter, I’ve become pretty
damn good at manicures and pedicures. I can even put those little sparkly
gems in place.”
When he remained silent, I looked over at him. Arik had his hand over
his mouth and looked like he was trying not to laugh.
“Want a demonstration? I can bring the kit in next time,” I offered.
“I’ll pass.” A wide grin creased his face, his emerald-green eyes
sparkling. “I bet the tabloids would pay a bundle for that information. It’s
too bad everything you tell me is confidential.”
“Asshole.”
This time, he didn’t bother holding back his laugh.
 As the sound faded from the air, though, his face took on a more serious
expression. “I have a feeling if we put you on the stand, and you tell a jury
about how you learned how to do manicures, every female there will be
melting. Every dad with a daughter is going to understand too. Should this
come to trial, I’ll do my best to seed that jury with parents. Of course, the
prosecution would do the same because while they’ll angle that a parent
would be abhorred at an abusive father, we’re just going to face the charges
straight up and call them all bullshit. Anybody who hears you talking about
your daughter will know that. No dad who would take the time to paint his
daughter’s fingernails – and learn how to put gems on her nails too – is
going to abuse her.”
“Trial.” Feeling sick inside, I hooked my hands over the back of my
neck. “That is going to be a long process, isn’t it?”
“It can be.” He leaned forward. “That’s not my goal, but I won’t pretend
it might not happen. Now, in the meantime, let’s tackle this head on. You’re
no longer doing drugs, correct?”
“No.” I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice, but I didn’t quite
manage it.
“Good. Are you willing to take a drug test?”
“Oh, for fuck’s…” I stopped, closing my eyes. After a few seconds, I
nodded. “If that’s what it takes, then, yeah. I’ll piss in a cup every day if
needed.”
“It'll help, especially when we counter that we want Brinke to submit to
random tests too. If it doesn't come down to it in this case, I know it will in
the custody case. If you're agreeing, and she has to be ordered to do it, it
looks better for you.”
I nodded. Everything he was saying made sense. I didn't really like it,
but it made sense.
“Look,” he continued. “The court is going to ask a lot of things, and
there are going to be times when it seems insulting as hell. Intrusive. Even
just plain wrong. I’ll be kept apprised of everything, and if there’s
something I think is unnecessary or off-base, I’ll do my best to intervene.
However, for the most part, I'll just be dealing with things from a criminal
point of view. Family court does these things in the best interest of the
child. You have to look at it from their side and consider what they deal
with on a regular basis – which is a lot of lousy parents.”
I thought of Brinke and nodded. “Yeah, okay.”
 He scrawled something down on a piece of paper and got up, coming
over to hand the small scrap to me. “This is an independent drug testing
center. Go there as soon as you leave here and get tested. They're one
hundred percent reliable and very private. This firm has sent very well-
known people there, and their privacy has always remained intact.”
“At this point, I don’t care about privacy. I just want my daughter back,”
I said as I took the paper.
“At some point, you’ll have your daughter back, and you’ll care about
your privacy then, even if it’s just for her sake,” Arik said.

Pissing in a cup wasn’t a new experience for me, but I’d thought I was done
with it years ago. I kept my temper under control through the whole
embarrassing debacle, and even when they requested permission to take a
sample of my hair, I just nodded and got through it.
Hair samples, apparently, could be a better indicator of drug use,
especially if they were looking for more than a few days. That would go
back over three months so that Brinke couldn't claim I'd just cleaned myself
up in the last week or so. Since I’d been clean for almost eight years, and
more than ready to prove it, I was just fine with them taking some of my
hair. They could take it all if it meant I got Carter back faster.
I had to admit that the staff at the testing facility couldn’t have been any
more professional either. The anonymous, polite smiles directed at me
assured me that they might know who I was, but they wouldn’t mention it.
It was equally possible that I was just some bum off the street, although
judging by my surroundings, the typical bum on the street wouldn’t be able
to afford these services.
When I finished, I was assured the results would be delivered to the
necessary parties, and I left, relieved to have that behind me, but at the same
time, I felt at loose ends.
I wanted to go to Leslie’s office, but I had no idea if she was there. She
had court cases and appointments and all that, and I didn’t want to go in
there without knowing if I’d find her or not. And I definitely didn't want to
risk running into anyone who might know me.
In a couple hours, she’d be done for the day, and I could find her then,
but for now, I had no idea what to do with myself. I ended up catching a cab
and heading over to Decker’s. We’d had to cancel the sessions we’d had
scheduled for the next few days, thanks to all this shit Brinke was pulling.
The guys were pissed off, and I’d been dealing with texts and calls from
everybody, although I had next to nothing I could tell them.
Decker would have more questions I couldn’t answer, but unlike some
of the guys from the band, I knew when I told him that I didn’t want to talk
anymore – or if I told him that all I wanted to do was scream – he’d listen.
And none of it would ever go any further than between us.
He wouldn’t even tell his wife.
The doorman let me inside without calling up, giving me a solemn nod.
As I rode the elevator, I slumped against the wall, weariness beating at me. I
was so exhausted, but I knew I’d never sleep. I hadn’t really slept well since
Carter disappeared, and I might not sleep well until she’d been back in her
bed for a good month.
And until I knew that Brinke wouldn’t be able to pull this shit again.
The elevator doors slid open, and immediately the sounds of music and
laughter assailed me. I had to knock twice before they heard me, and
LaToya opened the door with the baby on her hip.
Immediately, I was caught up in a hug that smelled of honeysuckle,
baby lotion, and applesauce. A strange, but not really unpleasant scent.
Little Joey squealed and batted at my face as his mother pulled away.
I reached for him and he came to me. “Pas, Pas, Pas.” He burbled up at
me and grinned, displaying a new tooth emerging on the bottom.
“Hey, dude.” I nuzzled his neck as Decker came into the room. “How’s
that lazy bum of a father you have?”
“Pas, Pas.” Joey waved a fist at me.
Smoothing a hand down his back, I skimmed a look around the room,
noting the twins peering at me from the couch. LaToya was watching me
too, and I could tell she had a hundred questions, but when I passed Joey
back to her, she just smiled. “I bet you guys want to go and talk music,
don’t you?”
It was an easy enough excuse to offer, an easy lie that the kids would
believe.
“Yeah. We’re running behind with all the craziness.”
One of the twins grabbed my leg. “Where’s Carter? I miss Carter. We
haven’t seen her in days.”
I know how you feel, man. Ruffling his hair, I said, “She’ll be over soon,
man. I promise.”
 I hoped like hell I wasn’t lying.
“Come on, Pax. You look like you could use a beer,” Decker said,
coming over and clapping a hand on my shoulder.
“No booze.” I shook my hand but let him lead me down the hall to his
studio.
He cocked an eyebrow at me but didn't ask. He knew I'd explain when I
was ready. Yet another reason I loved Decker. He knew when to talk, and
when to keep his mouth shut.
“No more drinking,” I said, acid burning a path up my throat. Chest
tight and my heart racing, I tried to find something to focus on, something
besides the burning inside me. “Brinke has finally done it – she went and
fucked me over so bad, man…”
Decker bumped me on the shoulder. “Come on, man. Let it out.”
So I plopped down on the couch and did just that. Somehow, I kept my
voice level, almost a monotone, because I knew that if I completely let go,
I'd end up screaming. When I came to a stop, I looked over and met
Decker’s eyes. He'd retreated to the far side of the room, strumming on one
of his numerous guitars, the rhythm growing more agitated every minute.
The music stopped when I did, and he carefully put the guitar down.
When he turned his head and looked at me, the anger that raged in his
eyes was almost a match for what I felt. For a few minutes, neither of us
spoke.
Decker was the one to break the silence and his words were furious. “I
never liked her, man. Never. I accepted her because you loved her, but I
didn’t like her. I wouldn’t have thought she’d do this, though. Not this.
What in the fuck is she thinking?”
“She’s not,” I said. Shoving off the battered couch Decker had owned
for as long as I’d known him, I picked up one of the guitars and settled the
strap in place. Decker and I had a lot in common – neither of us thought
well when our hands were empty or still. I was nowhere near as good as he
was, but it was therapeutic for me.
“We need to start looking for a replacement for her,” I said, turning my
attention to another matter that needed to be dealt with, though not as
urgently. It was, at least, something I had some control over.
“No shit. Nobody's going to want to work with her after this.” His voice
was so caustic, it was a wonder it didn’t burn the air. “I love you, man, but I
can’t even stomach the idea of looking at her now.”
 “Me neither,” I said quietly. “Me neither.”

Hanging out with Decker and his family usually leveled me, but listening to
the kids laugh, hearing the twins ask about Carter, it all brought me
crashing down hard and fast. After an hour, I was ready to leave.
Decker escorted me to the door and told me to let him know if I needed
anything. I almost shrugged it off, but then I thought better of it. There was
something he could do to make things easier for me.
“Do me a favor and call the guys. Tell everybody that I’ll update them
when I can, but right now, I don’t need them calling and texting all the time.
It’s shitty all around, and I don’t want to keep reminding myself every time
I have to text them or answer a call and let one of them know there’s no
news.”
“You got it. Don’t worry.” Decker’s eyes were calm. “They’ll
understand.”
I knew they would.
Nodding, I turned and headed out. This time, when I climbed into a cab,
I didn’t let myself think twice about where I was headed.
I gave the driver Leslie’s home address, and as he drove off into the
mess that was New York City rush hour, I settled down and closed my eyes.
I probably had a good forty-five-minute ride ahead of me.
Might as well relax as best as I could.
Chapter Five
Leslie
I f I never had another day like this, it would be too soon.
Lying face-down on my couch, still in my suit, I tried to convince
myself to get up, change into something more comfortable, and make some
dinner.
None of it sounded appealing, mostly because the idea of getting up was
the opposite of what I wanted just then.
What I wanted, was to lie here and pretend the entire day hadn’t
happened. Eventually, I thought I might want to get up, get out of these
clothes, and then have some wine. Maybe a lot of wine. But for now, this
took all the energy I had.
When the buzzer sounded, I could have cried. I didn’t want to talk to
anybody.
After thirty seconds, it sounded again, and I rolled off the couch, glaring
at the stupid buzzer next to my door. Kicking my heels out of the way, I
made my way over and hit the button halfway through the next buzz.
“Yes?”
It probably wasn’t the most welcoming tone I’d ever used.
“Leslie, it’s me.”
The voice hit me like a fist to the heart.
Dropping my head against the wall, I closed my eyes.
“Come on up.”
After I pushed the button to let him open the front door, I stayed there
with my eyes still closed. Those few minutes while he climbed the three
flights of stairs wouldn’t exactly let me clear my head or do much to
improve my mood, but maybe I could do something about how frazzled I
felt.
Maybe.
If I’d started on that bottle of wine I was pondering earlier, I would've
been doing a lot better.
It was too late, though. He knocked on the door, and my heart began to
pound inside my chest like mad. When I opened the door, I had to curl my
hand into a fist to keep from reaching for him. He'd hurt me so badly, but I
still ached to touch him.
He eased past me, and I turned to see him tugging off the opaque
sunglasses he wore almost constantly when he wasn’t inside. When he
looked back at me, I could see the exhaustion clearly written on his face.
The exhaustion, the worry, and the fear.
The silence between us was heavy. Not awkward exactly, but it carried a
weight that both of us seemed to feel. I moved toward him at the same time
he took a step toward me, and in the blink of an eye, he had his arms
wrapped around me.
“This is killing me,” he said.
I curled my arms tight around his neck and pressed a kiss to his chin.
“If I lose Carter…”
“Don’t think like that.” I pushed my hand into his hair and tightened it. I
made my voice firm. “Do you hear me, Pax? You aren’t going to think like
that. Brinke is crazier than a bag of cats, and it won’t take anything for a
decent judge to see that. This will all stop as soon as we get her in court.”
“But –”
I cut his argument off with a kiss. He didn’t respond at first, so I bit his
lower lip, tightening the hand I’d slid into his hair.
The roughness broke something inside him, and a growl ripped from
him. I found myself pinned against the wall as he shoved my skirt up. My
panties were still on, but that didn’t deter him. He simply pulled them out of
the way and thrust two fingers inside me. I made a small pained sound. I
wasn’t wet enough yet and he withdrew.
Eyes on me, he slid those two fingers into his mouth, wetting them with
his tongue. My belly tightened and my knees grew weak as a rush of
arousal went through me. When he pushed them inside this time, my
whimper was one of pleasure, and I rocked against his hand.
Paxton took me to the edge with his skillful fingers, and then he
stopped, spinning me around so that I faced the door. The rasp of his zipper
was terribly loud, but it promised so much. When I felt him against me, I
started to move my legs apart, but he stopped me, bracketing my thighs
with his and forcing me to stay as I was.
He pushed inside me with one swift thrust and I came immediately, my
body wound too tight to wait.
 “Again.” The words were spoken against my neck, and I shuddered as
he slid a hand under my jacket and blouse, unerringly seeking out my
breast. As he started to move inside me, he pulled the cup of my bra aside
and teased my nipple until it ached almost as much as my pussy.
Trapped between him and the door, I couldn’t move, had no leverage to
push back against him. I was simply a vessel for his anger, his frustration…
his passion.
He rode me to another climax and then pulled out while my body was
still trembling. He still hadn’t come yet, and I wobbled on weak legs as he
spun me around and then picked me up.
The room whirled around me in dizzying circles, not even stopping
when he settled me on the couch.
He finally took my panties off, reaching under my skirt and dragging
them down my thighs, and over my calves. Blue eyes searing into mine, he
caught my hips and pulled me to the edge of the couch. He settled on his
knees, not looking away as he lowered his mouth to my cunt. The first lick
made me shudder. The second had me crying out.
When he stabbed his tongue inside me, I curled my hands around the
cushions of the couch and prepared to hang on for dear life. But there was
no preparing for the storm that I’d unleashed.
The raging fury Paxton had trapped inside him, the anger at his lack of
control, finally came pouring out in the form of molten hot passion. And I
was the sole target.
If I survived, I just might congratulate myself.

“Tell me you want to come.”

“You son of a bitch…” Panting, I twisted my hands in the sheets.
“That might get you spanked, but it’s not going to get you an orgasm.”
Paxton slid his hand along my ass and the flesh there burned beneath his
touch.
I didn't know if I felt anticipation or anxiety at his words. He’d already
spanked me so hard that I already dreaded sitting down tomorrow, and I’d
loved every second of it. Still, I growled at him. “If you don’t make me
come, I’m going to spank you.”
He laughed and spread the cheeks of my ass wider, pushing his mouth
more completely against me.
 I was on my hands and knees, ass in the air and legs spread, completely
open and exposed. It wasn’t a position I was fond of – too vulnerable – and
he was making the most of it. I moaned as he stroked his tongue through
my folds and then circled my clit before pulling away and pushing two
fingers inside me.
“Let’s try this again. Do you want to come?”
“You’re going to pay for this,” I said. Then, unable to take it anymore, I
gave in. “Yes, dammit! Please, Paxton, make me come.”
He thrust inside me, so deep and hard, I thought I felt him clear up into
my heart. At the same time, he fisted a hand in my hair and yanked my
upper body off the bed, the angle forcing him even deeper.
“Scream for me, Les. I want to hear what I do to you.”
No scream would make that clear, but I screamed anyway. I couldn’t
hold it back as he tore the climax out of me, his hips pummeling against
mine with savage intensity. I wouldn’t be able to move without pain
tomorrow, but I wouldn't ask him to stop.
The hand in my hair slid around to my throat, tightening ever so
slightly. He pressed his thumb against the mad beat of my pulse and
whispered my name as he slowed the rhythm of his hips.
“Again…again…again…”
I don’t know if I had anything left in me.
But damn if I wouldn’t give him everything I had.

Paxton was asleep when I left my bed. It had been early when he'd shown
up at my door, not even six. Now, it was a little after midnight. We’d dozed
a little off and on, and while I was still physically exhausted, my mind was
revved. I was also starving.
Grabbing a sandwich from the kitchen, I ate quickly, my mind already a
few steps ahead. Some part of me understood the raw, violent storm that
had come pouring off Paxton the last few hours. After all, I’d unleashed it.
But there was a huge part of me that was bothered by it too.
Aside from those couple moments when he'd been going down on me
on the couch, he’d hardly looked at me. He’d kept me facing away from
him, either bent over the bed, facing the door, kneeling on the floor.
I didn’t mind that he’d needed the outlet, but I didn’t like that he’d tried
to make it impersonal. Like I was just a body to be used. Like he wouldn't
have even noticed if I'd been someone else. He'd used my name, touched
me in the most intimate places, the most intimate ways, but there was no
intimacy between us, and for the first time in my life, it bothered me.
Once I finished my sandwich, I made a quick stop by the bathroom, and
then slid back into my room. The lights were off, but it didn’t matter. I
knew where everything in my room was, and what I needed was in the
drawer by the bed.
He barely stirred when I settled in bed next to him, sitting by his
shoulders. When I took one wrist, he made a grunting noise, but after I
stroked his forehead, he settled back down. It was trickier moving on to the
next part, but he still didn’t wake. He'd exhausted himself even as much as
he'd exhausted me.
He didn't even move when I turned on the lights, or when I pulled off
the light blankets we’d had over us.
I stretched my body out against his and kissed him on the cheek, then
the mouth. The low, sighing sound he made under his breath made me
smile. As I began to kiss my way down his chest, a light tension filled his
body as he started to stir.
By the time I’d taken his cock in my mouth, he was half awake. I
swirled my tongue around his soft shaft, tasting our mingled juices on his
skin.
I heard a sleepy grunt of approval, followed by a muttered, “What…”
Lifting my head, I shoved my hair back and smiled at him.
“Payback's a bitch, Pax.”
He lay on my bed, hands tied to the wrought iron headboard, the lush,
velvet ropes twined around his wrists with expert precision. One of the guys
I’d met at Club Privé had been a switch. We hadn't been serious, but we'd
hooked up more than once. In the time we'd been together, he’d taught me
well.
Awareness drifted into Paxton's eyes as I lowered my head down and
closed my mouth around his cock again. One hand cupped his balls, the
other wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking it even as it hardened
beneath my touch.
“If this is your idea of punishment, Leslie, remind me to be bad more
often.”
I hummed around the head of his penis and would have smiled as he
arched his hips and tried to push deeper, but my mouth was full. I sucked
hard for a moment, then pulled away and stared at him.
“It’s my turn now. You just get to lie there and…take it.”
A faint smile twisted his lips up. “I will, and I'll love every minute.”
We’d see if he was still smiling in a little while.
It took about five minutes for the smile to disappear, and another ten
before he began to curse me.
“Leslie…fuck.” The snarl was loud enough that I fully expected to get
strange looks from my neighbors from here on out.
Not that I particularly cared about any of that at the moment.
I palmed his cock, stroked up, then down. My lips pressed to his thigh.
My hair spread across his lap. I watched him from under my lashes and
smiled when he jerked against the velvet ropes again. “You won’t get free
like that.”
“Untie me, you mean little bitch.” His gaze roamed over me, the desire
in them overshadowing the words he'd chosen. “I’ll have you wrapped
around my dick in ten seconds, and you’ll be coming harder than you ever
have in your life.”
“That might get you spanked.” I levered up onto my elbows and raked
my teeth over the head of his cock. “But it won’t get you an orgasm.” A
bead of fluid seeped out of the slit of his penis, and I used my thumb to
smear it around. “You know what I want.”
He groaned when I began to stroke his cock, working him manually
with firm, almost rough strokes.
“You win.” More than twenty minutes after I started, his lids drooped
down and he shuddered. “Let me come, Les. For fuck’s sake.”
Swinging my leg over his hips, I braced my hands on the headboard and
bent my head down, lips to his ear. “There’s something else I want.”
Untying the velvet ropes around his wrists, I waited for his eyes to open.
It happened slowly, almost like he was still trying to shut me out, trying
to keep me out.
Maybe I should've let him. I already knew this was getting far too
complicated. But I didn’t know how to pull back, any better than I knew
how to push him away.
When he finally looked at me, I cupped his face, putting it all out there.
“Stop shutting me out, Pax. Look at me when I take you inside me.”
His hands went to my hips as I lifted up. As I reached down, bracing
him, his lids drifted low, and I felt the pain cut all the way through me.
 But then he looked back at me, and when I sank down, taking his thick
shaft inside, our eyes locked, and it felt like I was taking more than his body
inside mine.
I knew, however, that he’d taken far more of me, and I could already
sense the misery that was waiting for me at the end of this all.
There was no escaping it, but I didn't even hesitate as I began to move
above him. I still wanted him.
Chapter Six
Leslie
“Drug results came back clean.”
I nodded at Arik as I flipped through the information I’d gotten from the
GAL – Guardian Ad Litem – assigned to Carter. In a custody case where
one parent accused another of something like this, the court assigned a
lawyer to look out for the child's interests. It would be her report that Judge
Randall would look to for her final ruling.
The GAL had gone in yesterday and assessed the home environment,
then had talked to Alex, who'd had nothing but praise for Paxton, and little
positive to say about Brinke. Carter’s teachers had also praised Paxton,
though they hadn't been able to say anything for or against Brinke. They'd
never met her. One was quoted as saying, It’s entirely possible she’s very
active in her child’s life. We simply haven’t ever had any contact with her at
school.
Alex had also talked to Arik since, according to Arik, there were
insinuations on Brinke’s side that Alex and Paxton were involved. I was
actually shocked that Brinke hadn't tried to pull me into things, but I
supposed the 'nanny' angle was just too good to not be believed.
“I’ve already made it clear that if anybody attempts to take the child
away, I’ll be fighting it.”
Flipping the reports upside down, I made myself focus on Arik’s face.
Working with him yesterday and today had given me a whole new way of
looking at Dena's boyfriend.
“Thank you,” I said. “It means the world to me that you’ve taken him
on as a client.”
Arik waved it off. “Hey, it’s not like I’m doing it pro bono. He’s paying
through the teeth.” He flashed me a grin. “Granted, the man can afford me.
Maybe I took him on as a favor, but I believe he’s innocent.”
“Dena said that mattered to you,” I said, giving him a close look.
“I like knowing that I’m helping somebody who deserves it.”
“He does deserve it.”
 “Paxton wants me to share whatever's necessary to make everything
easier,” Arik said as he put his copies of the reports away in his bag. “I’ll be
in touch soon.”
Nodding at him, I walked him to the door and gave him a quick hug.
Nobody was there, so when he squeezed me back, I rested against him
another moment, taking comfort in knowing Paxton was in good hands.
Once he was gone, I retreated back into my office and sat down, already
exhausted despite the fact that I’d only been there a couple hours.
When Haley appeared in the doorway, I tried not to let it show how
frazzled I already felt.
I failed.
“You look like you need coffee.” She was tired and pale, and I was
pretty sure she’d lost weight too.
I didn’t tell her that she looked like she needed another week or two off
– preferably some place where shoes were optional and swimsuits were the
preferred wardrobe of the day. Instead, I told her, “If you’re offering, I’m
buying.”
“Make it a bagel and coffee, and I’m out of here.”
“Done. Use the expense card. Oh, and lock up when you leave. I don’t
need anybody coming in yet. Too much on my mind.” I smiled at her, and
once she closed the door, I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes.
Arik’s visit had left me feeling hopeful. He was too good at his job to
offer empty promises. If he thought we had a good chance, then we did.
Still, as much as I trusted Arik, I couldn't actually relax. I had never had
another case twist me up like this.
“That’s because you've never been so stupid as to get involved with
somebody you’re representing,” I muttered to myself.
I wanted to brush it off, but the more I tried to fight what I felt, the more
drawn to him I was.
When the phone rang, I seized on the distraction.
But within seconds, I wished I hadn't touched it. Hell, I wished I had
never gotten out of bed that morning.
“Leslie, I'm sure you can understand where I'm coming from. This is
certainly a matter of concern.” Hugh Pattinson had a smarmy voice and a
smug attitude.
I'd dealt with him in court before, and I had no doubt that he would love
to see me fall on my face. The feeling that he might get his chance was a
sickening knowledge inside me.
Like hell. Managing a short laugh, I said, “Hugh, I really don't know
where you get your information.”
“Oh, I have pictures. Interesting pictures.”
For the briefest second, I froze. A sickening sensation spread through
me. Blood rushed to my face and I gripped the edge of my desk. He's
bluffing. I clung to that thought. How could he have pictures? It wasn’t like
there were cameras planted in Paxton's house.
Except...how did I know there weren't?
“I just bet the ethics committee would love to see these.” He sighed,
sounding very satisfied with himself. “As a matter of fact, I'm enjoying
them quite a bit myself.”
“Why don't you just tell me what pictures you supposedly have?” My
face and neck heated as I imagined all of the things he could be looking at,
and I was extremely glad Hugh had just called and hadn't come by to see
me. It was a fight to keep my voice even. “Or were you just going to give
vague speculation and hope I'll confess to something untoward.”
“Now, now, Leslie. I'm just trying to help you out. Imagine what the
ethics committee will do to you. Imagine what a trial will do to your client’s
career. The abuse and neglect allegations alone will be quite devastating, I
assure you. How he neglected his child and his wife in favor of his career.
Why his wife had to turn to drugs and alcohol simply to cope.”
Those words managed to shake me out of my daze and I bit back a
laugh. “You know, you might be able to sell that, but you still have to put
her on the stand in front of people, and the minute you do, your case is
gone. She'll never hold up.” I paused a moment and added gently, “And you
know it.”
That’s what this was about, I realized suddenly. Hugh was an ass, but a
smart one. There was no way he would risk putting Brinke in front of a jury.
Not with Arik and me on the other side of the courtroom.
A second later, he added weight to that suspicion. “Why don't we just
get this all clear here and now? No need to make this any uglier than we
need to.” He paused. “Talk to your client, Leslie. Brinke doesn't want a
divorce. She loves her husband. She loves her daughter. If she can talk to
him reasonably, you'll understand that and they can work this out.” He
waited a moment before adding, “If you can make him see reason, then it
would go better for his career…and yours. Those charges against him might
just disappear.”
“I never did respond well to threats. I don't know why you're even
bothering.” I was pissed now. Pissed and scared. A bad mix. “It might have
worked better if we had met for coffee or arranged a meeting between all of
us where you could show me the so-called photos. Maybe then I would've
been a little more concerned.”
I was feigning my indifference, because I really wanted to know if he
had anything other than Brinke's accusations, but I hoped he wouldn't be
able to tell that from my voice.
“You're taking a big risk here, Leslie. Are you sure you're ready to play
this game?”
Still gripping the edge of my desk, I closed my eyes. “I've never been
one for playing games. I think that's more your style than mine. I'm just out
to do what's best for my client and his daughter.”
Opening my eyes, I focused on the file I’d left on my desk – the one that
painted Paxton to be exactly what I knew he was – a fantastic father. The
thought of him being reunited with Carter for good gave me strength.
“The only game I’m really fond of is hardball, Hugh, so if you want to
play, be sure to brush up on your game. And be ready to lose, because
you’re on the wrong team. This isn't going to work. I won’t be bullied and
you know it. My client wants a divorce, and if yours can’t be amicable
about it, once we get the ridiculous child abuse charges dismissed, we’re
going to family court. Once that happens, your client will end up with
nothing. No judge in their right mind is going to see her as a fit mother, and
considering everything your client's pulled, she’ll have a hard time even
getting decent alimony. I have actual evidence to back it all up too, so you
might want to think good and hard about your next move.”
He hung up without saying another word. I didn't know whether to take
that as a good sign or not. Overall, he'd seemed irritated, so I didn't think
the call had gone the way he'd planned, but then again Hugh had never been
the easiest man to read. He thought with his dick, and made decisions with
his wallet, but he was one hell of a lawyer.
Realization dawned and I stared at my desk. “Well, damn.”
Hugh was all about playing games, although his favorite ones involved
his dick. Is that what'd lit a fire under his ass? He was already out there
swinging, and it was too early in the games. Why? Maybe she’d given him
an incentive.
Still, if he was being straight with me about those pictures…
“Please, no.” I pressed my fingertips to the inner corners of my eyes and
took a couple of deep breaths, stilling my mind. I had to think.
If he was for real, then I was screwed. Depending on what sort of
pictures he had – assuming he had any – going in front of the ethics
committee could cost me everything from thousands in fines to my license.
And that wasn't counting what it'd do to my reputation.
In theory, I'd thought I'd be ready for something bad to happen if people
found out about Paxton, but now that it was a reality…
Looking around my office, something I took so much pride in, I took a
deep breath, then another. Panicking wasn’t going to help.
“Get it together,” I said softly.
I'd always prided myself on being logical, and there'd never been a time
when I needed that logic more than now. That was what would save me.
Not that my vaunted logic had kept me away from Paxton. Nothing had
been able to do that.
But there were plenty of things I could do.
Like dig into those so-called pictures.
If there were pictures of us, I needed to figure out how they could have
been taken. Most likely, we were followed. That meant…
“Somebody put a private investigator on us.”
It was almost surreal how good Paxton was at picking up when
somebody was watching him. He was damn good at avoiding attention, and
he had an eye for noticing when people noticed him. I had a pretty sharp
one myself, although I had a feeling Paxton would be better at it.
If there were pictures, then somebody had hired a pro.
That meant a private investigator. A good one. Grabbing my phone, I
punched in the phone number for Stanley Kowalski.
While I waited, I grabbed my notepad and began to make a list. I
finished the first one before Stanley came on the line. Putting the pencil
down, I blew out a sigh of relief.
“Miss Calvin. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Stanley’s voice, as
always, was brisk and pleasant.
“If I asked you if you could find out if another private investigator had
been watching Paxton and me, would you be able to?”
 “Is this a rhetorical question?”
One of the bands of tension gave way inside me. It didn’t disappear, but
it loosened – a lot. “I’m going to assume that means you can do it.”
On the other end of the line, Stanley chuckled. “Of course, I can do it. It
would be tricky. Those in the trade tend to be a little more observant than
those outside of it. And, of course, we're assuming that you're still being
watched. I can't turn back time. Is there somebody in particular you think
might have had you under observation?”
I gave him Hugh’s name, and then Brinke’s.
“Well, the first step, as you know, is to check the financials and see if
there was any money exchanged.”
“Yes, I know.”
Stanley asked softly, “Shall I begin looking in that direction?”
“Yes.” I blew out a breath and rubbed the back of my neck. “I also need
you to continue looking at Brinke Maynard. The more dirt you can find on
her, the better. And the dirtier the dirt is, the better.”
“I assume this is urgent.”
I thought of the threat that had been so suddenly issued by Hugh
Pattinson only moments earlier. I thought of my license. I thought of Paxton
and Carter.
“Yes. It's urgent.”
“Understood.” He hesitated a moment and then said softly, “Since you
never told me to stop watching her, I've still been monitoring her
movements as I'm able. She pulled a fast one with the girl. I'm sorry I
wasn't able to be more help when she took her, but she's been more closely
supervised now – twenty-four seven, to be honest. If there's anything that
goes down, we’ll find it.”
“Thank you.”
Maybe I had a shot of getting out of this in one piece after all.
Chapter Seven
Leslie
Saturdays were normally a day for relaxation for me. Unless I had a major
case, I didn't let myself think about work at all.
Considering the cases I took, I didn't tend to think of too many of them
as urgent either. Sometimes I took on a case for a battered wife or other
instances where I worked my ass to get something done in the blink of an
eye, but I firmly believed in the all work, no play adage. I liked my play.
Typical Saturdays would have me sleeping in until nine, maybe even
ten, and then I'd roll out of my bed for a lazy breakfast before starting my
weekend routine. The only work I did on a regular basis was cleaning my
apartment and whatever various errands that needed to be run.
Except today, there was no sleeping in. I'd woken up after a restless
night just before the clock on my phone flipped over to six a.m. After a
cold, mostly stale bagel, I'd made some coffee, and sat down to work on the
biggest case on my plate – Paxton's.
Now, halfway through the morning, I was still sitting at my desk and
researching through Paxton's financials, trying to find something on the
card Brinke used to access the allowance Paxton gave her. He tried to keep
things set up in such a way that she wouldn't be able to drain their accounts
dry. The problem was, Paxton had done such a good job monitoring her that
I hadn't been able to find anything damning yet. I didn't just need maybes. I
needed her trapped. I needed her hung up on something so awful, the judge
would look at her and think hell, no.
I had calls out to the people involved in the incidents out in California,
and two of them had already given me statements. They would help, but
they weren't the sucker punch I was looking for. One statement was from
the man who'd found Carter sitting in the car while her mama was getting
her drunk on in a nearby open-air bar. When he'd gone in to see if he could
find anything about her parents, Brinke had first told him to mind his own
business – she'd handle her own fucking kid.
Those were her exact words? You're certain? I'd asked him.
 I shit you not, ma'am. I couldn't believe it. My mom had just passed
away and I'm telling you, she was a great mom. I knew there were some
callous people out there, but it took hearing that woman talk like that two
days after my own mom had passed for me to really appreciate just how
lucky I was.
My other statement was from one of the cops who'd pulled her over for
DUI, and it was more professional. Just as incriminating, but with none of
the emotion in it.
Every little piece added up, but I needed more than little pieces from
months ago. Brinke had gone into rehab after that, so a good attorney would
just say that she'd changed, that those were things that happened in the past
and weren't relevant to the current case.
My phone rang and wearily, I answered.
The familiar, well-modulated tones of Stanley Kowalski helped the fog
of frustration and exhaustion clear from my mind. “Good morning, Mr.
Kowalski. Keeping busy this weekend?”
“Very much so,” he said wryly. “And your weekend is getting ready to
get busy – or perhaps, busier?”
Sitting up straighter, I braced an elbow on the table. There was
something in his tone, something excited. He hid it well, but I'd worked
with him too often not to recognize when something was up. “Yeah? Just
why is that?”
“We should discuss it in person. Shall we meet for coffee? Our usual
place? Perhaps in an hour?”
His request didn't come as a surprise. He was meticulous when it came
to protecting the privacy of his clients, and while he knew how to vouch for
the security of his phone lines, he'd once told me he couldn't do the same
for those he called, so when it was sensitive information, he preferred to
share it in person.
Still, I wanted to scream. I needed to know something now.
“Is this...good?”
“Oh, it's very very bad,” he said with a sigh. “But it's what you need to
make sure that little girl is in good hands.”
That was all I needed to hear.
I had to rush through my shower, and I didn't have time to do much with
my hair other than wash it and let it air dry, but the nice thing about curly
hair was that it curled. Some gel and a quick rub with the towel and I was
done. It wouldn't work for a day at the office, but a casual meeting with a
business acquaintance? Not an issue.
A light, waist length summer jacket for the air-conditioned building, a
red cami, and my office bag and I was ready to go. I'd take the subway
since it wasn't worth fighting traffic and parking. As I left, I slid my
sunglasses on, casually taking a look around as I remembered my phone
call from the night before.
Most of the people in my neighborhood had lived there longer than I
had, so I knew which cars belonged and which ones didn't. I didn't live in
an area that drew a lot of tourists, unlike some places like Chinatown, Little
Italy, and Manhattan, so picking out those who didn't belong should've been
easy.
It wasn't though.
I did finally see somebody, though.
The person casually cleaning the windows of the coffee shop across the
street didn't belong. Mr. Gould had been running that shop since before I
was born – he'd been all too happy to tell me about how the world was
going to shit around him and why couldn't people be more like they used to
be back in the day?
For as long as I'd lived here, I'd never noticed anybody cleaning his
windows on a Saturday.
I hitched my bag up on my shoulder and started toward the sidewalk.
When I got to Mr. Gould's coffee shop, I sailed past the man washing the
windows, and even though he never once lifted his head, I had the sensation
of being watched.
Once inside, I ordered my coffee and made my way back to the table in
the back where the old man reigned like a wrinkled little king over his
domain. He could be crotchety, but I liked him.
I sat down and smiled at him, pushing my sunglasses up on the top of
my head. “How are you, Mr. Gould?"
“Leslie.” He smiled, and I couldn't help but notice he looked a more
tired than normal. “Doing good, doing good.” His eyes slid to the window
and I followed his gaze.
Pretending to just now notice the man, I arched a brow. “He's doing a
decent job. You're not going to go out there and tell him that if he wants to
be paid, he better put some muscle into it, are you?”
 “Nah.” He wheezed out a laugh. “Idiot's doing it for free, can you beat
that?”
Shit.
Before I could say anything, though, Mr. Gould leaned in, lowering his
voice. “You being a lawyer, I expect you can keep things quiet. He's got
himself a girlfriend – just moved into the building next to yours. She's got
an ex who's stalking her, so he's keeping an eye out on weekends. Guy lives
up in Buffalo and can only get down here when he ain't working, and that
boy out there is going to beat the bum's ass if he shows up like he said he
was going to.”
Not a totally outrageous story, but I didn't believe it for a minute. It was
too much of a coincidence, and I believed in those like I believed in
leprechauns. “Huh. Interesting. And you get a free window washing.”
“By an expert. He does them high-rises during the week.” Mr. Gould
winked at me. “But don't you say I said anything. He passed me fifty just so
I would let him do the building here. I own the whole damn thing, ya
know.”
“I know, Mr. Gould.” He'd only mentioned it about twenty times since
I'd moved here.
On my way out, I was able to snap a surreptitious picture of the
mysterious window-washer. I also made sure I had my email up so even if
he looked my way, all he'd see was that. I made a show of grumbling about
spam on my way through the door and didn't so much as glance at him.
I was only five minutes late to the meeting with Stanley and when he
saw the coffee in my hand, he arched an eyebrow. “Really needing that
caffeine, Miss Calvin?”
“Caffeine. Information. Both were plentiful at the shop across from
home today.” Since I didn't want to be rude, I dumped my nearly empty cup
in the trash before going into the diner with him.
“Is that a fact?” The light reflected off his glasses, making it impossible
to see his eyes, but I heard the speculation in his tone.
Smiling, quite pleased with myself, I said, “I'll tell you later. I want to
hear your news first.”
Stanley beckoned me to a corner tucked away in the back. The nod
exchanged between him and the barista spoke volumes, and as we sat down,
somebody moved up and began to mop the floor, effectively blocking us in
and anybody else out.
 Bemused, I looked up and met Stanley’s gaze.
He didn’t mention anything about it, just reached into his lightweight
jacket and pulled out a CD. Next, he put his briefcase on the table and
pulled out a small laptop. Without a word, he put the disk into the media
drive and pushed play, muting the disc.
I didn’t need audio.
The play by play taking place on the disk was pretty damning, even
without it. Feeling mildly repulsed, I wanted to look away, but I knew I had
to watch it all.
The man on the screen held out a little baggie and Brinke made a grab
for it, but he gestured to the ground. She gave him a slow smile and said
something, but I had no idea what.
“Is there clear audio?”
“Yes. It’s worse than the video.” Kowalski’s voice was empty as he
looked away from the laptop screen. I didn't blame him.
When Brinke went to her knees on the pavement in front of the man, I
rubbed the back of my neck. “Can you give me the short version of this, Mr.
Kowalski?”
“I’m tempted not to,” he admitted. “I think you should suffer the same
way I did and watch the whole thing. But…once she…” He cleared his
throat and then gave a polite summary. “Relieves him, he gives her the
baggie and mentions he has friends waiting. They move to his van and she
gets inside. I didn't have audio or video in the van, but she looks...rumpled
when she gets out later. I followed them to a house in the Bronx. There, she
went inside and serviced several more men, each time, getting either
another bag or cash which she traded for coke or pills.”
“Son of a bitch. Now I know why I couldn't find anything in the
financials.”
This was what I needed. The smoking gun that would discredit her
accusations, support Paxton's case, and get Carter away from her.
Still, as I watched her head bobbing up and down, some part of me felt
for her. This was what she’d fallen to. This was what she did to get what
she needed.
I shifted my attention to the time stamp down in the corner as the
picture shifted from the original man to what looked like the interior of a
house. Brinke was in front of a couch this time, and she was doing more
than oral. I looked over at Stanley. “The first video had no timestamp. I
assume you took that video. This one, though…it’s stamped. Somebody’s
video from their camera. Who took it?”
“I can’t divulge my sources,” Stanley said primly, clearing his throat.
I really hoped this had been shot through a window with a really good
camera and not in the house. I knew PI's sometimes had to work with some
seedy characters to get their information, but I hated the idea of being
involved with anyone who'd do what those men were doing to Brinke.
At least I knew what I'd be doing the rest of the day. I had to get this
tape in front of Judge Randall and hope that Hugh really didn't have
anything on Paxton and me. While the two of us sleeping together was a far
cry from what Brinke had done, it still wouldn't look good. I could hope for
the best all I wanted, but I needed to prepare for the worst.
Chapter Eight
Paxton
“I t's not pretty, but the bottom line is that if I can get the judge to accept
my motion, then it'll discredit pretty much everything Brinke has said, and
it'll show that she can't be trusted with a child.”
I stared at the video, trying to ignore the sick sensation in the pit of my
stomach as I watched my wife, the mother of my child, trading sex for
drugs. And she hadn't just given a single blow-job one time. The things I
saw her doing made me nauseous.
Had she done this before? How long had it been going on?
I actually didn't want to know the answer. “I don't get it,” I said, my
voice gritty and raw. “Yeah, I pretty much limited how much access she had
to the bank accounts, but she could take cash out if she wanted to. She
didn't have to do...that.”
Leslie didn't answer, but I hadn't really expected her to.
After a moment, the screen went dark, and I looked up to see her
lowering the remote. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I know this is hard.”
“Hard.” I shoved up out of the chair and started to pace. We were at her
office, the one place where she guaranteed we'd have privacy. While the
place wasn't exactly what I'd call small, I felt like the four walls were
closing in around me. Choking me.
I was going to come out of my skin if I had to stay still another minute.
“We need to decide how to handle things once we get in front of the
judge.”
“That's what I have you for.” I stopped in front of the window and threw
back the curtains, staring outside. Having a view outside helped a little, but
not much. Looking out made me want to be out, and that wasn't an option.
Now more than ever, I needed to focus. I had Leslie for the legal part of
things, but I needed to prepare myself for other people seeing that tape.
Leslie would find a way to get that disc in front of the judge. She was
too determined not to. They'd never look at Brinke and see anybody other
than a junkie, somebody who couldn't possibly handle a child. But I was the
person who allowed Brinke to stay in Carter's life, allowed Brinke to take
Carter out. That wasn't going to win me any favors.
“What do I need to do?” I asked.
“Well...”
Leslie drew the word out and after a few seconds of her not adding
anything else, I turned to look at her. Her clear green eyes focused on me
and I scowled. “Well, what?”
“You'll have to manage a full one-eighty between now and tomorrow
morning, Paxton. The pacing, the temper, the growling...it's all got to stop. I
understand it, but a judge is going to look at you, and wonder if maybe you
have issues controlling your temper.”
“I've got reasons to be pissed off,” I said, my jaw clenched.
“You do. Plenty of them. But they’re going to err, always, on the side of
caution when it comes to a minor. Anybody who talks to Carter for five
minutes can tell she adores you. But in that same five minutes, they'll be
able to tell that she's dealt with some crap no kid her age should have to
deal with. They're going to see that Brinke isn't a fit parent, of that, I have
no doubt. But that doesn't mean they're going to automatically give you
custody. The job of family court is to make sure that the child will be loved,
happy, cared for. Just show them the Paxton Gorham I see, that your
daughter sees.”
“If I showed them the Paxton Gorham you see, we both might end up
getting some odd looks, baby,” I said wryly. “And you might end up getting
your hand slapped.”
Her response wasn't what I'd hoped for, though. Her face flushed red
and she turned away, busying herself with a file on her desk. Except, from
what I could tell, she was just straightening pages that were already straight.
After years of living with Brinke, I'd become very good at reading the
subtle language of evasion – or rather, the not so subtle act. And Leslie
wasn't as good at it as my soon-to-be ex-wife. Crossing my arms over my
chest, I stared at her back. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing.” She glanced over her shoulder at me. “Why do you ask?”
“Because you're stacking and restacking the same five pieces of paper
for the third time. What's wrong?”
Her shoulders slumped. Slowly, she placed the papers face down on the
desk. “You know...you should just let it go. It's my mess. I made a mistake,
and I'll be the one to clean it up.”
 By the time she finished talking, she'd turned to face me and was
leaning against the desk, her hands on the edge, gripping it lightly. There
was a world of tension in her body. Her shoulders set in a hard line, her
eyes dark with worry. I'd been so pissed off and worried about my problems
that I hadn't realized that something was off with Leslie.
Moving to her, I cupped her face in my hands and stroked my thumb
across her lower lip. “What is it?” I asked softly. “Tell me.”
“Brinke's lawyer knows we're sleeping together.” Her lips compressed
together into a thin line as she said those words, and when my hands fell
slackly to my sides, she slipped out from between me and the desk and
moved away. “I've talked to the private investigator, and he has people
looking into it. I've already discovered that somebody is watching my
building, although I'm still waiting to hear if it's somebody hired by the
attorney Brinke is working with.”
Those words still rolled around in my head. “Fuck. I'm going to have to
contact my PR group.”
“I already have.” Leslie was behind the desk now and met my eyes
calmly as she sat down. “It isn't ideal at all for you, but it's nothing your
reputation can't handle.”
Driving the heel of my hand against my left eye socket, I emptied my
head and focused. Yeah, my reputation could handle it. It was going to get
ugly, but hell, I was a rock star. Wasn't guys like me involved in affairs all
the time. Now if it was...oh, fuck.
Locking my gaze on Leslie, I saw that she'd yet again busied herself
with small tasks. Now she was going through the drawers behind her desk.
“What will this do to you?” I asked.
She lifted a shoulder. “I'll deal with it.”
“That's not an answer.” Cutting around the desk, I knelt in front of her
and caught her hands, forcing them to still their ceaseless fidgeting. I'd
never seen her move like this. Empty movement was my thing, not hers.
“Talk to me, Les.”
Slowly, her eyes came to mine and shadows lay beneath them like
bruises against her skin. How had I not seen this before? Yes, I had some
crazy shit going on, but I should've noticed how strange she was acting.
“Her lawyer has threatened to report me to the ethics committee. He
claims...” She cleared her throat and looked away. “He says he has pictures
of us. I don't know what kind. But he says he has pictures and he'll take
them to the ethics committee if you don't stop the divorce proceedings and
try to work things out with Brinke.”
I tamped down the anger flaring up inside me. She'd been there for me
through all of this. I could at the very least return the favor.
Reaching up, I brushed the loose curls back from her face. “What can
they do, Leslie? Spank you? Tell them I'll handle it. You're a big girl.” I
grinned at her, hoping to lighten the mood.
It didn't work.
“It's not that simple, Pax. I'm a lawyer. You're my client. I shouldn't
have gotten involved with you. It was an ethical violation and I knew it. I
just...” Something in her expression made my heart melt a little. “I couldn't
resist you.”
The word violation drew my attention away from the words I wanted to
focus on. “Just how big a deal is this?”
She winced. “It depends on if he has those pictures, and what they are.
If they're incriminating...”
She shrugged and tried to stand, but I had my hands on her thighs, and if
she tried too hard, my hands would slide under that slim-fitting skirt she
wore. She realized it about the same time I did. When her glance fell to my
hands, I couldn't resist the urge to look lower and inch my fingertips up just
a fraction, feel the smooth, bare skin of her thighs.
“What happens, Leslie?” I asked, forcing myself not to get distracted.
“And don't tell me not to worry about it.”
“Stubborn bastard.” The words were unsteady. She blew out a slow
breath before finally responding. “I could get fined.”
“Fined? Hell, that's not bad. Even if it's steep, I'll handle it, okay?” The
sick feeling in my gut started to subside, but then I realized she wasn't
looking at me and the twisting returned with a vengeance. “Shit, Leslie.
What else?”
“I could lose my license to practice law.”
My hands tightened convulsively on the soft flesh of her thighs and I
pulled back, settled on my heels as I stared up at her. “Shit. You're serious.”
Leslie lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It's my fault. I shouldn't have
gotten involved with you. I knew that from the beginning, but you...” She
managed a weak smile. “I just can't tell you no and I can't pull away either.
Even though I know you're all wrong for me and I know you're bad for me.
It doesn't matter.”
 Something inside me withered at hearing you're all wrong for me. I
understood why she said it, but a part of me died anyway.
The other part of me wanted to grab her and pull her to me, mark her,
make her mine. Except she wasn't what I needed, either. If I'd gone to
another lawyer, maybe I would have been more careful, I would have seen
Brinke's machinations sooner. Maybe been more aware, more watchful.
Slowly, I reached up and cupped her face. “I guess we're both bad for
each other.” Pressing my lips to hers, I whispered, “I'm sorry.”
“It's not your fault,” she insisted.
“You're doing everything you can to help me get my daughter back and
now this is happening to you. It feels like it's my fault.” Easing back, I
brushed her hair away from her face. If only I could fix this.
She stroked my cheek and the feel of her hand on my face filled me
with a longing I couldn't quite name.
“I'm sorry,” I said again.
“Don't be sorry.” She leaned in and kissed me, her tongue slipping out
to trace my lips.
Need for her rushed through me, and I pulled her from the chair onto
my lap. She came willingly and I pushed her skirt up, dragging my fingers
across her soft skin.
“We've already been stupid,” I said, staring up at her as I traced the lace
that ran along the waistband of her panties. “Should we try to change that
now? I'll stop if you ask me to.”
Common sense said I should stop anyway. I'd fucked up in so many
ways.
“No point in trying to fix what's already broken.” She skimmed her lips
along mine.
Broken...Yeah. Things were broken, alright.
Chapter Nine
Leslie
His mouth trailed over my skin with exquisite thoroughness.
I didn't think I'd ever had anybody pay so much attention to touching
me, not even Paxton before. And he was very big on paying attention to
detail.
By the time he began to kiss his way back up my thigh, I was sweating,
trembling with anticipation, and I curled my hands into his hair, hoping he'd
get the point. He'd stripped me naked a few minutes ago, stretched me out
on the floor, and now I was so desperate for him that I couldn't think.
If he made me forget my own name by the end of this, I wouldn't be
surprised.
His lips brushed against the curls between my thighs and I whimpered.
“Say please,” he said softly.
“Please...damn you.”
He laughed, and then licked me, his tongue parting my flesh, seeking
out the most sensitive places.
I wrapped my legs around his shoulders, my heels digging into his
upper back as I arched, struggling to get closer. The stabbing motion of his
tongue, alternating with the way he teased my clitoris was going to drive
me insane. I needed to come, needed it more than I needed to breathe.
He slid one hand up between us, then thrust two fingers into my pussy,
and I came, hard and fast, my pussy clenching around his invading digits.
I was still shaking when he lifted himself over me. My eyes locked on
his face as he drove inside me with one quick thrust. The hunger on his face
made something low in my belly tighten, and as he rocked against me, I
arched up against him. The muscles in his biceps bunched, the sweat from
our bodies making our flesh slippery as he took me with hard, deep strokes.
I reached for him, needing more, needing to feel him, touch him. My
hands ran along his chest, his shoulders, curled in his hair.
Paxton's hand curved against my throat, his thumb pressing against the
racing pulse-point in my neck. He sank his teeth into my lower lip, and I
cried out, digging my nails into his firm muscles.
 “Damn, Leslie...” The words came out in a rough groan and he slammed
into me even harder.
“Again,” I demanded.
One hand braced on the hardwood floor next to my head. His eyes
glittered in the dim light as he stared down at me. I already felt bruised, but
I only wanted more. I wanted to feel him on me, in me, imprinted on my
body as much as he'd already imprinted on the rest of me.
When I finally came, I thought it would be the end of me. My entire
body felt like it was on fire, like every electrical impulse in my body was on
overload.
Paxton pulled out suddenly, and I was left feeling empty. Before I could
process, however, he was rolling onto his back, and pulling me with him,
my knees on either side of his waist. His still-hard cock brushed against my
quivering pussy.
“Now it's my turn,” he said as he grasped my hips. “Again.”
With a shaky sigh, I slid down on him, taking him an inch at a time until
he was fully sheathed inside me. I bit my lip and braced my weight with my
hands on his chest as I began to move. It was slower this time, our eyes
locked as I rocked back and forth.
His hands slid all over, from my neck to my breasts to my thighs,
caressing every part of me that he could reach. His touch was surprisingly
gentle, at odds with the rough way he'd manhandled me before.
I liked it.
I smoothed my hands down his muscled chest and rolled my hips,
drawing a moan from him. I was so sensitive now that I only had to move
the slightest bit to feel ripples of sensation running across my nerves, and
those same small movements had Paxton's cock jerking and pulsing inside
me. We were both so close.
One of his hands slid down, seeking out my swollen clit with his thumb.
I scraped my nails over the flat circles of his nipples even as his thumb
brushed against me. He bucked under me and I gasped, instinctively
clenching around him. He sat up, curving an arm around my waist, holding
me against him. His eyes burned as he drove into me harder, harder.
It hurt, but in a good way.
When my head fell back, Paxton shoved his hand into my hair and
tangled the strands around his fist, forced me to look at him. “Watch...watch
me, Leslie.”
 So I did. I kept my eyes on him even as I moved with him, against him.
We'd had sex dozens of times, in dozens of different ways, but this felt
different, somehow, more intimate. I'd never understood what that word
meant, not really, not until now.
When I came, he saw it roll across my face even as it rolled through my
body. And when he came moments later, I saw it in his eyes first, the way
his pupils spiked, the way his lips parted and he groaned.
His cock jerked inside me, his arms tightened, and this time, he sank
back to the floor, holding me against his chest.

“I don't think I'll ever be able to view my office in the same light again.”
Paxton lay behind me, one arm thrown over my waist, his fingers
making lazy circles on my skin. More than thirty minutes had passed and
save for when I'd gotten up to grab a couple of throw pillows and the
blanket I had on hand for emergencies, neither of us had moved.
He plucked at the blanket. “This for your occasional quickie on the
office floor?”
“Funny,” I said. “No, it's so the next time a winter storm comes in and
dumps a foot of snow on us while I'm arguing with an idiot on the phone, I
can sleep it out here instead of fighting through the mess out there. Last
time, it took me three times longer to get home than normal.”
That conversation had been nearly fifteen minutes ago, and neither of us
had said anything since.
Finally, rolling around, I studied his face. With the curtains drawn, my
office was dim, but I could see him well enough. He looked down at me, his
face solemn, almost sad. As I tried to figure out whatever could be behind
that expression, he reached up and toyed with one of my curls, wrapping it
around his finger.
“You've done so much for Carter and me,” he said. “I can't thank you
enough.”
“I'm just doing my job.” Curling my hand around his wrist, I squeezed.
“Although you're getting some extra benefits. Maybe I should charge for
those.”
He cocked an eyebrow at me, but instead of responding, he pressed his
forehead to mine and lapsed back into that taut, brooding silence.
 After a couple more minutes, he got up and grabbed his pants. As he
disappeared into my personal bathroom, I told myself I didn't need to worry.
Everything was fine.
Oddly enough, even after what we'd just done, I was having a hard time
believing it.
Chapter Ten
Paxton
I could lose my license.
Those words were too loud inside my head.
Ever since I'd dropped down behind her, ever since the fog of need had
cleared, I'd been able to think of only a few things.
And those thoughts were centered on three females.
Brinke – and what she was doing to herself.
Carter – and what Brinke was doing to her.
Leslie – and what I had done to her.
It didn't matter if Leslie insisted she was to blame. It took two people to
tango, but if my dick hadn't been so hard-up for her, I would have thought it
through and realized how very, very bad it was getting involved with the
woman who was handling my divorce case.
Leslie lay with her back against my chest, a warm, sweet weight, and I
couldn't think clearly, not with her so close.
After pulling away, I grabbed my jeans and disappeared into the
bathroom. Closing the door behind me, I tugged my jeans on and zipped
them up over my naked ass. My phone was a solid weight in my back
pocket and after pulling it out, I leaned back against the door. At first, I
wasn't sure what I wanted to search, but my fingers tapped it out almost
automatically.

What happens when a lawyer is turned over to the ethics committee?

It took more than a few minutes of searching, and then a few more revised
searches before I had a better idea of what could happen.
Leslie could be in a lot of trouble.
But there was a slight chance I could be fucked too.
 That pissed me off, but something told me that chance had to be slight,
or she would have told me.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I told myself to think.
If the ethics committee ended up grilling her while I was still working
on getting custody, then that wouldn't look good to the judge. If this thing
moved as slow as everything else did, then it would probably take a long
time, so that worked in my favor. But I couldn't leave things up to chance.
Not for Carter.
And, secondarily, but also still importantly, not for Leslie.
I was feeling a little sick.
Sick...and resigned.
Shoving off the wall, I moved over to the sink and turned on the water.
As I washed up, I did a mental pep talk. I'd spent a great deal of my life
doing things I didn't like. I sucked it up and did it because I knew that was
how life worked. Sometimes you just had to do shitty things. It was part of
being a grown up. Before, it had been part of making it as a rock star, and
before that, it had just been part of living.
Now it was going to be a part of doing what was best for Carter...and
everyone else involved.
It sucked, but that was life.
Carter hadn't asked to be born to a mother who couldn't walk away from
drugs, or to a father who hadn't been able to protect her.
I would, though.
Starting now.
Splashing water on my face, I lifted my head and stared at my reflection
in the dim light.
Water dripped down my nose and cheeks. I could still taste Leslie on my
lips. This time, I made myself be smart and I washed the taste away.
Cupping water in my hands, I drank from my hands, swished it around and
then spat it out. After doing it twice, I looked at my reflection again.
The memory of her taste still lingered, but I had a feeling it would take
a while for that to fade. Maybe the rest of my life.
So be it.
Now it was time to do what needed to be done.
When I opened the door, Leslie was dressed and she'd moved to the couch.
She had a cup of coffee in her hand and was gazing through one of the slats
in the blinds. Her eyes moved toward me as she reached for the strings,
drawing the blinds closed.
“I don't think we planned on our...meeting running so late,” she said
with a smile.
“No.” I didn't smile back.
I couldn't imagine smiling anytime soon. Not without Carter.
Leslie nodded to the coffee on the table in front of the couch. “I made
you a cup.”
Nodding, I moved closer and sat down on the table as I took the cup.
Folding my hands around it, I lifted it to my lips and took a sip. The heat
jolted through me, and I felt the punch of the caffeine, although it did
nothing to lift the fog in my head. It wasn't exhaustion, just...regret.
Weariness, the kind no amount of sleep could lift.
“Are you ready for court?” she asked.
“As ready as I can be.” I put the cup down and tried to tell myself to get
it done. I opened my mouth, but after a few seconds, when no words came,
I just picked up the coffee and took another sip.
Leslie spoke again, but her words faded to a hum. This time, after I put
the coffee down, I reached out and took her hand.
“Les.”
I guess she heard something in my voice because her hand stiffened
under mine.
“If...” Clearing my throat, I forced myself to look at her. It was
cowardly to look anywhere else when I was doing this. I'd never much had
any use for cowards, but now I understood a little. It was easier to look
away than face the people you hurt head on. “If you get taken before the
ethics committee while we're still trying to argue my case for Carter, it will
hurt my chances, won't it?”
“It's not going to move that fast–”
“It could.” I cut her off and looked at her hard. “You can't guarantee me
that it won't move that fast. And, you've got your own career to think about,
and this isn't good for you, no matter when it happens.”
Leslie opened her mouth, looking like she wanted to argue, but after a
moment, she closed it again.
 She knew, and I was pretty sure that some part of her had even been
expecting this. She was smarter than me. I'd known that pretty much from
the first.
I’d never expected any of this, and it was cutting the soul out of me to
do it, but it had to be done.
I reached up to touch her face, but she pulled back. After sliding down
the couch, she stood up and circled around, putting the couch between us.
“I think it's best if you...” She stopped to clear her throat.
“I don't want to hurt you,” I said softly. “That was never my intent.”
“I know.” She managed a weak smile that didn't reach her eyes. “I knew
it could never go anywhere.”
I sure as hell wished it could, but...I pushed the thought away. “I've got
to think about my daughter. Carter is what matters.”
She nodded, her eyes almost too bright in her pale face.
“Of course.” She nodded to the door and her voice was strong as she
said, “You should go. I'll see you before court.”
“I...” Frowning, I looked around. I didn't like leaving her here alone.
Especially this late. It didn't seem right. “I thought you were done.”
“Hardly. Please, just go, Paxton.” Her smile grew brittle around the
edges. “There's no reason for you to stay now. It's over, after all.”
The look in her eyes made it clear that I wasn't going to be given a
chance to push the issue, either. I nodded as I headed for the door, pausing
just long enough to grab my bag. I felt like there was a fist around my heart,
squeezing and squeezing, but I knew I couldn't stay.
Once I had my hand on the door, I paused and looked back, but Leslie
was striding toward the bathroom and no matter how hard I stared at her,
she wouldn't turn back to face me.
I got it, really.
I didn't want to face me either.

A Legal Affair continues in Book 4 - Turn the page to keep reading.

A Legal Affair Book 4
Chapter One
Leslie
T here was absolutely nothing like trying to prepare for court when all I
wanted to do was sit in bed with a pint of ice cream and maybe a bottle of
vodka.
It sounded pretty pathetic, even to me.
But I felt pathetic. Paxton had walked away from me Saturday night,
and all I could think about was him, and not because of his case. For
somebody as competitive as me, my mind definitely wasn’t where it needed
to be.
I hadn’t even had the luxury of drinking myself stupid either. Since our
hearing was first thing this morning, I had to be clear-headed and sharp
today. Yesterday, I'd needed to finish putting things together. So, two nights
without the comfort of drinking myself into a stupor. And my mood was
shit.
I’d worked with judges who probably wouldn’t have noticed if I'd come
to work wearing panties on my head, doing little more than going through
the motions of a job they no longer cared about. Judge Randall wasn’t one
of those judges. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had laser vision that
allowed her to double-check that everybody in her courtroom was wearing
the right kind of underwear.
No, being hungover in front of her wasn’t an option.
Now, as I stood outside Judge Randall’s courtroom with Paxton, I went
over everything one final time.
“Do you think the judge is going to allow the video?” he asked.
He’d barely spared a glance at me, and he didn’t look affected at all by
what happened between us. He was doing his typical pacing, but I knew
that had nothing to do with me. Maybe it was foolish of me to think that it
had been as hard for him to end things as it had been for me.
Catching his arm, I brought him to a stop. But the second I did it, I
regretted it. No touching.
I dropped my hand.
 “Try to relax,” I reminded him. Averting my gaze, I busied myself
checking a few things on my phone. Email. There was always plenty of
email. “As to the video, I don’t know, Paxton.”
I wouldn’t offer him false comfort. I had a good argument for why the
judge should consider the evidence, and once I pointed out that taking the
disc’s contents into consideration was in the best interest of the child, her
interest would be piqued. It would just take the right timing, the right
wording…and handling everything with kid gloves. Randall wasn’t much
for showboating in her courtroom. I needed to make sure that she didn't
think I was doing it for sensationalism.
Feeling Paxton’s gaze on me, I looked up. He was staring at me hard,
like he was trying to see if I was angry with him.
I offered the most reassuring smile I could. “Look, so far, everything
Brinke has said has all been based on her claims that you’re a bad father,
that she’s the more stable one, the one Carter wants to be with. She wants
them to believe that we're exaggerating her drug addiction and her neglect.
The video argues against that. It’s evidence.”
Paxton still looked doubtful. A few days ago, I would have patted his
shoulder or hugged him even. Friendly support. Now, I just gave him an
encouraging smile.
“If she tries to convince people that she did what she felt was necessary
to cope or to protect Carter, well…she’ll have a hard time making that stick
once the judge sees the disc.”
“So people have to see it?”
The grimness in his voice had me looking away.
“The judge, yes. Beyond that?” I shrugged, uncertain what to tell him.
“It'll depend on how things go.”
The idea bothered him, though. I could tell from the tightness in his
voice and the rigid way he held himself. It bothered him a lot. And I
couldn't blame him. What Brinke had done...
He started to say something else, but at that moment, the bailiff
appeared and gave me a nod.
Showtime.
Just as we went to enter the courtroom, I heard the clatter of heels
behind me followed by an obnoxiously loud whisper.
“That’s her…isn’t it? Yeah, it is. You did try to talk her into letting this
go, didn’t you?”
 I recognized Brinke’s voice, and Paxton started to turn around, but I
caught his arm and tugged. “Come on. The show started the second the
bailiff came to get us. Don’t give them any reaction at all. Keep yourself
calm and collected.”
As we took our places up front, my nerves settled into a cold hard lump.
I pasted my most professional smile in place as I leaned over to Paxton.
“Stay in the seat until I say otherwise. No matter what. No talking, no
interrupting. You’re as cool as ice – got it?”
He gave a short nod, looking far calmer than I felt, although I knew it
was just a pretense. The calm I presented was the same – a facade I wore as
I turned to face Hugh Pattinson. He was already striding toward me, hand
outstretched.
“Hello, Ms. Calvin. Did you think any more about my offer? It’s your
last chance. Best to consider your options here.”
“The only options that I’m considering right now is whether I’m
grabbing Chinese for lunch or a deli sandwich.” I smiled back at him as we
shook hands.
He squeezed my hand a little too hard and kept staring at me. “Come on
now, Leslie. Do you really want me to make that phone call after this?”
“Come on now, Hugh.” Head-cocked, I asked, “Do you really think
you’re the only one with a client who knows private investigators? And
unlike you, my client isn’t holding out hoping for a big payoff. He already
has the money in the bank. So I was able to go to the best and the goods he
got me? They were top…” My gaze slid over to Brinke, lingered. I hesitated
a few more seconds, letting the word hang between us before I looked back
at Hugh. “Notch.”
His pupils flared and something that might have been panic leaped to
brief, hot life. It was only for a few seconds, but during those few seconds,
he let my hand go and backed away like I was contaminated. I resisted the
urge to scrub my palm against my leg. His panic had eased some of the
tension in me.
“What –” That was all he said before he got himself under control.
“Well, I guess you’re coming up in the world, Leslie. Playing hardball just
like the rest of us old dogs.”
“I was born to play, Hugh. Haven’t you heard that?” From over his
shoulder, I could see Brinke glaring at me, but I didn’t waste a second on
her. Moving back to Paxton’s side, I saw that he was still staring straight
ahead, waiting patiently.
“You ready?”
He slid me a look. “Does it matter?”
No. Not really. The door opened and the judge came striding out.
Randall nodded at all of us as the bailiff called court into session and
announced the judge. As things started to get under way, my nerves began
to settle even more.
The disc, I knew, would likely be one of the last things I had a chance to
present. There were any number of things to take care of first – reports from
the social worker, questions about home life and school. Judge Randall had
spoken to Paxton when we'd tried to get emergency custody on grounds of
medical neglect, but she had yet to meet Brinke.
And the judge wasn't going to walk on eggshells.
“I've already received the report from the GAL, but I have my own
questions. Ms. Maynard –”
“You can call me Brinke.” Brinke offered what look like an open and
friendly smile. “Everybody does.”
Her lawyer laid a hand on her arm that I thought looked a bit too
friendly.
After what I'd done, I didn't have room to judge, but I sincerely hoped
Hugh was using protection if he was sleeping with Brinke.
“Ms. Maynard,” Judge Randall continued, “I’d like some information
about the days when you and your daughter were...away.”
“Oh, of course, Ms....um, Judge. What can I tell you?”
Looking directly over at her wasn’t exactly polite, but I’d long since
mastered the art of using my peripheral vision to see what was going on,
and Brinke was leaning earnestly over the table, staring at Judge Randall as
she spoke.
“For starters, why didn’t you take her glucose meter and her insulin
with you when you left the restaurant?” Randall wasn’t smiling and while
her expression was quite earnest, it was more on the grim side. No open and
friendly smiles from her.
“I…” Brinke hesitated a moment.
“Your Honor, this isn’t quite the matter we’re here to discuss,” Hugh
said, rising.
 “On the contrary, counselor, it is. We’re here to discuss matters that
concern the welfare of a minor child – one who has a medical condition that
requires special care. If you think it doesn’t pertain to your client’s case,
then you’re mistaken.” Randall continued to stare at Brinke. “Your client
wants to be awarded custody of her daughter, yet she took that minor child,
without taking the necessary items to keep the medical condition under
control.”
“But I had –”
“A moment, Your Honor.” Hugh leaned over to Brinke, speaking
furiously.
I caught a few words, mostly because Brinke couldn’t be quiet, and
Hugh had to raise his voice.
One word I caught – perjure.
“Mr. Pattinson, I’d like to proceed sometime today,” Judge Randall said
after two minutes.
“Yes, yes…of course. I’d like to –”
“I’m sure you would, but I want answers from Ms. Maynard. She was
the one who took her daughter without any thought to the diabetes. So, Ms.
Maynard, your answer…? I would like to remind you that prescriptions are
trackable, and the GAL has already accounted for the medication most
recently filled, and it was found at your daughter's legal residence.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Brinke’s smile was gone. Her voice had gone husky and
she looked over to Hugh, reaching out to clutch his hand. The picture was
that of a woman needing support. “I was just so scared. It was the one time
I had a chance to get us away from him, and I took it.”
“Leaving your daughter's bag that contained the insulin, as well as a
three-thousand-dollar food bill with her nanny.” Randall nodded while the
stenographer madly typed away. “Moving on.”
“Judge Randall, I –”
“Moving on, counselor,” she said again, peering at Pattinson over her
glasses before picking up her clipboard and studying it. Then she nodded at
the bailiff.
Chelsea Hall, the social worker who'd been assigned to Carter, was
called to the stand and they spent a few minutes discussing everything from
Carter’s home life. Her bedroom. What kind of food was in the kitchen?
Was the place sanitary? All typical questions I could quote by heart.
 When Chelsea got to discussing Carter’s diet, the judge would
periodically ask her to wait while she hammered Brinke and Paxton with
questions.
Paxton answered almost everything without pause, but a couple of
times, he pulled out a notebook I’d not noticed before. It was a small,
tattered thing, and when the judge asked to see it, Paxton shrugged and held
it out to the bailiff. I caught sight of it as it exchanged hands. It appeared to
be some sort of quick reference on a diet for juvenile diabetes.
“It looks like you’ve read it to pieces,” Judge Randall said, skimming
the pages.
“I was checking it almost daily for a while,” Paxton said. “Now I keep it
on hand because Carter's sliding scale dosage is jotted down inside, as well
as the names of her doctors.” He started to shrug again, then stopped. “It’s
my little girl’s health. I don’t want to be caught off guard. Alex has a copy
she keeps with her too.”
The judge looked at Chelsea, and the social worker nodded.
“And where is your copy, Ms. Maynard?”
Brinke started to laugh, but the sound died in her throat when she
caught the glint in Randall’s eyes and realized that the judge was serious.
“I…well, I don’t do as well with that stuff, and Carter prefers Alex to do
her shots. She says I hurt her.”
“Um-hmm.” Judge Randall tapped the book on the surface in front of
her. “If I said I wanted to keep this as evidence, Mr. Gorham?”
He looked thrown. “Ah…well, I’d ask if I could have a couple of days
so I can buy another one and make sure I get all my notes transferred over.
I’ve got a lot of information in there and I don’t want to lose it.” He shifted
in his chair, but the movement was very small. “Or, if you wanted to
preserve the chain of custody or something like that, I'd ask if I could take
pictures of each page so I could transfer the information.”
Good answer. Staring at Randall, I suspected she thought so too. She
didn’t need the book. She wanted to see if Paxton still thought he did, and
what he'd do if he wanted it back.
“I think I’m okay.” She returned it to the bailiff who brought it back to
Paxton.
He clutched it so hard that his knuckles turned white. An odd sort of
security blanket, but a good one.
 “How is Carter doing in school, Ms. Maynard? What's her favorite
subject?”
Brinke shot Paxton a look this time, but he was staring straight ahead. I
didn't think he’d looked at her once.
“I didn’t ask your husband, Ms. Maynard.”
“I…” Sounding helpless – and like she was getting mad – Brinke lifted
a hand in despair. “Art. She loves drawing shi – stuff.”
“Mr. Gorham?”
“Reading.” He looked over at the judge. “I have a hard time getting a
book out of her hands when it’s time to go to another subject. And she
pretty much hates math. I did too, so she comes by it honestly.”
Randall looked over at Chelsea. “Have the teachers ever had any trouble
with Carter?”
“Oh, no. She’s an excellent student. Very social and kind, interacts well
with others. That’s been my experience with her as well. While I understand
she’s had to take summer school classes so she can move ahead with her
class next year, she seems quite bright, and I very much enjoyed talking to
her.”
Judge Randall shifted toward the social worker more completely, and I
reached for my pen, slipping it under the desk to fidget. This was going to
be important – very much so. A social worker’s observations carried a lot of
weight, probably even as much as the guardian ad litem, the court-
appointed attorney whose job it was to look out for Carter's best interests.
“Mrs. Hall, what’s your take on the relationship between the child and
her parents?”
“It’s…varied,” Chelsea said after a moment’s hesitation. “When you
talk to her about her father, you get a very different reaction than what you
get if you ask her about her mother.” She flicked a glance toward Brinke
and then focused back on the judge.
“Explain please.”
Chelsea reached up and rubbed at her brow. “It’s clear that Carter loves
her mother, and that she would love to spend more time with her. But when
asked why she doesn’t do this, she says that her mom is sick a lot or tired.
Then she becomes quite withdrawn.”
Hugh stuttered for a split second and then rose, speaking in a firm voice.
“Objection, Your Honor.” He wasn't even able to state his objection before
he was cut off by Judge Randall.
 “Continue, Mrs. Hall.”
Chelsea nodded. “When they are able to spend time together –
particularly at home or seeing a movie or a show, for example – Carter has
fun, but more often than not, they end up going out. In that case, Carter tells
me that a lot of times, her mother’s friends join in and Carter enjoys that
less. Often these events lead to a great deal of stress –”
“Objection!” Hugh was on his feet again. “Your Honor, I apologize, but
I thought we were talking to a social worker, not a child psychologist.”
“Excuse me, Your Honor…might I address that?” Chelsea asked softly
before Randall could speak. She didn’t wait for an answer, focusing her
pale blue eyes on Hugh. “I graduated with dual majors, focusing on
behavioral sciences and social sciences. My plan was to work with children
in the system, to help. Sometimes – no, often the help they need is
somebody to talk to, somebody who will listen. I couldn’t do my best if I
didn’t at least understand some of what might be driving them, which is
why I focused on child psychology. So when I say she becomes withdrawn,
and I say I believe certain events seem to cause her stress, I’m not speaking
theoretically. I’m saying this because while I talk with her, she shows signs
of stress that I've been trained to recognize. Certain topics, particularly
about her mother or her mother’s friends make her withdraw from the
conversation.” She paused for a moment and then asked sweetly, “Will that
suffice for you, sir?”
“It works for me and in this room, it’s my opinion that matters. Mr.
Pattinson, please sit down.” Judge Randall’s gaze was hard this time, and
her voice cold.
I’d stopped fidgeting with the pen several minutes ago, and let myself
enjoy watching Hugh Pattinson get his ass handed to him by Chelsea Hall.
And Hall wasn't done yet. “If you want my professional opinion, while
Carter loves her mother, she doesn’t enjoy being with her. She stresses and
worries. Discussing it makes her withdraw from the conversation or try to
change the subject. After some time, she finally told me that she worries
she’ll end up sick again because her mother can’t take care of her.”
“You lying bitch!” Brinke was on her feet now.
Oh, hell. Next to me, Paxton covered his eyes with his hand, and I could
feel the tension inside him.
The social worker had all but made my case for me, and I hadn’t had to
do anything. But none of this was easy for Paxton to hear.
 “You will be silent, Ms. Maynard. Get your client under control,
counselor!” Randall pointed a finger at both of them while the bailiff took a
few steps forward.
The warning wasn’t necessary. Hugh already had his hands on Brinke's
arms. He was talking to her in a low, hard whisper and something he said
must have penetrated.
“One more outburst, Ms. Maynard, and you’ll be found in contempt,”
Judge Randall said as Brinke settled back in her chair, hostility spilling out
of her. At the judge’s words, she whipped her head around and it was
almost like a different person came out.
“I…yes. I’m sorry. I just –”
Randall shook her head. “Just remember what I said.” She looked at
Chelsea and waved a hand in Paxton’s direction. “Let’s shift gears. What
does the minor child have to say about her father?”
“Well…” Chelsea smiled now. “He’s her hero. She wants to be just like
him when she grows up.”
“Is that so?” Randall plucked up a file and flipped through it. “He has a
history of drug and alcohol use. Do you deny that, Mr. Gorham?”
I didn’t let myself stiffen or respond. I knew better. I just hoped Paxton
did.
He spoke slowly, his voice calm. “No, Your Honor. I don’t deny it.”
He said nothing else. Good, good…only give what’s been asked…
“And you’re clean now? For how long?”
“Going on seven years. I stopped doing drugs when I found out my…
when I learned we were having a baby. I still drank recreationally until
recently, but it was pointed out to me that…well. My daughter doesn’t have
a balanced view on some things. While I drink within moderation, she
doesn’t see much moderation outside of that, and it’s probably best to limit
her exposure to any sort of substance, especially until she’s older.”
Randall’s gaze narrowed. “Don’t you have an issue with alcohol like
you did with drugs?”
“No, ma’am. I never did. I’d have a beer after practice with the group.
Maybe a scotch on a night out. But that…well, that wasn’t my poison.” He
stared her straight in the eye. “I don’t need it, and while I didn’t think about
it at the time, Carter comes from two parents with addiction problems. It’s
best that it just be out of the house altogether.”
Randall nodded.
 “Your Honor…”
Hugh’s voice was quickly becoming a sound that triggered some violent
impulses I'd rarely felt before. But I kept my expression placid as he
directed a question at large. “It’s my client’s position that her husband never
really did go as clean as he claims. He’s just better at hiding it.”
“If he can hide it from a hair test that goes back well over three months,
then he’s going to make even more money than he already has once he tells
the world of his methods,” Judge Randall said dryly, holding up a sheet of
paper. She passed it to the bailiff and it was delivered to Pattinson.
“This only goes back three months.”
“If you’re ready to discuss drug test results, Mr. Pattison, we can look at
the results of the test your client took,” Randall said, her voice hard.
He shut up and sat down. Hard.
“Your Honor.” Chelsea called Randall’s attention back to her and the
judge nodded. “About Mr. Gorham’s history. During my talks with Carter, I
learned that she’s got what I’d consider a very honest, open relationship
with him. She is actually very aware that he used to do drugs. He’s
discussed it with her and has told her that the stupidest thing…I’m quoting
here…” She paused to riffle through a file I just now saw. “'My daddy says
the stupidest thing he ever did was take the first pill – the second stupidest?
Listening to the idiot who offered it to him. He wants me to be smarter than
he was.’” Chelsea cleared her throat and looked back at the judge. “They
must talk about it quite a bit because she had that memorized – she even
told me the man’s first name, and then asked that I not repeat it because she
doesn’t like to talk about people.”
The judge’s face creased into a faint smile. “Very well. Is that all?”
“Well…there was one thing…” Chelsea shot a look at Paxton and now
she was smiling. “Carter tells me she loves getting manicures…from her
dad. He puts pink jewels on her nails when she asks him to.”
The judge's eyebrows went up. “Is that a fact?”
I smothered a laugh while Hugh waved a hand. “And just what does that
have to do with anything?”
“Your Honor, I believe…” I rose, speaking for the first time. “It goes to
show that he spends a great deal of time with her. Fatherly time. Your client
is claiming neglect and abuse, and yet the social worker has stated that my
client takes the time to give his daughter manicures.” Now I smiled, looking
over at Paxton as I added, “With pink jewels, no less.”
 From there, the proceeding started to move quicker, and I breathed out a
silent sigh of relief. It had gone very, very well.
Near the end, I finally had my opening to present the disc.
Proceed with caution. Those words might as well have been flashing
neon red in my brain the whole time.
“Judge Randall, I have…sensitive information that I believe you need to
consider as we move forward in this case.”
Her brows arched. “Very well.”
“As I said…it’s sensitive. May I approach?”
With a sigh, she rolled her hand, indicating for me to come forward.
Hugh fell in step with me, whispering under his breath when he saw what I
was carrying. I ignored him.
Once we reached the bench, I leaned forward, pitching my voice low.
“Your Honor, Mr. Pattison’s client has made a case claiming that my client
is unfit to raise their daughter. As yet, there is no evidence of that. Indeed,
there’s plenty of evidence refuting it, but my client’s wife came to court
today wanting to push for custody on the grounds she’s the more stable,
more fit parent.”
“Am I to assume you have evidence to the contrary?” She eyed the file I
held.
“I do. I was just made aware of this over the weekend – and there’s
proof of that as well, so I wasn’t able to advise the court or Mr. Pattison’s
office of it before this morning. I have a sworn affidavit from my source
right here.”
She sighed and then gestured to the bailiff. “Ten-minute recess while I
see counsel in chambers.” Once we were in her office, she turned to me.
“Okay, Miss Calvin. What’s this about?”
First I gave her the letter and invoice from Kowalski Investigations.
“My investigator. He came upon this evidence Friday night – well after
reasonable hours, and I was given the disc on Saturday. Once you
understand what's on the disc, you’ll see why I’m moving to have the
charges against Mr. Gorham thrown out, and requesting that the court rule
in favor of my client.”
Judge Randall dropped the letter on the desk after giving it a cursory
glance and held out a hand. I gave her the file with a copy of the disc, my
argument for dismissing the pending abuse charges, and my request for
custody. As she skimmed everything, I summarized my position succinctly.
 “Brinke Maynard has been exchanging sexual favors for drugs, Your
Honor.”
Slowly, the judge's eyes lifted to mine.
Hugh exploded.
She snapped at him to be quiet. “Just how did you come by this? Was it
obtained legally?”
“It was given to me by my private investigator,” I said calmly.
And that was the truth. I hadn't asked Stanley about any cash that may
or may not have exchanged hands to get the most damning part of the
evidence. That way, I could say that I came by it legally, and I could submit
it as evidence.
“It was given to my private investigator legally, yes. The man who gave
it to him prefers not to have his name shared, and my investigator won’t
violate the confidentiality of his sources.”
“Hmmm.”
She tapped the file against her hand before looking at Hugh for a hard
moment.
“This is bull –”
He corrected himself and drew in a breath before jabbing a finger at me.
“Slandering my client will get you in a lot of trouble, Ms. Calvin. This is a
dangerous line to walk.”
I turned over the other folder, with his copy of the disc. “Once you see
the contents on that disc, you’ll see there’s no case for slander. Sex was
given. Drugs traded hands after the fact. With multiple men.”
“How do you know she was given drugs?” he demanded.
“Unless she was licking powdered sugar off a man’s penis after she
performed fellatio…” I took a slow breath before I said anything else that
could bite me in the ass. “And if you want to make that argument, go ahead,
but I’ll insist on repeating Ms. Maynard's hair test, looking for cocaine. The
disc is time-stamped for Thursday night.”
His argument was cut off. Holding up her hands, Randall said, “That’s
enough. I’m going to review the disc, and your argument to consider it as
evidence.” She shook her head and gave Hugh a narrow look. “Take this
into consideration, Mr. Pattinson. If I find that your client is indeed
exchanging sex for drugs, you will not win this case. Whether or not the
father gets custody is another matter, but I will not allow a minor to be
placed in the custody of a clear addict.”
Chapter Two
Paxton
“T hank you.”
Leslie looked at me as we left the courtroom. She hadn't done much of
that, but it hadn't kept me from noticing the shadows under her eyes, and
the sadness in them. Not that it had affected her in court.
I didn't know what all happened when she’d left with the judge and
Brinke’s attorney, but that guy hadn’t been happy when they'd come out.
“Thanks for what?” Leslie asked, her tone measured.
Restless, I shrugged. “What do you mean for what? For everything
you’re doing, for me, for Carter.” Brusquely I added, “Even for Brinke.”
She laughed, but the sound had a bitter edge. “I’m not doing anything
for her.”
“Yeah, you are.” I shot her a look. “You could have announced in front
of the entire courtroom what was on that disc, and it easily would've made
its way out into the media. You know you could have. Why didn’t you?”
Leslie’s gaze slid away. “Who’s the lawyer here, you or me? I’m not
going to tell you how to perform on stage. You don’t need to ask me how I
choose to present evidence.”
She was brushing me off and I couldn’t blame her. It still hurt like hell,
and I figured I deserved it, but I still couldn’t understand why she'd done it.
It wasn’t like Brinke hadn’t set herself up for whatever fall was coming.
I caught her arm when she would've headed in the other direction. Court
was over for the day, and we'd already made plans for the next meeting.
There was no reason for us to linger. No reason for us to talk outside of the
case. Not anymore. I'd taken care of that.
Still, I had to have that answer.
“Just tell me why, Leslie.”
Her gaze fell to my hand and then she lifted those pretty green eyes to
mine. “Please don’t touch me.”
I managed not to flinch at her flat tone, but it was hard, and it almost
hurt to let my hand fall away. My fingers curled into a fist, and I stood
there, staring at her.
 With a stiff nod, she said, “Thank you. As to why, there could be a
hundred answers to that, Mr. Gorham.”
I wanted to hit something. I wanted to grab her. I wanted to cuss. Are we
back to that?
But I didn’t say anything. I’d made the decision to move things back to
a more professional level. If this was what she needed to keep distance, then
so be it. It was for her protection almost as much as it was for Carter.
“When Hugh Pattinson called about whatever so-called pictures he had,
he mentioned that most of his case would be built on his argument that you
abused and neglected your wife and daughter. He was claiming that she
turned to drinking and drugs in a fit of depression.” Leslie spoke in a brisk
voice, the same one I’d heard her use with the judge. With strangers.
Now she was using it on me, and I hated it.
Before I could say anything, Leslie dismissed the idea with a wave of
her hand. “She was drinking and using before she met you. You used to do
it together. I get that. But there’s a good chance Hugh's not completely off
base about the depression, the drinking, and drugs. Do you have any idea
how many people self-medicate themselves with drinking and drugs?” She
paused and lifted an eyebrow. “You’d be amazed. The stats I can give you
just with the research I’ve had to do with clients…” She shook her head.
“Whether she is a good mom, whether she was hooking for drugs, if she’s
depressed, I didn't want to add to that by letting everybody in there know
what she'd done on that video. It would have leaked out, we both know it.
Everybody would've found out. If she ever does get a handle on her life,
why should that come back to haunt her? Why should it haunt you now?
And what about when Carter gets older?”
Finally, Leslie looked at me, and I couldn't deny the way my heart
skipped a beat when her eyes found mine.
“I can make my case without dragging her through the dirt over what
she did. That’s why I did it.” She turned around and walked off without
another word.
As I stared at her retreating back, I thought about how empty I’d been
ever since I realized that I needed to end things. Telling myself that it was
the right thing might've helped when I was staring myself in the eye, but
right now, I felt alone.
I thought maybe we could've had something real, but it was just a fairy
tale, and I knew better than to believe in those.
“Things went good, Decker. I think.”
“You should have let me hook you up with this attorney I know,” he
said over the phone. “I’m telling you, brother. He knows how to work
things.”
Standing in front of the window, staring out over the skyline of New
York City, I thought back to how Leslie had just sat there, calmly waiting
while the judge questioned the social worker, waiting while Brinke's
attorney blustered.
Leslie didn’t work things. She handled them.
“I’ve got a good lawyer, Deck.” My mind strayed to what she might be
doing now, and the unconscious need to call her rose, but that was one of
the reasons why I was on the phone with Decker. I’d been going through
my call log, just…scrolling. I’d deleted all recent calls, including hers. I
thought it would help, but it hadn't.
“Are you…hey, Paxton, tell me you’re not having second thoughts.
You’ve got this weird thing in your voice. I only ever hear it there when
you're thinking about a woman.”
Laughing tiredly, I said, “I’m not second guessing myself, man.”
No way, no how. Not after that video. But I didn’t want to tell him about
the video. Nobody needed to know about it. I didn’t want anybody to know.
Leslie was right. I didn't give a damn what it did to Brinke, not anymore.
But when Carter was older…if word got out? Fuck, it would destroy my
little girl. No. Nobody needed to know, and God help any of those sons of
bitches on the video if they thought they could go telling people. I’d destroy
them.
Decker and I talked a few more minutes and then disconnected.
After a few minutes, I ended up in the shower, tired and out of sorts,
thinking I’d head to bed early just to avoid thinking about calling Leslie.
I couldn’t see my daughter.
I couldn’t see Leslie.
I wasn't going to drink.
I didn’t know what to do with myself, and on nights like this, it was just
best to get the day over with.
Under the hot spray of water, my mind started to drift, too many days of
stress piling up on me and weighing me down, crushing me. I kept pushing
it off and pushing it off until I thought I might break. It was a wonder I
hadn’t already.
But I knew why I hadn’t.
Leslie.
Fuck, I missed her.
Les…
I could still feel her. Still taste her.
My body responded, and when my cock began to pulse, I closed my
hand around it. Maybe I couldn’t have her, but one thing was certain…
while I tried to tell myself I’d pushed her out of my life, as far as my heart,
my body, were concerned, she was still right here.
Dragging my hand down, then up, down, then up, I focused on her.
Her mouth.
Her eyes.
The way she stared at me, challenged me.
The way she moved and tasted…
How her voice broke, and how she stared me down.
I came in a hot, hard rush.
But it was empty.
Imagination was a piss-poor runner-up to her.
And I was stuck with it because I couldn’t have her…and there was no
damn way I was getting her out of my system anytime soon.
Chapter Three
Leslie
I hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours each night since Paxton had
walked away from me. When I did sleep, it was in stops and starts, and
more often than not, I came awake dreaming of Paxton or Carter…or both.
Once, I had a dream that Brinke had been awarded custody of Carter
and Paxton was raging at my door, telling me it was all my fault. I’d failed,
and Carter was in danger because of me.
Not that I really needed to feel any worse than I already did.
By the time four o’clock rolled around on Wednesday, my mood
bordered on toxic, and I was so on edge, I felt like I’d break.
Normally I had a good cure for this. I’d go out, hit a club, dance for a
while, then find a guy. Since I knew I wouldn’t be able to focus on work
until I’d relieved some of this pressure, when I did get home, I changed out
of my work clothes, put on a skirt that barely covered my butt, and a shirt
that was little more than a few solid swathes of fabric in front and strings in
the back. A pair of heels and then a quick trip to the bathroom to retouch
my makeup and I was ready to go.
I wasn’t walking anywhere in these shoes, so I hailed a cab and named
one of the closer clubs. Running into Carrie or Dena wasn’t an option, so I
was avoiding Club Privé for the time being. They would want to talk, and
talking wasn't what I needed right now. I'd actually been avoiding their calls
since Paxton had...ended things. That wasn't a conversation I wanted to
have anytime soon. Or ever.
When the driver let me out, I tipped him and headed inside.
It was too early for there to be much going on, so I settled down at the
bar and ordered some club soda, watching the crowd as I brooded. Since it
was the middle of the week, there weren’t many people there, and the few
times a guy glanced at me, I either busied myself or stared him down until
he looked away.
So far, everybody paled in comparison to –
Stop it, I told myself.
 If I let myself go down that road, I’d be lucky if I ever touched another
guy again. And celibacy wasn't an option.
No way in hell.
Grimly, I took a larger drink from my glass, then flagged the bartender
down for another drink. This time, I went with bourbon, and when I turned
back around, it was with a much more appraising eye.
The guy who came toward me less than ten minutes later looked like
sex on a stick.
His hair was brutally short, and he was dressed in leathers. Normally,
that wasn’t really a turn on, but something about him said he’d earned them.
His arms were tattooed from the wrist up, the ink disappearing under the
sleeves of his t-shirt where they stretched around his biceps. When he sat
down, he ordered a drink and glanced over at me with a nod.
He didn’t say anything.
I was still trying to decide if I even wanted to be there, so that was just
fine with me.
When he finally looked over at me almost five minutes later, it was
when I turned to get another bourbon. I’d emptied mine without even
realizing it.
Our eyes met and the stirring I felt was faint, more...appreciation than
interest. I saw a lot more than interest in his eyes though and gave him a
smile. I’d come out looking for this, right? Something, someone to help me
forget about Paxton for a while.
If I’d met him a month, six weeks ago, I would have made it my night’s
goal to have him eating out of the palm of my hand, but the smile he gave
me was just a cynical curl of his lips, and I really wasn’t feeling like making
him do anything.
I took my bourbon and tipped it toward the bartender with a nod.
After another five minutes, the man next to me finally made a move.
The cynical part of me stood apart, watching everything.
And I realized he used the same strategy I usually did. Ignore the target,
wait…reel them in slowly.
I managed not to snort. Barely.
But I couldn’t help but think about the men I’d moved in on when I
found one I liked sitting at the bar. I never moved in on them immediately.
I’d sit down, let them get used to my presence. Let them finish a drink and
order another...
 Frowning down at the scotch I just picked up, I told myself I was being
paranoid.
But just as I lifted my glass to my lips, he glanced over at me. “Are you
here with anybody?”
Unable to keep Paxton’s image out of my head, I swallowed, then shook
my head in the negative.
“Me, either.” When he moved in closer, I held still.
His hand went to my thigh, and I tipped my head back, staring at him.
He had pretty eyes, almost too pretty for that hard face, pale green with
spikes of yellow. “How about you dance with me?”
I gave him a hard smile. “How about I do that.”
We both moved to the floor, taking our drinks with us.
He could move. I could find no fault in the way his body pressed to
mine. One hand gripped my hip while he held his bottle of beer with the
other. I tossed back the rest of the bourbon, hoping the booze would do
something to unravel the tension in me.
It only got worse though. A passing server took our empty drinks and
my partner tugged me in closer, pressed his mouth to my neck.
Part of me reacted. He had good technique, and when he raked his teeth
down the exposed skin, the reaction was right on cue.
But a deeper part of me wanted to push him away and just leave.
Leave and go to Paxton.
None of this felt right.
But going to Paxton wasn’t right, either. He’d ended things, and it hadn't
really affected him at all. I wasn’t about to spend my life a nun because one
man no longer wanted me.
Head spinning just a little from the alcohol, I closed my eyes as my
partner moved us around the dance floor. He had good hands. When he slid
one up to cup my breast, I could almost pretend.
Was that how I’d do things now? Pretend this guy was Paxton and then
do the same with the next and the next...
When he kissed me, I opened for him, and at first, it was fine. His
tongue trailed along my lower lip, teased inside. I’d only dimly realized
we’d stopped moving, and now, with a wall against my back, I kept my
focus just on the tangible things. He was bigger than Paxton, wider, more
solid – all muscle. When I gripped his waist, my fingers dug into what felt
like rubber-covered concrete.
 He muttered something under his breath, and instinctively, I tuned him
out. I could pretend…as long as he didn’t talk.
The hand on my breast dipped lower, and then I gasped because he slid
a hand under my shirt, minuscule as it was, and now he was stroking my
nipple. Thanks to the skimpy design of the top, I wasn’t able to wear a bra,
and that one degree of separation it might have offered was gone.
As he tugged and manipulated my nipple until it was throbbing, that
cynical bitch from earlier decided to step up and make herself known.
You’re not enjoying this.
I didn’t say anything. He’d just pushed his thigh between mine and I
was riding it. I was wet. That meant I was enjoying it, right?
Paxton’s face flashed through my mind as my partner moved in to kiss
me again.
And it was all wrong.
All wrong.
His tongue teased the entrance to my mouth, and when I parted my lips,
his taste was wrong. The hands on my body felt wrong. Then he was
pushing one hand under my skirt.
“Stop.”
He did, his mouth a breath from mine. His eyes glinted at me in the
dark.
Breathing hard, I stared at him and shook my head. “I can’t…I’m sorry,
I can’t do this. I’m….”
He eased back, concern on his face. “Did I –”
“No.” Panic gripped me nonetheless. I felt like I’d just teetered on the
edge of a cliff and my balance was gone. Whether or not I fell, it was all up
to what happened in the next few moments. “No, it’s…lame as it sounds,
it’s me. I just got out of a bad relationship and I…”
“You still care.” He nodded once. Still close, he reached out and
smoothed my skirt down, readjusted my shirt, his touches completely
platonic now. “You should go then.” He gave me a smile that looked too
soft for a man with his appearance. “A guy like me is going to see you and
try to move in. The next guy might try to push it when you want him to
stop. Don’t do something you’ll hate yourself for in the morning.”
He kissed my forehead and turned away.
And because he wasn’t wrong, I decided to do just that.
I caught a cab home and cried the whole damn way.
Chapter Four
Leslie
Staring at my reflection, I dragged a comb through my damp curls and tried
not to think.
I didn't know what his name was, but the guy at the club had been right.
Don’t do something you’ll hate yourself for in the morning.
All this time, I’d been doing something I knew I’d regret.
Did I hate myself for it? No.
But I'd be lying if I said a part of me wished I’d never met Paxton, never
laid eyes on him or Carter. Even though I felt awful even for thinking it,
there was a huge ache inside me that just refused to go away anytime soon,
and I knew it wouldn't have existed if I hadn't met them. I might've been
feeling a bit down because of my friends all getting involved in serious
relationships, but I wouldn't have been feeling like this.
Did it help knowing that Paxton needed me?
Not really, because what he needed was a competent lawyer, and I
wasn’t so arrogant to think that I was the only competent lawyer who could
have handled his case. I should have listened to my instincts, to Carrie and
Dena. I should have sent him away as soon as I'd felt that first attraction.
Sighing, I turned away from my reflection and padded into my
bedroom. I was too tired to dry my hair so I just twisted it into a loose braid.
I’d have to wear it in a knot tomorrow because it was going to be seriously
wild, but I wasn’t going to try to dry it tonight. I just didn't have the energy.
I dropped down on the bed and slid under the covers, the weight of the
past few days hitting me hard. I doubted I'd actually sleep, but I could at
least rest. I really, really hoped I could get at least a couple dreamless hours.

“Open…”
Paxton had his hands on me, and his mouth was pressed to mine.
I was in bed and the lights were out, but I knew this wasn't how I'd gone
to bed. I'd been alone. I was sure of it.
 When he murmured his command against my lips again, I pushed at his
shoulders. “What are you doing here?”
At least that had been the goal. He kissed the words away, and in a
second, he was inside me, one hand gripping my throat while the other
cupped my ass and lifted me closer. He was thick and hard, filling me in a
way I knew no other man ever would. I'd always laughed at the people who
said that their partner completed them, but I understood now what that
meant.
“You tried to go to another man,” he said, those amazing blue eyes
burning into me.
“You left me.” I wanted to hit him. Hurt him the way he'd hurt me.
He squeezed my throat gently, thumb pressing against my fluttering
pulse, and kissed me, a warning, a caress…both. “You tried to go to
another man, Leslie.”
“And you left me, you ass.”
He drove into me, hard and deep, drawing a gasp from me. “Don’t ever
do that again,” he said, voice low and hard. “Promise me.”
I didn’t want to promise him anything. I didn't owe him anything.
He rolled his hips and licked at the entrance of my mouth. I felt every
pulse of his cock, and my pussy tightened around him. He did it again and
again, until I was writhing against him, desperate.
Then he said it again, softly, almost like a plea, “Promise me?”
“I promise.”
I was giving him the power to destroy me.
Or maybe I’d already done that.
He smiled against my lips and began to move harder, his hands catching
mine and dragging them over my head. His fingers tightened and he said
something else, but the words were lost in my cry as I started to come in a
burst of...

I woke up on the edge of climax.

Frustrated, I shoved my hand down my panties and squeezed my eyes
closed, manipulating my clitoris as I clung to the dregs of the dream. I was
so close to ready, it took no time for me to go over.
When I came, though, it was empty, nothing more than a physical
release, and the crash that followed only made things worse.
 Instead of lying there, letting it fester, I got up and stormed into the
bathroom, powering the water as hot as it would go and stripping naked. As
I stepped under the shower, I forced myself to face the problem head-on.
“When this is over,” I said, grabbing shampoo from the rack in the
corner. “I’m blowing town for a few days. I’ll go to LA, see Krissy, party
and find a way to forget him.”
Chapter Five
Paxton
Leslie and I stood as the judge entered the courtroom.
On the opposite side of the room, Brinke and her lawyer were doing the
same. Brinke didn’t seem to have the same cocky attitude she'd been
sporting earlier this week.
She’d given me her patented wounded look on her way in. I guessed
that meant her lawyer had filled her in on what Leslie had managed to find
out.
I refused to return her look or feel guilty.
Okay, I wouldn’t acknowledge the guilt, and sometimes, that had to be
enough. Yes, I felt guilty, but I knew it wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t like I’d
taken a full page ad and let everybody in New York City know she’d been
trading sex for coke. We could've settled things quietly if she'd just agreed
that she needed help.
My stomach twisted even thinking about what she'd done. It was a good
thing I’d realized a while ago that I’d already stopped loving Brinke. There
was emotion there, yes. And because of Carter, we'd always have a
connection, but all of it was more wistful than anything else, and that was
good. There was no part of me hoping for some sort of reconciliation.
She’d damaged things so completely that I knew, even if she cleaned
herself up, we'd never go back to the way we were.
The guilt, though, it was tied into that wild and reckless girl who’d
made me feel better about myself instead of just…broken. The woman
who'd inspired me to follow my dreams, and had told me that I wasn't the
person everyone always said I was. Looking at her now, I found myself
wondering how long she’d been the broken one.
It hurt to realized that I hadn’t seen it, and I knew that was why I was, in
part, guilty. Maybe they weren’t off base. Maybe I had neglected her. I
knew that didn't mean she could be trusted with Carter, but maybe it meant
I'd eventually be able to forgive her.
The judge made some sort of motion and Leslie touched my arm,
reminding me I needed to sit down and get my head into the proceedings.
 As Judge Randall started to speak, my thoughts began to spin away,
coming back only after she said my name.
She wasn’t speaking specifically to me, but I forced myself to pay
attention and listened as she reviewed everything from the previous
courtroom appearance. I felt like telling her we could skip it since we'd all
been here, but I didn’t want to end up on her bad side.
Brinke was already there, I had a feeling.
I was right too.
“Before we begin, I would like to make it clear that I will be allowing
into evidence a certain recording.” She pursed her lips and looked from
Leslie to Brinke's asshole lawyer. When he started to rise, Judge Randall
lifted a hand. “My decision on this is firm. Its very existence counters your
client’s case. It’s evidence, not slander.”
Pattinson sank back down while the judge tipped her glasses back down
and skimmed something on a file in front of her before starting on what
seemed like another lengthy round of questions.
Leslie and the other lawyer fielded these for the most part although I
had to stand and answer a few.
My brain could barely take them in.
They were taking the disc into evidence.
That was…I heard a sniff and despite my best intentions, I couldn’t help
but look over.
Brinke had her face buried in her hands and she was crying quietly.
The judge looked over at her.
A moment later, she said, “We’ll adjourn for the day. Mr. Pattinson, I’ve
already contacted you about what your client should do. I suggest you speak
with her. Court dismissed.”
I had no idea what any of that meant, but I hoped it was good.
As we gathered up our things, I tried to ask Leslie, but she was either
ignoring me or too distracted to answer. I hoped it was the latter.
Hugh Pattinson had come to court with an assistant or whatever they
called them, and the skinny, rat-faced kid came scurrying over to us the
second time I was trying to get Leslie to answer.
“Mr. Pattinson wants you to call him at your earliest convenience.”
Leslie eyed the phone number. “That’s not the office number.”
“No.” He gave her a stiff nod and hurried off, following along behind
Brinke and Pattinson.
 “We’re meeting Arik in Dena’s office. I texted him a few minutes ago.”
Leslie looked over at me, hitching her bag up on her shoulder. “Let’s go.”
“Would you slow down for five seconds?”
“We don’t have five seconds. Arik has other clients to see.” Striding
down the hall on long legs, her heels clacking with each sharp step, she
said, “This is about the evidence against Brinke. It’s important, so we need
to go speak to him.”
“Evidence –”
Speaking to the back of her head was proving rather futile so I caught
up before speaking again. “We’re talking before you leave this building.”
“I’ve got another client meeting me at my office in ninety minutes, and
it will take a minimum of thirty minutes to get across town. I don’t have
much time to give you.” Her voice wasn't cold, but it definitely wasn't
warm either.
“I’ll get a fucking car.” I spoke so loudly that several people in the
building looked our way. As I felt my temper building, I reminded myself
that I’d been the one to put us in this position. We needed things on a
business level, and that was what she was doing. I just didn't like it. “If we
can’t talk here, when can we talk?”
“Call my office and have my assistant take down the best time for me to
phone you.” She gestured with a hand. “This is it.”
I had no time to say anything else as she knocked on a door and then
pushed it open.
Arik Porter was waiting inside.
Evidence.
Leslie had mentioned the evidence against Brinke.
Dots connected in my head as I looked at the defense attorney. “What’s
this about?”

“She’s the mother of my child.” Hand in a fist, I stared at the wall. “And
you’ve said it before – she’s an addict. Having her arrested for prostitution
and drugs will just get her thrown in jail. How is that going to help her?”
At first, I thought they'd brought me here to say there wouldn't be any
criminal charges stemming from Brinke's accusations. Arik had said all
that, but it was merely in passing. Brinke was the real reason he'd wanted to
see me.
 Shoving out of the chair, I started to pace. This wasn’t what I’d wanted.
I’d needed something concrete against Brinke to get custody of Carter,
but now it looked like that evidence would take Brinke down with it.
For good.
“Son of a bitch.” I wanted to punch something so hard I made it bleed.
At the same time, I wanted to get my hands on Brinke and shake her,
beg her to see what she was doing, what she’d done. But I’d been trying to
get her to see what she was doing for months. Years. And it hadn’t ever
sunk in. Was this what it would take?
“What do you want to come of this, Paxton?” Arik asked softly.
“I want my daughter,” I said. “That’s all I want.”
“And what about your wife? Where does she fit into the equation? She
grabbed Carter once. Granted, she wasn't particularly stable when she did it,
from what I can tell, but I don't think she'll be any more stable once this is
settled. Do you think losing custody is going to suddenly make her see the
light and get her act together?”
“Shit.” I braced my hands on the wall in front of me and stared down at
the multi-colored carpet.
“I’ll take that as a no,” Arik said. “So, she’s going to continue her…
erratic ways and chances are, they’ll get worse. She grabbed your daughter
once and put Carter's safety at risk on a whim. What will she do next?”
I didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, because I honestly had no idea.
“I've seen this sort of thing before,” Arik said. “And I've got a pretty
good idea of what she'll do. She’ll escalate. She’ll become more desperate,
and either she’ll get hurt, or she’ll get somebody else hurt. What if it’s you?
Who will take care of Carter then? Or what if it’s Carter?”
“What are you getting at?” I demanded, turning to glare at him.
“Brinke needs help. She won’t ask for it, won’t reach for it. But if you
put her in a position where she feels she has no choice, maybe she’ll finally
see it as an out.” Arik lifted his shoulders. “If the evidence is put in the
hands of the DA, and she’s given a choice between rehab or jail…? Which
do you think she'll choose?”
I nodded slowly, regret bitter inside me. He was right. If she was forced,
she’d take help. “But if she’s forced into it…”
“She has to want it, I know. But if she does love your daughter, that’s a
powerful motivator.” He retreated behind the desk and nodded at Leslie.
 The tight smile she gave him didn’t make me feel any better, but I didn’t
ask what it was about. I wanted as little to do with this as possible. I just
hoped that one day, if Carter found out what I'd done, she'd understand that
it'd been for the best.

I didn’t bother waiting for Leslie.

I left and went straight home, where I found myself staring out at the
leaden gray skies of New York City.
Sometimes I wished I’d never moved here, never brought my daughter
here.
As the sun lowered behind the bank of clouds, the sky began to darken,
and I continued to just stand there, brooding. I didn’t turn on any lights,
didn’t want any.
Leslie had called earlier, and although I hadn’t answered the phone, I
heard her message, and I could recall each word by heart.
I’ve heard back from social services. They see no reason why Carter
can’t come home soon. They want to do another interview with the both of
you together. We’ll be setting that up tomorrow.
I almost called her back, but she’d gone out of her way to avoid me.
Calling her now, giving her another reason…why bother?
Tomorrow was soon enough.
Another interview – this time with my daughter.
I’d get to see Carter tomorrow. There was my light in the darkness.
This would be over soon.
I hoped.

The Chinese food I ordered had no taste.

Still, I ate it, more intent on getting fuel in my body than anything else.
I had to be able to think and function. What happened tomorrow would
most likely determine if and when Carter could come home. I would do
whatever it took to make that happen.
My mind was already going over all of the possible questions when the
phone rang.
“Yeah?”
 “Sir, it’s…sir, a Detective Lewis is here.” Dimly, I recognized the voice.
One of the guys from the front desk. “She says it’s an emergency about…
it’s Carter, sir.”
I was already at the door, shouting at the phone. “Send them the fuck
up!” I paced, watching the numbers on the elevator as it rose. As soon as
the doors opened, I was demanding answers. “What is it? Is she…she’s in a
home, isn’t she? You all said she’d be safe!”
“Sir. Take a deep breath.” Detective Lewis caught my arm, squeezed.
Her voice was calm and firm. “We need you to come with us. We’ve
already got men over there, but you need to come with me now.”
“What’s going on?” I demanded again, but I let her lead me to the
elevator.
“It’s about your wife…and your daughter. Ms. Maynard has forced her
way into the group home.”
“Carter…” Blood started to roar in my ears. “Did she hurt Carter?”
“No. But she hurt the foster mother, and it’s clear she’s on something.
We need you to come down there with us.”
Dully, I nodded. Without even thinking twice, I pulled my phone from
my pocket and punched in a number.
It wasn’t until Leslie’s voice came on the line that I even realized I
called her. She said my name twice before I managed to speak.
“Brinke.” That was all I could get out at first. Finally, I forced out the
rest. “Brinke went to the group home. She hurt somebody. Leslie…can you
come?”
Chapter Six
Leslie
“T ry not to panic,” Dena spoke as the driver brought Gavin's limo to a
stop.
I looked up blankly and shook my head. “This isn’t the right address.”
“I know.” Arik reached over and caught my free hand. Dena was
already holding the other. “The cops have the street cordoned off. We have
to stop here.”
I nodded. “Of course, yes.”
That made sense. I didn't know why I hadn’t realized that. I shifted
around and the door opened, the driver giving me a look of sympathetic
understanding. Everybody was looking at me like that, and I wanted to snap
at all of them.
Dena squeezed my hand gently and said again, “Try not to panic.”
Arik followed Dena and me out of the car, but when Gavin and Carrie
started to follow, Dena shook her head.
“The cops aren’t going to let you two get any closer than you already
are. As an ADA, I'm allowed access to the crime scene. Leslie and Arik are
both lawyers working with Paxton. But you…” Dena just shook her head.
Carrie gave me a look but nodded. “I’m here if you need me.”
With a wan smile, I said, “Thanks. But it’s Paxton who needs the
support.”
“If there's anything we can do, you just call,” Gavin said. His expression
was dark, and I knew he was thinking about his own daughter, Skylar. I
didn't know much about her, but I promised myself that when this was all
over, I'd talk to Gavin about setting up a playdate for her and Carter.
Turning around, I started forward, arms crossed over my middle. As we
drew closer, a couple of cops slid us a look and something in my head
clicked on, snapping me out of the daze. Brinke Maynard was somewhere
close, and she’d hurt somebody. She was somewhere close with Carter.
Paxton needed me. I needed to get my shit together.
Blowing out a slow, careful breath, I lowered my arms to my sides.
Walking up there hugging myself didn’t exactly convey a sense of
confidence. Not that I was feeling confident, but I sure as hell didn’t need to
let Paxton or anybody else know that. I was here because he called. I would
do my job.
One of the cops recognized Dena and waved us through, much to the
annoyance of the press who were being kept back. While she stayed behind
to talk with her contact, Arik led me straight to the front, unerringly seeking
out Paxton.
Paxton took one look at me and caught me around the neck, hauling me
against him. “She’s in there with my little girl, Leslie. She’s strung out, and
she’s already hurt somebody.”
“I know.” Acutely aware that everybody could see us – and a lot of
them were definitely watching – I squeezed him gently before easing back.
My cheeks flamed as a hundred needs made themselves known. Hoping
none of that showed, I glanced around.
“Who have you been talking with?”
Paxton shoved his hands into his hair. “That detective – Lewis? She
came and got me. She’s been on the phone with Brinke off and on. What the
fuck is she thinking?”
I had no answers for him though.
“The woman Brinke hurt, how is she?” Arik asked.
“Well, that’s one good thing.” Paxton laughed tiredly. “Lewis managed
to talk Brinke into letting two of the kids help the lady out. Sounded like
she tried to get a cop in to help the lady – or just get a cop in, but Brinke
wasn’t buying it. Said she’d send out a couple of kids with the old woman.
They’ve already taken her to the hospital. The kids, they say nobody else
has been hurt, but they're scared.”
“How many kids are there?” I asked, tilting my head back and staring at
the windows of the building. A curtain flickered over one, and I thought I
saw a woman’s profile before it fell back into place, but I couldn’t be sure.
“Two now, including Carter.” He slanted his gaze toward me. “One’s a
baby. Cries a lot.” He made a face. “That’s going to drive Brinke crazy. She
never did handle it well when Carter cried.”
“Where's Alex?”
His eyes cut toward a pair of ambulances. “They had to give her a
tranquilizer just before you got here.”
There was a disturbance in the crowd of bodies, most of them clad in
blue uniforms. As they parted, I saw Detective Lewis striding toward us,
her face grim. She was dressed in jeans and a sweater, her badge at her
waist. She held a phone in her hand, and when she caught sight of Arik and
me, she didn’t pause. Her goal was the man standing next to me. Paxton.
“Your wife is on the phone.”
Paxton tensed.
“She’d like to speak with you.” Lewis leaned in and said quietly, “She’s
on edge. Do not say anything to upset or antagonize her.”
He nodded and, a moment later, the phone was put on the hood of the
car, with the speaker on so all of us could hear the conversation.
“Brinke, I’ve got your husband here. Remember, I can only do this if
you agree to talk to both of us.” Lewis glanced up at the window where I'd
seen the curtain flick. “I’ve got to cover my ass here. I’d let the two of you
work this out on your own if my boss wouldn’t fire me, but…hell. People
are assholes, right?”
“Yeah. People really are,” Brinke said. There was a baby crying in the
background. “Is…Pax, who’s that there with you? The big guy? The
woman? Is she…that’s the woman you’re leaving me for, isn’t it? The red-
headed lawyer?”
She started to sob.
“The big guy is your husband’s lawyer, Brinke,” Lewis shot me a be
quiet look.
I didn't need it. I'd do whatever needed to be done to get Carter safe.
“No, that red-head's his lawyer,” Brinke argued.
“The girl is from the police department. My intern.”
As she said that, Arik reached into his pocket casually. I glanced down
when he bumped his hand against mine, frowning when I saw a pair of
reading glasses.
“Put them on,” he said in a nearly soundless whisper. “If she’s high and
expecting to see somebody else, she will.”
Arik shifted so that his big frame offered me some cover, and I slid on
the glasses. They screwed with my vision, but that didn’t matter.
“What happened to the redhead? That bitch who made me look like
some kind of slut, Pax? Where is she?” Brinke demanded as the baby’s
wails grew louder in the background. “Carter, can’t you get that kid to shut
up?”
Paxton stiffened next to me, but when he spoke, his voice was calm. “I
didn’t want that video to be shown to anybody. When she showed it to me, I
couldn’t believe it. There had to be something else going on, and I told her I
wanted to talk to you, but she kept insisting, baby. She didn’t listen, so I
fired her. This new guy is a lot better than her.”
From under his lashes, he stared at me, the intensity in his gaze
palpable. I didn't look away, hoping he could get whatever support he
needed from me.
“I don’t want a divorce, Pax. I can’t do this without Carter, without you.
Nothing matters without my little girl. And…” The baby wailed again.
“Shut the fuck up! Paxton…the baby…I can’t handle this noise.”
He started to rock, one hand closed into a fist. It took everything in me
to keep my hands at my sides and not touch him.
“Why don’t you let me come up and help then, huh?”
Hell no.
Lewis opened her mouth, snapped it shut. I bit my bottom lip and threw
a pleading look at Detective Lewis.
“You…yeah, that’s a good idea,” Brinke said, her voice softening.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Lewis said sharply, glaring at
Paxton.
He ignored her. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll come up with my lawyer – the
new guy.” He shot me a hard look and gave a tiny shake of his head. “He’s
going to take the kids –”
“Carter stays with me!” Brinke shouted.
“Okay, okay. That’s cool. We can stay together. But the other kid, that
baby…he’s scared because he doesn’t know you, Brinke. He just wants to
be with his mom. You can understand a baby wanting to be with his mom.”
He shifted his attention to Lewis now. “If my lawyer comes up with me, can
you let him take the baby down?”
Brinke mumbled under her breath, then sighed. “Yeah. Yeah. Anything
to shut that baby up.”

“Look, it’s probably the best idea.” We’d moved closer to the building,
using its bulk to hide us as the cops tried to talk sense into Paxton, but it
was too late for that, and I knew everybody realized it. Through the open
window, we could hear the baby crying and Brinke’s yelling in response.
We had to get that kid out of there, or things were going to get even worse
than they already were.
 Arik was remarkably calm about going up with Paxton to get the kids.
The man was unflappable. Dena, however, was pissed. She understood it
though. The longer we waited, the more dangerous things got for Carter and
the baby. At least she knew he wasn't staying up there.
Not like Paxton. I knew that if – when – he went up, he might not come
back down.
Paxton jerked his shirt down over the wires and Kevlar vest. We'd be
able to hear them, and the vest should protect him.
It wasn't really helping matters much.
My throat was a tight, ugly knot, and I wanted to fling myself at him
and hold on tight. I'd already told the cops I wasn’t moving from this spot
until I saw him come back through the doors. They were only a few feet
away, and yet they seemed so very, very far. He was going to walk through
them, and I had no idea what would happen once he did, once he saw
Brinke.
I felt like I might be sick, but I told myself to keep it together. I couldn't
crack. Couldn't show weakness. We were too close to the building for
Brinke to see us, but my strength wasn't for her.
It wasn’t long before Paxton gave a single nod toward the cop and then
turned toward the building. He paused once, looking back.
His gaze found mine, but he didn't say anything. He just looked at me.
When he walked inside, I bit my knuckle until I tasted blood. It was
either that…or call out his name, beg him not to go in there. And I couldn’t
be that selfish. He’d do it anyway, and if anything happened to one of the
kids trapped with Brinke, to Carter, because I'd distracted him, I'd never be
able to live with myself.
Still, watching him disappear through those doors was one of the
hardest things I’d ever done.
Chapter Seven
Paxton
T he steps creaked under my feet.
Each groan of the boards sounded impossibly loud and the shadows
were impossibly dark.
Under the Kevlar vest the cops had insisted I wear, I was sweating
bullets. Arik was right behind me, looking far calmer than I felt.
“You’re not rushing in right away,” I said. “Let me talk her down a bit
first, okay?”
“I'll let you take the lead,” Arik said. His eyes met mine in the dim light.
“Do you think you can get her to calm down and give herself up?”
“Yeah.” I hoped I wasn’t lying.
I also hoped I wasn’t going to die of a heat stroke in this damn vest. A
fucking bullet-proof vest to go and talk to the woman I’d spent years living
with. A woman I'd known for more than a decade.
Except she wasn't that woman anymore. That was why I was wearing
the bulletproof vest.
Dragging a hand down my face, I stopped outside the door to the
apartment. I could see where the lock had been forced and I had to wonder
what Brinke was on because she’d done some serious damage to the door.
Knocking, I called out her name. “It’s me, Brinke. Just me and my new
lawyer, like we agreed.” Arik shifted behind me.
She must have been waiting because she jerked open the door, her eyes
wild. She looked past me and I hissed out a breath when I saw the gun.
She had a gun on our daughter.
“Give me that,” I demanded.
She pulled it back against her. “No. I need it. People don’t listen to me.”
“Give it to me, or I’m leaving, and taking Carter, and the baby, and we
don’t talk,” I said, making my tone into the authoritative one that I'd used
too often with her.
I narrowed my eyes and gave her a hard look. Despite the fear lurching
inside me, I kept my voice firm. The gun had to go. Brinke’s eyes were
wild, and she was so strung out that she was shaking. I knew all too well
that she was probably starting to come down from whatever high she was
on, so that wasn’t helping any either.
She looked like she was going to start yelling, so I moved in, softening
my voice. She might've been doing some seriously crazy shit lately, but I
could still read her fairly well.
“Remember how we always talked about how we needed to protect
Carter from things like that? What is she going to think, seeing her mother
with a gun? Especially with a baby around?”
“Stupid brat won’t quit crying.” Her eyes jumped to Arik, who
remained half in shadow. “Are you going to deal with the baby?”
“Yes.” His voice was soft. “Can you bring him out, or do you want me
to come in?”
The gun came up. “Nobody comes in but Pax.” Her voice shook.
Slowly, I took a step sideways so that I was between her and Arik.
“Don’t point that thing at people, Brinke. Okay?”
Her arm wobbled, but she nodded. There was a painfully bright look in
her eyes as she smiled at me. “Sure thing, baby. Sure thing.” Slowly, she
lowered it. Backing away, she called out, “Carter! Get that baby! And come
out here. Your daddy is here! We’re going to talk some. Going to go home.
All of us.”
The hell we are. But if she wanted to think that until I got her to calm
down, then that was fine. I'd do whatever it took to get my daughter away
from her mother.
Carter appeared in the door, and my heart ached when I saw her
struggling to carry a sniffling baby, almost a toddler, really. Probably close
to eighteen months, and I’d bet the chubby little boy weighed half as much
as Carter did. But he clung to her neck and stared at us in terror. When
Brinke moved toward them, he cringed and his screams got worse.
“Hey, let me help,” I offered, keeping a smile in my voice when all I
wanted to do was grab both kids and get out of there. With the gun though, I
knew that wouldn't be a good idea. I tried to convey to Carter that
everything was okay as I moved closer. “Hey, honey. How are you?”
“I’m fine, Daddy,” she said, her voice wavering as she looked at Brinke
– and at the gun. “This is Alejandro. He’s a good baby, but he’s really,
really scared. That’s why he won’t stop crying. He saw Mrs. Benjamin get
hurt and it scared him.” She said the words with the pragmatic tone she
used when she was scared. Her big blue eyes slid toward her mother, but
then she focused back on me as I knelt in front of her and took the baby.
Leaning in, I pressed a kiss to her forehead. She’s okay…she’s okay…
“Mrs. Benjamin slipped,” Brinke said, patting Carter on the head.
From the corner of my eye, I saw the gun in her free hand and I
clenched my jaw. I wanted that thing away from my kid. Now.
“Arik is going to take care of the baby for us, sweetheart. So the baby's
name is Alejandro, huh? Come on, Alejandro,” I said, easing him away
from Carter and shifting so that I stood between Brinke and the two
children. I stared hard at Carter, wished I could tell her to hide, to make
herself invisible – anything to keep Brinke from noticing her for the next
little while.
Maybe she understood the look. Maybe she just understood more about
how to handle her strung out mother than I liked to realize because as I rose
and turned to face Brinke, Carter backed away so quietly, I didn’t even hear
her.
“Okay, Brinke, I’m going to give the baby to my lawyer now. Once I do,
you’re going to give me that gun, and I’ll put it in the hall. We can talk
without it – we will talk without it, or I get Carter and we both leave.”
Brinke gave me a mutinous look, but I stared right back, holding her
gaze for a hard moment before I took the baby to Arik. He was still crying,
but I patted his butt, the diaper soggy under his sleeper. “You’re going to be
okay, little guy. It’s all good.”
He snuffled a little, hiccupped, and yawned. He had to be worn out.
Arik took him from my arms, and he started to cry again, but the other man
didn’t look perturbed. He slid his eyes to Brinke and spoke in a low voice.
“You have to get that weapon away from her.”
I nodded in agreement.
“Let...Lewis know we'll be down soon.” The expression on Arik's face
told me that he understood that it wasn't Lewis that I wanted him to give the
message to.
As he took the baby downstairs, I turned back to my wife. “Are you
ready to give me the gun? You don’t need it for me to listen to you. I’ve
always listened to you.”
“No, you haven’t.” She swayed a little, her eyes bloodshot and her face
pale. She held the gun at her side now, her free arm crossed over her middle
like she was cold. “You’re leaving me. If you listened to me and loved me,
you wouldn’t leave me.”
“You’re the one who stopped listening, baby,” I kept my voice soft.
“Come on…let me have the gun so we can talk. You know it’s not a good
idea to have it out around Carter like that.” Because I knew how to work
her, I added, “That’s not what good parents do…they don’t walk around
with guns and shit.”
“I’m a great fucking parent,” she snapped, stalking over to the counter
and slamming the gun down.
I flinched, half expecting it to go off. It didn’t, and I blew out a sigh of
relief as I picked it up. “Thank you.”
“Asshole.” She looked at me from under her lashes as I took it to the
doorway and set it in the hall. A quick glance to the right showed me Arik
was waiting. He must have already passed off the little guy. He gave me a
single nod.
I turned back to the door, some of the tension inside melting away.
“I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that,” Brinke said, huffing.
She threw herself down on the couch and looked around. “Where is Carter?
She keeps going away and hiding. She always does that. She always acts
like she’s mad at me.”
It made me think of the times Brinke told me about hiding when her
parents had been almost too drunk to walk or were flying higher than a kite.
I could have pointed that out to her, but I didn’t. It did, however, managed
to temper some of my anger.
I sat down on the table in front of her. “You need to come outside with
me, Brinke.”
Her eyes narrowed. Touching her tongue to her lower lip, she cupped
her head in her hands. “Why? Well, yeah. Sure. We gotta go home. By why
right now? You just got here.”
“Brinke, you’re in trouble. You’re not stupid. You know that.”
Head coming up, she laughed. The sound was overly bright and loud,
remnants of whatever shit she had put inside her system this time. “Well,
duh. I know I’m not stupid. Sometimes I think you think I am. You treat me
like I am.”
Massaging my temples, I let her ramble on for a few seconds, and when
she wound down, I tried again. “Brinke, you broke into somebody's home.
You hurt an old woman. There were kids here and you had a gun. You’re in
trouble.”
“My kid was in here. That bitch had my kid.”
“That woman had your kid because the state had temporary custody.”
Temper slipped out, sharpening my voice. “They took Carter away from us
– from me – because you told them I hurt you and her. You think I’m not
pissed about it? But I wasn’t going to break into somebody else’s home
over it, scaring a bunch of innocent kids.”
Brinke poked her lip out, pouting rather than raging this time. “I only
used the gun because she wouldn’t let me inside! If she’d just let me see
Carter –”
“You’re high, Brinke! And you don’t have the right to go scaring
anybody with a gun – including your daughter.”
Brinke shot up and bent over me, shoving her face into mine. “At least I
tried to do something! You just left our baby with strangers. It’s like you
don’t even care!”
“I didn’t have a choice.” Taking a deep breath, I stood up and met her
angry, confused glare. “You took that choice from me with the lies you told,
Brinke. Lies that hurt all of us. See, unlike you, I actually think my actions
through. You told the cops a bunch of lies, made them think that I hurt my
family – use my fists on you.”
Brinke’s eyes fell away. “Pax…”
“Don’t. I don’t want to hear it. I had to let things play out. I wasn’t
giving them a reason to throw me in jail.”
“They weren’t going to do that! It was all bullshit, Paxton…you know
I'd never…” She spun away with a short scream.
I knew I had to draw her attention back to me, make sure she didn't have
any other weapons on her. For all I knew, she'd stashed kitchen knives all
around the room. Lewis had promised to let me try to talk Brinke down, but
she'd also given me a code word to say if I needed the cops to bust in.
I was hoping it wouldn’t come down to that.
“I’m not talking about the shit you made up to explain why you took off
with Carter. I’m talking about pulling any sort of trick to steal Carter. You
seem to think I should have broken the law while they finished their
investigation. That could have ended with me in jail.” Crossing my arms
over my chest, I asked, “How would that have helped me? How would it
have helped Carter?”
 Brinke sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “You always got to make me look
like I’m the bad guy.”
If it wouldn’t have made matters worse, I might have laughed. It was so
ridiculous, so pathetic, it was almost funny. Almost. “I’m not doing
anything to make you look like the bad guy, Brinke. You started this whole
thing when you took off with Carter and hid from me. So if you want to be
pissed at somebody for where things stand now, you better look in the
mirror. You started this mess. Not me.”
Her eyes widened and she glared at me. Mouth open, she looked like
she was going to start screaming again, and I braced myself. But after a few
seconds, she closed her mouth, her hands coming up to cover her face.
As I stood there, she started to cry. She dropped down, and when her
butt missed the couch, she hit the floor with a hard thud.
“I know that,” she said through the tears. “Shit. You think I don’t know
that? Carter probably hates me. You hate me. I lied about all of it. You
wouldn’t hit me if your life depended on it. And you couldn’t hurt Carter.
You love her more than anything. More than you ever loved me.”
Some of the knots in my belly started to loosen. Had the cops heard
that?
I’d been so fucking aggravated about the wires they had demanded I
wear, and just a second ago, Brinke admitted to lying. Granted, her lawyer
would most likely claim she'd been too high to know what she was doing,
but that wouldn't exactly be a point in her favor either.
But then I looked at the crying woman in front of me and sighed. I knelt
down in front of her. She’d finally hit rock bottom. I’d done that seven
years ago when I realized that I was in danger of turning into my parents.
I'd waited for her to do it, too, but she hadn't. That’s the thing about finally
lying there, as low as you can go. Once you’re there, if you let yourself, you
realize you can either stay at the bottom…or you start climbing back up.
Resting my hand on the back of her head, I told myself I’d try. One last
time. “I don’t hate you, Brinke, but you can’t keep doing this. Carter
doesn’t hate you now, but if you keep this up…”
Now Brinke looked up at me, and I knew it was time to say what I
hadn't said before. She was ready to listen.
“You know how you use to tell me about how your parents would fight,
and you would run away and hide? When their friends would come over,
and they’d be sitting around, shooting up, and you’d take off because you
couldn’t stand to be there?” She tried to look away, but I cupped her chin
and turned her face back to mine. “And you wonder why Carter hides.”
Her shoulders shook, and I moved to sit next to her, my back against the
couch. She curled her knees to her chest, and buried her face against them,
crying harder.
Once the sobs lessened, I said, “You need to straighten yourself up,
Brinke. Your mom overdosed when you were sixteen. Your dad was dead
before you were twenty-five because he shot his liver straight to hell. And
you still hate them. Is that the relationship you want for you and Carter?”
“No.” She was shaking now, shaking and rocking, and I didn't think it
was from the drugs. “No, Pax. Please.”
“She still loves you, Brinke. So get the hell off this merry-go-round
before you destroy that relationship.”
“Like I did with us?” she asked softly as she lifted her eyes to mine. For
the first time, I saw the resignation there.
I brushed her hair back. She was still a little buzzed, but she was
starting to come back to herself.
“I know you hate me,” she said.
“I don’t hate you,” I said again. “We’re always going to be Carter’s
parents, and maybe we can be friends again. I'd like that. But this, you and
me...I don’t think we're good for each other.”
A hard shudder ran through her body, and she looked down. After a
moment, she looked back up at me. “Just don’t hate me, Paxton. I hate
myself enough for both of us anyway.”
“I don’t hate you either, Mama,” a small voice said from across the
room.
I looked up, watching as Carter crept out of the dark hallway. She gave
me a smile and then went to Brinke.
“I don't hate you,” she said again as she squirmed her way between us.
Chapter Eight
Leslie
“You didn't have to do this, you know.” Looking over at Arik, I gave him a
tired smile. Tired was about all I could manage. I hadn’t slept at all. I'd
barely even had a chance to go home, shower and change clothes. Sleep had
been out of the question.
An emergency hearing was being held this morning to determine
whether or not Carter could go home with Paxton when she was released
from the hospital in a couple hours. She wasn’t hurt yesterday, but they'd
wanted to look her over, and since things were up in the air with the foster
home, the hospital kept her a bit longer. There was little question as to
whether or not Paxton would get custody, but the formalities did have to be
observed.
If I thought I could've gotten away with it, I would've just shambled into
court in my pajamas and a robe, but I didn’t think the judge would've liked
that.
I could only imagine the look on Judge Randall’s face, and in my
punch-drunk, sleep-deprived mind, the scenario played itself out, me in a
tank top and pajama bottoms, my robe thrown on top while she scowled
down at me from the bench.
I’m the only one allowed to wear robes in here, Ms. Calvin. You’re in
contempt.
As it was, I was going to have a hard time staying awake in court. I
hadn't even had the time to get my usual coffee because I'd had a stop to
make before the hearing.
On the other side of the glass, a pretty woman clasped her hands and
stared at the wall, a pensive look on her face. Brinke Maynard looked like a
different woman from the one I’d seen being escorted out of the apartment
building yesterday.
Showered and dressed in the standard gray uniform all the ‘guests’ who
visited the inside of a New York City jail, Brinke was still beautiful. She
looked younger, softer, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, her face
scrubbed clean of makeup.
 She was so skinny that the bones of her wrists jutted out against her
skin. She needed to put on some weight. The kind of drugs she was hooked
on ate away at a person.
“Is she ready?” Dena asked, striding into the room. We were on a
timetable. Brinke had to be processed and released so we could get her to
the courthouse in time for the hearing.
Usually, it would've been her attorney's job to do this, but I'd realized
last night that having Hugh represent her for criminal charges wouldn't do
her any good, even if he agreed to take the case. So I'd called Arik.
Arik nodded. “I think so.”
We all slipped into the room, and Brinke looked up, her eyes dull with
exhaustion, but the haze from drugs that I'd come to associate with her was
gone.
A doctor had been in to visit her already, but the worst of the
withdrawal symptoms wouldn’t start until a little later. She was as level as
she was going to be for some time, so we had to make the best of the next
few hours.
Her eyes went wide at the sight of me. Then she laughed a little. “I
should've guessed he was bullshitting me. You’re too good a lawyer for him
to fire you. He just said that to keep me from going off, didn’t he?”
Since the question was directed at me, I answered it, “Paxton only
wants what’s best for you and Carter. I hope you know that.”
Brinke studied me for a moment, and then gestured to Arik. “Is he your
doing or Paxton’s?”
Lips pursed, I pondered my answer. “Arik is an acquaintance of mine. I
recommended him to Paxton initially when I thought he might have to have
a defense in place for criminal charges, but after yesterday, I realized you
needed a defense attorney who'd do what was right. You don’t belong in
jail, Brinke. What you need is help, and you won’t find it in a jail cell.”
She continued to stare at me for a long moment before finally jerking
her head in a nod. “Let’s get this over with. They said I might be able to see
Carter one more time before I get shipped off to the looney bin.”
I almost told her it wasn’t a looney bin, but decided maybe I didn’t need
to. There was a note of caustic humor in her voice, and if that was how she
was going to cope, then who was I to say otherwise?
Dena and Arik both approached the table while I stayed in the
background. This was their time. All of this was because Dena and Arik had
made it happen. For Paxton.
For me.
My phone buzzed and I tugged it out, sighing as I saw Paxton’s name.
Again.
I’d lost track of how many times he’d called.

We barely made it to the courthouse in time. Arik escorted Brinke in. Once
she'd officially agreed to have Arik represent her, the deal had gone through
and she'd been remanded into his custody until after the hearing when he'd
take her to rehab. Thanks to Dena, Brinke wouldn’t be charged in exchange
for agreeing to undergo drug rehabilitation and psychiatric counseling.
Once she was declared no longer a danger to herself or others, she
would be released. But I knew she wouldn’t get such an offer again. If she
messed up, the next time, they would come down on her, hard.
My heart skipped a few beats at the sight of Paxton pacing back and
forth in the hall. He saw Brinke first, and his eyes hardened at the sight of
her in the dull grey uniform. That tightness extended down to his mouth,
but he gave her a simple nod as Arik walked her inside. She wasn’t
handcuffed, so hopefully that would help his piece of mind some.
Then he came storming toward me, and I braced myself. “Where have
you been?”
“Trying to take care of some things. You don’t need to be so worried.
This is just a formality.”
“That’s not…” He stopped and just shook his head. “Okay, I won’t say
I’m not worried. I want my daughter back. But there are other things. Were
you…” He glanced back over his shoulder at the open doors of the
courtroom. “What’s going on with Brinke? I’ve made calls, but nobody will
tell me anything.”
“I’ll have to explain later. We need to get inside.” I started to edge
around him, but he caught my elbow
“Dammit, Leslie. I want to know what’s going on. Brinke fucked up, I
know that. She needs help, though. I think she’s finally ready to get it. How
much help is she going to get if she’s in jail?” He looked like he wanted to
explode.
The desperation and anger in his voice was scraping against my already
ragged nerves, but I didn’t have time for this. Gesturing to the door that had
just opened, “We can’t do this right now. The bailiff is getting ready to call
things to order. This has to wait, Paxton.”
The look he shot me was so full of impatience. No. That wasn’t quite
the word. But I couldn’t think of the proper word for impatience magnified
times a thousand.
We had to rush to our place in the courtroom, barely getting there before
the judge came in. My hands were sweating as she took her place behind
the bench.
One more time, I told myself. I could do this one last time, and then, my
world could go back to normal.
At least I hoped that was what would happen.
After the bailiff had done his piece, Judge Randall looked out over the
room, her eyes intent over the rims of her glasses. “Well,” she said slowly.
“This is interesting. All sorts of new developments. Ms. Maynard. It would
appear you have new counsel.”
New…I looked over, surprised. Hugh Pattinson wasn’t there. To my
surprise, it was somebody from my former firm. The tiny blonde winked at
me on the sly as she and her client rose.
“Tina Strait of Webster and Steinberg. I'm taking over for Mr. Pattinson
as he's been called out of town on...business. I'm all up to speed though,
Judge Randall.”
I had a sneaking suspicion Carrie had made a couple calls.
“Very well.” Randall looked down at the file in front of her, tapped it
with her index finger and then went back to studying the lot of us. “We’re
here today to discuss returning the minor child Carter Gorham to her father.
While my decision will be official, I am not above reversing it, should I find
it necessary.”
I felt Paxton’s hard look, but I didn’t take my eyes off the judge.
Judge Randall picked up a new file, taking out what I suspected was a
copy of the deal Brinke had struck with the state of New York. Probably
one of the quickest deals ever done in all of legal history.
“I understand that you have come to a deal regarding some matters that
happened very recently.” Another shrewd study over the tops of her glasses.
“Is that right, Ms. Maynard?”
Brinke, still standing, nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You understand that when it comes to criminal matters, I have no say.
But when it comes to family matters, I have all say.”
 Brinke looked down and after a moment, she responded. “I understand
that, Your Honor. I just…”
“You just…” Randall prompted.
Brinke looked over at her lawyer, and then at Arik, who was still sitting
behind them. Tina leaned over and they spoke softly for a moment.
Once they were done, Brinke looked back at Judge Randall. “I’d like to
see Carter before I leave. I need to tell her something. I want to apologize.”
Paxton shot up. “Your Honor –”
Judge Randall shot him a look at the same time I caught his arm. “Sit
down, Mr. Gorham.” She didn't sound pleased.
“Paxton, it’s going to be okay,” I said. “Just let them talk.”
His muscles bunched tightly under my arm, and I could only imagine
what he was thinking. He still didn’t sit.
“You will have your turn to speak in a moment,” Judge Randall said,
eyes narrowed. “But until that time, you will sit down.” The look on her
face carried a world of warning.
Slowly, he did as he was told, but the tension coming from him all but
made the air around him vibrate.
As Randall focused once more on Brinke, I picked up my pen and
started to write.
“You will have to discuss that with her guardian, Ms. Maynard.”
On the desk in front of us, Paxton’s hand clenched into a fist so tight, I
heard his knuckles crack. I wrote faster.
“That's all I ask, Your Honor. Thank you,” Brinke said. She sat down
with a smile, and it was a real smile, not the catty, sly one I’d come to
associate with her.
She really was beautiful. I could see something of what Paxton had
fallen in love with when it came to her. And I could definitely see Carter.
The judge looked at the sheet of paper in front of her and then looked
over at Paxton. I’d just finished my note and was about to slip it to him
when the judge turned to me.
“Ms. Calvin, I’m going to assume you haven’t discussed this deal with
your client.”
I rose. Next to me, so did Paxton, although his eyes strayed to the note.
Turning it face-down without looking at it, I addressed Judge Randall.
“Frankly, Your Honor, I’ve only had time to change my clothes, shower and
get back here. I haven’t even had time to grab coffee today.”
 To my surprise, Judge Randall laughed. “That being the case, I’ll allow
some leniency on your part. Don’t worry about passing notes to your client.
I’ll explain the deal for you.” She put her file down and shifted her attention
to Paxton. “You may be surprised by this, and hopefully, you will be
pleased because I think you will benefit your family the most. Your wife –
soon to be ex, as she’s willing to stop fighting the divorce – has agreed to
accept the agreement you previously offered through your lawyer. She has
also accepted a deal to go into drug rehabilitation in a psychiatric facility in
exchange for no criminal charges being filed over the events of yesterday.”
Next to me, Paxton sucked in a hard breath.
“The deal has already been signed. She will do no time.” Randall
looked over at Brinke for a moment, eyebrow arched. “However, she will
not be allowed to leave the facility until it’s been deemed by a state-
approved psychiatrist that she is no longer a danger to herself or others. She
will undergo drug rehab and psychiatric counseling. As she will suffer some
rather severe withdrawal symptoms, doctors will be with her and outline a
treatment regimen to help.”
Paxton was now clutching at the table, and nodding repeatedly, like he
couldn’t not move something.
“She needs help. Your lawyer – or should I say lawyers – have worked
with the district attorney’s office to make sure she would get that help. Ms.
Maynard is a sick woman and they made sure she got treatment.” The judge
gave him a searching look. “You look somewhat surprised.”
For a second he said nothing, but I didn’t look at him or prompt him to
speak. When he did, his voice was husky. “I am. Surprised, and grateful
Thank you, Your Honor.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank the lawyer at your side, the one sitting behind
your wife. They arranged it. Like I said, I have nothing to do with criminal
law.” She propped her elbows on the surface in front of her. “Now…let’s
discuss the custody of the minor child, Carter Gorham.”

Carter was waiting out in the hallway for Paxton. When she saw him, she
flung herself at him and asked in a shaky voice, “I really get to go home
with you, Daddy?”
“Sure thing, baby.” Paxton knelt down, holding her against him as he
stroked her hair, and I felt a knot settling in my throat as I looked at them.
 I had known these two would break my heart.
He tugged at her bangs and said, “You kind of look like a pixie now.
Maybe I should buy you some fairy wings. What do you think?”
A shadow fell over Paxton, and he looked up to see Arik standing there.
He rose and they exchanged a few words. Finally, Paxton nodded and spoke
to Carter. She gave a nervous smile, and Arik disappeared back into the
courtroom.
As Brinke came out, I busied myself in my bag. I’d rather have just left
then, but it would've been kind of tacky to text him my congratulations. I
could only imagine coming up with that message.

You won. I’ll bill you. I love you. Don’t ever call me again.

Brinke nervously approached both of them and glanced at Paxton before

she knelt in front of Carter like Paxton had done, and like he had, she
brushed Carter’s hair back from her face. “I’m sorry for…well, for a lot of
things, baby. I’ve been pretty messed up, but I’m going to get better.”
Carter simply held out her arms.
Brinke caught the little girl up in a hug, and my heart swelled yet again.
There a something pretty amazing about the love of a kid.
Brinke said, “I'm sorry about your Rapunzel hair, Carter. I really am.”
“Daddy said I look like a pixie, now. He's going to buy me fairy wings.”
Brinke laughed, the sound watery. “You're going to be a beautiful pixie,
baby. I'm going away for a while so I can get better, but I'm going to write
you. Will you maybe write back?”
“All the time, Mommy.” She looked over at Paxton and asked, “Daddy,
will we be able to go visit her?”
Paxton’s gaze came to me, but I didn't know.
Arik was the one who spoke up. “For a little while, your mom has to
focus on getting better, Carter. Once the doctors think she's doing okay, she
can start having visitors. But you can write her all you want, and after the
first couple weeks, she can have phone calls. Skype, too. Do you know how
to Skype?”
Carter rolled her eyes. “Of course. I'm not a baby.”
 That made everybody laugh, and Brinke cupped Carter’s face in her
hands. “I love you.”
Then she stood, and Arik escorted her down the hall.
Once they were gone, Carter slipped her hand into her father's. “Mom is
going to get better for real this time, isn’t she, Daddy?”
“I think so, baby.”
Bolstering myself, I approached with my hand outstretched.
Paxton looked at it with a bemused expression.
After a moment, I lowered it to my side. Okay. It was going to be like
that then.
I tried not to let my pain seep into my voice. “Congratulations. I think in
the long run, this is going to work out best for everybody. Including
Brinke.”
“Yeah.” Paxton crooked a grin at me. “I know it will. Listen...about
earlier when I was pushing you...” He reached up to rub his neck. “I'm
sorry. I didn't know…”
“Of course.” I cut him off and looked at Carter. “Everything’s going to
be fine with you and your dad, Carter. Your mom too, I think. It’ll take a
little more time with her. But it’ll happen.”
Carter bounced back and forth on her feet. “I think so too. Thanks, Miss
Leslie.”
“I didn’t do much.” Shaking my head, I smiled, gripping the strap of my
bag to keep from reaching out to touch her. She wasn’t mine. This family
wasn’t mine. Keeping that in the forefront of my thoughts, I nodded at
Paxton. “I’ve explained the timeframe for finalizing the divorce. Since she’s
not contesting it, it simplifies things. I’ll put together an email and send it to
you, and my assistant will get the hard copy to you within a week or so.”
The bemused expression on his face deepened into a frown.
“Good luck,” I said softly, turning on my heel.
“Leslie…wait.”
I looked back at him, mentally bracing myself. “I need to get back to
my office, Paxton. I’m not quite finished with things.”
Carter’s face dropped. “But…” She looked up at her dad, then tugged
her hand from his. “You still have work?”
“Always.” Rolling my eyes, I adjusted the heavy bag on my shoulder.
“A lawyer’s work is never done, Miss Carter.”
 “Oh.” She scuffed her feet, shoulders slumping. “I was gonna ask
Daddy if maybe we could take you out to lunch, then go do stuff. You
helped us bunches. I know you did.”
“I…”
Paxton approached, but I kept my eyes on her, ignoring the way he
rested a hand on her shoulder. I knew he was looking at me, but I refused to
look up. My heart couldn't take it.
“Maybe she could come to dinner instead.”
“Yeah!” Carter’s eyes lit up. “Come to dinner, Leslie! We can pick you
up from work, and go to dinner, and a movie and have fun! Please!”
How in the hell could I say no to that face?
I didn't know anyone who could.
“Okay, sweetheart. Dinner.”
Chapter Nine
Paxton
“Come home with us.”
Paxton’s soft voice sent shivers down my spine, and the way he was
stroking my neck had my nipples drawn into tight, aching buds.
Fortunately, the bra I’d worn under my T-shirt concealed that fact, but
Paxton was way too aware of my reaction to him.
I could maybe even hate him for it. Maybe hate him for asking me to
come home with him, with them, after he had pushed me out of his life.
After he'd shown just how easily he could get along without me. The
insanity was over. He didn't need me anymore.
Shifting on the bench, I looked over at him. “I don’t think that’s a good
idea.”
He was so incredibly beautiful, wearing a silk shirt, the same blue as his
eyes, and a pair of dress pants that fit him to perfection. Carter was drifting
to sleep at his side. We’d been to the Disney Store in Times Square, had
dinner at the most elegant restaurant I could ever imagine – and I’d been in
blue jeans. I’d worn the most casual clothes I had on hand at the office,
determined to communicate a message to Paxton. This isn’t a date. You
wanted to end things and we have. This is a goodbye celebration. For
Carter.
Then they showed up in a limo, and Carter had been dressed in a
midnight blue dress, looking like a sweet little angel, and her daddy had
looked like rock-and-roll’s sexiest bad boy.
He hadn’t blinked an eye at my casual clothes, and neither had anybody
at the restaurant. I supposed when you had a face that appeared on the
covers of magazines, and you practically oozed money, people weren’t
going to say anything if somebody in your party slouched in wearing blue
jeans and t-shirt with Books Are Better than Boys on it.
“Well?” Paxton stroked his thumb across my neck, clearly still waiting
for an answer.
“There’s no need. Carter’s asleep. The case is over. The –”
His mouth closed over mine in a fierce, decadent kiss.
 “There’s every need,” he said when he lifted his head, eyes burning with
desire.
There might've been more, but I couldn't look at him any longer. I
couldn't let myself see what I knew wasn't there.
“Don’t do this.” Pulling back, I eased away. It wasn’t enough distance,
though, because he was still able to touch me.
Undoing my seatbelt, I slipped off the bench seat where we had been,
and went to the other one. After refastening the seat belt, I focused my gaze
on the blur that had become the night. Carter had wanted to go for a drive,
insisting she wasn’t tired, but she’d fallen asleep twenty minutes into it. We
were still thirty minutes outside of Manhattan, and even farther from my
place in the Bronx.
Pressing my forehead to the window, I closed my eyes.
If I hadn’t done that, I might have been able to brace myself. By the
time I realized Paxton had joined me on the bench seat, leaving Carter
sleeping with her head pillowed on an armrest, the seat belt adjusted to
compensate, it was too late to move away from the arms he wrapped around
me.
“Don’t do what?” he asked, his lips pressed to my ear.
“This!” I kept my voice to a low hiss, trying to cover my misery with
anger. “I'm asking you not to do this hot and cold thing, Paxton. You
wanted to cool things off, so that’s what we did – are doing. It’s over.”
His hand tangled in my hair, and he tugged, inexorably forcing my face
back to his.
The sleeping child demanded we both be quiet but the intensity in his
eyes spoke far louder than any words could. After a taut moment, he spoke.
“You think I wanted to cool things off? Walking away from you was like
cutting off an arm, Leslie.”
I made myself say it, “You were going through a lot of shit, Paxton. It's
done now. You don't need me to be a distraction, either for good or bad.”
He bit my ear. It sent a hot, visceral streak jolting through, right down to
my cunt. Then, without saying another word to me, he reached up and hit a
button for a speaker, calling the driver. “Hey, Joey, we’re going to the
penthouse.”
“I want to go home,” I said through gritted teeth, glaring at him.
He undid the seat belt and I smacked at his hands as he dragged me onto
his lap. He didn't even blink.
 “Yeah, well. We don’t always get what we want in life, do we, Leslie?”
He bracketed his arms on either side of me and stared at me through his
lashes. “We’re going to have a talk, you and me. You want to leave after
that? I’ll have Joey take you back to your apartment. But first we talk.”
Then he closed his eyes, still holding onto me.
What the hell?
“Let me go.” I shoved at his shoulders.
“No. I haven’t slept well since the last night I spent with you, and I’m
fucking exhausted.”
Maybe my heart melted a little. But I still shoved at him.
“Wearing seat belts isn’t just the law,” I said snidely. “They also keep
you alive.”
He swore. “Damn, but you’re being catty today.”
Grumbling, he grabbed a seat belt, and I gaped at him as he stretched it
over us both, somehow doing it without ever letting go of me long enough
for me to pull away.
“Asshole.”
“Yeah.” He cracked an eye open. “But I’m an asshole who missed you.”

She woke up when Paxton lifted her out of the car.

Although he tried to carry Carter to the front door, she sleepily pushed
at his shoulders, insisting that she could walk and that she wanted to walk
with me. They were making this hard, too hard, both of them. I wanted to
hate them a little for it, but how could I?
Well, Paxton might be easier, especially if he kept pulling the
Neanderthal routine. At least I wanted to think so, but I knew I was lying to
myself.
Carter was a different story altogether. All I wanted to do with her was
hold her, and hug her, and ask her how she was, if everything had been okay
– or as okay as it could get – at the home where they’d placed her. She
seemed fine, a little too wise for her years, a little more somber, but Carter
had always seemed a little too wise and somber. And Mrs. Benjamin had
been one of the good ones.
As we rode up in the elevator, Carter tugged on my hand. “Tomorrow’s
Saturday,” she announced.
 “I know.” I had plans to sleep in, brood for a bit, and then start working
on clearing my schedule once my current cases were settled. I needed to get
away from everybody and everything for a while.
Maybe even look at moving my practice to the West Coast. Krissy and
DeVon would have no problem helping me establish myself there.
“Are you working on Saturdays?” Carter asked, still staring at me.
Aw, hell…I could already tell where her canny little mind was going.
“Sweetheart, I’ve got plenty to keep me busy. I’ve spent so much time
trying to help your daddy, I haven’t kept up with all the other clients I work
with.”
I could feel the impact of his stare on my skin, but I didn’t look at him.
She pursed her lips, clearly thinking through what I’d said. “You help a
lot of people like you did us?”
“Well…”
The elevator came to a stop, giving me a brief moment to collect my
thoughts. She started to walk, pulling me along with her. As she kept that
curious gaze locked on me, I responded, “Every case is different,
sweetheart. I give my clients what they need. That’s my job.”
She looked away then, watching as Paxton unlocked the door. “Do you
like us because it’s your job?”
Just kill me and get it over with, I thought.
Once we were inside, I knelt in front of Carter. “No, baby. I like you
because you’re you.”
“Okay.” She leaned in and hugged me around the neck, squeezing tight.
“I like you because you’re you, too, Miss Leslie.”
The wrenching in my heart was almost enough to do me in, and I
remained silent while Paxton swung her up and hugged her.
“It’s time to get you settled into bed, baby girl. Come on…”
“Where’s Alex?” Carter said, yawning. “I miss her. I haven’t seen her in
days and days…”
“Alex needed the night off.” Paxton rubbed his cheek against her hair as
he carried her up the stairs. “She’ll be right up to see you first thing
tomorrow.”
Their voices grew faint, but I didn’t turn around, didn’t try to follow
them up to Carter’s room. Nor did she push for me to. She needed a few
minutes alone with her dad after everything. Pacing over to the window, I
stared out over the city, the lights spreading out for miles and miles.
 Glancing toward the door, I thought about just leaving. It would be the
best thing, the wisest thing, to do. The safest for me. Severing ties with
Paxton Gorham had to come sooner or later, and once it was done, I could
really start getting over him.
Hence my desire for a nice vacation far, far away from New York City.
Best to walk away now.
I shot the door another glance.
A hand came around me, and Paxton bent over me, pressed his lips to
my shoulder. “Are you thinking about running?”
“It wouldn’t be running,” I said, my voice calm. “Simply…leaving. This
is just delaying the inevitable, Paxton. You’ve got a new life to focus on, a
daughter who needs you, a career you’ve neglected the past few weeks. I’ve
got clients –”
“What about us?”
He tried to tug me back against him, but I wasn't going to be pulled
back in. He said he wanted to talk, and if that was what he needed to move
on, then we'd talk.
Shrugging free of his arms, I said flatly, “There is no us. You made it
clear that you had to keep your focus on your daughter. I get that. I respect
that. And I'm not angry about it. But I’m not going to be used like a yo-yo,
jerked up, dropped down, jerked up, dropped down.”
He stalked toward me. He’d shed the jacket somewhere along the way
and loosened the tie so that it draped around his neck. The shirt was open at
the throat and his feet were bare. He’d shed that elegant skin, and the man
in front of me was pure, determined male.
When he would have caught my arms, I lifted my hands, trying to stay
him. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” Paxton stared at me, a challenge in his eyes. “Don’t want
you? Don’t need you? Don’t love you?”
“Don’t…” My voice cracked. I hurriedly put more distance between us,
shifting so that the couch was a barrier. Paxton didn’t let it deter him,
simply stepping up and over it, cornering me up against the accent chair.
“Don’t say that to me.”
“Why not?” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the hollow of my
throat. “I couldn’t tell you before. It was already too hard forcing myself to
walk away. But now…there’s no reason for that. Nobody is going to take
Carter away. Brinke isn’t fighting the divorce. Hell, I’ll get a new divorce
attorney if that’s what I need to do. I don’t need you as my lawyer now. I
need you for a whole lot more.”
He tried to kiss me and I shoved my hands up between us. “You’re not
doing this to me again.”
“Leslie…”
“You broke my heart already!” I shouted at him, forgetting about the
little girl sleeping upstairs, forgetting that I was trying to keep my temper
under control. “I can’t go through this again. You pick me up, and put me
down like I’m a toy to you and…and…”
“You’re no toy.” Paxton cupped my face and pressed his lips to mine.
His touch was surprisingly gentle. “You’re everything, Leslie.”
I wanted to believe that. So much. “Pax…”
Resting his forehead against mine, he said, “I’m sorry. I had to do what
was best for Carter – and for you. I couldn’t risk Carter and you were
already in trouble, baby. I couldn't be the reason you lost everything you'd
worked for. Please…”
Shaking, I told myself to be smart. Pull away. Walk away.
But with him…? Smart never came into play.
His lips touched mine again.
“Leslie…”
This time, when he tried to kiss me, I didn’t pull away. Didn’t fight. I
wasn't strong enough.
“I love you,” he said against my lips.
He said it again as he kissed a path down my neck.
Again as he grasped the hem of my shirt and dragged it upward.
The next time he said those words, it was against the curve of my breast
as he stripped my bra away. Then in the valley between my breasts before
he flicked his tongue over one taut, swollen nipple. I was already wet and
aching when he pushed his knee between my thighs. I moaned and rubbed
against him, my body betraying what my brain was trying to tell me I
needed to do.
“Are you going to push me away?” Paxton demanded, fisting his hand
in my hair and tugging back until we stared into each other’s eyes.
“If I was smart, I would.” I undid the first two buttons of his shirt. “I've
always considered myself smart, but now I'm not so sure.”
Moments later, we were both naked, and he caught me up in his arms
and sat me on the low back of the accent chair. Hard and rough, he drove
into me with one nearly brutal stroke. I clung to him, biting my lips to keep
from screaming. I whimpered as he surged deep and then began to drive
even deeper.
“Look at me,” he demanded as my eyes started to close. “I want to see
your face. I want to see you.” He gave me a bruising kiss. “I want you to
see me.”
Head falling back, I forced my eyes to stay open, watched him. Watched
as he let his emotions play across his face, as he let me see the things he'd
hidden from me before.
He lifted me and spun around, taking us both to the floor. Hard, callused
hands caught my knees and shoved them against my chest as he came down
on top of me and began to hammer into me.
“Look at me,” he said again, slowing his thrusts down until I was
excruciatingly aware of each slow inch pulling out, then surging back inside
my cunt. I was so hungry for him, so desperate.
Unable to move, helpless to do anything but allow him to ride my body,
I grasped his forearms, dug my nails into his flesh as I felt myself tipping
over the edge. As my climax began to roll over me, I tightened around him,
called out his name.
“Don’t close your eyes, Leslie…don’t…”
But it was too much, he made me feel too much. And I couldn't be that
vulnerable. I had only so much of my heart left intact. If he saw, he would
know that he could destroy me.
So I closed my eyes and let myself come.

We lay in his bed, my back tucked against his chest, and the pounding of
his heart echoed mine.
For now.
His hand gripped my hip, and I had a feeling he thought I was going to
slip out of bed, out the door, out of his life. I wanted to be smart, wanted to
do just that.
“You never really answered me,” Paxton murmured, voice drowsy.
“You asked a question?”
“I told you that I love you.” He kissed my shoulder.
“That’s a statement. It’s not a question.” My stomach twisted.
 “So that’s how things are with a lawyer…they debate everything.” He
heaved out a sigh, and pushed upward, tugging me onto my back so that I
stared up at him. “I love you, Leslie. It’s too fast, too soon, I know that, but
I can’t help what I feel.”
My heart stuttered inside my chest. He’d said it earlier, but...I reached
up and touched his cheek. “I wasn’t kidding or being dramatic when I said
you broke my heart. I’m not going through that again, Paxton. I understand
why you wanted to call it quits, but…” I blew out a breath and shook my
head. “That’s it. If you’re serious, then we really do this. The next time you
push me away –”
“There won’t be a next time.”
He started to bend his head to kiss me, but I put my finger to his lips,
stopping him.
“The next time you push me away, it’s done. No apologies. No second
chances. I will walk away, and if I have to, I will take out a fucking
restraining order. Understand?”
After a moment, he nodded. “Understood.” He caught my wrist and
dragged my hand upward, lacing our fingers together as he pressed his lips
against my wrist. “But it won’t happen. It almost killed me, walking away
once, and that was when I'd known it had to be done. No way in hell will it
happen a second time.”
Chapter Ten
Leslie
“Why is she all squished up?” Carter had her face to the window, staring at
the baby behind it.
We’d just gotten to the hospital to see Krissy and DeVon’s new baby,
only to find that Krissy was asleep, and Devon had finally gone to get
something to eat.
“You were squished up too, kid.” Paxton tugged on Carter’s ponytail.
It had been a little over a year since the ‘game’ that resulted in her
cutting off her Rapunzel hair, and she’d decided she wanted to grow it out a
little. But not because she wanted to be a princess anymore. Lately, she was
talking about being a doctor. Or a cop. Or a teacher.
“Well, why was I squished up?” Carter wrinkled her nose and studied
the other babies in the nursery. There weren’t many. Most of them were
probably with their moms, but we hadn’t wanted to wait for Krissy to wake
up to see the little one.
“All babies are a little squished up. It’s just how it works,” Carrie told
her.
We’d run into Carrie and Gavin while waiting for the elevator, and
Carrie spent the entire ride up staring at my ring. I had a hard time taking
my eyes off it myself. Paxton had proposed last night at a beautiful little
restaurant on the beach, just a little north of the city. Carter had been there,
grinning and giggling the whole time.
It'd been perfection.
“Well, hello…”
The sound of that familiar voice had me turning around, and I smiled at
the sight of the proud daddy standing just outside the elevator, a bag of food
in hand. Rushing over to hug DeVon, I squeezed him tight. Just as I went to
offer my congratulations, he caught my hand and lifted it up. A dark
eyebrow arched.
“Nice rock, Les.”
“Thanks.” I flushed and gestured to the window. “Nice baby.”
 We both laughed and I backed away, gesturing to Carter and Paxton.
“You remember each other?”
Carter waved at him but remained focused on the baby. “She makes
funny faces. Did I do that too, Daddy?”
“Yes.” He rolled his eyes and glanced at DeVon. “She’s kinda fascinated
by the baby.”
“I never get to see babies. She’s cool.” Carter finally looked away and
smiled at us, revealing a gap-toothed smile. She’d lost a couple of teeth
since summer had started.
We’d gone on tour with Paxton over the summer, wanting her to come
too. Her big worry had been about the tooth fairy finding her. He’d assured
her the tooth fairy had a KFS and then explained that it was a kid-finding-
system. Sort of like GPS, but for kids who traveled a lot, and only people
like Santa – and apparently the tooth fairy – could get them.
It made me laugh, just as it had made me smile when I realized a couple
of shows had been in Southern California, making it that much easier for
me to visit Krissy around the time she was due.
DeVon checked his watch. “Come on. Krissy is probably waking up.
She won’t sleep much longer than an hour or so during the day right now.
Some kind of mom alarm, apparently.”
We all trailed along behind him, although Carter dragged her feet,
casting a few more looks at the nursery windows.
DeVon disappeared inside first, and after a few moments, he came out
and nodded. “She’s awake and trying to steal all my fries. Good thing I got
two orders.”
It didn’t take long for Krissy to notice my ring – or for me to notice
hers. We both broke out laughing and she said, “I saw the picture you
posted on Facebook so I was expecting it.”
“I didn’t see any picture from you.”
“Well…” She grinned. “It wasn’t planned. I said yes anyway. I didn’t
get the ring until this morning.”
“Well.” Huffing out a breath, I looked around. “It looks like all of us are
going to be old married women. You heard that Dena and Arik set a date,
right?”
“Yeah.” Her eyes strayed to the door, and I glanced over just as the
nurse pushed the baby in.
 We all lapsed into silence as the nurse talked to Krissy for a few
minutes, then left, leaving the little bassinet where the baby was sleeping
behind. Krissy got up, with some help from DeVon, and the two of them
fumbled through the process of changing a diaper while Carrie teased them.
“It’s not as easy as you’d think,” Paxton said pragmatically. “Well, not
the first dozen or two dozen times. After that, piece of cake.”
I hadn't even thought of that. He knew more about taking care of a baby
than any of us.
Gavin and Carrie shared a look and then Carrie cleared her throat.
“Well, as it turns out…I’ll be getting practice soon enough.”
“What? Really?” I squealed and started to laugh while Gavin stood
there with a grin on his face. I still didn't know all the details about what
happened with his daughter, but I knew he hadn't raised her. And I knew he
was going to be the best dad. Well, second best. Paxton was the best.
“She’s having a baby?” Carter asked a few minutes later, her voice soft.
“Yeah.” I stroked my hand down her hair. “She is.”
“Babies are neat.” She frowned thoughtfully as she leaned against me.
“All your friends are nice. It’s almost…well, my friend Kacee has a lot of
brothers and sisters, and they're older and like you guys. Always teasing
and talking and laughing. So this is kind of like family, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” I hugged her close. “It kind of is.”
She nodded now and looked up at me, a determined expression on her
face. “I think I want a sister. I don’t wanna wait until I’m all grown up to
have a big family like this.”
Paxton, sitting next to me and halfway through taking a drink of water,
started to choke.
“A sister, huh?” I said. I looked at Paxton and grinned. “I guess we
better get started on that right away, huh?”
His eyes burned as they met mine and something inside me twisted.
“Right away.”

La Fin
Bonus 1: Blindfold Vol. 1
 Blindfold Vol. 1

By Cassie Wild and M.S. Parker

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the
writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any
resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 Belmonte Publishing LLC
Published by Belmonte Publishing LLC.
Chapter One
Toni
“Six months.”
I stared at the check Dr. Willis Schumacher had given me when I visited
him in the hospital, trying to understand how this could have happened. All
right, I understood how it happened. On an intellectual level anyway.
A hand reached out and tugged my hair, successfully getting my
attention. Victor, my pain-in-the-ass older brother was grinning at me. He'd
always pissed me off when he pulled my hair as a kid, but it had always
been impossible not to smile at least a little.
Only a little, though.
It would take quite a bit more to make me smile as much as I normally
did. I didn’t get down often, but the past week had managed to shoot my
mood straight down to the level of toxic.
“Aw, come on, Sis.” Vic braced his elbows on the table and leaned
down, trying to catch my gaze. His dark red hair was the exact same shade
as mine and the wind blew it back from his face. “It’s going to work out.”
The brisk April breeze had managed to rip my hair from its loose knot,
so I glared at him through a tangle of hair. “Six fucking months!”
He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Toni…”
“Stop it, Vic.”
Aggravated, I surged up from the wrought iron chair and started to pace.
We’d met for coffee in Bryant Park, which showed how well Vic knew me.
At twenty-seven, he was three years older than me and we'd always been
close. It had been Vic and me against our three older brothers more times
than I could count. And he knew that what I needed right now was to vent.
“Doc Schumacher had a heart attack, Toni.”
Sometimes, I needed somebody to yell at since I couldn't yell at life.
“Really?” I practically snarled at him. “So that’s why I spent ten
minutes pounding on his chest?”
Ribs had cracked. I’d never forget the sound of it. Rubbing the heel of
my hand over my chest, I swallowed back the bile that rose there even as I
thought of it now, days later.
 Vic lapsed into silence. Doc Schumacher, my boss – former boss now –
was one of my oldest friends. One of my family’s oldest friends. I’d known
him since I was a little girl. He was part of the reason I decided I wanted to
help people. I’d had a kitten when I was four, and she’d somehow managed
to break her leg. He’d found me bawling in the alley next to my family's
house, the house where my parents still lived.
He’d helped calm the kitten – and me – down, then he’d stabilized her
leg and taken me to my parents. Her name had been Reeses. Like the candy.
She died a few years ago. I’d never forgotten how kind he’d been. That was
one of the reasons I'd wanted to work for him while I put myself through
college.
I guess that’s why I wasn’t prepared for the fact that the heart attack that
almost killed him would also terminate my employment earlier than I'd
planned. Willis had always seemed invincible to me. Even at seventy-two,
I'd only seen him as strong and capable. I'd seen him that way up until the
moment he collapsed. When he told me that his doctor told him he had to
make major changes, I hadn't truly realized what that would mean.
I was trying to be logical about this. Logical and not selfish, but the job
that had paid my tuition, my living expenses, for my books, for everything
these past few years was just…gone.
I was six months shy of being done with my Ph.D in psychology. I
could have been done two years ago, but balancing the course load with my
finances…well. It was basically impossible.
Feeling Vic’s gaze on me, I looked over at him. “Where am I going to
find another job that will pay what I make and let me have the days off I
need to finish up?”
“I might have an idea,” he said.
His dark eyes shifted away from mine, and I knew whatever he was
thinking was probably a bad idea. I loved my big brother, but he wasn't
exactly known for his good ideas. I lifted my face to sky and blew out a
breath.
Six damn months. The luck I had sometimes was just ridiculous.
Although, looking at it logically, I wasn’t the one who’d technically died for
six minutes, so I supposed I was being a bit petty.
“Talk about putting things in perspective,” I muttered.
“If you’re done talking to yourself...”
 Glaring at him, I shoved my hair out of my face as the wind snatched at
it again. I swore as it whipped across my face. Going to sit back by my
brother, I dug through the messenger bag that doubled as a purse and book
bag.
“Whatever idea you have probably isn’t the sort of job I want, Vic.”
I ran a brush quickly through the snarls and then separated my heavy
hair into two sections. The braided pigtails might look juvenile to some, but
it was a style that had been popular for a reason – it worked. Especially for
pain-in-the-ass hair like mine.
“Fine.” Vic shrugged. “Don’t listen to me. I guess you can always go to
work for the family business.”
I made a face at him, refusing to let the idea even settle in my brain. My
family was close, as close as a family could be, really. But there was still
tension between Vic and the rest of our brothers. And with Dad.
Vic had gotten into trouble as a teenager, and it still rubbed him wrong
that Dad had left him to deal with his mess rather than bail him out even
though Vic and I both knew it had been good for him.
But knowing it and liking it were two different things.
“All right, big brother, what exactly do you have to offer me?” I asked,
cocking my eyebrow at him. “Dealing cards in some back alley game?
Mixing drinks until two a.m.?”
He grimaced at the last one. “Well...”
“I can’t.”
I secured one braid and got to work on the other. Without saying
anything else, I finished the second braid, and then dropped down onto the
metal chair across from him and took his hand in both of mine. His big paw
dwarfed my smaller ones. He was the tallest of all my brothers, towering
over me by a foot.
“Vic, I love you, and thanks for trying, but I can’t pull those hours,
finish up with school, and stay sane enough to help other people with their
problems.” I knew it had only been because of Doc Schumacher's kindness
that I was able to get this far this fast. If I'd needed to get a different job, it
would've taken me even longer to make it to this point.
Vic looked away, his face going a dull, ruddy red. He wanted to help so
bad and I knew why.
Everybody had expected me to go off to Yale on a full ride.
I had expected it.
 Then Vic had gotten into trouble, right as I'd been applying for
scholarships. He’d gotten in trouble in the worst kind of way – hitting
national news and everything.
What he’d done shouldn’t have affected me.
I was smart. No bones about it, I was fricking brilliant. I had graduated
from high school at sixteen and, thanks to advanced placement courses,
already had a good portion of pre-requisites under my belt. I'd already been
accepted to Stanford to pursue my BA, and then on to my Masters before
pursuing my Ph.D. But then the deadline for financial aid had passed and ...
nothing.
So I stayed home.
At first, I told everyone that it just made more sense for me to stay and
finish up my BA rather than worrying about transferring credits. I needed to
be around my family during the trial anyway. Mom had needed me too.
When I'd started on my Masters, no one bothered asking why I hadn't
moved away.
The sound of my phone whistling at me interrupted my heavy brood
marathon. I jolted and looked down to see that yet another brother was
calling to check up on me. The oldest this time.
I blew out a breath.
Six months. That’s all I had needed.
“Hey, Deacon.”
Deacon was the opposite of Vic in every way. Grounded and steady, my
oldest brother was following in my dad’s footsteps and he took the job
seriously. Too seriously, and I didn't just mean he was a damn good
electrician. He also seemed to think he was there to watch out for me, like I
was still some skinny, brainy little eleven year-old, heading into middle
school without him there to look out for me.
“I think I might have a line on a job for you,” Deacon said without
preamble.
Rolling my eyes, I said, “It’s sooooo wonderful to hear from you too.
Yeah, I’m here with Vic, but it’s a great time to talk and tell me how to live
my life.”
Across from me, Vic was laughing and I glared at him. Vic may have
been the screw-up, but I was the baby...and none of my brothers ever let me
forget it.
I could practically hear him smirking.
 “Okay, brat. How are you?”
“Lousy,” I countered. “How's the family?”
Deacon had married the girl he’d fallen for in tenth grade. They'd gotten
engaged after she graduated from high school and had gotten married six
months after that. Their fifteenth anniversary loomed in front of them, as
well as the first birthday of their fifth, and last, child. Beth had made it very
clear that this one would be the last or she'd be giving Deacon a vasectomy
herself. Without anesthetic.
“Let’s not discuss that.” Some strain came through my brother’s voice.
“What’s wrong?”
I could practically hear the mental debate and finally, he sighed. “Hell,
we think Emma has chicken pox. There’s a girl at the daycare…I don’t
know the whole story, but somehow she got in without getting vaccinated,
and now Emma has it.”
“Oh, no.” Mentally, I was crossing my fingers and hoping, but Beth was
a nurse. She knew what chicken pox looked like. I wanted to tell my brother
not to worry, but I remembered what it had been like to have chicken pox as
a kid and two year-old Emma was going to be climbing the walls. “Keep
me updated.”
“I will. Anyway…the job.”
I couldn’t even talk my way out of whatever he had to say now. He was
stubborn like that. “Okay, what is it?”
I behaved myself while he was talking and waited until he fell silent
before I spoke. “This is Deacon Gallagher, right? Old man? Dark brown
hair?” I glanced at Vic, who appeared to be waiting for me to share. “What
the hell are you thinking?”
“Toni, be reasonable.”
At least he didn't scold me for swearing like he'd done when I was
younger. Eleven years older than me, he'd taken it upon himself to be
another parent pretty much since moment one.
“It’s a job and your hours are negotiable with your boss. You're matched
by hours available and your personality.” He paused and then added, “Okay,
keeping that in mind, you’re in trouble.”
“Very funny, asshat,” I said darkly. “You’re screwing with me. A
personal assistant? I’m going to school to be a psychiatrist, not a secretary.”
Deacon’s voice hardened. “Our mom's a secretary, Toni. Remember?”
 He didn’t have to point that out for me to feel bad. I wanted to kick
myself the second the words left my mouth. “I know that.” Self-conscious, I
glanced over at Vic. He gave me a sympathetic look, but it didn’t help.
“Look, Toni. You know what Mom and Dad always told us. There’s no
shame in any kind of honest work. And it's not like it'd be forever. Just until
you finish your degree. That does still matter to you, right?”
Nothing else he said could have made me go.
Absolutely nothing.

The gleaming of Winter Enterprises made me think of a penis. I couldn't

help it. I was the youngest of four brothers and they were guys to the nth
degree. Everything was a penis metaphor to them, even if it wasn't. They'd
been overprotective, but that hadn't kept them from talking like typical guys
around me.
I actually felt a little bad about thinking that way about Winter
Enterprises. While they'd been involved in charities since they were
founded by Dominic Snow a few years ago, he'd recently announced that
he'd founded In From the Cold to help find people who'd been victims of, or
involved with, human trafficking. The foundation had gotten a lot of extra
press recently due to the scandal of some high society woman who'd gotten
arrested for conspiring to blackmail Snow and his fiancé. Considering his
fiancé was a small town girl who'd become his assistant and was now
wearing his ring, it had been like Christmas for the media.
Shaking my head in an attempt to clear it, I moved forward. All the
people milling around made my nerves jack up even more and that just
irritated me even more. I didn't like being nervous. Ask me to organize and
keep track of the workings of an entire doctor's office, I'm fine. Put me in
the middle of my brothers and their crazy friends, no problem.
Professionally and with my family, I was a rock, but this crowded job fair
was turning me into a five foot, twenty-four year-old ball of nerves.
Taking a deep breath, I made my way inside and looked around, taking
a minute to acclimate. Early in life, I’d learned to deal with being thrown
into situations where I wasn't comfortable. One of the many joys of having
always been smart.
Lines for registering, lines to get sorted…
What a fucking mess.
 I took another look over some of the groups clustered around, and had
the sinking sensation I’d have to tell my brother that this just wasn’t going
to work out. These were so not my kind of people.
Many of them were dressed to the nines in designer names and
expensive haircuts. And then there was me, with my cute sundress and chic
little shrug draped over my arm. I had a file and my iPad, while others
carried giant briefcases and padfolios likely stuffed with impressive
resumes.
“Something of a zoo, isn’t it?”
The quiet voice came from next to me and I glanced up to see a stocky,
pleasant-looking man standing next to me. With his salt-and-pepper hair, I
put his age in the early forties. “I’d say that sums it up.” I couldn't help but
add, “I see mostly herd animals, very few standing out from the pack.”
That elicited a chuckle, his dark blue eyes sparkling.
“If you don’t mind my asking, what position are you applying for?”
I took a closer look at him and realized with a start that he was an
employee here. Not that he wore a nametag. This place probably stopped
with the nametags outside the lobby.
“Personal assistant,” I said slowly. I shifted toward him, using the
movement to tuck my single file folder behind my back. I was really
starting to think this was a bad idea.
“Exclusive.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded. Exclusive was the name
Winter Enterprises had given to the new service offering to match up
personal assistants with the New York elite. Again, I told myself I was an
idiot. This so wasn’t the job for me. What did I know about helping out the
jet set?
What did I care about the jet set?
“May I?” He held out a hand, clearly waiting for the file I’d stowed
behind me.
Reluctant, I turned over the file. He opened and skimmed it, but I had
the feeling he was more interested in me than in what a couple of papers
had to say. “What would you do if your employer received a call that they
were being investigated by the IRS for tax fraud?”
“Call their accountant,” I responded without even thinking. What did I
know about their taxes? “And probably whatever lawyer they have on
retainer for that sort of thing,” I added after a moment. If they were rich
enough to use a service like this, then they probably had a lawyer.
He flicked me a look over the edge of the file, but I couldn't read it.
“Your client asks you to pick up someone at the airport and to make
sure that their luggage bypasses security. Would you ask questions?”
Frowning, I held his gaze. This was a loaded question. I could already
tell. Finally, I shrugged and said, “I would tell my client that, while I don't
need to know what's in the luggage, I wouldn't be comfortable bending the
law. If the client insisted, I would hand in my notice. I don’t want to work
for criminals.”
He nodded and held out a hand. “I’m Robson Findley. Come on. I’ll
finish your interview myself.”

It was the quickest and weirdest interview of my life. Instead of asking me

about my previous experience, he hammered me with more odd questions.
It’s your off night and you get called to order some flowers and candy
sent to an unknown address. What do you do?
You’re meeting a friend for your employer and the friend hits on you.
Do you tell your employer?
You’re visiting your employer and you hear some unusual noises
coming from one of the rooms. What do you do?
It didn't take me long to realize that this wasn't going to work. I didn't
interrupt though. I wanted to be able to tell Deacon I at least gave it a fair
shot. I waited until there was a gap and then rose. “Mr. Findlay, I really
appreciate the opportunity, but I don’t think this job would be right for me.”
“Yes?” He cocked his head, eyes shrewd, but not annoyed. “Just why is
that?”
I didn’t have an exact reason I could give, and in a moment of utter
desperation and stupidity, I blurted out, “I don’t like rich people.”
It sounded offensive enough that I assumed I'd be thrown out on my ass
as soon as he called security. I lifted my chin, crossed my arms over my
chest, and waited.
To my surprise, Findlay laughed. He dropped down into the chair
behind his desk, tipped back his head and actually laughed. A few moments
passed before he stopped, but when he looked at me, his eyes were still
glinting with mirth. “Can I be blunt with you for a moment?”
 I stared at him.
“Sometimes, I don't like them much either.”

The moment he said it, he blinked, almost as if startled he’d actually said it.
It was a look I was familiar with. I was always having people tell me
things they wouldn't have told anyone else. I'd been told I have one of those
faces. It’s not really all that great.
He cleared his throat and began shuffling papers on his desk. “As I was
saying…”
He hadn’t been saying anything, but I didn’t call him on the lie, just
watched as he regained his composure.
“I think you’re going to work out rather well, Ms. Gallagher. Assuming
we find you the right match. And while I still need you to fill out the forms,
I already have a couple of ideas for good matches.”
Hesitant, I eyed the forms. I still had some serious misgivings about
this.
“Perhaps you should have an idea what it pays,” he said with a smile.
The figure he named made my jaw drop.
Hello college tuition.
Chapter Two
Toni
F ifth Avenue.
What the hell was I doing on Fifth Avenue?
Especially this part of Fifth Avenue.
Smoothing a hand down the trim black pants I’d selected to wear, I
approached the door and tried not to look like I was hesitating. There was
no doorman. That might have struck me as odd, except this massive
building wasn’t some collection of ultra-cool, ultra-expensive condos.
It was one, ginormous family home.
I couldn’t even fathom how many millions of dollars a family home on
Fifth Avenue must have cost. The buzz of traffic around here was
noticeably less, and as I drew closer to the house, some lady decked all in
white sailed by with her dog on a pink leash. There was a sparkle at its neck
and I had the insane idea that the sparkle might be from diamonds. Real
diamonds. But that couldn't be possible, could it?
My skin started to prickle. I looked up at the ditz who put the diamonds
on a dog and found her sending me a sidelong look. When she caught me
eying her, her nostrils flared as if she’d smelled something bad, and she
whipped her head around.
Wow.
Mentally bracing myself, I marched up the steps between two stately
lion statues and knocked.
I’d been paired with a woman by the name of Isadora Lang. I supposed
if I paid more attention to the society pages, I would've known the name,
but all I had was what Mr. Findley sent me yesterday afternoon.
Isadora was twenty years old and needing help a few days a week – my
choice of days – to help her keep her life organized. She hadn't requested
any off-hours availability or included a list of crazy demands. It really
sounded like a dream job.
But I had a sinking feeling I was about to endure the same sort of
treatment I’d received from the ditzy dog owner.
 The door swung open and I flashed the suit-clad gentleman my best
smile. He was wearing a suit that probably cost more than two months' rent
and looked to be in his mid to late fifties.
“Hello. I’m Toni—”
A woman's voice interrupted me.
“Please tell me that’s her, Doug! I can’t figure out this damn
newsletter!” She sounded nearly frantic, but not obnoxious.
The suited man gave me a pained look. “Are you with Exclusive?”
“I am.”
A moment later, a tall, curvy woman came bursting out from
somewhere behind him. She had stylish black curls, large olive green eyes,
porcelain skin, and an elegant, beautiful face. Absolutely gorgeous.
“In, now,” she said as she reached around the man and grabbed my
wrist. I stared at her, shocked into silence as she pulled me into the house.
“Thank God you're here. If I don’t get this straightened out, I’m doomed.”
Once I was inside, she let my hand go and turned to beam at the man in
the black suit. “You can shut the door now, Doug,” she said, giving him the
sweetest genuine smile I'd ever seen. “My new assistant and I have a lot of
work to do.”
My head was spinning. I didn't think I’d ever seen anybody smile that
brilliantly and mean it. When she turned that megawatt smile on me, I felt
almost a little dazzled. Heaven help any man who found themselves in her
sights.
“Ma'am – uh, I mean, Miss?”
“Call me Isadora, please. Just as Doug here. I don't like the whole 'Miss'
thing.”
“All right.” I nodded, starting to find my footing. “Now, what seems to
be the problem?”
Her smile turned a little sheepish and she bit her lower lip. “I have to
admit, Toni…it is Toni, right? I’m hopeless. I thought I could figure out this
whole newsletter thing, but…” She spread her hands out wide and
shrugged, her expression making her look less like a beautiful young
woman and more like a wide-eyed, innocent child.
“You want a newsletter.”
“No,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t want it. I need it. I told the
committee I could do it. I’m good on computers, and I didn’t think it would
be that hard.”
 Despite myself, I was starting to like her. Sure, I couldn't imagine what
was so difficult about making a newsletter, but she didn't seem like she was
above it. Just clueless.
“So what’s the newsletter for?” I asked with a smile.
“Rich assholes.”
She delivered the answer without blinking an eye.
Behind me, Doug, in his perfect black suit, smothered a laugh and
pretended it was a cough before hurrying away.
“You know what?” I gave her my own version of a brilliant smile. “I
think we should start from the top.”

She’d led me into a large, airy sitting room.

There was no way I could call it a living room. It was too elegant, too
posh, for that. The walls were a pale, soft yellow with the trim painted a
gleaming white. In the middle of the room stood a low, round table that
gleamed like gold. In the precise middle of that table, there was a vase of
the most beautiful white roses I’d ever seen in my life, each petal
perfection.
I'd always had a weakness for white roses.
There were any number of small chairs and couches scattered
throughout the large, airy room, but Isadora had guided me to a round, fat
chair, practically the size of a small pond, and big enough for both of us.
Probably two more. A fifth if we wanted to snuggle.
That had been two hours ago and I was still sitting in that chair,
comparing the list she’d given me with the newsletter I was compiling. The
last one had indeed been for rich assholes. Even I'd recognized those names.
This one seemed to be geared toward the opposite. Wary single moms
loathe to accept anything from anybody.
I finished that one up just as she managed to compile a somewhat neat
stack of information. I looked at it with a combination of trepidation and
chagrin.
“I think what you need,” I said suddenly. “Is to learn how to say no.”
Immediately, I realized I probably shouldn't have said it. What if she
was touchy and took it as judgmental? What if she was whiny?
But Isadora threw back her head and laughed. “I know, right? It’s
always somebody needs to do it and nobody else wants to say yes.”
 Looking away from that engaging smile, I focused on the notes in front
of me. Handwritten notes, printed interviews, discs with yet more
information, graphs, articles, pictures and a dozen other things that needed
to be included in a dozen other newsletters.
Over the past few hours, I’d learned enough to realize I needed to stop
making snap judgments. It was a flaw of mine. A flaw I hated in others, but
there I was, doing it far too often.
It was sad.
I generally only did it with people like Isadora, the privileged and
wealthy. My own kind of people, I gave the benefit of the doubt.
Isadora spoke up, interrupting my mental reverie. “What time did you
say the first newsletter would go out?”
“About one this afternoon.”
All in all, that one had been the easiest to do. Cleverly and cleanly
written, the author poked fun at more than a few of the well-known families
here in the city.
Arching an eyebrow at her, I smiled. “You afraid we’re going to get
mobbed? These streets are quiet. You’ll hear them coming long before they
get here.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, one of them lives here.”
“Oh?” I gave her a questioning look. Mr. Findley hadn't said anything
about a husband.
“Yep. My brother.”
She slid her legs off her side of the chair and rose, arching her arms
back high over her head and stretching. It brought her shirt up over her
belly, revealing a flat stomach with skin the right kind of pale. I was the
other kind of pale, the kind that came with my red hair. My brothers used to
say I could cause traffic accidents if I left too much skin exposed. I didn't
even freckle in the sun. I just went all lobster crispy.
Then I processed what she said. “That could get…interesting.” If her
brother was anything like mine, I could only imagine how he'd take it.
“What do your folks think about this?”
For the first time, her bright smile dimmed. “They’re gone,” she said
softly.
She moved from the couch to stand in front of the fireplace with its
candle-scape insert in the hearth and the pictures that dotted the mantle. She
took one down and turned, displaying it in front of her. It revealed a pretty
little girl, a handsome young man who looked to be in his late teens. There
were two adults, each of them looking to be in their mid-forties. All of them
looked happy.
“They died in a car wreck when I was seven. This picture was taken just
a couple of months before it happened.” She turned it back to her, lifting it
to trace their faces with her hand. “My brother raised me. I barely
remember them.”
I went to apologize, to say something. I didn’t even know what. I
couldn't imagine my life without either of my parents, much less having lost
both of them at the same time, and as a child.
Before I could figure out what I should say, she put the picture down
and clapped her hands. “Hey, you know what? I’m starving. You wanna
order some pizza?”

I'd decided this job could work.

I also thought I might even grow to like the somewhat ditzy, but
decidedly adorable Isadora.
She was smart as hell, but couldn’t focus worth a damn. I found myself
psychoanalyzing her all the time and asking strange little questions that
were just a little too nosy, but I couldn’t stop myself. She was fascinating.
She didn’t seem to notice or care, and I was trying to work up the
courage to ask yet more questions when we heard a door slam and loud
male voices followed.
“Mr. Lang!”
“Okay, Doug. Who the fuck is this Toni person my sister hired? I
thought I hired you all to watch over her, not let her bring strange guys into
the house.”
“Guys?” I mouthed to Isadora.
But she didn’t notice. She had her face buried in her hands and was
shaking her head, though I couldn't tell if she was upset or trying not to
laugh.
A shadow appeared in the doorway and I instinctively stood. She caught
my hand and looked up at me with a pleading expression on her face.
“Please don’t let him scare you off.”
Scare me off? I snorted. As if. I squeezed Isadora’s hand.
“I’m fine,” I assured her.
 Then I turned towards the door and met the hard green eyes of a man
who was seriously, seriously beautiful. His hair was the sort of black that
would almost look blue in some light, and he had the sort of features that
made heads turn.
He was also staring at me as though I was something he’d found on the
bottom of his shoe. No amount of good looks could make up for that.
“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded.
I almost snapped back at him, but, instead, I decided to go a different
route and make him feel like the asshole he appeared to be.
“Hi.” I gave him a winning, but fake, smile. “I'm Toni. And you are?”
Chapter Three
Ash
I ’m not a patient man.
I wasn't one by nature, and my life didn't allow for the time or luxury of
patience. It didn't allow for time for much of anything.
So when I demanded to know who in the fuck Tony was, I wanted a
damn answer right then.
I got one, too.
Granted, it wasn’t the answer I was expecting.
I’m Toni. And you are?
Bemused, I looked down at the small hand held out to me, and then
lifted my eyes to stare into a pair of smoky blue eyes so gorgeous that I
imagined I could lose myself in them. I let myself entertain that fanciful
thought for maybe ten seconds, and then I cut it off. No point in going there.
“Again.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I narrowed my eyes at her.
“Who the fuck are you?”
Nobody was supposed to be allowed inside, especially allowed inside
with my little sister, unless I cleared it. Everyone on my staff knew that.
Some people were going to find themselves without a job today.
“I’m Toni,” she repeated.
She blinked at me, somehow managing to look completely innocent and
confused, but I had the damnedest feeling she was laughing at me and that
pissed me off even more.
“Toni Gallagher.” She offered with another smile that I was sure was
fake. “Exclusive sent me. Isadora wanted an assistant, and I was the one
best suited to her and the position.”
“I'm the one who decides who is best suited to work for my sister,” I
said, walking towards her until we were only inches apart.
I waited.
I had a good fifteen inches on her, and I knew how to use my height –
hell, my everything – to intimidate anyone.
She just peered up at me, raised an eyebrow and came back with the last
thing I'd expected. “Do you really think you’re the best person to decide
who should work for your sister? She is an adult.”
I gaped.
And Toni Gallagher just stared at me, head cocked to the side as she
tapped a finger against lips slicked the color of merlot. I hated that shit, but
I found myself craving a taste just then. And I didn't want it from a glass.
She continued, “I mean, do you even know what’s going on in her life?”
“I…what?”
Thrown off track, and still thinking about that damn intriguing mouth, I
planted my hands on my hips and glared down at her. She shifted her
weight, and braced her own hand on her hip.
“She needs somebody who knows what’s going on in her life now. What
foundations and organizations does she belong to? What she's interested in.
Do you know any of that?”
“Again,” I said, biting the word off as I glared at the tiny, irritating
woman in front of me. She looked like the kind of person who'd break in a
stiff wind, but I was quickly seeing that her appearance was deceiving. “I'm
the one who decides who gets hired in this household.”
That tone of voice usually had only one of two responses – abject terror
or abject humility. Often it was both. I was the heir to two of the oldest
families in the country, and one of the richest bastards in said country. And I
was a bastard in the figurative sense. I made no bones about it. I pushed
until I got my way, but more often than not, I didn’t have to push, because
people gave me what I wanted.
I was a Lang.
So it shocked the hell out of me when Toni pursed her lips and gave me
a slow, thorough study, her eyes going from my head to my feet and back
again. It took more self-control than I liked to keep from fidgeting under
that intense gaze.
“Does this…” She waved her hand at me. “…really work?”
The question was so unexpected, I answered honestly, “Yes.”
“I thought so.” She shrugged. “It won’t work on me. I grew up with four
older brothers who always thought I should do what they told me. It doesn't
work with them and it won’t work with you.”
I had the strange and sudden thought that this had to be some sort of
joke. People didn't talk to me like that. Certainly not people who wanted to
be employed.
 Then, without so much as a dismissive glance, she turned to Isadora. “I
was thinking about how we can get all the information up at the top of your
newsletter. Half the time, people only skim...”
I shot a look at Isadora.
My sister was grinning at me. “Before we go any further,” she deftly cut
into what Toni was saying. “I should make formal introductions. Ash, this is
my amazing new assistant, Toni Gallagher. Who, as you can see, is not a
man. Toni, I'd like you to meet my big brother, Ashford Lang. You can call
him Ash.”
I scowled. No, she most certainly could not. “Employees address me as
Mr. Lang.”
Isadora ignored my comment and continued, her smile tightening the
way it did when she was upset. “She’s right, by the way. You can’t possibly
decide who'd be best for me to work with because you're more interested in
having people hover over me than talk to me.”
There was a hint of displeasure, maybe even hurt, in her voice, but she
looked away before I could figure out just what I’d seen. Scowling, I went
to jam my hands into my pockets before I stopped myself. I wasn’t in the
jeans I preferred to wear when I wasn’t working. I was still in the suit I’d
put on that morning, and tailored suits weren’t exactly designed for men to
shove their hands into the pockets. Ruined the lines.
Focusing back on what Isadora said, I slid Toni a look.
No, she definitely wasn't a man.
I gave myself a mental shake. I didn’t think she was amazing either.
People around my sister needed to be scared of me, not dismiss me like I
didn't matter.
“We’ve talked about this,” I told Isadora as she turned her attention
back to Toni.
Neither of them said anything to me as Toni went back to explaining
whatever idea it was that she'd had. I waited a few more moments,
expecting them to draw me into their conversation. People did that. People
wanted my involvement. They wanted my input. They wanted my approval,
and more often than not, my money.
Isadora didn’t need the money, but she usually sought my approval. I'd
raised her since our parents died and we had an odd combination of a
brother-sister, father-daughter relationship. In some ways, I was the only
parent she'd ever know. But she didn't even look my way.
 After a few more moments of being ignored, I turned on my heel and
stalked out of the room. I was going to have to dig into this woman’s
background. Since I hadn’t hired her, I had no idea what kind of person she
was or what kind of skeletons she was hiding.
As I came out of the parlor, I caught Doug’s eyes and indicated with a
jerk of my head that he was to follow me. He gave me a differential bob of
his head, but it didn’t do shit to cool my temper. Once we were inside the
large office that took up much of the southeast corner of the family home, I
turned on him, needing to take my frustration out on someone.
“You’ve got less than five minutes to convince me why I shouldn’t fire
you.”
He didn't even flinch. “Miss Isadora gave me the name of her new
assistant just this morning.” His gaze flicked to my desk. “Once she told me
she’d hired somebody without speaking with you first, I started the
background check. I sent you an email as well, but you must not have
received it.”
Feeling a little deflated, I skirted around my desk and saw the file folder
sitting in front of my computer. I flipped the file open and saw the answers
to the same routine background check I did on all my employees. Well,
maybe not exactly routine. It was a bit more thorough than average, but for
good reason.
I hadn’t allowed anybody near my little sister without an extensive
background check since she was ten. I’d always been protective, but an
incident during her birthday party had made me realize that I hadn't done
enough to keep her safe. When she'd been coming downstairs before the
guests had begun arriving, a new employee – one of the grounds crew – had
approached her and started talking to her. Later, she'd told me that it had
been innocent at first, but then he'd become crude and vulgar. Then he’d
exposed himself, and grabbed her hand, tried to make her touch him. I'd
beaten the shit out of him and then called the cops, but the damage had
already been done.
Isadora hadn’t talked for a month after that.
She’d been so outgoing and happy as a child up until our parents died.
Then, just as she'd started to come out of her shell, that sick fuck had
twisted her up again.
I'd gotten her the best help money could buy and I'd promised her that
I'd never let anyone hurt her again.
 Since then, I'd made sure I knew the dirt on anybody and everybody
coming in contact with her. And I made sure all of them were intimidated
by me, if not terrified.
The file on Toni wasn't complete, but if Doug had just started it, there
would be more coming. I reached up and pinched the bridge of my nose,
trying to calm myself.
“Okay,” I said tiredly. “I should know you’d be on top of things.”
“Mr. Lang, if I may…” Doug’s words were solicitous. His tone was
blunt. He’d been my father’s right-hand man for several years before my
parents died, and he'd stayed on to help the overwhelmed and grieving
nineteen year-old I'd been. He was the closest thing to family Isadora and I
had. I trusted him more than I trusted myself sometimes.
“You may.”
He was quiet for a moment, and then his eyes met mine. His voice was
soft as he spoke, “At some point, you will have to let Isadora live her life.”
“She is living it.” I flipped the folder closed. He was the only person I'd
let make such an observation.
“No,” he countered. “She’s existing. She goes to parties only after
you’ve approved the guest lists. She has dates only once you’ve made sure
you’re aware of the itinerary, and only with a driver you've vetted.”
“I'm protecting her.”
“Ashford.”
I started at his use of my first name. He'd been allowed to use it for
years, but he rarely ever did. Usually it was when he wanted to make a
point.
“When you found out she’d left the house to see a man she’d recently
met, you made her feel like she isn't smart enough to know her own mind.
That you don't trust her or her judgement. She feels like you treat her like a
child.”
I ignored the majority of his statements and focused on the one I had a
response for. “That idiot doesn’t deserve her.”
“He makes her happy.” Doug inclined his head. “Is that worth so little?
Where he comes from matters more than Isadora’s happiness?”
If it had been anyone but Doug making these observations, he would
have been on his ass as soon as he'd opened his mouth. As it was, I turned
away and braced my hands on the flat surface of the file cabinets that ran
along the wall behind my desk. I couldn’t quite put a name to the emotions
surging inside me. It stung, I realized. It stung a lot, and the worst part was,
I knew he was right.
“She’s dated a lot of men who’ve made her happy.” The words sounded
hollow.
“Not like this.” I heard the weariness in Doug’s voice.
I heard it, and understood it. We’d had this sort of argument more than
once. We’d have it again, because I couldn’t stop trying to protect my sister.
We’d lost our parents. All we had was each other. I knew he wanted to
protect her too, but it was different. He was like family, but he had his own.
Isadora was all I had.
“Finish the check on the Gallagher woman. As long as she’s clean, she
can stay.” I shoved away from the cabinets and headed toward the door.
Toni made Isadora happy.
Doug wasn’t wrong. That should count for something.
It didn't mean that I had to like her.
Chapter Four
Toni
He was entirely too pretty and entirely too bossy.
He was also an asshole.
That pretty much summed up my opinion of Ashford Lang.
Ashford. The name itself made me smirk. I could see why Isadora called
him Ash. Ashford made me think of snooty men in striped coats with boater
hats who walked around twirling canes as they talked about their trophy
wives, Muffin and Cupcake, or whatever random pastry they were named
after.
He’d brought Isadora to our lunch meeting instead of letting her take a
cab or town car. Not that it was much of a meeting. We’d talked for maybe
two minutes about a party she was thinking of having, and she asked if I’d
ever planned a party. I told her I had planned a surprise party for my
parent’s fortieth anniversary just last month, and if I could wrangle my
family, I could do almost anything.
She laughed, then asked me about my family and the conversation had
devolved from there.
And Ash – no, I wasn't allowed to call him that – Mr. Lang had watched
us from the elegance of the bar. He didn’t even have the decency to pretend
he wasn’t watching, either.
A few times, I glanced up and he’d been checking his email on his
phone. Or maybe he'd been watching internet porn or checking the stocks. I
couldn’t tell from the arrogant and slightly bored expression on his face.
But for the most part, all he did was stare at me.
Determined not to let it get to me, I kept my attention focused on
Isadora.
She ate some sort of fish entrée that looked more like art than food,
while I nibbled on pasta that hadn’t had a price on the menu. I was secretly
thankful she’d told me it was her treat. I was smart enough to know that if
there wasn’t a price, then I couldn’t afford it. Not even on what she was
paying me. Since I had only three weeks between finals and the start of my
summer session, I had to save everything I had to buy more books.
 “Four brothers…” Isadora blew out a breath.
I'd just finished telling her how I’d brought home my first date to find
all of them strategically waiting in front of the house. My date hadn’t even
tried to kiss me, he’d been so nervous. He hadn't called me after that either.
I wished I could say it had been an isolated incident, but it had been
more like a regular occurrence. My brothers, except Vic, were all under six
feet tall, but that never seemed to make them any less scary to the few guys
I'd dated over the years.
And the few that had managed to get past my brothers hadn't lasted long
either. In one way or another, I ended up overshadowing them. I didn’t
know how else to put it. I was too smart. Too straight forward.
Too...something.
I hadn’t had a serious boyfriend since I was nineteen, and I’d dumped
that shit when I'd found out he was sleeping with me just to copy my
schoolwork.
My experience had made me somewhat leery of guys in general. I still
held out hope that, at some point, I could find a man who was strong
enough to handle someone like me. At the moment, I wasn't looking
though. I had enough on my plate to worry about without having to deal
with some asshole who felt like his manhood was threatened because I was
smart and didn't back down from a fight.
“It made for an experience.” I grinned at Isadora before glancing at Ash
– Mr. Lang. I didn’t want to think of him as Ash, even if Isadora had said
that it was okay. A nickname was too sexy, too casual. Too intimate. It
made him sound too...normal. I preferred for him to sound like the snooty
asshole I knew him to be. Even if he was a sexy snooty asshole.
“Oh! I needed to get you something…” Isadora clapped a hand to her
forehead. “I know you need to go soon, but you have to have this. It was the
whole reason I wanted to see you today, really.”
Sipping from my soda, I watched Isadora dig around in her purse. When
she still couldn’t find a pen, I turned over one of mine. I had to move if I
was going to make it to my class today. I was just grateful I had finals next
week, and then three weeks off before I had to talk to her about adjusting
my schedule for my summer classes.
She scrawled something on a piece of paper and shoved it at me.
“Here.”
 I blinked at the number, trying to understand what I was reading. She
shoved a phone across the table at me and beamed.
“It’s the newest version. Doug picked it up yesterday. You need a better
phone,” she said.
She couldn't be serious.
“You can just use this one for work, if you want.” Isadora leaned
forward and touched my hand. “But if you want it for personal use, you can
use it for that too. It’s just…” She shrugged. “I saw you grumbling at your
other one yesterday and...and, well, I’ll make you work a lot and a better
phone will help.”
I was still staring at it. Everything that wasn’t vital fell to the wayside
while I was paying for school. A new phone wasn’t vital. As long as my old
one worked, then I’d stick with it, even if the battery sucked, the browser
was outdated, and few apps worked on it anymore...
“And it has unlimited data so you can even use it for school stuff while
you're waiting on stuff for me.”
I jerked my head up. “What?”
Isadora bit her lip and looked away, her pale skin flushing pink.
“What did you say about school?” I demanded.
“Ah…” She shrugged and looked sheepish. “I kind of know you're
finishing up your Ph.D in psychology.”
“How do you know that?” I managed to keep the question calm. I hadn’t
mentioned it on my application and I'd only told Robson Findley that I was
finishing up school. I'd never mentioned which degree I was pursuing.
“My…” Isadora hesitated, and then finally heaved out a sigh. “Ash did
a background check on you. Like a work-for-the-president kind of check.
He does it on everybody who works for us. Especially anybody coming in
close contact with me. I’m sorry, Toni.”
The look in her eyes was so forlorn, I had to force myself to smile. I
didn’t want her feeling bad. It seemed like she'd had to deal with the
repercussions of her brother's behavior quite a bit.
As for her brother...I absolutely wanted him to feel bad. Guilty for
putting his sister in this position. And guilty for sticking his nose where it
didn't belong.
Shifting my attention toward him, I gave him my best glare, the kind
that had always let my brothers know they'd crossed the line.
He simply cocked his eyebrow and met my gaze head on.
 Asshole.

There was nothing like family dinners with my folks.

Exhausted after a week of running from home to school, and then all the
way uptown to work with Isadora, I practically collapsed into my
customary seat, ready to eat until I popped and then fall asleep. I just kept
telling myself that I had to get through finals and then I could rest before
the insanity started up again.
“How’s the new job going?” My mother stood at the stove, her face
pink from the heat, her eyes glowing and bright.
Mom was fifty-eight years old, but she looked like she was in her early
forties. People were always surprised to hear her actual age. She was
beautiful, her hair cut to chin length and her eyes just as blue as mine. She'd
been eighteen when she'd married my father, and he still looked at her the
same way. I'd often wondered if that was the reason I'd never found
someone I could settled down with. I wanted what they had.
“It’s…” I opened the refrigerator, rummaging through for the
condiments I knew we'd need as I searched for the right word. “Interesting.
We’ll go with interesting for now.”
“Working for somebody rich, and all you can say is interesting?” Vic
asked as he came striding into the room. “Heard you were working for the
Langs. Damn, Toni. That’s some serious money there.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, and none of it's mine.”
“Boo-hoo.”
Franky, my middle brother at thirty-one, flung himself down into the
chair next to Vic’s while his wife came in and immediately went to my
mom for a hug. Yvette and Franky had been married for seven years and
had three kids. I could hear them all out in the living room, chattering away
to my dad. The table squeaked as Franky settled his elbows on the surface
and leaned forward, drawing my eyes back to his light brown ones. Out of
all of us kids, he looked the most like dad, even with the slight auburn tint
to his hair.
“I heard where the house was. Working at some swank joint on Fifth
Avenue for a rich, pampered little princess. What’s her husband do? Sit
around and sip martinis all day?” He grinned at me.
 “No.” Irritated for reasons I didn’t understand, I set the butter dish down
with more force than necessary. “She’s not married. She’s this twenty year-
old, cute little darling.” I looked over at Mom then, my heart aching with
the realization that Isadora didn't have this. “She lost both of her parents
when she was seven. Her older brother raised her.”
I remembered, then, how she told me that everyone had assumed she'd
be sent away to England to live with some distant cousins of her mother.
Strangers she'd never met. How Ash had been only nineteen and away at
school getting his MBA when their parents died, but he'd come back and
transferred to NYU so he could have custody of her and she wouldn't have
to leave their home. Ash had gone from being a carefree teenager enjoying
the college life and its freedom, to being a single dad to a grief-stricken
little girl.
And he'd never complained.
Dammit.
He wasn’t Mr. Lang in my head any longer.
All because he’d pushed to take care of his little sister.
Family mattered.
Unaware of my distraction, my mother sighed at the stove, shaking her
head. “How awful. Those poor kids.”
“I don’t think poor is the right word, Mom,” Vic said as he got a beer
from the fridge and went back to his chair.
My dad passed behind Vic at the worst possible moment for my brother.
The crack to the back of my brother's head was hard enough to sting, but
not hard enough to actually hurt.
“There’s more to life than money, Vic,” Dad said, shaking his head.
At sixty, my father was still as strong and broad as he’d been in his
twenties, although his brown hair had long since gone to gray. He claimed
that we were responsible for scaring the life out of it. We probably were.
Vic more than any of us.
I smiled at my dad and he winked at me before moving up behind my
mom and grabbing her around the waist, planting a loud kiss on her neck.
She laughed and leaned into him for a minute before elbowing him back
gently. “Come on, Thomas. If you keep that up, it'll be midnight before we
eat.”
“Good things come to those who wait, my beautiful Margie.” He
nuzzled her for a moment longer, and then moved away, sneaking a scoop
of the potatoes she was mashing. He fired a look at me, his brows arching.
“So, the Langs. Deacon told me. They okay with you leaving in six
months?”
I looked down at the table, tracing my fingers over the wood grain. “I
didn’t exactly tell them.”
Silence filled the room. Or as much as it could with my nieces and
nephew wrestling around in the other room.
Dad broke it with a heavy sigh. “Antoinette Gallagher…”
“Please don’t.” My face burned. My parents rarely ever used my full
name. “I felt bad doing it and I did tell the guy at Winter Enterprises that I
was finishing up my degree. He said that Isadora thrives on change and he
doesn’t think it will be an issue when I leave. And…”
I got up then, moving away from the table and my brothers and my
father – and my mother. They weren’t going to like this next part, but they
had the right to know, especially if Isadora was right and Ash's background
check was insanely thorough.
“So, I mentioned that Isadora was raised by her brother. He’s like…
well, crazy overprotective of her. I mean, like worse than all of you guys
put together. Even though Exclusive did my background check, he doesn't
think theirs is good enough.”
I stared out the back window over the postage stamp that made up our
backyard. Dad had inherited this house from his parents. We were lucky
that we actually had a house. If Mom and Dad ever decided to sell it and
retire somewhere, they might make some serious cash. Real estate in New
York was insane.
“Toni.” My dad’s voice was level, but I recognized the tone well
enough. It was the same one he’d used on me when he caught me trying to
sneak out when I was fifteen and had wanted to go to a party.
Slowly, I turned to face him. “He's digging deep. I mean, not just like if
I have a police record or anything like that. He's looking into everything.
Where I live. School. Family and friends. Everything and everyone.” I
didn't want to add the last part, but they needed to know. “He's even had
someone following me the last couple days to make sure that I'm not hiding
anything.”
Then I waited for the explosion.
“Well. That went well.” I gave my mom a bright smile as she sat down next
to me on the swing. I’d retreated to the back porch while Deacon and Vic
cleaned up. It was their turn and a damn good thing. If I had to stay inside
much longer, things might have gotten ugly.
Mom reached over and patted my thigh, concern on her face. “Are you
sure you want to work for somebody who goes digging into your
background like that? Who has someone following you?”
“Mom, he’s just protective of his sister.” Gesturing to the house, I
managed a partial smile. “Come on, you should understand that. Remember
how it was when I first started dating?”
To my surprise, she laughed. “Do I ever. I kept thinking I’d have to bail
one of them out of jail. Or worse…sit through a trial.” The humor faded
from her eyes and she looked over at me. “But it’s not really the same thing,
is it? The young woman…she’s twenty and he still hovers like she’s a
fifteen year-old kid going out with the captain of the high school football
team. You've never been in any trouble. You're going to school to help
people. He didn't need to have you followed.”
“I shouldn't have said anything.” I sighed. “But I didn't want one of the
boys to see someone lurking around and freak out.” I gave her a weak
smile. “You might not have gotten out of bail after all.”
“That just seems...extreme.”
“I know, Mom.” I shoved my hair back and lifted my face to the sky.
“I...look, I get the feeling there are things that made him this way. But I can
handle it. It's not like the PI he has looking into me has done anything or
even gotten too close. Besides, Ash – Mr. Lang – isn’t my employer.
Isadora is.” Abruptly, I started to laugh. “You should have seen the look on
his face when I stood up to him. I don’t think he’s ever had anybody get in
his face and go toe-to-toe with him before. You’d think somebody had stuck
a lemon in his mouth. A rotten lemon.”
“Maybe you’ll be good for both of them, then.” She wrapped an arm
around my shoulders and squeezed. “But remember, Toni, if it comes down
to it, you don’t have to stay someplace where you’re miserable. Your father
and I can give you the money for school. The business is doing better than
it was last year...” I started to shake my head, but she lifted a hand. “Don’t
argue with me. You’ve done so well, taking care of everything on your own,
but I’m not going to see you give up on a dream when you’re so close.”
 She stood up, but before she could walk away, I caught her hand.
Squeezing it, I said, “Thanks, Mom. I love you.”
Her smile said everything.
Chapter Five
Toni
F riday evenings were for my family, but Friday nights were for me. I spent
most of my time working, going to school and/or studying, so by the end of
the week, I needed to unwind. Sometimes wine, a hot bath, and a good book
were enough. Sometimes, I needed something more.
My favorite club was close to my minuscule apartment – and I do mean
miniscule. There'd been a TV show on a few years back that had featured
making the most out of some of the efficiency apartments in New York. I
knew some people thought that show had exaggerated, but it hadn't.
My entire apartment could have fit in my parents' bedroom and
bathroom. There was enough room for my murphy bed and a small
kitchenette. My desk was the tiny little breakfast nook at the end of the
kitchen counter. Clever use of vertical space gave me bookshelves and
places to store my clothing, although reaching them required a step-stool
since I was so damn short.
After dinner, I swung by my place to change. I couldn’t exactly wear the
sort of clothes I’d wear to go dancing over to my parents, and I wasn’t
going dancing in jeans and t-shirt.
The smoky blue, spaghetti strap dress went a few inches past my butt
and clung to what little curves I had. It highlighted my assets and played up
the fact that while my legs weren’t long, they were a damn good pair
anyway.
The dress, combined with a pair of shoes that wouldn’t kill me in a
matter of minutes, took all of ten minutes to change into. I swept my hair up
into a loose knot, dusted on light make-up, and was out the door.
There were a few whistles and catcalls, but I ignored them all. A woman
in New York had to learn how to handle ignorance, and generally,
pretending the nuisance didn't exist was the best thing to do.
The club was already packed by the time I managed to make my way
inside. I went straight for the dance floor, waving at a few familiar faces,
but before I managed to reach them, I bumped into a broad, muscular chest.
“I’m sorry.” I had to shout over the pounding music.
 A pair of deep, dark eyes met mine, and a slow, sexy smile spread
across a face so sinfully handsome, my heart did a slow roll in my chest.
“Please, don’t be.”
I grinned up at him. Damn, he was fine.
His dark eyes went nearly black, and that shiver of heat inside me
turned into something a little more. He moved in closer and dipped his head
so we didn't have to yell. At the same time, he held out a hand. “Dance with
me?”
He didn’t have to ask twice.
I’d seen him around more than once and he was almost always with a
different woman. That didn’t bother me. I wasn’t looking for a relationship,
just some fun. And the man could dance like nobody’s business.
One dance turned into two, and I could feel the stress of the past few
weeks sliding away, dissolving until there was nothing but music and
rhythm and a hard, strong body that matched mine beat for beat.
The fast pace slid into a slower one, and instead of assuming, my
partner gave me a questioning look. I appreciated the courtesy and moved
in closer, bringing my hands up to loop around his neck. He rested his hand
on my hip, his eyes still on me, and I moved in closer. The hand on my hip
settled more firmly, and I rested my head on his chest.
He smelled like soap and bourbon, two scents I could appreciate on a
man, and when he spun me around in a lazy twirl, I started to laugh. My
feet tangled in the next moment, and I almost tripped as my eyes landed on
a figure standing in a pool of light near the bar.
Half of his face was in shadow, but the rest of him...all hollows and
angles and brooding eyes. He was looking right at me, and there was no
mistaking that face.
Ash.
My partner steadied me, and I jerked my head around to meet his
concerned gaze.
“Are you okay?” he asked, lowering his head to speak directly into my
ear.
I nodded, looking back to where I thought I’d seen Ash.
But he wasn’t there.
I was imagining things. I had to be. There was no way someone like
Ashford Lang would be somewhere like this. This was a club for people
like me. People who actually had to work for a living.
 Forcing my mouth into a smile, I moved closer to him, trying to settle
back into the rhythm we'd found. “I couldn’t be better.”
I didn't know if he heard me, but judging by the glint in his eyes, he
caught my meaning just fine. He slid one hand down my spine until he
reached the small of my back, guiding my hips until we were moving in
tandem.
The dance was slowly becoming more intimate, and it wasn’t very hard
to stop thinking about what – who – I'd thought I’d seen.
Right up until I saw him again about ten minutes later.
I managed not to trip this time, instead, ducking my head and spinning
myself around to press my back up against my partner’s chest. He wrapped
his arm around my waist, and even as I searched for Ash, I had to
appreciate the solid length of the man at my back. And one part of him was
getting even more solid as I ground back against him...
Ash had disappeared.
Again.
Was he here?
Or was I imagining things?
Why would I be imagining him though? That was a question I really
didn't want to think about.
Hard, calloused hands stroked down my shoulders, and I shivered a
little as he moved me back around. The music changed, but I was sweating
and in need of a break. My partner must have either sensed it or needed a
break as much as I did, because he started to lead me off the dance floor
towards the bar where I'd seen Ash. Or, at least, where I thought I'd seen
Ash.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, his breath hot against my ear.
“I buy my own.” I gave him a quick smile. This wasn't a date and I
didn't want him to mistake it for one.
He nodded, unfazed, and flagged down the bartender.
Once we had our drinks, he bent over me so he could talk without
having to actually shout. “You got a guy watching you. You know that?”
I almost spilled my drink.
Again, he steadied me, his hand curling over my elbow and staying
there. “Don’t look over there yet, he’ll just get lost in the crowd.”
“You sound like you’re a pro at this.”
“I’m a cop.” He grinned at me and shrugged, taking a sip from his beer.
 A cop. I studied him thoughtfully for a moment, and then shook my
head. “I wouldn’t have guessed that.” Throat dry, I looked down at my
vodka martini, and then took a healthy swallow.
“It’s my pretty face.” He winked and then nodded off to the side—the
right side. “Glance over to my left, casual, like you’re looking for the ladies
room or something,” he advised, reaching out and stroking a hand down my
shoulder.
I did, trying not to think about the way his skin felt against mine. It had
been a while since I'd gotten laid. Far too long.
My gaze collided with Ashford Lang.
This time, he didn’t look away.
For a beat of maybe five seconds, we stared at each other, and my heart
pounded harder with each moment that ticked by. I suddenly didn't feel my
dance partner's hand anymore.
Furious now, I tossed back the rest of the vodka martini, and practically
slammed my glass down on the surface of the bar.
“I take it you know him.”
I looked at the sexy cop I’d been dancing with, but I wasn't really seeing
him. “You could say that. I’ll be back.”
I shot up and began to make my way through the crowd.
Chapter Six
Ash
F uck me.
She moved like sex personified. Calm, self-assured sensuality. Someone
with that much fire and intensity shouldn't be allowed to move like that on
top of everything else.
I still wasn’t sure why I’d followed her into the club. It definitely wasn’t
my kind of scene. When I went out, it was for a specific reason, and it
wasn't to make friends.
That seemed to be the main reason she was here, although I wasn't sure
I liked the kind of friends she wanted to make.
The guy she was dancing with had some issues keeping his eyes – and
hands – off of her, but she didn’t seem to mind. Hell, for all I knew, she’d
come here to find a guy to take home and fuck him six different ways from
Sunday.
The idea irritated me more than I was comfortable with. But it wasn't
because I was bothered by the idea of a woman who was comfortable with
her sexuality and wanted to have sex. I was bothered because when I
pictured Toni spread out and naked, I was picturing her with me.
And there was no way in hell that was going to happen.
But I couldn't stop watching her. Hell, I hadn't been able to stop
thinking about her from the moment she'd sized me up and told me off. At
first, I'd chalked it up to me being pissed, but the first time I let myself
remember my sudden urge to kiss her, I hadn't been able to put it out of my
mind. I'd found myself watching her whenever she was around, making
excuses to spend time with Isadora when I'd known Toni would be there. It
had only been a week, but I couldn't quit thinking about her and it was
driving me crazy.
She spun around and pressed back up against her partner. I watched as
he caught her hips, pulled her ass snug against him. The narrow blue skirt
wasn’t insanely short, but as she bent and swayed and twisted to the music,
it rode up a little higher, and I could imagine how easy it would be to push
it all the way up, strip away whatever fussy, frilly bit of panties she wore
and drive myself inside her.
She was so petite, she’d have to fight to take me all at once.
I would fist one hand in her hair, force her to hold still as her body
worked to take my cock. As her tight pussy squeezed me...
I blew out a slow, controlled breath and shoved the image out of my
head.
It wasn’t going to happen.
She was Isadora’s employee.
And there was some shit in her background that didn’t exactly thrill me.
It wasn’t even that she’d taken this job knowing it was only short term,
although I sure as hell wasn’t please about that. Isadora had been crestfallen
when I'd told her that the woman she was bubbling over about was only
working for her to pay for her last six months of school.
I was still sort of stunned by the fact that the girl was going to be a
psychiatrist.
She just didn’t seem…well, I couldn't say she didn’t seem smart enough
or determined enough – or ballsy enough.
The private investigator I’d retained – a quiet, soft-spoken former cop
by the name of Stanley Kowalski – had turned over a veritable mountain of
information on her. It had taken me some time to page through it and I was
still puzzled by some of it. She’d graduated high school at sixteen, even
with taking advanced placement courses so that she'd been a good part of
her way through a BA in psychiatry when she'd gotten her diploma. She'd
also been on her way to Stanford once she'd gotten approved for all of the
scholarships she'd been a shoe-in for.
And then...nothing.
She'd gone nowhere. She'd still gone to school, but she hadn't had any
scholarships. Hence the reason she was working for my sister.
Kowalski postulated that her sudden change in plans was related to the
mess one of her brothers had been tied up in.
That was the real reason I was pissed off.
Three of her four brothers were clean. The fourth was a felon. A felon
with a record. A felon who’d done a whopping six months, and had then
been let off with a slap on the wrist after he’d turned over evidence that led
to the conviction of some of his 'friends.' Even after that, coming so close to
getting his ass thrown behind bars for who knew how long, he still kept
fucking up. More than a few minor brushes with the law.
I didn’t want somebody with that kind of history even tangentially
connected to my sister.
I wanted...
My gaze flicked back to Toni and I just about shattered the glass in my
hand.
She had turned her head and was staring up at her partner. I could read
her desire from where I was standing. He had one arm wrapped around her
waist and his expression was just as hungry as hers. The heat between the
two of them should have been enough to make the room spontaneously
combust.
I wanted to tear her away from him.
I wanted to pull her up against me, and feel her body move against
mine.
They left the dance floor and I blew out a breath. I needed to leave. I
didn't know what I expected to find, following her like this. It wasn’t
solving anything. Wasn’t providing me with any easy answers.
All it was doing was make me think even more about what it would be
like to have her naked and submissive...
I couldn't resist though. I stopped and risked another look. It wasn’t
hard to find her, even among the tightly packed bodies. It was like she was a
beacon, and my gaze was drawn straight to her. She was at the bar with the
guy she’d been dancing with, but I didn’t think they were here on a date.
She’d bumped into him and he’d led her onto the dance floor. Still, that had
been nearly an hour ago and she hadn’t left his side since.
Her gaze swung to mine, pinning me in place.
Shit.
Even though she was too far away for me to see her eye color, I knew
that precise shade of blue so well I could still see it. She was staring straight
at me and for a span of maybe five seconds, I couldn’t look away.
I knew the very moment when her speculation gave way to irritation,
then anger.
Fuck.
She surged upright and started toward me.
Shit.
The crowd shifted and I shifted with it.
 If I stayed, I had a feeling I’d do something I’d regret…like put my
hands on her.
And then my mouth...

The cool elegance of Olympus wrapped around me, a startling contrast to

the hot, pulsing place I’d left behind.
Part of me wished I hadn’t left.
Part of me was playing out exactly what would have happened if I’d
stayed there and waited for Toni to fight her way through the bodies toward
me. I was a good judge of character and I'd spent enough time observing her
over the last week to have a pretty good idea of what would've happened
when she'd reached me.
She would have told me off, her pale skin flushing, eyes sparking. I
would have listened, and it would have amused me and pissed me off at the
same time. Right up until she pushed too far, and then I would have
snapped at her. Then she would have shouted back, and I would have
grabbed her, wrapping my hand in that glorious hair as I finally shut her up
the way I'd wanted to since almost the first moment I'd seen her.
Would she moan when I kissed her? Shiver?
Would she freak out and back away? Slap me?
I didn’t know, but I was guessing that last one was the most likely
option.
The light in the club changed as I settled down at a table near the railing
on the upper level and I looked down at the stage below. A show was
getting ready to start.
Bored already despite the fact that I'd just arrived, I looked around.
I didn’t want to watch some Dom spank or whip his – or her – chosen
pet into submission. Nor was I in the mood for a public orgy or any of the
exhibitionism that I usually found entertaining.
I wasn't even sure why I'd come here, but then a familiar form caught
my eye. Contessa Reyes, with her sleek cap of black hair and pale gold
eyes, was one of the loveliest women I’d ever seen. She was also one of my
preferred subs because she knew exactly how to behave.
She saw me and bowed her head, looking up at me from beneath her
thick lashes. The perfect submissive pose. My body automatically
responded.
 I nodded at the empty seat in front of me and a few moments later, she
sat down, crossing one leg over the other. Unlike most of the subs here, she
wasn’t dressed in leather, nor was she wearing a skirt so short I didn’t have
to guess if she’d gone for a Brazilian. I liked my women submissive, but
there were some styles that the bdsm set went for that I didn't find
particularly attractive.
To each their own though.
Contessa wore a long, sleek skirt that went all the way down to her
ankles but there was a slit in it that went halfway up her left thigh. The slit
allowed me to see the vicious red of her boots, a red that echoed the corset
she wore. Her dynamite curves practically poured out of the device,
although I knew from experience, those curves were all natural. Large
breasts, round, lush hips and the kind of ass that filled a man’s hands,
Contessa looked like a pin-up from the forties.
And she was the complete opposite of Toni, which was exactly what I
needed to get the tiny redhead out of my mind.
“I haven’t seen you here in a while,” she said, her words tinged with her
Dominican accent.
“I've been busy.”
She reached out, her eyes seeking permission before she touched me. I
gave it with a single nod.
Her fingers brushed across my knee. “You look tense, Sir. May I help
with that?”
Instead of answering, I stood up and held out my hand.
In less than five minutes, we were in a private room and Contessa was
on her knees in front of me.
It wasn’t her I was seeing though.
It was a diminutive redhead with a mouth I was dying to taste.
Chapter Seven
Toni
“So…are you really a cop?”
My dance partner’s name was Luke McCoy, and we’d left the club ten
minutes ago.
Before we'd gone, I’d traded out my heels for the little fold-up shoes I
kept tucked inside my palm-sized purse. Whoever thought those up needed
to be nominated for sainthood. Luke had taken my shoes as I traded them
out and was still carrying them for me. Not only did he dance like a dream,
he had to be one of the sweetest, sexiest guys I’d come across in a long
time.
If I'd been looking for a relationship, he'd be a catch. He was a catch for
just one night as it was.
“Really.” His eyes gleamed in the darkness and he grinned at me, a nice,
easy smile. “Want to see my badge?” He wiggled his eyebrows.
“Handcuffs?”
I laughed. “No. I don’t think that’s necessary. Although, I guess I could
shoot your name off to my brothers. They know half the cops in the city.”
“I imagine.” He shifted his gaze to stare straight ahead, his posture
stiffening slightly. “I…ah. Well, I've had a few run-ins with your older
brother, Vic.”
I tensed, waiting for what inevitably came next.
Luke glanced over at me and shrugged. “What he’s done is his business,
his problem. None of yours. But I’d seen you around before, and when you
told me your name, I figured out why you looked familiar.” He paused, then
added, “If you’d rather me just drop you off...”
“No.” Tugging him to a halt, I smiled at him. “I’ve...well, I’ve gotten
use to people making snap judgements about me based off him. It’s nice to
not have to put up with it.”
Luke stared down at me, and when he lifted a hand to cup my face, my
heart started to race. When he lowered his head to brush his lips against
mine, my breath caught, then squeezed inside my lungs.
Damn.
 We ended up backing into one of the doorways of a nearby business,
dark now, the closed sign telling us when we could find them open again.
His hands held my face as he came back for another taste, and then another,
his tongue slowly exploring my mouth even as I slid mine into his. I caught
his tongue between my teeth and bit him gently, whimpering as he growled
in his throat and pressed his body closer.
His cock was hard against my belly and I moaned as he rocked his hips.
He lifted his head, staring down at me and I licked my lips, enjoying the
taste he'd left there. Scotch...and him.
“Luke.” My voice was breathless and I could feel my pulse pounding in
my chest.
He pressed his mouth to my neck and I arched my head to the side,
shivering as stubble rasped against sensitive skin.
“Do you want to come back to my place?”
At first, he didn’t reply, but then he straightened, looking at me with
eyes that seemed to burn. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more. But…”
He stroked a hand down and gripped my hip. Through the material of
my dress, his thumb stroked, around and around, stoking the heat inside me.
“I'm going to be upfront about this. I won’t call you. You won’t see me
again, except maybe on the dance floor. I don't do repeats.”
“That sounds about perfect.”

We practically stumbled inside my apartment, hands and mouths all over

each other. He was still kicking the door closed when I turned on him and
grabbed the hem of his shirt, yanking upward. I wanted to see if he looked
as good without it as he did with it.
Damn. He did.
His mouth closed over mine the second the shirt cleared his head, and I
found myself pinned between him and the door. That suited me just fine. It
was even better when he caught my hips and lifted me, bracing my weight
using only his body. My dress rucked up around my waist as his hand
worked its way between us. I heard his zipper, then felt his finger brush
over the crotch of my panties before pulling it aside.
Foil tore and I whimpered as I felt the head of his cock pressing against
me.
“Yes, please,” I gasped out.
 His mouth gentled on mine and I tangled my hands in his hair.
He eased into me, one hand stroking up my thigh as he lifted his head,
staring into my eyes. He was big and thick and I winced a little as I worked
to accommodate him. It was a delicious kind of pain and it only made me
wetter. And that made it easier to take him.
I hadn't expected him to take it easy. Most guys who wanted one-night
stands weren't the slow and sweet type. Especially not guys who I fully
expected to be fucking me against the door.
Fuck that.
If I'd wanted tender, I'd have picked up a guy at an art gallery or
wherever the hell guys like that hung out.
I twisted myself on the thick length stretching me, forcing him into me
faster. He tensed, air hissing between his teeth as I used the arms around his
neck as leverage to ride him. He moved harder when I started to whimper
every time I dropped my body onto him, driving him deeper.
When I sank my nails into his shoulder, he made a rough noise, his hips
jerking up. I cried out and Luke growled. I felt it click for him and he began
to slam into me, driving me back against the door until I knew I was going
to have bruises.
Just before I was ready to come, he stumbled us backwards towards the
bed. It was too small for both of us, but I solved that problem by using my
weight to drop us backwards so I landed on top of him. I wailed as it drove
the tip of him into the end of me.
“You’re going to kill me,” Luke gasped, his teeth flashing in the
darkness.
“You’ll die a happy man.” I could barely get the words out. Every nerve
in my body felt like it was on fire.
He reached up and plucked at my nipples, the pressure light, gentle,
using me to move. Watching him through slitted eyes, I started to ride him
faster, a burning ache inside me spreading and widening until it was a void.
As if sensing my frustration, Luke twisted and flipped me over. He
pulled back and I groaned, but all he did was pull me onto my hands and
knees. When he drove into me this time, he wasn't gentle and I shuddered.
Eyes closed, I braced myself for another thrust and this one was hard
enough to make me cry out.
My mind slid away and sensation took over.
Need took over.
I found myself thinking…dreaming…needing as I pushed back against
him.
It wasn’t Luke’s hands on me now.
It was Ash’s.
He’d come up to me in the club. Touched me.
And now he was in bed with me.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
A part of me was protesting, but it was a small part of me.
But it felt so right. I climaxed with a hoarse cry and Luke continued to
pound away at me, fingers digging into my hips. I was still convulsing from
my first climax when another started and sent me flying, all thoughts of
Luke and Ash disappearing as I focused only on the pleasure.
Chapter Eight
Ash
Contessa knelt over the table in front of me.
Her hands were bound, her face averted. I didn't want her looking at me.
I’d told her not to come, not to speak, not to even whimper.
These weren't unusual commands for a Dom to give a Sub, but I had an
asshole reason behind it. I supposed it was a sign of good self-insight that I
acknowledged it was an asshole reason and not just me wanting to dominate
her.
I didn’t want to think about Contessa, her pleasure, her submission.
I was thinking about my pleasure. What I wanted. I knew it made me
not only an asshole, but a bad Dom. Contrary to what most people thought,
being a Dominant wasn't about using a Sub for personal pleasure. Even if
there was no emotional connection between a Dom and a Sub, a certain
element of trust and understanding was involved. Even Subs who were into
more pain than I understood were taken care of by their Dom.
I didn't want to take care of Contessa. Not like I should have. I was
doing something I'd never imagined myself capable of doing.
I was pretending she was somebody else. A petite redhead with
snapping blue eyes and a mouth that drove me insane.
At the thought, I surged inside Contessa and her pussy contracted,
tightening around me until I groaned. She wasn't naturally as tight as some
others I'd been with – as tight as I imagined that little redhead would be –
but Contessa knew how to work those muscles.
I thrust into her again, not even attempting to be gentle, and I felt her
convulse beneath me. She wasn't necessarily into pain, but she did like it
rough. I didn't have to hold back with her. The issue was going to be her
ability to hold back, I thought, as I drove into her again, hard and deep.
“Don’t come,” I reminded her, bringing my hand down on the satiny
smooth skin of her rump. It wasn't much of a smack, barely turning her skin
pink, but it served its purpose.
She nodded frantically. Her hands, bound at the small of her back,
knotted into fists, the only indication of her struggle to push back an
impending orgasm. She was the sort of Sub made for any type of orgasm
play, whether it was making her come so many times that she passed out, or
forcing her to hold back until she was sobbing for release. I'd never met
anyone who got off as easily as she did.
Of course, that made me wonder how Toni came. Would she be the sort
who could climax almost at will? Could she come from penetration alone?
Would I be able to coax an orgasm from her in public with just a few simple
touches or would I have to work at it? The thought of needing to take hours
to get her to come wasn't as disappointing as it would have been with any
other partner.
I pounded into Contessa, barely aware of her presence, my mind swept
up in images of Toni. Of how it would feel to have her bent over, or spread
out before me. If I told her not to come, I knew she wouldn't comply with a
bowed head and consent. She’d snarl at me. She’d dare me. She would do
what no Sub should ever do. She'd push back.
That feeling in the pit of my stomach tightened, and I knew I was close.
I wasn't so far gone that I'd completely forgotten the woman beneath me.
She deserved at least a release. I wasn't a complete bastard.
I barked at Contessa, “Come. Do it now, or don’t do it at all.”
She wailed as the climax she’d been fighting to hold back erupted, her
pussy milking and contracting my cock. A shudder ran the entire length of
her body.
“Can I…” she started to speak.
I yanked her up and covered her mouth with my hand, driving inside her
without breaking the rhythm. I hadn't told her she could speak. I didn't want
to hear her as she came.
I didn’t look at her, still focused on the mental image of Toni, bent over,
snarling at me for daring to withhold a climax from her. Of how she would
look when I finally let her come. How I could make her scream with
pleasure.
It was the most erotic image I’d ever had in my life.
I came so hard, it was a miracle I didn’t blow through the damn
condom.
Contessa shrieked against my hand as another orgasm slammed into her,
her body convulsing.
It was...intense.
And it wasn’t enough.
 She was still shaking when I pulled out, stripped off the condom and
grabbed another. She let out a half-strangled sound as I drove into her again.
I was determined to fuck the thought of Toni out of my mind.

“Who is she?”
Contessa slid onto the couch next to me nearly two hours later.
We’d both showered – separately, of course – and we were now waiting
on a meal. Several hours of rough sex would drain anyone. Normally, I
would've just left after my shower without a word, but I'd come down
enough now to feel like an ass for the way I'd been with her and figured
dinner was the least I could do. Besides, it wasn't as if I disliked her
company.
Lifting my head, I studied her pretty face. “Excuse me?”
“I know when I’m being fucked, Ashford.” She managed a slight smile
before she lowered her eyes.
She wasn't being submissive. Even outside of the bedroom, she was the
sort of woman who avoided eye contact. I didn't know why. I'd never cared
enough to ask.
Her tone was cordial enough as she continued, “I also know when I’m
being used as a replacement for someone else. Are you involved with her?”
“I…” Scowling, I looked away. I didn't want to think about her. Not
after...I shook my head. “No.”
Contessa ran her fingers over the arm of the couch. “Maybe you should
be.”
Rising from the couch, I paced over to the window that faced out over
the city. It was treated with tinted glass, allowing me to see out, but nobody
could see in. I'd fucked more than one woman up against that glass.
“Maybe you shouldn’t worry about it,” I said tightly. I didn't look back
at her. “It’s my life, after all. We're good at fucking, Contessa. Don’t
mistake it for something more.”
“Oh.” She laughed. It was all amusement and no bitterness. “Trust me,
Ashford. I wouldn’t make that mistake. That'd be like keeping a lion for a
house pet because you like cats. I’m not stupid.”
Suddenly, she stood. I still didn't look at her, but I watched her
reflection in the window as she started for the door.
 “I’m not terribly hungry tonight, I don’t think.” Before she slid out of
the room, she met my eyes in the reflection. Her voice softened. “Don’t
deprive yourself of everything that’s good in life. You’ve missed out on so
much already.”

The drive home was grim, which completely negated the entire point of me
going to the club.
Contessa and I rarely talked about personal things although we had
enough in common. It was always about sex, or at least leading up to it.
Outside of Olympus, we occasionally saw each other at various social
functions, but we never spoke at them. It wasn’t that either of us went out of
the way to avoid each other. There were plenty of other people who went to
Olympus who ran in our social circles, and I occasionally talked to them.
No, I amended. I didn't talk to them. I sometimes talked to the men, or
the women I didn't fuck. I never talked to any of the Subs I'd had sex with,
and they never tried to initiate conversation. The one thing I made sure all
of my Subs knew up front was that I didn't want any contact outside of
fucking. I wasn't looking for a Sub to be a part of my life.
I blew out a breath as I punched the accelerator, sending the Bugatti
blasting through the light just as it turned to red.
“Asshole,” I muttered.
I wasn't talking about any of the other drivers.
Even though she'd Subbed for me more than any other woman, I had no
desire to talk to Contessa outside of sex. I didn’t think I’d care for her
outside of playroom. Or at least no more than one human being cared about
another. I didn’t care for much of anybody, save for Isadora, and I preferred
it that way.
There wasn’t anything wrong with Contessa, or any of the other women
for that matter. I just didn't care about them outside of that relatively short
time span we spent together. I didn’t want to care about them.
What bothered me wasn't my way of thinking, however. It was how
easily she'd read me tonight. I didn't like anyone but Isadora, and maybe
Doug, to be able to see me at all. I didn't want anyone to read me about this
though. The fact that Contessa had been able to meant that this thing with
Toni was worse than I'd thought.
Maybe you should be.
 Those four words, so simple, echoed around in my head for the rest of
the drive home, but it wasn't just those that were bothering me. If it had
only been her suggestion, it wouldn't have made much of an impact. I just
couldn't stop thinking about the rest of what she'd said.
Don’t deprive yourself of everything that’s good in life. You’ve missed
out on so much already.
I was in a foul mood by the time I pulled into the multi-car garage
attached to the side of the house. Climbing out, I stared at cars that had
belonged to my father, and to his father, then looked over at the three I
owned. The cars alone were worth a mint, and I took care to make sure they
were all driven and stayed in working order. They were a connection to the
family I no longer had.
What I did have was more money than I’d ever spend in my lifetime.
I had two family businesses that weren’t just surviving in tough
financial times – they were thriving. And I wasn't being arrogant when I
said a lot of that was because of me. I hadn’t grown up fearing change the
way a lot of business types did. I welcomed it and adapted to it, so my
companies were doing more than fine.
I had a healthy, albeit unusual, sex life, and a place where my appetites
weren't just tolerated but supported.
I had a sister I loved and adored, and who loved me back, even when I
was being an ass.
Just what had I missed out on?
Yeah, my parents were dead, but I wasn’t the only orphan in the world.
Kids sometimes grew up without parents. And I'd been nineteen, so I'd had
them through a lot of important years.
Okay, I had to move back here to raise my little sister, but that had been
a choice and one I'd never regretted. Besides, it hadn't been like I'd done it
completely alone. I might not have had family around to help me, but I'd
had the money to have a full staff of housekeepers and chefs and security
guards.
Maybe you should...
“Should what?” I muttered to myself as I headed towards the house.
“Get involved with Toni?”
I’d tried “normal” relationships with women who weren’t in my kind of
lifestyle, and they’d all been disasters. I could get aroused enough for sex,
but I never enjoyed it, and the women always knew. After one complete
disaster, I never told any of the others why I didn't seem to enjoy myself.
They might've suspected, but none asked. The relationships just fizzled
away, and I'd realized that I could never do “normal.” Any attempt with
Toni would have the same end result. I had no doubt.
Yet, even as I had the thought, I found myself thinking about what it
would be like to take her the way I'd taken Contessa.
Bent over, tied. Waiting for me to fill her with my cock. Waiting to give
her permission to come.
She’d never wait, though. She’d take and demand.
I’d have to punish her.
Spanking that sweet, lush ass...
Even though I'd already come so many times tonight that my cock
almost felt raw, the thought of bringing my hand down on that pale skin
made it jerk and pulse.
“Dammit.”
It took all my self-control not to slam the door as I came into the house.
I went straight towards my wing of the house, not wanting to see anyone. I
was a frustrated wreck as I stripped out of my clothes and threw myself
down on the bed.
My cock pulsed, bobbed against my belly, half-hard and promising to be
more. I reached down, grasped it, hissing out a breath at the contact. It was
almost too sensitive.
This morning, I wrapped my fist around my dick and pictured Toni
while I'd gotten myself off. Then Contessa had sucked me off, and I’d
fucked her three times. Not the most I'd ever come in a day, but definitely
close. Now, I was already burning for relief, all over again.
I felt like a boy who’d just found his first skin mag.
And it was all because of that smart-mouthed, tiny, pain-in-the-ass
redhead.
I had to do something about this.
My cock throbbed beneath my fingers.
I really, really had to do something about it or I was going to explode.
Chapter Nine
Ash
Monday morning didn’t bring a better mood.
It actually brought a much worse one, and I made damn sure to get my
lousy ass out of the house before Isadora came downstairs. I loved my sister
and I didn't like avoiding her, but when I felt like this, the less human
interaction I had, the better. And if I was going to end up taking out my bad
mood on someone, I'd rather it wasn't someone I actually cared about.
Since it was Monday, I had to get up at the ass crack of dawn to miss
her. She was always up and moving early on Mondays. She had classes at
the beginning and the end of the week, something that still stuck in my gut.
After she'd graduated from the best private school in the city, I'd told her
that she could do whatever she wanted and had given her control of her
trust fund. To my annoyance, she said she wanted to go to college, to get a
degree in fine arts. At first, I'd refused point-blank, but she hadn't let it go.
She’d pushed and pushed and pushed until I finally relented. Mostly
because if I hadn’t, she’d threatened to move out and I wasn’t about to have
that.
I needed to keep her safe, and it was hard enough doing that when she
was going into NYU two days a week. I wasn't going to try to do it from a
distance. She was too important to me to risk losing her the way we'd lost
our parents.
I didn't understand. I’d told her she didn’t need to worry about college
or anything like that. She could just take it easy and have fun.
Have fun…is that what I’m to do with my life? Have fun?
I’d known the moment I'd said it that I’d messed up.
So I hadn’t argued when she'd said she needed more.
I guess on some level I could understand. I wouldn’t have wanted to sit
around watching TV or reading or go shopping...or sitting on endless
committees for charities that wanted our money. The sweet little girl who’d
come crying to me night after night with nightmares about our parents'
deaths just didn’t exist anymore.
 A heavy rain started to fall during the drive into the office building
where I spent most of my days. After my parents married, they'd taken all
of their families' money and the businesses they'd created, and merged them
all into Phenicie-Lang. I kept my mother's real estate conglomerate and my
father’s hotel dynasty, building them both into even more. I also added to
the family business, dabbling in dozens of different areas. Art, theater,
technology, education, the environment...
Phenicie-Lang was a sparkling spiral in the sky. Normally the sight of it
filled me with a burst of pride, but not today. In fact, the ugly gray clouds
reflecting off the mirrored surface seemed the perfect echo of my toxic
mental state. I strode in and everybody seemed to realize in an instant that I
wasn’t in the mood for small talk or even the standard greeting.
The express elevator, reserved for my use alone, had never seemed so
far away, and when the doors finally closed around me, I leaned against the
wall and breathed a sigh of relief. I'd never been so glad to be alone.
“Get your head out of your ass.” I ran my hand over my face.
I had a board meeting at ten, and I had a potential takeover I needed to
look into. My top hand man was coming in later to brief me with the details
and walk me through the specifics so I could decide if I wanted to proceed.
Technically, I was supposed to take it to the board, but in the end, if I said I
wanted to proceed, they would do what I wanted.
Likewise, if I thought it was a bad fit, they would agree.
Everybody fucking agreed with me.
All the time.
A pair of smoky blue eyes flashed through my mind and I clenched my
jaw.
I wasn’t going to think about her.

Mind made up, I strode out of the elevator the second the doors slid open,
giving a short nod to my assistant, Melody Strum, as I walked by. She
returned the nod and went back to whatever she was working on. She’d
been with me almost as long as I’d been in charge, and if anybody
understood my moods, it was her.
I could count on not being disturbed unless if was vital. She wouldn’t
want to put up with my temper unless she had no choice.
My decision to not think about Toni lasted through the board meeting, and
even most of the way through the lunch that followed. It was a tradition my
father had started and I’d kept it up, partially because it was a good business
practice, but also because it reminded me of Dad and the type of man he
was. So even though I didn't have anything in common with the rest of the
members of the board, I stayed and did the small talk thing.
Regardless of how tense a meeting was, it seemed that we all functioned
better – and were less likely to be at odds – if we knew we would have
some time to socialize and relax afterwards. I wasn’t much for socializing,
but my father had worked hard to keep Phenicie-Lang not just a successful
company, but a good one.
Time after time, the company my parents had created together came up
on one of the best places to work, and that didn’t happen because I gave out
bonuses or sent people home with a coffee cup at Christmas. It was because
I made sure to keep one very important priority. I would always make sure
Phenicie-Lang was a company my parents would've been proud of.
I was in the middle of a particularly banal conversation about golf when
I saw a waitress who bore a slight resemblance to one Toni Gallagher.
She wasn’t as slim, wasn’t as pretty.
But her hair was almost the same shade of dark red, and her laugh was
just as easy, just as quick and open. Not that Toni had ever laughed with me
like that. I'd only been fortunate enough to hear her second-hand, when she
and Isadora were discussing something amusing.
And there I was again, trapped and thinking about a woman who was so
completely wrong for me.

Robert Townsend was only ten years older than me, but he was already
completely bald.
He weighed exactly what I weighed, but he was several inches shorter
and built like the broad side of a barn, solid and heavy.
We boxed sometimes at the gym, and I knew for a fact that he had a jaw
like a concrete wall. And a right hook that felt like a sledgehammer
wrapped in human skin. He was also one of the most brilliant men I’d ever
known.
 He sat across from me, sipping on a glass of bourbon as I studied the
printouts he’d just finished spreading across the space in front of me.
“At this point, it’s an either/or situation.”
I nodded and continued to read the fine print, looking at Robert's
estimates for five and ten years down the road. Then I looked at how much
it would cost to bail these people out if we decided to do the buy out. The
hotel line used to be one of the best, but bad management and some lousy
customer service, complicated by the fact that they hadn’t done any major
upgrades in over a decade...I whistled and rubbed at my forehead.
“This is more of a mess than I'd anticipated.”
“I told you it wouldn’t be pretty.”
I shot him a dark look. “I’m not looking for I told you so’s.” And I sure
as fuck wasn't in the mood for them.
Unrepentant, Robert shrugged. We’d met my first week as the new
CEO. He'd come in to try to get me to hire him and I'd been...well,
unpleasant. He'd simply smiled, apologized and said he'd come back. A
month later, he had, and he'd accepted my apology without being
condescending. Then he'd shown me what he could do for me and I hired
him on the spot.
As an independent consultant, Robert wasn't part of the company, which
meant he had no problem telling me where things stood. As a friend, he
wasn’t afraid to be honest. That made him invaluable.
As if sensing the direction my thoughts had gone, Robert grinned at me.
“If you didn’t want an honest opinion, you should have had one of your yes-
men do the job, rich boy.”
I snorted at him and plucked up the closest report.
“Look at it this way...if you pick up the project, when you’re done,
you’ll own the lion’s share in the market.”
“I know.”
“Yeah. But if you don’t...” He tossed something down in front of me.
I barely glanced at it at first. Then I looked again, eyes narrowing.
“What’s that?”
Robert slid a hand back along his naked scalp, an innocent look on his
face. A look I didn't believe for a single moment.
“It's a picture, smart guy. You know him, of course...Huey Rossiter.”
My lip curled. Yeah, I knew who he was. I just didn’t know why Robert
was showing me the picture.
 “He had lunch with two of the board members from the chain.”
“Shit.”
That decided it. I nodded and reached for the phone on the table. A
moment later, Melody came in, barely sparing Robert a glance although he
made no attempt to hide the fact that he was studying her. They’d had a
whole back-and-forth thing going for years. Sort of like that couple from
that Shakespeare play. Not Romeo and Juliet but the other one. Much Ado
About Nothing.
“Call the board. Emergency meeting. Offer my apologies, but I need
their approval to move forward on a takeover and we don't have time to
wait.” I passed the information over to Melody.
“Of course, Mr. Lang.” She didn’t even glance over at Robert.
“Damn.” He sighed as she closed the door behind her. “If I ask her out,
think she’ll say yes this time?”
“She didn't say yes the first two hundred times.”
“Two hundred and one’s the charm.” He grinned at me as he stood.
We made a bit of small talk, then said our goodbyes. I was Robert's
biggest client, but I wasn't his only one. I waited until he had enough time
to leave and then I followed.
With one of the biggest business decisions of my life breathing down
my neck, what I should have been doing was sitting in my office, running
the numbers. Instead, what I was doing was sitting in my car at a red light,
wanting it to turn faster.
My gaze strayed to the clock built into the dashboard and I pressed
harder on the gas.
I couldn’t think.
I couldn’t get jackshit done.
I hadn’t been able to all week.
“It’s because of this mess with Toni,” I muttered. Actually, it was
because of my dick and how it wanted to be in Toni, but logic didn’t need to
enter into this. Logic, as far as I was concerned, could take a flying leap.
Toni was the root of my problems, and we were going to have it out. I
wanted answers and I hoped that those answers would finally clear my
head.
For starters, I wanted to know why in the hell she hadn’t come clean
about the problems with her brother. When they did background checks,
just what did she think people were asking about? Whether or not she’d
ever stolen a candy bar as a kid? No one fucking cared about stuff like that.
Especially not for something like this. When trusting someone to work in
your home, you needed to know if there was anything that might put your
loved ones at risk.
I was good and worked up by the time I got home. Once I parked,
however, I took a moment to pull it all back in. I didn't want to blow up
around Isadora. I hadn’t seen her that morning, and I was almost positive
she had some sort of paper due this week. I wanted to ask how she’d done.
Then maybe I could talk her into going out. While she was getting ready,
Toni and I could...talk.
My stomach clenched at the thought.
But Isadora wasn’t in the sitting parlor where she preferred to spend
much of her time.
Toni was, though.
Toni was stretched out on one of the long, low couches and she looked
completely bitable.
Standing in the shadows of the hall, I watched as she got up, frowned at
a note she had on a pad of paper, and then tossed it down before she walked
over to a bag and bent down. The narrow black skirt she wore pulled tight
over her ass and again, the image from the other night at the club slammed
into me.
Pushing that skirt up over her hips.
Dragging down her panties.
Wrapping that hair around my fist and holding her steady as I forced her
to take my cock. I’d get her wet, so wet, and so ready –
She jerked upright and turned around, her eyes unerringly seeking me
out.
I didn’t realize it, but I’d moved forward until I stood in the doorway.
Her eyes met mine and I saw something flash across them, then
disappear. “Back to lurking in the shadows, are we, Mr. Lang?” she asked,
giving me a saccharine smile that I was pretty sure was fake.
“Ash.”
Shit. Why had I told her to call me that? I'd made it clear when I first
met her that she wasn't going to be calling me that.
I knew the answer, no matter how much I hated it.
I wanted to hear my name on her lips. I wanted to hear her moaning it,
then sobbing it as she begged me to let her come.
 She wouldn't beg.
I knew she wouldn’t. Wouldn't beg. Wouldn't submit. She wasn't a part
of my world, and the separation had nothing to do with money or society.
“I’m sorry.” She moved back to where she’d dropped her notepad and
sat down.
I heard the whisper of skin against skin, and my gaze dropped as she
crossed her legs. Shit. I wanted to uncross them, push them wide, press my
mouth against her...
I forced myself to pull my gaze back up.
She wasn’t even looking at me.
“Sorry?” I prodded, remembering what she'd said.
“Yes.” She gave me a distracted smile.
Her eyes were snapping, though. Snapping and hot. Fuck. It drove me
out of my mind.
“I seem to remember you telling me that employees were supposed to
call you Mr. Lang.”
“You work for Isadora, not me.”
Dammit. Why had I pointed that out?
Toni arched her eyebrows, a bemused look on her face. “You're right, I
do. And Isadora doesn't seem to think it's a problem for me to call you Mr.
Lang. And until she tells me otherwise, it's not going to happen. And I don’t
see why she would change her mind.”
Her eyes laughed at me. “Do you?”
I wanted to bite her. I wanted to haul her out of the chair, turn her
around and make every fantasy I’d had over the past week come true.
Instead, I deliberately strode forward and put my briefcase down. As she
watched, I gave her a cool smile.
“Very well, Ms. Gallagher.” She wanted to play it that way? Fine. “I
tried being friendly. But that’s apparently not what you want.”
I took a file out of the briefcase and moved closer, sitting down on the
heavy mahogany coffee table that was just a few feet in front of her. To her
credit, she didn’t lean away when I crowded into her personal space. She
held firm and steady. Again, I was overcome with the need to see just how
far I could push her – how far I could take her – how far she could take me.
“I’ve done some research into your background.”
“I’m aware.” A smile cold as the arctic curved her lips. “But having
someone follow me? Really? Wasn’t the background check done by Winter
Enterprises enough?”
I was a bit surprised that she knew. Stanley Kowalski was good. He
wouldn’t have slipped up. Unless he'd hired someone else to follow her and
they'd messed up. But I kept my surprise hidden.
“Nothing is good enough when it comes to my sister.” Tapping the file
against my thigh, I leaned in closer until she was just an inch away. Still,
she didn't flinch. “I’ve got to admit, I’m not overly happy to have somebody
who was arrested on felony drug charges so closely connected to my
sister...Ms. Gallagher.”
Her face was blank for a moment.
Then her face went red and she surged upright. I moved with her, but
the narrow space behind the coffee table didn’t provide for a lot of
movement.
Shit. I probably just made a tactical error.
“You ass!” She planted her hands on my chest and shoved.
Hard.
She was a lot stronger than she looked, and I’d had more than a few
looks at that tight body. I half-stumbled, and while I struggled to regain my
balance, she darted away, placing herself in the middle of the room and
staring at me with sheer loathing, as if she couldn't stand to be in the same
room as me.
My head was spinning.
She’d just pushed me.
People didn’t put their hands on me. No one ever put their hands on me.
Not even when I'd been a scrawny little rich kid who preferred to play on
his computer instead of joining the other boys outside.
A woman more than half my size had just pushed me.
“You are an asshole!” she said, her voice low and raw.
“I’m voicing valid concerns–”
“Fuck your concerns.” She jabbed a finger at me. “My brother was
arrested on felony drug charges when he was eighteen. That was nearly ten
years ago.”
Her lip curled as she stared at me and I almost wanted to take a step
back. I'd never been looked at like that by anyone. I'd had admiration.
Jealousy. Mostly admiration. Never that look of disgust.
“You…” She shook her head. “Fuck, Lang. You’re a piece of work.
Although, all things considered, I guess I can see why you think everybody
is scum. After all, you are.”
“Now, that’s enough.” I took a step toward her, my temper stretched to
the snapping point.
“No, it’s not enough! He was a kid. A stupid kid, and he came clean. He
testified.” Her hands clenched into fists as she glared at me. “It all but tore
our family apart, and I’m not going to stand here while some pretty boy
born with a silver spoon in his mouth judges me for something my brother
did as a kid.”
I gaped at her, trying to figure out just where I’d lost ground here.
She took a step toward me. The light in her eyes should have warned
me.
“Now if you want to talk about questionable actions, we could talk
about you following me to the club the other night,” she said, her voice
silky. “You do realize stalking is illegal, right, Mr. Lang?”
I swallowed hard and tried not to look like I'd done it at all. “It was
hardly stalking.”
Except it sort of was.
“Really?” She cocked her eyebrow, a derisive smile tugging up the
corner of her mouth.
Damn her. I wanted to take that lower lip between my teeth, suck on it.
Bite it. Nibble on it. Make her moan.
She sidled a little closer, and now she was near enough that I could have
fisted my hand in her hair – exactly the way I’d fantasized.
“Then what would you call it, Mr. Lang? You just happened to be going
the same way I was? Visiting the same club? Staring at me numerous times
because you...what? Mistook me for somebody else?”
“Ash,” I corrected her, ignoring the rest. If she called me Mr. Lang one
more time...
She clucked her tongue. “I’ve already explained that, Mr. Lang–”
I snapped.
Without thinking, I grabbed her upper arms and pulled her to me.
The slight weight of her crashed into my chest and I let go of one arm,
shoved my freed hand into her long, silken strands of hair. Still staring at
her, I twisted the heavy strands around my hand and wrist, cranking her
head back until she had no choice but to look up at me.
There was a look in her eyes, expectant. Waiting.
Challenging.
 “Ash,” I said again, my voice rough.
Then I lowered my head and kissed her, exactly as I’d wanted to almost
from the first second I'd seen her.
Chapter Ten
Toni
O h. Shit.
Those two words circled around in my head as his mouth closed over
mine.
He didn’t kiss me though.
Not exactly.
And a hell of a not exactly.
His tongue slid across my lower lip.
Then he caught it between his teeth and bit down, lightly. When he
sucked it between his teeth, I felt my legs go a little weak. I moaned, and he
wrapped his other arm around my waist. I was in trouble.
I was in so much trouble.
His knee pushed between my thighs as he lifted his head a little. “Open
your mouth,” he whispered. It didn't matter how soft he'd spoken. There
was no doubt it was a command.
With a slow blink, I tilted my head back and studied him.
Was he serious?
When his mouth came back to mine, I didn’t open. At least not right
away. When his tongue probed my lips, I resisted long enough to let him
know I wasn't going to just do what he said. Then he started to tease me,
taunt me, into relaxing, and that was when I opened. But it wasn't because
he told me to, and I intended for him to know it. I caught his tongue
between my teeth and bit him, then sucked on him.
It drew a harsh, ragged moan from him, and he jerked me up into his
arms, lifting me off my feet.
Blazing green eyes met mine as he half-staggered, half-walked to the
nearest chair. He fell backward on to it while his hands slid over the narrow
skirt I’d worn that morning. There was no fumbling, no hesitation, in his
touch.
And I was doing touching of my own. Through his dress pants, he felt
thick and hard, making my stomach tighten. I slid my hand up, then back
down his chest to his crotch, closing my fingers around him as best as I
could.
He arched into my touch, and then grabbed my hand, curling my fingers
tighter around him until I knew it had to be just this edge of painful. Still, I
tightened them even more, and leaned down to bite his chin, run the tip of
my tongue along his bottom lip.
He growled and yanked my head up, kissing me again.
It was a rough, hungry kiss, and it filled every empty, aching spot inside
me.
Shit.
His hands went to my hips, and he hauled me closer. It threw me off
balance and I grabbed his shoulders, steadying myself. His eyes gleamed
with satisfaction, and I shivered as he caught my hips, dragging me up and
down over his cock. My skirt had ridden up, and my panties were no
protection from how wet he was making me.
The slacks he wore, something pricey and elegant, were starting to show
my arousal. I thought maybe I should get embarrassed about that. Isadora
would be coming in soon.
But I didn’t care.
I didn’t care about anything except the way he felt, the way his body felt
beneath me, against me.
And his mouth –
I cried out when he sat up and closed his mouth over my breast.
Through the material of my bra and blouse, I could feel him. Wet tongue,
the sharp edge of his teeth.
There was nothing subtle, nothing hesitant or reluctant.
He didn’t even slow to ask permission.
He just took.
I should have been appalled.
But when he flipped me over onto my back and pressed me into the
couch, I wasn’t appalled.
I was...turned on.
So fucking turned on.
He moved between my thighs and started to rock his hips against me.
I shuddered.
One big hand cupped my ass, and I couldn’t stop the startled whimper
when he moved his fingers, partially exposing the crevice between my
cheeks.
“I want to feel you, hot and wet, and wrapped around my dick,” Ash
said against my lips. “I want to hear you, begging and desperate, screaming
my name as you come.”
I bit his lower lip.
He jerked his head up, staring down at me, eyes glittering.
I stared into his eyes. “I don’t beg.”
Curling my legs around his hips, I arched up.
Through my lashes, I could see his eyes narrow. He drove his cock
against me, and I felt a shudder go through his body.
“I make men beg,” I said, smiling at him tauntingly.
A look of challenge came across his face and he caught my wrists.
I didn’t resist as he dragged them over my head. It sent a hot, delicious
little thrill through me as he stretched them higher, almost to the point of
discomfort. It arched my back, lifted my breasts to him. He lowered his
head until he could nuzzle the delicate skin of my breastbone.
“I don’t beg either, Toni.”
“Then I guess it’s a stalemate.” My voice was breathless.
“No.” He licked me. I felt the blazing heated path of his touch all the
way up to my neck. Then he stopped and whispered in my ear, “For it to be
a stalemate, we’d have to start the game.” He ground his hips against me. “I
haven’t started yet. Are you sure you’re ready to play?”
Hell, yes.
I rolled my hips against him and he growled.
“Are you?”
His mouth came down on mine and this time, there was a savage
intensity that hadn’t been there before. His hand slid down to grab my thigh
while the free one now pinned both of my wrists. He started to move
between my thighs with deliberate slowness and my breath caught.
I knew in an instant I was in trouble.
He rocked against me until he had me hovering on the edge of orgasm
and we hadn't even taken any clothes off.
Then he stopped, his lips leaving mine to feather teasing little kisses
over my face until I lost the edge.
Oh...he was evil.
He settled between my legs again, but this time, instead of kissing me,
he raked his teeth down my neck and began to work his way down, down,
down...
“Tiger cubs need milk!” I blurted out.
He stilled, then lifted his head, looking at me with confusion.
I closed my eyes and started the mnemonic I'd learned in my anatomy
elective two semesters ago.

“Tiger cubs need MILC. Ankle bones of the foot are talus, calcaneus,
navicular, medial cuneiform, intermediate cuneiform, lateral cuneiform,
cuboid.” I finished it and opened my eyes.
Ash was staring at me, flabbergasted. I'd actually made him speechless,
which I suspected didn't happen often.
Narrowing my eyes, I started on the muscles of respiration. “Don’t
exercise in quicksand. Diaphragm, external intercostals, internal
intercostals, quadratus.”
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.
It was hard to shrug with your hands stretched out over your head, but I
tried. “I’m...amusing myself.”
He surged up over me, and pushed his face into mine, his eyes burning.
“I’ll fucking amuse you.”
“Oh, honey.” I kissed his nose, mostly because I knew it would piss him
off.
He growled at me before letting go of my hands to shove his fingers
into my hair. I watched his control slipping, and I loved it.
Hands freed, I slid mine down his chest and cupped him through his
pants. “Sex organs...” I traced my thumb over the faint ridge at the head of
his cock. “The glans.”
Ash shuddered and shoved himself into my hand.
I squeezed my hand around the width of him and stroked down,
wondering if he was really as big as he felt. “The shaft.”
“What, no cute little word puzzle?” he muttered, his voice hoarse.
“Who needs one?” I smiled up at him, having fun despite the heat that
felt like it was going to swallow me whole. I was determined to show him
that I wasn't his toy. “Everybody knows what a cock is. Sadly, not
everybody knows how to use one. Do you?”
He pressed his mouth to my ear. “Get naked. I’ll show you.”
I was so tempted.
 He slid his hand up my thigh and then between, cupping me. “I know
something about female anatomy, Miss Gallagher. Shall I demonstrate?”
My eyes almost crossed when he ground the heel of his hand against
me, but I still managed to keep myself coherent enough to speak. “By all
means. I appreciate the educated lay person.”
“This is your clitoris.” He flicked it lightly through my panties and I
shivered.
“Sometimes called the clit. Stroking it, biting it, can bring one hell of a
response.” He gave me a wicked smile. “Allow me to demonstrate.”
My wail was cut off by his kiss, his tongue thrusting into my mouth,
plundering every inch as he stroked me through my soaked panties. I was
going to die if he didn’t bring me to climax.
And he didn’t.
He raised his head to look at me. He slid inside the leg of my panties.
He didn’t touch me where I ached to feel him, not yet. “Your mons.”
I shuddered and arched before I could stop myself.
A grin canted his lips up. “Your labia.” He stroked my folds, separating
the larger, fuller lips from the smaller to demonstrate that he knew the
difference there. Not that I was doubting his knowledge of anatomy. Not
anymore.
“And here...” He circled my entrance, dipped the tip of one finger
inside. “Your vagina. I prefer cunt or pussy, but I would assume someone as
educated as you would want to be technical.”
“We’re not in class.” My voice came out breathy and rough.
“True.”
He dipped his head and bit my nipple through my clothes. To my
chagrin, I let out a sound that was very much a squeak.
“That being the case...” Ash thrust two fingers inside me and my body
jerked, arching up to ride him. “I want to feel your pussy wrapped around
my dick, Toni. And I will. As soon as you beg me.”
I might have, in that moment, with my body throbbing and aching.
But I couldn’t breathe. The need was too much and I couldn't form the
words. Shooting my hand down, I caught his wrist and moved against him,
harder, faster.
Fuck him and his demands.
He stared at me. “You think you can just...”
 I flicked my thumb against my clit and came in a rush, the pleasure
coursing through my body as I shuddered beneath him.
For a moment, Ash just stared at me.
Then he started to laugh, a slow, throaty chuckle that made things low in
my body throb.
I lay there panting as he sat back on his knees. A look of amused
incredulity settled over his face, and I started to snicker. It bloomed into a
whoop of laughter when he shook his head, his eyes still hot as he stared at
me.
But my amusement faded, fizzled, and then died as he lifted his hand
and lazily licked his fingers.
I gulped, heat exploding through me like a series of mini-fireworks.
Pop-pop-pop.
“I think next time, I’ll tie you up…”
Next time? I wanted to sneer at him, laugh at him, show him that he had
no power over me. But all I could see was myself stretched out underneath
hum, my hands tied up, bound to something over my head. My body
stripped bare under that hot gaze. I wondered if he'd even ask before
slipping the first rope around my wrist.
“Mr. Lang!”
The voice from the hall had us both bolting upright.
Ash was on his feet and moving while I half-rolled, half-fell to the floor.
I fumbled my skirt back into place while Ash strode across the room
and yanked the doors closed.
Fuck.
He turned his head to stare at me, and the look in his eyes almost sent
me to my knees. It was pure naked lust.
I’d never felt so wanted in my life.
Then there was a fist pounding on the door, breaking the spell. Someone
tried to open it. “Mr. Lang!”
“I need a few minutes,” he said, his voice remarkably calm as he kept
one hand on the door without looking away from me.
Nice that he could be calm. I couldn’t. Reality had just slammed into
me, and as blood rushed to stain my face red, I thought I might be sick.
What had I been thinking?
He was practically my employer! He was Isadora's brother. An
obscenely wealthy man who moved in circles I could never even dream of
breaking into.
Fuck!
“I…” I swallowed and looked around, feeling strangely lost. “I need a
restroom.”
He jerked his head off to the right and I nodded, feeling foolish. I’d
known there was a bathroom in there. I’d even used it before. My face was
on fire, and my legs were stiff and awkward. They didn’t want to move at
all.
I just had to make it to the bathroom. It was only a few feet away, but
after what seemed like an age, I finally reached it and ducked inside. Yet
when I tried to close the door, a hand stopped me.
I shoved against it and he pushed back.
Gently, but inexorably, he pushed. I was strong – damn strong for a
woman who’s five foot nothing – but I didn’t have a chance against a guy
his size. Not when it came to strength anyway.
He came inside, his eyes intent on my face.
I drew myself up to my full height. In my heels, it was all of five foot
three. But I could cut a man off at the knees with my glare, or so I’d been
told. “Excuse me, Mr. Lang. I need to use the restroom.”
“Don’t start that shit again.” He jabbed a finger at me.
“I’m sorry?” Widening my eyes in mock innocence, I pressed a hand to
my chest.
That was a bad move.
His eyes immediately fell to my breasts, and in response, my nipples
hardened. Fortunately, I’d discovered the beauty of lined bras years ago, yet
I still had a feeling he knew exactly what sort of reaction he’d caused.
“Don’t do that,” he said, his voice a rough growl. “I had you all but
purring my name. Don’t you dare go back to calling me Mr. Lang in that
haughty voice again.”
“Mr. Lang—”
“Don’t!”
The snapping fury in his voice ignited my own temper, and I shoved
myself up onto my toes, snapping at him. “Excuse me? You don’t get to talk
to me in that tone of voice.” I jabbed him in the chest and had the pleasure
of watching his eyes widen. “I’m not your doting baby sister who hasn’t
figured out yet that you're a total ass. I’m not your employee to boss
around. I’m not your anything.”
 “Yeah?” He shot out an arm and yanked me against him.
A startled oomph escaped me as I crashed into his chest. His hard,
muscled chest.
Fuck.
I shoved my hands between us and wedged as much distance between
us as I could.
“Two minutes ago, you were the woman I was getting ready to have
wrapped around my cock, sweetheart.”
The smoky heat in his voice made my heart race.
The potent desire in his eyes made my knees weak.
And the arrogance on his face made me want to punch him in the head.
Curling a hand into a fist, I was seriously considering the last option.
Out in the parlor, I heard a woman’s voice and I froze.
It wasn’t Isadora.
It was somebody older – and she sounded scared.
“Mr. Lang?”
Ash shot a fulminating glare at the door, but his voice was level as he
said, “Just a couple of minutes, Beth.”
“How about now?” I smiled sweetly and pointed towards the door. I
needed him away from me.
“Because we’re not done, Princess.”
I gaped at him. Princess? Had he seriously just called me Princess?
He chuckled, apparently amused by the look he’d seen on my face.
“Did you just call me Princess?”
“Yes.” He scraped the tips of his fingers down his jaw, rasping them
over the light growth of stubble. Stubble I'd felt scraping against my skin. “I
think it suits you. All damn high and mighty, staring down your nose at
me.”
“Oh, really?” I sniffed and raked him up and down with a telling look.
“I’m not the one who thinks I can snap my fingers and everybody will come
rushing to do my bidding.”
There was a flicker in his eyes.
Out in the parlor, I heard Beth again and she sounded really upset. “Mr.
Lang, please…”
I started to move toward the door, but he shoved an arm up, blocking
me.
“Beth, two minutes isn’t going to hurt!” He all but shouted it.
 Then he bent down, placing his lips next to mine. “What do you think,
Princess? If I snap my fingers, will you do my bidding?” The hand he’d
curved over my hip slid up, up, up until it was right under my breast.
“Because I’m tempted to try. See, I’ve been having these fantasies ever
since I first saw you.”
I sucked in a breath.
He lifted a hand, snapped his fingers right between our faces.
I jolted and heat exploded through me. My face burned red.
And my pussy…oh, man. I was so wet and so empty, I ached.
“I want to see you on your knees, Toni,” he said, his voice low and
rough and raw. “I want you on your knees with your mouth wrapped around
my cock.”
I had to swallow my whimper to keep it from escaping. I wasn't going to
give him the satisfaction. I just had to keep remembering that he wasn't the
kind of guy I wanted. He was an asshole.
I could see it, me on my knees doing exactly what he’d just described.
My mouth was practically watering, and I had to fight to keep myself from
reaching out and freeing him from his trousers. Running my fingers up,
then down his length. Taking him between my lips. Tasting him...
I jumped as a fist pounded on the bathroom door. “Mr. Lang,” Beth said,
her voice plaintive. “Please, this is urgent.”
He snarled and spun away, yanking open the door.
The sight of the ugly snarl on his face froze something in me.
But not as much as the sound of the woman’s voice.
Something was wrong.
I’d heard enough bad news in my life to know that.
Before he could yell at her, I cut between them.
She still stared at him. “Mr. Lang—”
“It couldn’t wait two minutes?” he bellowed.
“It’s probably been five,” I snapped, smacking a hand against his chest
when he would have advanced. Then I looked back at the woman. Her pale
eyes were overly wide, her breath coming too raggedly. And she was
swaying.
Hell.
“Come on,” I said gently, slipping my arm around her waist.
She was only a couple of inches taller than me so it wasn’t hard to guide
her over to the closet sofa and she practically poured onto it like water.
 “If it’s that damn important–”
“Would you stop?” I hissed as I spun around and glared at him. “She’s
terrified. She’s about to pass out, you asshat.”
I don’t know if he finally looked at her or if I’d just startled him into
shutting up with the asshat insult, but he blinked and scowled, focusing on
the woman who sat, weaving back and forth, on the couch. I crouched in
front of her and reached out to take her hands. They were cold and clammy
and when I checked, her pulse was racing.
“Beth?”
Her eyes focused on mine. They were a startling shade of light blue.
“You’re Toni. Isadora’s assistant.” She smiled weakly. “She likes you.”
“Yeah.” The fact that she’d immediately swung to Isadora had my gut
turning to ice. I squeezed her hands. “You said something was wrong. What
is it, Beth? What’s wrong?”
She swallowed and her gaze tracked up until she was staring at Ashford.
“She’s…” Beth swallowed. She stopped and squeezed her eyes closed.
I tightened my grasp on her fingers. “Beth, tell us.” I put a hard edge
into my voice.
It worked.
She steadied and nodded, looking back at me. “I don’t know what
happened, ma’am. She was there. Then she wasn’t. She wanted me to bring
her a pitcher...” She froze and shot a look at Ash – at Mr. Lang.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Isadora likes a pitcher of margaritas every now and
then,” he snapped. “I gave her the first one a few months ago. I’d rather she
drink here than anywhere else. What, did she pass out? Is that all that’s
wrong?”
I could have told him that wasn't it.
Beth started to cry. “No, sir. She’s...sir, I can’t find her!”
He had been standing behind me, apparently content to let me handle
the weeping female.
Suddenly though, he was the one in front of Beth. I had somehow been
moved aside. I hadn’t been shoved or jostled or even rudely pushed. I was
just…moved. He had his hands on the older woman’s shoulders and I could
see him almost shaking with the effort of restraining himself.
“What did you say?” he demanded, his voice low.
Beth sniffed. “Sir, I tried to tell you it was urgent. Miss Isadora...she’s
gone.”
Continues in Blindfold Vol. 2. Click Here to download the complete Box
Set. On sale for a limited time.
Bonus 2: A Wicked Lie
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the
writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any
resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 Belmonte Publishing LLC
Published by Belmonte Publishing LLC.
Chapter One
I 'd been asleep for at least a couple hours when the feel of the mattress
dipping behind me drew me from the darkness. A moment later, I could
smell the subtle scent of our shampoo, mingling with his slightly spicier
body-wash. I opened my eyes, but didn't roll over. The room was still dark,
but the red numbers on the clock glowed. One thirty-two in the morning.
“Baby, you awake?” His voice was a whisper, but clear enough that I
could tell he wasn't drunk. If he'd been sampling some of our vineyard's
vintage wine, he hadn't over indulged.
Not drunk, but definitely horny. I could feel the heat radiating off of his
body as he moved closer to me. A moment later, a hand slid over my hip
and down my thigh.
“Shae, babe, you awake?”
The hand started to pull up the pale pink silk nightie I'd put on after my
shower. I made a non-committal sound as his fingers moved over bare skin.
Across my waist and up to cup my full breast.
“It's late, Allen,” I murmured.
“I know, sweetie.” He pressed his lips against the hollow spot under my
ear. “But I've been thinking about you all day.”
I wanted to ask him why, if he'd been thinking about me, hadn't he just
come home when he’d known I'd be awake. His office for the vineyard was
only a few hundred yards from the main house. He could've come up to see
me when I'd gotten home from school, or for dinner.
Instead, I'd eaten alone.
Again.
I didn't say anything though. I was too tired for an argument, or even a
discussion. I couldn’t remember the last time I wasn’t mentally and
physically drained.
His fingers rolled my nipple even as he pressed up behind me and I
suddenly realized that he was naked. His cock was hot and hard against my
ass, burning through the silk. I moaned as he began to kiss his way down
my neck. I was tired, but my body wanted him. We'd been married for a
little less than a year, but we'd been lovers for eight years, and he knew
exactly how to arouse me.
“It's been too long.” His breath was hot against my skin.
I agreed. With school ending and work at the vineyard picking up, we'd
barely seen each other all week, never-mind having the time to make love.
My head fell back against his shoulder as he moved my nightgown higher.
His hand dropped from my breast and moved down my stomach to the
juncture between my legs. His fingers skimmed the thin layer of golden
curls he found there, then delved between my folds. With practiced
accuracy, he found my clit and began to move his fingers in a quick back
and forth movement, sending shivers of pleasure through me. His hips
rocked against me, rubbing his cock against my ass.
“Please, Shae,” he murmured as his fingers steadily coaxed the dying
embers inside me to a flame.
I rolled onto my back, reaching up to wrap my fingers around the back
of his neck. In the dark, I couldn't see him, but I didn't need to. I knew
every inch of my husband. The sparkling hazel eyes, the tousled tawny hair
that never seemed to stay in place. His strong jaw and the nose that was just
a tad too long to be perfect. His long, lean body, strong fingers.
I pulled him down to me, his mouth easily finding mine. His tongue
traced my lips before slipping inside. I ran my free hand down his chest,
lightly scratching his nipple with my nails before wrapping my hand around
his cock. He groaned as I gripped the base of him tight.
Damn. He hadn't been kidding, I thought as I stroked the full length of
him. He was practically throbbing in my hand. He had to have come
straight out of the shower with a hard-on. He'd never been one of those men
who acted like he needed to have sex every day, but despite how long we'd
been together, we had a healthy sex life.
His fingers slid inside me, carefully stretching me even as his thumb
kept up the steady friction on my clit. His free hand bunched my nightgown
even more until his mouth found my breast. I could feel myself getting
wetter as his lips fastened around my nipple.
“Allen,” I breathed, my back arching.
The hot suction made a straight line from my breast to the place where
his fingers were keeping up a steady rhythm. I reached out towards my
bedside table, fingers fumbling for the drawer. Even as one half of my brain
registered the heat building in my belly, the other half was rummaging for a
condom. My fingers brushed against the cool plastic of my vibrator before
finding what I was looking for.
His fingers slid out of me and plucked the little packet from my hand. A
moment later, I heard the wrapper tear. I shifted towards him as he raised
his head from my breast. I couldn't see him, but I knew his body well
enough to easily adjust myself so that I was right where I needed to be
when he moved on top of me.
He groaned as he eased inside, rocking his hips to make sure I was
ready. I slid my hands down his broad, muscular back and gripped his ass,
pulling him towards me. I caught my breath as he surged forward, filling
me. I flexed my fingers, encouraging him to move. His lips found mine as
he began to thrust. His first few strokes were slow, as they always were,
giving my body the time to adjust. He'd been my first lover, my only lover,
and he'd been a wonderful instructor. He knew my body almost better than I
did, knowing just exactly where to touch to turn me on, to drive me towards
climax.
My tongue twisted with his, drawing it into my mouth. I sucked on it
and felt his body tense for a moment before he picked up the pace. I
shivered as he drove in deep, sparking pleasure all across my nerves. His
lips moved from my mouth to trail down my jaw, my neck. They were soft,
open-mouthed kisses that sent heat slithering across my skin.
“I've been dreaming about this,” he moaned into my ear. “Being buried
in your sweet, hot pussy.”
My hips rose to meet his, my body instinctively knowing exactly how to
move. Our bodies danced together, a dance we knew well and enjoyed. I
could feel my orgasm approaching, the tightening in my belly. Even as I
approached my release, I felt his hips stutter and knew he was close.
As he knew my body, I knew his. If I'd had him in my mouth or hand, I
would've felt his cock twitch, his balls heavy.
“Come on, baby,” I murmured, raking my nails lightly up his back.
Never hard enough to hurt, just enough to feel. “Come for me.”
“You first,” he said, his voice harsh, rasping. “Touch yourself, babe. I
don't think I'm going to last much longer.”
I slid my hand between us with a skill that came from years of practice.
It didn't take much, just a few quick strokes even as he jerked his hips
against me. He came with a rough grunting sound and I followed a moment
later with my own soft sigh.
 He slumped onto me, his weight familiar and solid. The feel of home. I
pushed his still wet hair back from his forehead and kissed his temple. It
didn't matter that sometimes the sex was predictable, or that he sometimes
spent too much time at the vineyard. He was mine and I was his. I loved
him.
“I've missed that.” His breath was hot on my neck. He moved, sliding
out of me even as he kissed my shoulder. He rolled onto his back, still
breathing heavily as he pulled off the condom and tossed it into the bedside
trashcan.
“Me too.” I smiled even though it was too dark for him to see me.
We lay there together for several minutes, not speaking, not touching,
just being. Finally, I climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom for
some clean up. When I came back out a few minutes later, I let the light
from the bathroom stay on a bit longer. It shone right across the bed,
revealing the face of the man I'd loved almost from the first moment I'd
seen him.
I could still remember it, the first time I’d met the man I eventually
married. I'd been born and raised in a small Utah town, so coming to UCLA
had been a bit of a culture shock for me. I'd still been adjusting to my new
life, even after two weeks, and I'd managed to get myself lost.
Again.
I'd been standing on the sidewalk, overly conscious of the precious
minutes before my next class ticking by. I’d been trying not to cry when I'd
heard a gentle voice asking if I was okay. When I'd looked up, I'd found
myself staring at the kindest face I'd ever seen and everything had come
crashing in on me. My mother's recent cancer diagnosis, being away from
home for the first time, struggling to pay my tuition and keep up with
classes that were promising to be difficult...all of that and the fact that I was
probably going to be late to my Introduction to British Literature class had
been too much.
I'd started to cry and, instead of bolting – or trying to take advantage –
like most men would've done when confronted with a sobbing co-ed, he'd
taken my elbow, led me over to a bench and sat down beside me while I
spilled out everything that was wrong.
I hadn't made it to class that day, but Allen had known the professor and
I hadn't gotten into trouble. It had been nearly half the semester before he'd
asked me out on an official date, but he'd looked out for me from the
moment we'd first met. He'd shown me around the campus, giving me hints
of shortcuts and quizzing me until I'd known where everything was.
When his graduation had drawn closer, I'd been scared that he would be
heading back to Texas where his family was in the oil business. Instead,
he'd rented an apartment just off campus, making plans to go into business
for himself. When, a few months later, he'd inherited the vineyard in St.
Helena, he'd given me the apartment. Despite the distance between the
vineyard and UCLA, he'd come down to see me every other weekend.
It was funny, I thought as I turned off the bathroom light and waited for
my eyes to adjust. Funny how long eight years sounded, but how short it
had seemed. When I looked in the mirror, I saw the same golden hair –
though with a different haircut – and the same cobalt blue eyes. I'd always
been curvy, but the years between eighteen and twenty-six hadn't put much
weight on me. Allen was almost thirty and had a bit of his decade weight,
but walking the vineyard had kept him lean.
While I'd been in the bathroom, Allen had crawled under the covers and
had them rolled around him like a cocoon. I sighed as I climbed into bed
and grabbed the edge of the sheet and blanket. I gave them a sharp tug and
rolled my eyes when Allen snorted in his sleep. I pulled harder and he
rolled towards me, releasing enough of the covers for me to get underneath.
The bed creaked slightly as I settled into my usual position on my side. I
felt Allen bump against me as he moved closer. His hand curled over my
hip and he sighed, dropping into a deeper sleep. The sound of his steady
breathing and the after-effects of our love-making lulled me into my own
slumber.
I was safe and I was loved. As long as Allen was at my side, I could
sleep.
Chapter Two
O ne and a half weeks, I reminded myself as I dabbed my forehead with a
tissue. One and a half weeks and I'd be free for nearly three glorious
months. I loved my job, but I was definitely ready for a break. Especially
now. Less than two weeks left in the school year and the air conditioning
had gone on the fritz. And, of course, this had to be one of the hottest Junes
on record.
I pushed back from my desk and walked across to where the fan was
sitting in my open window and closed my eyes. The air outside was just as
hot and humid as it was inside, but at least the fan created a breeze. As
stifling as it was now, it had been worse an hour ago when the room had
been filled with twenty-four sweating and irritable second graders. They'd
even been too lethargic for a second recess.
I blew out a long breath and turned away from the window. Principal
Sanders had asked all of us to stay late at least three days a week for the last
month of school in case any parents wanted to come in to see how their kids
were finishing up the year. Technically, that's what the parent-teacher
conferences we'd had at the end of April should've been for, but I knew
where he was coming from. Our parents were notorious for waiting until the
last minute and then complaining when something didn't go their way. So
far, I'd been lucky. None of my students were failing and the two who were
close had actively involved parents who didn't blame me.
That didn't mean I didn't have work to do, however. Sitting on my desk
– with a very reproachful air – were papers from yesterday and today that
needed to be graded. The year-end spelling test as well as a set of math
exercises and three sets of reading homework from students who'd been out
sick on Monday.
As I thought it, I automatically reached for the hand sanitizer I kept on
my desk. I replaced the large bottle at least three times a year, but it was
worth it. I'd managed to only get sick once this year and I wasn't about to
risk it this late in the season. If I could make it through next week, I'd most
likely be good all summer, and with my wedding anniversary coming up, I
definitely didn't want to be ill.
I glanced at the clock as I sat down again. Allen was supposed to pick
me up in a half hour for us to go on our weekly date night and I was starting
to regret asking him to meet me here. I seriously needed a shower. There
wasn't anything I could do about it though. I'd caught a ride with the art
teacher, Gina Edgars, this morning so that I wouldn't have to worry about
leaving a car at the school. Now I was stuck, unless I wanted to ask one of
the other teachers for a ride home, and that wasn't something I particularly
wanted to do.
I loved teaching and I loved my students. The principal was nice enough
and I got along well with Gina who lived across the road from me with her
long-time girlfriend Junie, but the rest of the faculty was a different matter
altogether. I was the youngest of the teachers by fifteen years and that gap
was the least of the reasons the other teachers weren't that fond of me.
They didn't dislike me, exactly, but they'd always been a bit stand-
offish. A couple of them had known Allen's uncle and the kind of family
Allen had come from. Those ones tended to be of the same opinion as
Allen's family, that I'd been attracted to the money. The majority, however,
just didn't seem to get me. They didn't approve of some of the more creative
ways I had of teaching, my tendency to go against the norm when it came to
curriculum and teaching style. They were polite enough, I supposed, but
they did have a bad habit of giving me disapproving looks whenever they
saw my students' desks out of rows or heard about me trying something
new. They didn't know how to talk to me, and any attempts I tried to make
always ended up being met with awkward silence. Even after three years
here, I sometimes still felt like an outsider.
I shook off the thoughts and turned my attention back to the papers in
front of me. I wanted to get as much as possible done before Allen arrived.
Maybe I'd suggest we go for ice cream in a nice, air-conditioned building so
I could cool off and hopefully manage to make myself presentable before
we moved on to whatever activity he'd planned for us before we finished
the evening with dinner. It was his week to come up with a date idea, but I
doubted he'd mind the ice cream suggestion. We both had a weakness for
double chocolate chunk with sprinkles.
I went through each of the tests, falling into the rhythm of grading their
spelling efforts, my eyes seeing the shapes of words rather than the actual
letters. While I wouldn't be missing a few months of not having to grade
spelling tests scrawled in typical second-grade handwriting, I had to admit
that there was something comforting about the monotony of it.
“Shae.” A voice came from the doorway and I looked up. Gina was
wearing one of her signature paint-splattered floral dresses and she still had
a paintbrush stuck in her dark brown curls. “I know you said Allen was
coming to get you, but I figured I'd stop by and find out if you needed a ride
anyway.”
I looked at the clock, surprised. I hadn't realized how much time had
passed. I frowned and picked up my phone. No messages from Allen and he
was late. Again. He hadn't come home on time for the past two weeks.
“Is everything okay?” Gina came into the classroom, a concerned look
on her face. While she wasn't quite old enough to be my mother, she had
definitely taken on that kind of role, always checking in on me.
“Yeah,” I said. I rubbed my hand over my face and grimaced at the feel
of my skin. My blouse was sticking to my back and I didn't even want to
know what it would look like if I raised my arms. I reached for my bottled
water and made a face as I swallowed the tepid liquid.
“So Allen is coming?”
I looked at my phone again, willing there to have been a message in the
past few seconds. “I guess not.” I stood, trying not to let my frustration
bleed through to my voice. “He probably just lost track of time.”
I could call him, I supposed, and remind him of what today was, but I
didn't want to sound like I was nagging. I knew he was busy preparing for
this year's crop. Contrary to what most people thought, farming of any kind
didn't consist of planting and then doing nothing for months before harvest.
I wasn't involved in a lot of the day-to-day workings of the vineyard, but I'd
seen enough over the last six and a half years to know that it was a full-time
job. Equipment preparation and repairs. Scheduling and hoping that
everything happened on time. Watching weather reports. Dealing with
insects and rodents. Hiring the right people.
At the moment, Allen had a great foreman who oversaw the workers
and carried out Allen's orders. Once Allen had things together, he'd be able
to ease up over the rest of the summer and we could spend time together.
Starting with our anniversary the week after school ended.
Or, at least, that's what I was hoping for. It was what he'd done last year
before our wedding.
 “I'd appreciate a ride, if you don't mind.” I packed my papers and grade
book into my bag. “I'll text him to let him know I'm coming home.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked as we walked out to her car.
Well, actually, it was one of those old hippie vans. I wasn't entirely sure
why she had it since she wasn't old enough to have been a flower child, but
hey, whatever worked for her.
“Talk about what?” I didn't look at her.
“Shae Van Walson-Lockwood,” she said my full name sternly. “Don't.”
“It's nothing,” I insisted. After a moment, though, I answered her
question, “We just try to have a date night every week and last week he was
late. Tonight, it looks like he forgot completely.”
“You guys have been together since college, right?” she said as she
opened the passenger's side door for me.
“Yes,” I answered as I climbed in, awkwardly maneuvering myself into
the seat.
“You two need to do something to spice up your sex life.”
“Gina!” I stared at her.
She grinned as she pulled the van out of the parking lot. “Come on,
Shae. You've heard of the seven-year itch, right?”
“We've only been married a year,” I pointed out. “And even if you count
our engagement, it's just been four.”
“But you've been together for...?” Her voice trailed off.
I scowled. “We're still newlyweds, Gina.”
She shrugged. “I'm just saying that, when you've been together for a
while, you need to make sure that you don't fall into a rut. Don't take for
granted that the other person's going to be there all the time.”
To my surprise, she let it go at that and the rest of the ride was done in
silence. I knew she was giving me time to think, whether I wanted it or not.
I didn't really want to because that would mean I'd have to admit that there
was something to what she'd said. In some ways, though, I knew she was
right. Allen and I had dated for three months before we'd slept together,
which had seemed like taking it slow at the time. We'd been together for
nearly five years before he'd proposed and then had a two year engagement.
Everything about our relationship had been slow, planned. Allen had
wanted to make sure that neither of us felt rushed into anything. I'd always
appreciated it, but now I was wondering if taking things so slowly had
brought us to a stale point in our marriage long before it should've
happened.
When Gina pulled up in front of the house, I thanked her and went
inside. I'd considered going down to Allen's vineyard office to see what he
was doing, but I didn't want to interrupt. He was the kind of person who
focused on something so hard that he tended to get annoyed if he was
interrupted. If I wanted him to really talk about what was going on, I'd need
to wait until he was done.
I also needed to figure out how to approach the subject. I didn't want
him to feel like I was attacking him or accusing him of anything. I knew
when most women's husbands worked late, the first thing that came to mind
was that he was cheating. I wasn't worried about that. The entire time Allen
and I had been together, I'd never once doubted his fidelity, and I didn't
doubt it now.
What I found myself wondering, however, was if I was on my way to
becoming a work widow. I'd always known that Allen was driven. He never
would've gotten this far in life if he hadn't been, and I loved that he was a
hard worker. Now, though, I wasn't sure where that line was, the one that
told him that his relationship with me was just as important as the vineyard.
I wandered aimlessly through the house, unable to shake the restlessness
that had settled on me since I'd gone inside to find the house empty. I
rummaged through the cabinets, considering making something for dinner,
then decided I didn't feel like sitting down to eat. I went through each room,
picking things up and then setting them down. I cleaned up the little bit of
clutter that had accumulated since Hesper had come on Monday. She'd be
back on Thursday, but I always tried to keep up with things. Hiring a maid
during the school year had been Allen's idea, not mine, and usually I was
grateful that I didn't have to come home from work and worry about
cleaning, but right now I would've been grateful for something to do.
I tried finishing grading my papers, but I couldn't focus. Finally, I ended
up doing the only thing I could think of. I took a long bath to try to relax,
though without the glass of wine I'd considered. I'd always been a
lightweight and if I drank on an empty stomach, I'd definitely have a
hangover tomorrow. When I was done with my bath and saw that Allen still
wasn't home yet, I took a couple of the sleeping pills I kept around for when
my insomnia acted up.
 Ten minutes later, I was alone in bed and starting to fall asleep. My last
thought was that I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to be in my bed alone
again.
Chapter Three
“A re you ready yet? I don't want to be late.”
I summoned every ounce of self-control that I had and answered in a
relatively calm voice. “I'm almost done. We'll be fine.”
Things had been tense between us the last two days. Even though I'd
told myself on Wednesday night that I didn't want to go to bed alone ever
again, I'd ended up doing it again last night. I'd barely seen Allen, and he'd
never said a word about missing our date on Wednesday. I hadn't said
anything either. We'd hardly had the time to exchange pleasantries. I wasn't
about to start a long conversation in those few short minutes.
When I'd gotten home from work today, I'd thought I'd be doing more of
the same. In fact, I'd fully intended to indulge in the ice cream I'd bought on
my way home and watch one of the shows I loved but Allen despised. I'd
just gotten out of the shower and was pulling on my robe when I'd heard
Allen in the bedroom.
“Good,” he'd said in his rushed, distracted voice. “I need a quick shower
before we go.”
Then he'd brushed past me, shedding his clothes as he went and leaving
me staring after him. It hadn't been until I'd heard the shower turn back on
that I realized why Allen had come home early.
He hadn't done it for me. He'd done it for Jasper.
Jasper Whitehall had been Allen's college roommate at UCLA. They'd
met as freshman and become almost immediate friends. When I'd met
Jasper, he and Allen were more like brothers than friends. I'd known the
fact that he'd grown up near St. Helena had definitely been a deciding factor
for Allen when it came to taking over the vineyard. I hadn't minded though.
Staying in California was much better than going back to Texas with his
family.
Jasper was a doctor, working at a small private practice with his father
after he'd gotten his license, so we didn't get to see him as often as I knew
Allen would've liked. When Jasper's schedule did allow though, Allen made
sure we had the time too.
 I liked Jasper well enough, though I'd never really understood the
connection between the two of them. They had little in common, save their
work ethic and intelligence. They were opposites in so many ways. Allen's
hair was light. Jasper's was coal black. Allen's eyes were an open book.
Jasper had clear gray eyes that were impossible to read. He was bigger than
Allen, though more in build than height. Where Allen's talents lay in
numbers and shrewd business decisions, Jasper worked with people. I didn't
really think of him as a people person, though, but I supposed that was
because he wasn't very social. Most of the time when Allen and I had gone
out in college, it had been like pulling teeth to get Jasper to go with us. But
he cared about people.
I'd never really spent any alone time with Jasper even though I
considered him a friend. For the most part, I enjoyed Jasper's company as
much for what it did for Allen as anything else. I liked the way the two of
them were together.
I reminded myself of that as I put on the final touches of my make-up.
Sure, Allen had forgotten about our date, but not about us going out with
Jasper. I told myself that it was because Allen so rarely saw Jasper that
those dates stuck out in his mind. He saw me all the time.
Gina's comments came back to me and I frowned. What did it say about
the state of my marriage that Allen was more excited to see his old
roommate than his wife?
I shook my head and smoothed down my dress. I'd been trying to
convince myself that I was just worn thin from the end of the year, that a
night out was what I needed to feel better. I knew the truth though. What I
wanted – what I needed – was my husband's attention.
Hence the dress.
It was my favorite and it had been too long since I'd last worn it. A deep
purple, it complemented both my coloring and my eyes. The hem hit mid-
thigh and the neckline was, for lack of a better word, daring. I'd always felt
beautiful wearing it, and tonight, I needed to feel beautiful.
I came out of the bathroom and slipped on my heels. When I stepped
out into the living room, I felt a surge of pleasure at the expression on
Allen's face when he saw me. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped
slightly.
“Wow.”
 “Thank you.” I smiled, a flush of warmth going through me. “Shall we
go?”
As I started to walk past him, I half-expected him to do what he used to
do when he wore that look. Wrap his arm around my waist and pull me
against him. Whisper in my ear how much he wanted me. Take me hard and
fast, bent over the bed. Peel my clothes slowly from my body and make me
beg. Not care about anything but our mutual pleasure.
He didn't do any of those things though. Instead, he followed me out of
the house, quick stepping around me to get to the passenger's side door so
he could open it for me. When we were on our way, he reached over and
took my hand. I shivered as his fingers threaded through mine, his thumb
making small circles on the back of my hand. I hadn't realized how much
I'd missed this, the small touches. I squeezed his hand and gave him a quick
smile, not wanting to distract him while he was driving. Maybe when we
got home I'd have the opportunity to follow through with a lot more than
hand holding.
Jasper was already waiting for us when we arrived at the restaurant and
he stood as we approached. He smiled when he saw us, his face lighting up,
making him look years younger than Allen. Jasper was classically
handsome, a fact that wasn't lost on our hostess, and I couldn't suppress a
smile at the envious look she threw my way.
“You look lovely, Shae.” Jasper gave me a quick hug, then turned to
Allen for a longer one. “So do you, Allen.” One corner of his mouth
quirked.
Allen rolled his eyes. “Did you start drinking already?” He pulled out
the chair in front of me.
“No.” Jasper gestured towards his empty wine glass. “But I would like
to celebrate a bit tonight. I paid off the last of my student loans.”
“How'd you manage that?” I asked, impressed. If I hadn't gotten a lot of
scholarships, and Allen and I hadn't only had my loans to worry about, we
still would've been paying them off. As it was, it had taken us two years to
get all of mine cleared. We were well-off, but not millionaires, as Allen's
family loved to remind us. If the vineyard kept doing well though, in a few
years, who knew. “I'd imagine med school loans are awful.”
To my surprise, his ears turned red and he looked down at the table. If I
hadn't known how unflappable he usually was, I would've said he was
embarrassed.
 “I was out on a bike trail a few days ago and came across an injured
dog. I took it back to the practice and fixed it up. Dad was pissed until it
turned out that the dog's owner was rich and very, very grateful.” He
shrugged. “I tried to turn her down, but she was determined to show her
gratitude.”
“Was she pretty?” Allen grinned and I shook my head.
Jasper shot him an exasperated look. “She's ninety.” He took a sip of
water. “But she said she knew that doctors had hefty student loans and that
she'd take care of mine. I told her it wasn't necessary, but the next day, I got
a call saying all of my student loans had been paid off.”
“That definitely calls for some celebration,” Allen said as he clapped his
friend on the shoulder. “I'm buying.”
As Allen flagged down a waiter to order some wine, I turned to Jasper.
“How is the practice going?”
A shadow passed across his face and I was immediately sorry I'd asked.
Jasper worked with his father, but I'd always gotten the impression that he
and his family didn't get along very well, or they weren't close. I'd seen
them a few times over the years, but had never really said much to them
beyond greetings. Jasper never talked about them, at least not around me.
I'd never asked Allen for details. In my opinion, if Jasper wanted me to
know, he'd tell me himself.
“It's going fine.” Jasper's smile was tight. “Not exactly where I'd
pictured myself when I was closing in on thirty.”
“Really?” I leaned forward so that Jasper and I wouldn't interfere with
Allen's wine discussion. “I always thought you wanted to work with your
dad.”
Jasper shrugged and glanced at me before looking down at his water
glass. He ran his finger around the rim and, for a moment, I thought he
wasn't going to answer. “Most people think that, but I never really liked the
idea of a private practice.”
“That's right,” Allen entered the conversation. “You wanted to do some
sort of clinic.”
Jasper nodded. “I want to set up a clinic for the lower income people in
the area, provide free healthcare.” He sighed. “But that takes more money
than I have.”
“Have you looked into getting a loan?” I asked. “Especially now that
your student loans are paid off, you should qualify.”
 “No one around here's going to give me a loan,” he said matter-of-
factly. “But I'm planning on looking at a couple other places that might do
it.”
I started to ask why he thought the banks in St. Helena wouldn't want to
give him a loan for something that would benefit the community, but before
the words got out, the waiter returned with the wine. It was a good thing too
because, as our glasses were being filled, I figured it out.
Back when I'd first met Jasper, Allen had given me a bit of background
on his best friend, including the fact that Jasper had been quite the hellion
growing up. I'd never gotten details, but I'd gotten the impression that it had
been pretty bad. It seemed that Jasper was still fighting against his
adolescent reputation. I had to admit, knowing how far he'd come definitely
made me admire him. I wondered if that was why his relationship with his
family was so strained.
Allen's expression was serious as he raised his glass. “To leaving the
past behind and moving forward.”
Jasper and I echoed the toast. It was a good toast, I thought. Advice that
I should take for myself as well. With our anniversary coming up, I wanted
to celebrate, but I also wanted Allen and me to move forward. I didn't want
us being one of those couples who settled into a routine and then lost
themselves in it. I wanted us to go into the second year of marriage
knowing that the best years were to come.
Chapter Four
T he dinner with Jasper kept us on a high note for the rest of the weekend.
Allen did work, but instead of going to his office, he stayed at the house and
the two of us sat on the couch and worked together. The only downside was
that I still couldn't figure out how to approach the subject of us moving
forward. I tried to do it Sunday afternoon by coming at it in a roundabout
way.
“I think we should find someone to set Jasper up with.”
Allen looked over at me in surprise. “What?”
“Every time we go out, he's always alone. He never brings anyone.” The
moment I said it, I realized it was true. I'd maybe seen him with a girl a
handful of times in all the years I'd known him, and it had always been a
different girl. And he'd always made it clear that they weren't with him for
the long haul.
Allen was silent for a moment, a strange expression on his face, and
then he said, “I don't think Jasper's the 'setting up' type.”
“He doesn't want to settle down?” I asked, really curious now.
I wasn't sure why, but Jasper didn't seem to me like the kind of guy who
wanted to play the field, even though I'd seen him with different women.
And there was no way a man like him would lack for prospects. He was
gorgeous, polite and kind. And a doctor. He was the kind of guy who
should've been either married to someone equally as amazing, or involved
in a steady stream of casual relationships. As I thought about it, even his
dates over the years had been sporadic.
When Allen answered, he spoke slowly, like he was being careful about
the words he chose. “I think he's very selective about what he wants.” He
turned back to his computer and I got the impression that the subject was
closed.
I didn't push it, but I also wasn't going to drop it either. I needed to find
someone for Jasper so that our nights out could stop being the three of us
with Allen as our center. If Jasper had a girlfriend, we could go on double
dates and talk about relationship things. Plans for the future.
 I spent the next week trying to think of someone who'd be perfect for
Jasper. I hadn't realized how few people I actually knew until I started
naming them. All of the other teachers were out. Jasper might've been three
years older than me, but the closest single woman to our age at school was
Miss Rosenbaum and she was at least in her early fifties. Somehow, I didn't
think Jasper would be interested in someone more than twenty years his
senior. I might not have known his type, but I doubted that was it.
There were a few women who worked at the vineyard, but I didn't spend
much time with them since they were usually leaving around the same time
I got home. I could've asked Allen what he thought, but he'd made it pretty
clear that he didn't want to try to fix his friend up with anyone. Also, I
wasn't entirely sure how appropriate it would be to try to set up an
employee with the boss' best friend.
By the time I was leaving school at the end of my last day, I'd all but
given up. I was down to two options, talking to either Allen again or trying
my luck with Jasper himself. Since neither one seemed very promising, I
decided to put my plans for Jasper on the back burner and start focusing on
my own future. A week from tomorrow would be our anniversary and I was
determined that changes would be made. I just wasn't sure if I should decide
what I wanted and then use that to start the conversation with Allen or if I
should just figure out a way to tell him I wanted to talk about the future and
let things go from there.
To my surprise, I didn't have to do either. Allen was the one who
broached the subject that very night.
He'd come home a bit late, but still plenty early enough for the two of us
to eat dinner together. I'd fully expected him to make a cursory excuse for
needing to go back to his office and then spend the rest of the night alone.
Instead, he'd suggested we curl up on the couch together and watch a
movie. He hadn't said it, but I'd gotten the impression that he was trying to
make up for missing our date night.
We were halfway through one of our favorite movies when he spoke,
“I've been thinking about the future.”
I shifted from where I'd been sitting with my head resting on his chest. I
wanted to look at him. “I have too.”
He reached down and laced his fingers between mine. “I know it's
seemed like I've been working really late for the past couple weeks.”
 Seemed like? I held my tongue, wanting to see where he was going with
this.
“I'm sorry about that.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “And I
was working, just not exclusively on the vineyard.”
I gave him a questioning look and tried not to read into his words. He
wasn't acting guilty or anything like that, so I pushed down the negative
feelings and waited for him to continue.
“Part of what I've been spending so much time on is a series of
projections.”
“Projections?” Now I was really confused.
“I was looking at the profits and expenses for the last five years, then
making predictions regarding the same for the next five years.”
And this was one of the reasons why I always left the business end of
things to Allen. I could teach basic mathematics and solving provided
equations was easy enough for me. Trying to apply those things to a
business model...well, I'd probably get better results if I asked my second
graders to do it.
“Basically,” he continued. “I was trying to figure out what our budget
could be for the next five years.”
I should've known when Allen said he'd been thinking about the future
that this was how he'd been doing it. My husband, the king of charts and
spreadsheets.
“I know we've only been married a year and we'd always talked about
wanting to be married two years before we started talking about a family,
but we've been together for a long time and my calculations say that we'd be
able to handle it financially.”
I stared at him. Was he seriously saying what I thought he was saying?
His cheeks flushed and he smiled at me. “We've taken everything so
slowly, making sure we completely planned every step and considered all
possible angles before acting. And this isn't me being impulsive.”
I never would've thought that, though I wasn't about to tell him. Allen
was the least impulsive person I knew. Even when we did exciting things,
they were always scheduled.
“But I think we've followed our plans so closely that I could see us
waiting an extra year just because that's what we'd originally planned and
not for any other reason. I don't want to wait anymore.” He raised our hands
and brushed his lips against my knuckles. “I want to start a family with
you.”
I felt like I'd been blind-sided. Here I'd been thinking I'd have to force
him to talk about the future, to look towards doing things differently. I
hadn't been thinking specifically of children, but rather the two of us
moving beyond simple relationship maintenance. Here he was thinking the
same thing.
“Shae?” He squeezed my hand. “If you don't think you're ready...”
I stopped his words with a firm kiss. When I leaned back, his eyes were
bright. I didn't try to explain to him all of the things that had been worrying
me, or what Gina had said about couples who'd been together for as long as
we had. None of that seemed important now. This wasn't the two of us
wanting to have a kid to fix something that was broken. This was us
realizing that the things we wanted didn't have to wait for us to be at the
previously scheduled place.
“Tell me more,” I said. There would be more, I knew. While Allen
might've changed his timetable, I knew my husband never would've done it
without a plan in place. I pulled his arm around my shoulders, keeping our
hands linked, and snuggled back down against his side.
He put his other arm around my waist and pulled me even closer, a
familiar gesture that I'd missed over the last few weeks. “Well, I was
thinking that one of the ways we could celebrate our anniversary next week
would be to start trying for a kid then.” His words were casual, but nothing
else was.
Heat flooded my body and I shivered. I felt Allen's body tense and knew
that he was thinking the same thing I was. We'd always been meticulous
about birth control, never wanting to leave anything to chance. Even though
I'd been on the pill since college and we'd both been faithful, he'd always
insisted on using a condom. Now, for the first time, I'd know what it felt
like to have nothing between us. Skin on skin. What it felt like to have him
come inside me, knowing that our actions were intentionally trying to create
life.
“Obviously, it could take a while since you'll have just stopped taking
the pill.” His voice was rough as he continued, “But I was already thinking
that we'll want to get a room prepared so that we don't have to worry about
paint fumes around you when you're pregnant.”
I chuckled. “You really did give this a lot of thought.”
 “Of course.” He kissed the top of my head. “Now, about the nursery. I
figured its location would depend on whether or not we intended to keep the
nursery as a nursery for the other kids or if each nursery would grow with
the child.”
“Other kids?” I found myself relaxing against him, all of the tension of
the past month seeping away.
“You did still want three, right?” he asked. “Maybe four?”
I nodded, recalling the conversation we'd had shortly before we'd gotten
engaged. We'd both agreed that we wanted a decent-sized family. Three or
four kids, depending on how long it took for me to get pregnant. I didn't
want to be having a child when I was pushing forty. That might be fine for
some people, but it wasn't what I wanted.
“So,” he continued. “If we want a set nursery, I was thinking we could
use the room right next to ours since we have the adjoining door. We
wouldn't want older kids in that room, but if it's only going to be babies, it'd
be ideal. And each kid can stay in the nursery until the next one comes
along, except for the last one, of course.”
I smiled and closed my eyes. I loved the excitement I could hear in his
voice. This was the way he always got when some idea took hold of him.
He'd plan to excess, but never tire of it. Once he'd found something he was
passionate about, it stuck with him. I realized now that's how he was about
us. He might not show it in the best of ways sometimes, but our marriage
and our future was something that he had passion for.
As he kept talking, going over various thoughts he'd had about child
care and maternity leave, I found myself starting to drift. I hadn't realized
the toll that everything had been taking on me.
“I'm not sure which would be best,” he said, seemingly oblivious to my
foggy state. “If you had the baby during the school year so that you could
take maternity leave, and then have the summer to be with the baby too or if
it'd be better for you to have the baby at the end of June or July so you'd
have the whole summer off. Of course, the worst timing would be for you to
be due at the end of August or beginning of September...”
It was on the tip of my tongue to remind him that, no matter how much
he might try, he wouldn't really have any control over when the baby was
due. Even if we tried to time conception based on when we wanted to have
the baby, it all came down to whether or not the biology was going to
cooperate.
 I didn't tell him any of that though because even as I thought it, I felt the
darkness coming and I let it pull me under without any resistance. I was
safe in his arms, my future secure.
Chapter Five
Something was trailing up and down my arm. The touch was light but
familiar, and it pulled me out of my deep sleep.
“Happy anniversary, sweetheart,” Allen whispered in my ear.
He took my earlobe into his mouth, sucking on it as I shivered myself
awake. I opened my eyes and he shifted so that his face hovered above
mine. I smiled and he returned it. I started to reach up for him, but he rolled
away. Puzzled, I pushed myself up into a half-sitting position. After eight
years, morning-breath wasn't really an issue.
“I made you breakfast.” Allen was grinning as he set a tray on the
bedside table. He handed me a mug that said Number 1 Teacher and the
scent of coffee wafted toward me.
It showed how much I loved coffee that I didn't even realize he was
naked until I'd taken a long drink of the delicious liquid. Or maybe it said
more about my need for caffeine. Either way, as soon as I realized there was
something more interesting in front of me, I handed the mug back.
He frowned. “Is something wrong with it?”
“Nope.” I grinned at him as I reached down and pulled my nightgown
over my head. I kept the sheet pulled up, teasing him. His eyes darkened as
I wriggled out of my panties and tossed them aside as well. “There's just
something else I'd rather have in my mouth right now.”
His lips curved up into a smile as he climbed onto the bed, kneeling
next to me. Still smiling, he pulled down the sheet, exposing my body inch
by inch.
“The breakfast of champions.” He winked at me and I laughed. It had
been a long time since I'd seen him like this, relaxed and playful. He'd been
working hard this week to get things ready so we could spend some time
alone for our anniversary, but I'd been worried that he'd still be carrying
work with him the whole weekend. Apparently not.
He ran his finger down between my breasts to my bellybutton. His hand
flattened on my stomach and I looked up at him. His expression was serious
now, but there was a new light in his eyes.
 “Things are going to change today,” he said softly.
“And I'm looking forward to it.” I reached out and put my hand on his
thigh. The hairs tickled my palm as I ran my hand up and down the lean
muscle there. When I moved my hand over, his fingers flexed on my
stomach. I kept my eyes on his face as I wrapped my hand around his cock.
His expression tightened as my fingers closed around the soft flesh.
“Lay down,” he said as his fingers danced lower, barely skimming my
curls.
I kept my hand on him as I stretched out. When he pulled all but one of
the pillows out from under my head, I smiled, knowing exactly what he was
going to do. While we both still enjoyed giving oral sex, we hadn't done it
like this in a long time.
He swung one leg over my head, twisting around so that he could lean
down between my legs. There was a seven inch difference in our heights,
but I had a long torso and he was mostly legs, so we were actually pretty
evenly matched when it came to sex. As I spread my legs, he settled into
position, his cock dangling temptingly above my mouth.
I kept one hand on his hip and used the other to hold him in place as I
raised my head. I wrapped my lips around the tip of his shaft. I moaned
around the delicate flesh as his tongue ran across my sensitive skin. His hair
brushed against my thighs as he pressed his mouth over me. My eyelids
fluttered at the marvelous sensations running across my nerves and only the
slight thrust of his hips reminded me that I had my own business to attend
to.
I ran my tongue along the underside of his cock before rising up to take
it all into my mouth. Getting him all inside when he was erect was difficult,
so on the occasions I got to take him soft, I liked to take advantage. I felt his
sounds of pleasure more than heard him and the vibrations added to
everything I was feeling.
I let him slide from my mouth as I turned my attention to his balls,
running my tongue over the soft skin before taking first one, then the other,
into my mouth, all the while working his cock with my free hand. As his
tongue slid inside me, my hips bucked up against his mouth and he
chuckled. I tightened my hand around him and the laughter suddenly
stopped. A moment later, I felt his lips surround my clit and I swore as he
began to suck. I returned my attention to his cock, first matching his
suction, and then mimicking the flicks of his tongue. The pressure inside
me was building and I felt the muscles under my hand twitch. We were both
close.
He rolled off of me, breath coming in harsh pants, his cock shiny and
swollen. My pussy throbbed with unfulfilled release. I ran my hand down
my stomach to the ache between my legs. I looked at him as I slid a finger
between my slick folds. He was watching, his eyes dark, a clear expression
of lust on his face.
“Play with yourself,” he said. “Make yourself come.”
Something low inside me tightened at the tone of his voice. This wasn't
anything I hadn't done with him before, but there was an edge to him this
morning that hadn't been there the last time we'd made love.
I rubbed my first two fingers along either side of my clit, then ran my
palm over it as my fingers moved down to my entrance. One slid inside
easily enough and I added the second a few moments later. The heel of my
hand pressed against my clit and I closed my eyes. My back arched, hips
pushing up against the thrust of my fingers. I bent my knees, putting my
feet flat on the bed to give myself leverage. When I masturbated, I usually
moved very little, but I wasn't doing this for me. I was doing this for my
husband and I wanted him to enjoy the show. Besides, it wasn't like I didn't
intend to enjoy it.
“Yes!” I hissed as I felt the first stirrings of orgasm wash over me. I
twisted my fingers inside me, increasing the pressure on my clit.
“That's it, baby,” Allen murmured. “Make yourself come for me.”
I cried out as it hit me. My hand gripped my pussy as it tightened
around my fingers. My entire body tensed as I came and the knowledge that
he was watching me made it all the more intense. My legs flopped onto the
bed and I shuddered as I removed my hand from between my legs. Lips
pressed against my calf and I forced my eyes open.
“Do you have any idea how hot you look when you come?”
I smiled a lazy smile because I didn't have the energy to do much of
anything else. He ran his fingers up and down my leg as we lay there in
silence, me regaining my strength and him calming down enough that he
wouldn't come right away. We'd been lovers long enough that I knew how
close he'd been and I wanted this to last long enough for me to come again.
“School's done,” he said thoughtfully.
“Yeah.” I gave him a questioning look, unsure where he was going with
his line of thought.
 “I want...” He hesitated.
“What is it?” Now I was intrigued.
“It's going to sound stupid.”
“Well, now you have to tell me,” I said, smiling. “You can't just leave
it.”
He studied the patterns he was making on my calf as he spoke, “Since
you don't have to worry about kids or the other faculty, I want to...” His
eyes flicked to my face and then back down again. “I feel like a fucking
teenager saying this, but I want to give you a hickey.”
I burst out laughing. He looked up, serious for a moment, then started to
laugh too. “Are you kidding?” I asked. “That's the big thing you were all
embarrassed about asking me? Eight years together and that's it?”
He scowled at me, but I could see his eyes still twinkling. “I never
wanted to get you in trouble at school,” he said. “But now...”
I raised an eyebrow. “It depends. Are you going to let me give you
one?”
He laughed. “Of course.” He turned and made his way back up the bed
again. “I always liked it when you did.”
“Really?” I was surprised. Sure, he'd given me a couple marks over the
years, but I'd always felt like he'd felt things like that were juvenile. I shook
my head. “What's gotten into you today?”
He moved over my body, settling between my legs so that his cock
brushed against my still sensitive pussy. “It's our one year anniversary and
I'm going to make a baby with the woman I love. Isn't that enough?”
I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down so that our mouths
met. I could taste myself on his tongue as I pulled it into my mouth. He
made a sound in the back of his throat as I kissed him deep, my fingers
twisting in his hair. I felt his hand move between us and then he was
pushing forward and inside, filling me. I reached down with my free hand
and grabbed his ass, digging my nails in as I pulled him towards me. I
wanted him all and I didn't want to wait.
“Patience,” he chided breathlessly as he broke the kiss. He slid halfway
inside, then pulled out. As his mouth trailed kisses down my neck, he
moved forward again, this time a bit deeper.
I licked the side of his neck, tasting the salt from his sweat mingled with
the taste of him. When I nipped at his skin, he yelped, his hips jerking and
pushing himself all the way inside. I swore as he filled me, my nerve
endings singing at the sudden invasion. I pressed my mouth against his neck
and began to worry at the skin, sucking harder as he started to move. I felt
his mouth on my throat, teeth nipping at the skin there. His thrusts were
slow and deep, rubbing against every inch of me, leaving nothing
untouched. I wrapped my arms around him as I hooked my feet behind his
ankles. My body danced with his like it had hundreds of times before, but
there was something new this time. It was his skin gliding against mine, no
barriers between us, and what it meant. We weren't just making love, we
were trying to create life. A family.
The thought made me arch against him, the base of his cock rubbing my
clit as he surged forward. I came suddenly and without warning, an
explosion of heat and pleasure so great that I had to squeeze my eyes
closed. His groan was muffled against my neck but I felt his rhythm falter
and knew he was close.
“Come in me,” I whispered as I clung to him, riding out the waves as
each thrust took me higher. “Come in me, love.”
When he did, and I felt him spill inside me, a surge of love swept
through me and over me. The emotion was so strong that it took my breath
away and I had to blink back the burn of tears. I loved this man so much.
I knew the possibility of me getting pregnant just from this one time
was slim, but I hoped that it had happened. I wanted this to be the moment
that our lives changed forever.
Chapter Six
I 'd known that Allen had something special planned for our first
anniversary. He'd always been a great planner and none of that had ever
taken away from the romantic gestures he'd made. In eight years, he'd never
forgotten an anniversary or a birthday, which more than made up for things
like the forgotten date night. And he'd never been half-assed about it either.
Special days had never been just things like a box of candy or a bouquet of
flowers. He'd always made sure that we did something unique and
memorable.
That hadn't always meant expensive though.
Our one year anniversary when we'd been dating, it had been a trip to
the beach, but not one of the full touristy beaches along the southern
California coast. No, Allen had taken me to a smaller beach, more rocks
than sand, but without the mass quantities of people around. He'd packed us
a lunch and brought along a bottle of wine even though I hadn't yet been
twenty-one. We'd toasted to a lifetime together and then made love under
the stars.
The years were filled with those kinds of memories and I could only
imagine what he'd dream up in the future. Starting with today.
After a great start to the morning, we'd showered, dressed casually and
eaten breakfast. We'd had to reheat the pancakes Allen had made, but they'd
still been delicious. Once we finished, I turned to him expectantly.
“I'm glad we're starting a family,” he began. “But there are a couple
things on my to-do list before our little one makes an appearance.”
“Okay.” I cocked my head to one side, trying to figure out what he was
talking about. For being someone I knew very well, he'd been hard to read
lately.
“One of those things had been uninterrupted sex.” He grinned. “So I can
check that one off the list. Or, maybe that's one we can keep checking off.
Over and over...”
I chuckled, heat flushing my skin. He was right. Once we had a baby,
sex would have to be squeezed into whatever time we could find. We
definitely needed to appreciate the time we had for leisurely love-making.
“Another thing is what I have planned for this afternoon.” He pushed
back his chair, turning it to face me more directly. “First, we're going to
walk the vineyard so I can show you what I have planned for the future.
Then we're going someplace special.”
“Do I get a hint about where that is?” I asked.
“Nope.” Allen's grin widened.
A mischievous little thrill went through me and I went to my knees,
inching my way towards Allen. I caught a flash of surprise, then something
I couldn't name. I put my hands on his knees and slid them up along his
thighs. His muscles tensed beneath his dress jeans.
“Shae...”
“Shh.” I gave him my most stern teacher look. “I'm trying out an
interrogation technique.”
He raised his hands and held them out as if to give me the go ahead. I
locked eyes with him as I moved his legs apart. My hands worked down his
muscular thighs, thumbs brushing against the slowly growing bulge. He
made a small sound, then swore quietly when I unbuckled his pants and
tugged them down his hips, taking his boxer-briefs with them.
His cock was half-hard as I took it in my mouth and he moaned. I
echoed the sound as he put his hand on my head, his fingers twisting in my
hair. This wasn't going to be a long blow-job, not with the hard wood
beneath my knees, but I was determined to make it a good one.
He hardened quickly as I sucked and licked, savoring the taste of him,
the weight of him. His fingers tightened as I swirled my tongue around the
tip, but he didn't force my head down, letting me set my own pace.
I kept one hand on his leg for balance and used the other to alternate
between stroking the base that I couldn't take and playing with his balls the
way I knew he liked.
“There's something else I want to do.” His voice was husky. “Before we
focus on making a baby.”
I raised my head, letting him fall from between my lips with a nearly
obscene sound. “And what is that?”
The hand in my hair slid down to my cheek and he brushed his thumb
across my lips. “I want to come in your mouth.”
I parted my lips as his thumb slipped inside. My teeth scraped against
the pad of the digit and he sucked in a breath.
 “You want to come in my mouth?” I asked as his thumb slid back out.
“Come on my tongue?” I licked my bottom lip. “Watch me swallow every
last drop?”
“Fuck, Shae.” The words were hoarse. “Yes. Yes, that's what I want.”
I smiled. “Me, too. Because after this, you're not losing it anywhere but
my pussy.”
Before he could respond, I ducked my head again, engulfing as much of
the thick shaft as I could. He swore, his entire body tightening. I bobbed my
head, twisting my hand around the base of him with an almost brutal pace.
The friction of his skin against my lips burned and my jaw began to ache,
but I kept going.
“Shae.” His hand went back to my head, fingers twisting painfully in
my hair. “Your mouth feels so good.” He groaned and I felt his balls tighten.
He was close. “I'm going to come.”
I stopped moving, focusing on applying as much suction as possible
while working my hand up and down the inches that weren't in my mouth.
His cock twitched on my tongue and his hips jerked, pushing another inch
inside. He cried out my name as he came, spurting across my tongue, filling
my mouth. I did what he wanted, swallowing every last drop as I milked it
out of him. I didn't stop until he was soft again and Allen's hand was
tugging at my hair.
“That was...wow.”
I sat back on my heels and looked up at Allen. He was staring at me, his
pupils blown wide.
“So,” I asked. “Does this mean I get to know where we're going?”

It was a private airfield. Not exactly the kind of romantic date I'd been
expecting, but I didn't complain. I was sure he would explain and it would
be fantastic.
“Do you remember the first off campus date I took you on?” Allen
asked as he pulled into one of the many empty parking spaces.
“You mean when you scared the shit out of me by pushing me out of an
airplane?” I laughed at the memory.
“You loved it,” he countered.
“I did,” I agreed. After I'd gotten over the initial fright of falling
thousands of feet, I'd remembered what I'd been told and pulled the cord to
open my chute. The next time we'd gone, I hadn't needed any
encouragement to jump. I wasn't an adrenaline junkie, but I did love the
rush.
“It's been a long time since we jumped,” he said. “And I wanted this one
to be something special. We're going to have someone jump with us and
record the whole thing.” He leaned forward and brushed his mouth against
mine. “And we're going to kiss mid-jump.”
Some other women might've thought this was a crazy idea, that they
would've preferred a romantic dinner and some jewelry. I might've been a
second grade teacher, but I wasn't most women. I thought it was totally
romantic.
“I love it!” I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him to me for a
deeper kiss. The excitement of anticipation was already coursing through
my veins and I could sense it in Allen too. There was a desperate edge to
his touch, to the way his lips moved with mine.
When we finally broke apart, we were both flushed and panting. He
smoothed back the hair from my face.
“Ready?”
I nodded, heart racing. I'd forgotten how much I loved sky diving.
Less than twenty minutes later, Allen and I were up in the plane, soaring
over the landing field. Everything was ready. The chutes were packed and
the videographer was ready. All we had to do was wait for the right
moment.
Allen and I went out together, hands linked. I had a vague impression of
the videographer following us out and then Allen was pulling me around to
face him. My stomach was in my throat, my pulse pounding. The adrenaline
racing through me made me see everything in startling clarity.
The absolute look of love on Allen's face as he pulled me to him.
The videographer off to the side, recording as Allen's mouth lightly
touched mine.
It wasn't a long kiss or a passionate one, but I felt it go through me light
a bolt of electricity.
With a gentle push of hands, we moved away from each other. I spread
my arms and legs, watching Allen twist, shooting his body faster towards
the ground. I laughed and did the same, matching his descent. As we hit the
right altitude, I reached behind me and yanked on the cord.
 My chute opened with a jerk and, for a moment, I lost sight of Allen.
When I got my bearings, I twisted around, looking for him. After a moment,
I saw him below me and felt the first tingle of panic. He hadn't opened his
chute yet.
He still had a couple hundred feet before it became dangerous, but with
every heartbeat, those feet passed and still, nothing happened. He was too
far away for me to tell if he was struggling with his ripcord or if he was
unconscious. Even as panic went from faint to full-blown, there was
nothing I could do.
I tried to scream as Allen continued to plummet towards the ground, but
the wind stole the sound. I was helpless, voiceless, forced to watch my
husband die.
Chapter Seven
F or three months when I was ten, I'd had a recurring nightmare that my
brother and mother had been killed and I'd been sent to live with my Great-
Aunt Ethel. Considering I didn't have a Great-Aunt Ethel, I was completely
terrified.
This was worse.
And it had to be a nightmare, because if it wasn't then that meant it was
real. And it couldn't be real. Not this.
I'd lost my father before I'd even known him. My mother before I
graduated from college. I still had my brother, but Allen was my family. My
husband. The father of the children I was going to have.
It was the last thought that finally brought up everything I had in my
stomach. I leaned over so I didn't puke on the nice blanket someone had so
thoughtfully wrapped me in, and threw up all over the ground.
The paramedic who'd been standing nearby came running over.
“Ma'am, are you all right?”
I wanted to snap at him that of course I wasn't all right, that nothing
would ever be all right again, but I was still trying to cough up something,
so speaking was a bit difficult.
I barely heard anything else he said. I was still trying to process. But I
didn't want to process. Again, processing meant it was real, and it couldn't
be real.
I squeezed my eyes closed, but that didn't help. It just reminded me that
I was actually awake.
And it didn't stop me from seeing it.
Again.
And again.
The way he'd hit the ground, limbs twisted.
By the time I'd landed, people were already rushing towards him, but I
could've told them it wouldn't do any good. There was no hope. No miracle
that could've saved him. I didn't need a doctor to tell me anything. I'd felt
the impact of my feet hitting the earth and knew how much harder he'd
landed. No one could survive that.
Every part of me had longed to run to him, telling me that I couldn't
know for sure until I'd seen him. But I didn't want to see him. I didn't want
that to be my last memory of him. I didn't want to have a last memory. I
wasn't supposed to have one for decades, if ever. We were supposed to grow
old together. Watch our children and grandchildren grow up. Bicker and
make up. Worry about money and the kids. Celebrate dozens of
anniversaries as our hair grayed and our faces wrinkled.
A broken sob came out of my mouth and I pressed my fist against my
lips, trying to stifle the sound. I couldn't give in and cry here. If I gave in,
then I'd completely lose it, and if I lost it, I'd have to accept it. As long as I
still had it together, I could pretend that it wasn't really happening.
But it was.
My hands were shaking and my teeth chattering. My thoughts were pure
chaos.
I was in shock.
No shit.
I was going into the kind of shock that they gave people medicine for.
Tranquilizers. I didn't want that.
I stood up suddenly and grabbed the water from the paramedic's hand. I
rinsed my mouth and spit on the ground. I needed a phone.
I must've said it out loud because someone handed me my purse. I didn't
remember asking for that either. It didn't matter though. I needed my phone.
I dug through the bag and pulled it out. I scrolled past all of the numbers on
my way to the bottom. There was only one person I could call right now.
He answered on the second ring.
“Shae?” He sounded surprised which made sense since I could count the
number of times I'd called him on one hand.
“Jasper.” My voice was flat, emotionless. As lifeless as the man I loved.
“I need you to come. Allen's dead.”
Chapter Eight
I loved watching him sleep. On nights like these when my own sleep evaded
me, I would come here and stand in the doorway, looking down at my son
and wondering what he dreamed of.
His hair was light, of course, but had a bit more of my gold to it than
Allen’s tawny shade. His eyes had started out blue, like almost all babies,
but they’d changed quickly to a greenish color that I felt sure would
eventually turn hazel like his father’s. His features were very much like
Allen as well, and at two, he’d already shown that he was his father’s child
in personality. I’d never seen a kid so meticulous about his schedule. Allen
and I joked that he was going to potty-train himself.
I smiled and reached down to smooth back a few strands of hair from
his face. I knew he wouldn’t wake if I touched him. He always slept deeply,
especially after an eventful day like this. The reminder of him in his little
tux, toddling down the aisle with the little flower girl running after him
made my heart skip a beat.
I was so thankful Jasper had finally found someone. Jasmine was as
beautiful as her name and twice as sweet. She made Jasper smile and
laugh. They were as perfect for each other as Allen and I. They wanted to
have kids right away, so we’d soon be trading adult nights out for playdates
and birthday parties, but none of us minded. We were all ready to focus on
family.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Allen’s voice behind me should have startled me, but
I’d already been aware of his presence, at least on a subconscious level. I
was always aware of him.
I shook my head. “I should be able to,” I said. “It was a long day.”
“But a good one.” He slid his arms around my waist, his hands
automatically going to the gentle bump under my nightgown.
I wasn’t due for another five months, but I was already showing. Not
surprising though. Our first sonogram had showed what I’d already been
suspecting. Twins. We’d waited until Michael was eighteen months old
before we’d started trying again. I’d told Allen that with twins, we’d be
waiting for at least three years before we started on child number four.
“It was a good day,” I agreed. I sighed and leaned back against my
husband. Jasper’s wedding had made me think about mine, and I’d met
Allen’s eyes across the aisle and known he’d been thinking the same thing.
His hands rubbed up and down over my belly, an unconscious gesture I
suspected. He’d done the same with Michael. That pregnancy hadn’t been
an easy one and I knew he was worried about this one. So far, it had been
better and something deep inside me told me that I didn’t need to worry.
Hardly any morning sickness and it had gone away rather quickly. The
babies were growing at the right rate and Dr. Kyle was happy with my
weight.
One corner of my mouth quirked up. I’d been a little concerned with
how the pregnancy had changed my body, worried that Allen wouldn’t like
it. He’d managed to get the truth out of me when, at six months, he’d found
me sitting on the floor in our bedroom, crying over some dress that I didn’t
think I’d ever be able to wear again. He’d taken me to bed and lavished so
much attention on me that I’d finally calmed down.
At least the mood-swings with the twins didn’t seem to be as extreme
either. I still had a ways to go yet, but so far so good.
“I’m thinking Madison and Micah,” he said suddenly.
“Do you really want to go with the whole alliteration thing?” I asked,
my lips curving into a soft smile. “Because if you do, baby number four
needs to have a good M name too, or the poor kid will always feel like the
odd one out.”
“Well.” His voice softened. “I was thinking you might want to name the
girl after your mother.”
“Mom hated her name.” A wave of sadness washed over me. It wasn’t
as strong as it had been the first time I’d thought of my mother when I’d
been pregnant with Michael. That had been heart-breaking. Knowing that
she’d never see her grandchildren, that I’d never be able to ask her advice
on anything.
Allen’s arms tightened around me. “I didn’t mean to make you sad,” he
said.
“I’m okay.” And I was. I’d decided that my children would know their
grandmother, through me and through my brother. We’d make sure they
knew all about her and my father. I still remembered all of the stories my
mother had told to bring my father alive for me.
“Why did your mom hate her name?” Allen asked. “Nisa’s a nice
name.”
I laughed softly and twisted my neck so I could look up at him. “You do
know that wasn’t her name, right? Nisa was a nickname. Short for
Narcissa.”
He chuckled, pressing his lips together to muffle the sound. “Her name
was really Narcissa? How did I not know that?”
“I told you she hated her name.” I put my hands over his. “But maybe
Nisa would be a good name.”
“I like that,” he said. He rested his chin on the top of my head. “And
how about Taylor?”
“Taylor’s good,” I agreed. “But I think Jasper and Jasmine were
thinking of using that name.”
“Could be fun if we named our kids the same thing,” Allen said with a
touch of humor in his voice. “Especially if one’s a boy and one’s a girl.
They could even get married and have the exact same name.”
I shook my head. “You need to stop talking now.”
Allen’s mouth moved to my ear, his tongue flicking out to tease my
earlobe. “Are you going to offer me an incentive to be quiet?”
I turned in his arms and looked up at him, meeting his eyes in the dim
light. I slid one hand down his chest and between us. There was barely
enough room now, but I managed to get where I wanted. I cupped him
through his pajama pants, the heat telling me that he wasn’t wearing
anything underneath. A spike of arousal went through me. Yet another
difference between this pregnancy and the last. With Michael, I hadn’t
wanted sex very often. With the twins, I couldn’t get enough.
“How about we head back to the bedroom and I give you other things to
do with your mouth?” I flexed my fingers and he groaned, his cock swelling
under my touch.
He took my mouth, gently at first, but then with more passion as I
leaned against him, my belly and fuller breasts pressing to his chest. I
curled my tongue around his, drawing them both back into my mouth.
I loved kissing him. The way his lips moved with mine. The feel of his
tongue exploring my mouth as if every kiss was new. How his hands roamed
across my back, down to cup my ass and then back up to bury in my hair.
 We were still kissing as we moved into our bedroom. I broke it only
when I reached the bed. I pulled my nightgown over my head, revealing that
I was bare underneath. Allen’s eyes darkened with desire as he took my
breasts in his hands. I moaned at the touch. They were so sensitive.
“So beautiful.” He lowered his head, gently kissing my nipples before
taking one into his mouth.
“Allen,” I breathed his name. My head fell back and I was pretty sure
that if I hadn’t had the bed bracing behind my knees I would’ve fallen. Each
pull of his mouth, flick of his tongue, sent pleasure zinging across my
nerves, straight to the center of me. Desire pooled in my belly, growing with
each passing second.
When Allen and I had gotten married, I’d known I’d be with him
forever. That I’d love him forever. I’d hoped I’d want him forever too. Now I
knew the truth. I loved him more, wanted him more, than I had the day
before.
He eased me back on the bed, shedding his clothes as we went. The
sensation of his skin gliding against mine set my body on fire. Every inch of
me felt like it was burning, as if the friction between us had sparked and
held. And then he was kissing his way down my body, taking care to pay
close attention to my stomach. I felt his lips move against my skin, the
breath of words being spoken, but I couldn’t hear anything. That was okay
though. I knew he wasn’t talking to me.
When he moved lower, I parted my legs and he settled between them as
naturally as if he’d been there his whole life. He pressed his mouth against
the inside of my thigh and then moved higher. I cried out when his tongue
touched me, parting my folds and dipping into me. He moved slowly,
drawing out the exquisite torture. He kissed me as deeply as he’d kissed my
mouth only minutes before, each pass of his tongue sending a new wave of
pleasure washing over me. Then he moved to my clit and I reached down to
grab his hair, needing to touch him, to ground myself even as I felt my body
trying to float away.
He slid a finger inside me, pumping slowly as he flicked his tongue back
and forth across my clit. I felt the pressure building and knew I was close to
coming. I tightened my grip on his soft hair, my hips starting to rise and fall
in time with his strokes. A second finger joined the first and I made a half-
gasping sound. He curled his fingers, searching for that spot inside me and
when he found it, I cried out. He stroked it twice and I came. He kept up the
perfect combination of friction and pressure, drawing out my climax until I
was writhing against his mouth and hand, desperate.
“Please, baby.” I tugged on his hair. “I need you inside me.”
He surged up my body, pushing inside me as he went. My back arched
as he filled me, another cry falling from my lips. He kept himself propped up
on his arms so he wasn’t putting any weight on my belly and I looked up at
him, our eyes meeting as he thrust again and again.
Each stroke was strong and sure, knowing exactly where I needed him,
exactly how I formed around him. I looked down the length of him to where
we were joined, watched his cock appear and disappear between my legs.
He never faltered, driving me higher and higher. He was relentless,
determined to bring us both as much pleasure as possible. I put my hands
on his arms, feeling his muscles flexing beneath the skin. I knew these arms,
I thought. Knew this body. He had taken care of me, protected me, loved me
for more than a decade.
A wave of love swept over me and I came, calling out his name. He rode
my body even as I rode my pleasure and before my own climax had ended,
his was beginning. His body tensed as he buried himself deep, his cock
pulsing inside me. The feeling of him coming made me come again, my
pussy tightening around him until he swore, the word coming out a growl.
He collapsed beside me, pulling me tight against him as we caught our
breath. I felt his heart pounding in his chest. I loved that sound. He
wrapped his arms around me and kissed my temple.
“I love you,” he said. “I’ve loved you almost from the first moment I
saw you, Shae Van Walson-Lockwood.”
“I love you too.” I snuggled back against him, needing to have him
close.
“I’ll always love you,” he murmured. “Always.”
His words sent a sliver of fear through me. Terror. So bright and sharp
that it drove away everything else.
“Always.”

I came awake with a gasp and automatically reached out towards Allen’s
side of the bed, not understanding why my dream should have frightened
me.
 Then my fingers brushed against the empty space and reality crashed
back into me with enough force to drive the air from my lungs. I let out a
broken sob.
It had been just a dream.
There would be no watching our son sleep. No second or third child. No
making love in our bed. That future was gone.
My world was gone.
Allen was dead.
Chapter Nine
I stared up at the ceiling for what seemed like hours, but could have been
only minutes. Ever since the moment I’d realized that Allen’s parachute
wasn’t going to open, that I was going to watch my husband die, time had
ceased to have meaning. Sometimes it moved slowly, seconds creeping by
for years, reminding me of a lifetime stretched before me without the man I
loved. Other times, it bounded forward, skipping and jumping from one
hour to the next, threatening me with the forgetfulness that came with the
passage of time.
I didn’t want to forget. Tears burned my eyes as I forced myself to recall
Allen’s face. It hurt to think of him, but the thought of forgetting hurt even
more. I’d been with him since the middle of my first semester at UCLA.
He’d been my only serious boyfriend and my only lover. We’d been
together for eight years, only one as husband and wife. Tears trickled the
familiar path down my cheeks. We’d been talking about starting a family.
My stomach suddenly clenched, my chest tightening until I couldn’t
breathe. After the...accident, I hadn’t been able to think beyond making a
single phone call. I hadn’t even considered the possibility that I could be
pregnant.
I put my hand on my stomach, as if I’d be able to tell if life grew there.
The chance was small, minuscule really, but it still existed. We’d decided to
start trying for a family on our anniversary. Yesterday morning, we’d made
love and it was possible that I could’ve gotten pregnant.
Had that only been yesterday morning? It seemed like a lifetime since
then.
My hand began to make small circles on my stomach, soothing the life
that may or may not be growing in that moment. I wasn’t sure which to
hope for. A child would be a part of Allen, a piece of him that I could still
hold onto. But did I really want to raise a child alone simply because I
wanted something of Allen to stay with me? Would that be healthy for me
or the child? Would I be able to separate an individual from the man I
missed?
 I let out a slow breath and forced myself to move my hand off of my
stomach. There was no use trying to decide what I would do about a baby
until I knew whether or not I was pregnant. The slim chance wasn’t enough
to add even more onto my plate at the moment. I had plenty of things I
needed to do.
I didn’t want to do any of them though. All I wanted to do was lay here
and cry over the life that was stolen from me. Not just Allen’s, but the lives
of any children and grandchildren we may have had. The life that we would
have spent together.
I couldn’t do that though. There were things that needed to be done.
Calls that had to be made. Arrangements. All of the things that I hadn’t
thought I’d need to do until I was old and gray, until I had children to help
me and comfort me. It didn’t stop them from needing to be done though,
and I knew that Allen would’ve insisted I get up, that I take care of
business. Lying here with that gaping hole in my heart wouldn’t bring him
back. Keeping busy wouldn’t fix it, but maybe, just maybe, it could keep
me from screaming.
I forced myself to sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. It
was still early. Barely six o’clock and I never got up that early when I
wasn’t in school. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep again though. And after
that dream, I didn’t want to. The waking was too painful.
My limbs were heavy as I made my way to the bathroom. I tried not to
look at anything, to not see Allen’s razor or shaving cream. To not see the
towel he’d thrown at the hamper, but was lying on the floor because he’d
missed. There were too many reminders.
As I stepped under the warm spray, I closed my eyes and let myself
think of nothing but the white noise of the water coming down around me. I
let it fill my head until my shoulders sagged in relief. I washed quickly, but
let myself stay until I was calm enough to deal with the outside world. I
didn’t know how long the calm would last, but it was a start.
I wasn’t quite the over-planner that Allen was… that Allen had been.
The correction sent a stab of pain through my heart, but I didn’t let it
overwhelm me. I had things to do, and while not quite as thorough, I was
still the kind of person who could work her way through a list.
At the top of the list was the thing I wanted to do the least.
Make phone calls.
 I hadn’t watched the news last night to see if they’d covered the crash,
but I didn’t think they’d released Allen’s name. If they had, my phone
would’ve been ringing off the hook. When I picked it up from the bedside
table, however, there weren’t any messages or missed calls. That was good.
Allen’s family still didn’t know.
Yesterday, I couldn’t have made that call. They would’ve flown up
immediately and while I hated being alone in this nightmare, having them
around would be worse. As I stepped into the living room, I remembered
that I wasn’t alone. I had managed to make a single call after the accident.
I’d turned to the one person Allen trusted as much as me. The one person he
would’ve turned to had the situation been reversed.
Jasper Whitehall was still sleeping on the couch. I wasn’t sure why he
was there and not in one of our guest rooms, but there he was, his muscular
frame barely fitting on the narrow cushions. With his coal black hair and
clear gray eyes, he looked nothing like Allen, but the sight of him brought
back the memory of my husband so vividly that I gasped and staggered
back against the wall.
I didn’t realize that Jasper had woken up until he was at my side,
concern on his face. He led me over to the couch, pushing aside the blanket
he’d been using so I could sit down. I bent forward, squeezing my eyes
closed as I focused on breathing. I felt the warmth and pressure of an arm
around my shoulders, heard soft, soothing noises, and I wanted it to be
Allen so badly, but I couldn’t even fool myself that little bit.
Strangely enough, that helped, facing the truth that it wasn’t his arm, his
voice. I found myself able to breathe, to straighten. Jasper’s arm fell away,
but he was still sitting close enough for me to feel the heat from his body,
his presence comforting now rather than a painful reminder.
“I’m not going to ask if you’re okay,” he said softly. “Because I know
that’s a stupid question.”
My eyes met his and I saw my own pain mirrored there. I was so used to
him being closed off that the intensity of the emotion I saw comforted me.
With a start, I realized that was why I’d called Jasper. Yes, part of it had
been because of Allen’s trust, but I could see now that it had also been
because Jasper was the only other person who could truly understand what I
was going through. The type of love we had for Allen may have been
different, but the depth of it had been the same. Was the same.
 “Thank you,” I said. I reached over and put my hand on his. I saw a
flash of surprise as I squeezed his hand. “I don’t think I could get through
this without you.”
“Me either,” he admitted.
We sat there for a moment, not talking, not moving, my hand wrapped
around his, sharing our grief. Then the doorbell rang, and the moment was
gone. Time started forward again.
“I’ll get it,” Jasper said.
I nodded, but as he started for the door, I stood as well. If it was
someone from the vineyard, I needed to be there. It was my responsibility
now. It wasn’t an employee though. It was a pair of detectives. They were
showing Jasper their badges when I stepped up next to him.
“Mrs. Lockwood?” The older of the two men looked past Jasper to me.
He had dark hair with silver streaks that made me put his age in the late
fifties. The lines around his eyes said he’d seen too much in those years.
“Yes?”
“I’m Detective Rheingard and this is my partner, Detective Reed.”
The other detective had hair the color of cinnamon and the stocky kind
of build that would probably change to fat the older he got. Now he looked
to be in his forties, with one of those plain faces that no one ever
remembered. His eyes were a startling shade of turquoise, but I barely
registered them as they slid from Jasper to me. What immediately made my
back stiffen was the expression of clear contempt in them.
“We have a few questions to ask you,” Detective Rheingard continued.
“Would it be all right if we came inside?”
I wanted to tell Rheingard that he was more than welcome, but that his
partner would have to stay out. Instead, I merely gave them both a polite
smile and gestured for them to follow me. I walked over to the couch and
picked up the blanket and pillow Jasper had been using. I put them aside
and stepped over to one of the arm chairs, and sat down. They both took the
couch so they were opposite me.
“Do you want something to drink?” Jasper asked, the question general
even though he was looking at me.
“Coffee, please.” I saw the question in his eyes, asking if I would prefer
him to stay. I gave a small shake of my head and he nodded in return,
understanding.
“I’ll take a cup, if it’s no trouble,” Detective Rheingard said.
 “Nothing for me.” Detective Reed’s voice was surprisingly soft.
“Got it.” Jasper disappeared into the kitchen and I was alone with the
detectives.
“First let me say how sorry I am for your loss,” Rheingard said.
“Thank you.” I pressed my hands together. I knew they were going to
ask questions about what had happened and I suddenly regretted sending
Jasper away.
“I know this is going to be difficult, but we want to close this
investigation as quickly as possible,” Rheingard continued. “If you could
tell us what happened.”
I went through it as quickly as I was able, starting with when things had
gone wrong. I told them everything I remembered, which wasn’t much. It
had all happened so fast.
“Now, we understand that you had a videographer recording
everything?”
I blinked. I’d completely forgotten about that. I crossed my arms and
shivered. He’d probably gotten everything. He had Allen’s death on tape.
But he also had our last precious moments together. Our last kiss.
I was torn between wanting the footage and never wanting to see it.
“Yes,” I said as I realized they were waiting for an answer. “I don’t
know what he recorded though...at the end.”
“We’d like your permission to view the footage,” Rheingard said.
I nodded. “Of course.”
“Why were you recording the jump?” Detective Reed came in with a
question.
“Allen planned it.” His name almost stuck in my throat. “It was for our
anniversary.” I bent my head for a moment, not wanting them to see the
pain on my face. It was too personal, too private.
“Had you done this sort of thing before?” Rheingard asked.
“Yes. When we first started dating. We hadn’t done it in years though.”
“Why now?” Reed again.
“It was a surprise. Allen said he wanted us to do it before...” My voice
trailed off as a lump formed in my throat.
“Before what, Mrs. Lockwood?” Reed’s voice was still soft, but there
was a note to it I didn’t like, as if he was insinuating something. What, I
didn't know, but I didn't like it.
 I glared at him and my anger gave me strength. This felt too private to
share. “Before we started a family.”
“Just one more question for now, Mrs. Lockwood,” Rheingard
interjected.
I didn’t like the ‘for now’ part, but I simply nodded. One thing at a time.
“Who packed your husband’s chute?”
A logical question and one I’d been asking myself. Allen and I both
knew how to do it, but I hadn’t seen him pack his this time. “I don’t know,”
I answered honestly. “I assume he did. I packed my own. But I can’t say for
certain.”
“You weren’t with him when he did it?” Reed asked.
“No.” I shivered again and ran my hands up and down my arms. “I
stepped out to go use the restroom and when I came back, he was ready.”
Jasper came back in with two mugs of coffee. He handed one to
Rheingard and the other to me. Instead of sitting in the empty chair or
leaving again, however, he stood next to my chair.
“You are?” Reed asked.
“Jasper Whitehall.” There was an edge to Jasper’s voice and I was glad
to know I wasn’t the only one who didn’t like Detective Reed. “Friend of
the family.”
“And you’re here because...?”
“Because I called him from the airfield yesterday,” I said. I really didn't
like his tone. I wondered if Detective Reed would've asked the same
question if it had been Gina or Junie here with me. “I didn’t want to be
alone, so he stayed here.” I gestured towards the couch.
“Why didn’t you call Mr. Lockwood’s family?”
“I was too upset—”
“Too upset to call your husband’s family? But you were certainly okay
enough to call a…friend?”
I stood up, my hands shaking, but with anger rather than sadness. The
detective had essentially sneered the word ‘friend’ at me. He wasn't even
trying to be subtle with his insinuation.
“I called the Lockwoods,” Jasper said smoothly before I could say
anything. “They live in Texas, so they won’t be getting here until this
afternoon.”
“What about your own family, Mrs. Lockwood?” Reed was leaning
forward now.
 “My parents are dead,” I said bluntly. I was more than ready for this to
be over. “And my brother’s on a construction job in Seattle. Now, if you
don’t mind, I have people to call and a funeral to plan.”
The detectives stood.
“Who do I need to speak with about having my husband’s body
released?”
They exchanged looks and Rheingard answered, “You’ll have to wait
for the autopsy.”
My heart nearly stopped in my chest. “No.” I shook my head, panic
threatening. “My husband wouldn’t want one. Religious beliefs.”
Reed’s eyebrows went up. “Excuse me?”
I felt Jasper step up behind me, close enough to touch me, but he didn’t.
“My husband’s religious beliefs prevent him from being autopsied. He told
me that several times.” My voice was stronger than I’d expected.
“You’ll need a court order for that.” Reed gave me a smug little smile.
“Out.” Jasper stepped around me, suddenly looking much bigger than
his six feet. “Now. And if you want to speak to her again, call to make an
appointment first.” He all but pushed them towards the door and shut it
firmly behind them.
My knees buckled and I sank to the ground. “Allen wouldn’t want...you
know he wouldn’t...”
He crouched down next to me. I saw him hesitate, then wrap his arms
around me. I crumpled against him, burying my face against his chest.
“I know,” he said. “I’ll take care of it.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I didn’t know how I was going to
do this. I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t strong enough. I needed Allen. I needed
my husband.
And the fact that I knew I would never have him broke me.
Chapter Ten
I turned out to be a lot stronger than I’d realized.
That first day was the worst. After I’d calmed down and Jasper had
made me eat something, I’d made a list of the people I needed to call.
Jasper had, as he’d told the detectives, called Allen’s parents the night
before. He’d just told them to call him rather than me. When pressed, he
admitted that he’d told them the doctors had given me a tranquilizer so I
wouldn’t be in any shape to talk to them until they got here.
I didn’t mind the lie. Allen’s parents already hated me. Honestly, they
probably thought better of me thinking I’d needed to be medicated than
they would have if they’d known I’d refused sedatives and hadn’t been a
hysterical mess. At least not in public. I’d saved my hysteria for the privacy
of my bedroom.
They were all flying in on one of their private planes. The whole family,
including all of the kids. I started considering panic mode until Jasper said
he’d already arranged for them to be picked up at the airport and told them
that they’d be welcome in the vineyard’s guest houses. Allen had built a
small circular grouping of four three-bedroom guest houses on the other end
of the property. He’d said they were for business meetings so that our
personal lives would be kept separate from the business end of things, but
I’d known that he’d also done it so that when his family visited, he could
put them as far away from us as possible.
I knew without Jasper telling me that the family had been furious.
They’d complained every time Allen had put them there. They liked Jasper
about as much as they liked me, but he’d had more years of dealing with
them and I was grateful to have him do it. Things would get bad enough
once they arrived. At least I’d be able to know that I could sleep in peace.
The first call I did make was to Mitchell. Four years older than me, he
was the only family I had left. He’d even moved to St. Helena after Allen
and I had gotten engaged so that he’d be close by. As I’d known he would,
he told me he was on his way home.
After that, the day became a series of phone calls and fielding questions.
 I called Jacques Rohner next. As the foreman of the vineyard, he needed
to be aware of what happened and know that I’d be needing him to take
care of the business end of things for at least a couple weeks. He was
clearly upset, choking up as he assured me that he would take care of things
as long as I needed, and that all I had to do was call if I needed anything.
He would also take care of contacting the vineyard’s business associates,
saving me the necessity of talking to total strangers about what had
happened.
Since school wasn’t in session, I was spared having to deal with any of
those responsibilities. I did, however, call Gina Edgars. Aside from being
the art teacher at the same school where I taught second grade, she and her
girlfriend lived across the road and were among the few people I counted as
friends.
When Gina came over, I expected Jasper to leave, but he didn’t. Instead,
he made the calls he needed to take care of the autopsy, the calls to have
Allen’s body released and to set up an appointment at a funeral home the
next day.
I was grateful for all of it, but when he handled the arrival of the
Lockwood family, I almost cried with relief. I knew I’d have to deal with
them at some point, but I wasn’t ready today. I couldn’t answer questions
face-to-face. Hearing him repeat what I’d told him about the accident was
bad enough.
The rest of the week went by in a blur. A mass of sympathy and
casseroles, people coming and going at all hours. Someone was always
there. Helping. Hovering. I wanted to scream to be left alone, but the idea
of being alone terrified me. There were flowers and fruit baskets, sympathy
cards from friends and people I didn’t know. I received hugs and
handshakes, platitudes that no one really believed. I didn’t remember any of
them, the words or the people.
Then it was Saturday and time for me to officially say goodbye.
Everything about me was numb as I stood in front of my closet, trying to
figure out what I was going to wear. I could almost hear Allen in the back
of my head, telling me that he liked me in blue. I smiled a sad smile as I
looked at his favorite dress. I knew his family would expect me to be in
black, something long and shapeless, appropriate for a grieving widow.
I heard Allen again, whispering to me that it didn’t matter what his
family wanted. This was about me and him.
 “Fuck them,” I muttered as I reached for the dress. I hadn’t let Gregory
or May Lockwood cow me in the eight years Allen and I had been together.
I wasn’t going to start now.
There was a soft knock at the door. “Shae, it’s time.”
“Two minutes.”
It was Mitchell on the other side of the door. He’d gotten here as
quickly as he could and hadn’t left. He’d helped me handle things whenever
Jasper hadn’t been able to. He wasn’t quite as diplomatic as Jasper, but he
managed it well enough.
When I stepped out into the hallway, he was still there. I took in the
rumpled dark suit, the scuffed shoes. When I reached his face, for the first
time, I was struck by how much he looked like our father. Dark blond hair.
Blue-green eyes. The same square jaw. The thought that followed hit me
just as hard. Mitchell had just turned thirty a couple months ago. He was the
same age now that our father had been when he’d died.
“You look nice,” he said gruffly. Then he grimaced. “That was a stupid
thing to say, right?”
I shook my head. “I’m glad you’re here.”
He reached out and put his arms around me, pulling me against his
chest. He didn’t try to say anything. We both knew there was nothing to say.
We’d been here before. I might not have been able to remember our father’s
funeral, but our mother’s hadn’t been that long ago.
“We have to go,” Mitchell said as he released me.
I took a slow breath and let it out. I just had to get through today. I’d
woken each morning with that thought in my mind, but it was louder today.
I nodded at my brother and headed downstairs.
The Lockwoods were waiting. I’d known they’d be there, of course.
They’d been furious when I hadn’t let them plan the funeral, but I’d given
in to them wanting all of us to travel by limo. Mitchell would be there with
me, so I’d be okay.
“Do you really think that’s appropriate?” Allen’s older sister, Alice,
drawled in her thick Texan accent. She arched one perfectly plucked blonde
eyebrow as she looked at me. Like the rest of the family – including all of
the kids – she was in various shades of black and gray.
“It was Allen’s favorite dress.” I lifted my chin, determined that I would
stay strong. “Are the cars here yet?”
“They are,” Marcus answered from where he stood next to his father.
 He was three years older than Allen and being groomed to take over the
family business. His wife, Celeste, and their four children were on the other
side of the room, surrounding May Lockwood where she sat in one of the
chairs. All of them looked at me like I was something foul they’d stepped
in.
“Gregory and I will ride with Shae,” May announced as she stood.
I wanted to remind her that she wasn’t in charge here, but I knew it
wouldn’t do any good. May had a way of acting like she was the queen
whenever she walked into a room. I really didn’t care who went with me
besides Mitchell. I didn’t really like any of their family. I wasn’t even that
fond of the kids. Their parents had already trained them well about my
position in the family and they treated me with only the barest amount of
respect, and usually only when Allen had been around.
As we settled into the limo, I could see May preparing herself for
something. I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. I should have known
she wasn’t going to let me mourn my husband in peace.
We’d only been on the move for about five minutes when she spoke.
“I’ve heard the police are investigating what happened.”
Mitchell tensed next to me and I put my hand on his arm. “Yes, they
are.” I wasn’t about to go into details.
“I hope they make you pay for what you did to my baby boy, you little
bitch.”
And she said it all with a smile.
“You...”
“Mitchell.” I stopped my brother with a quiet word.
“I don’t know what happened out there, but I know if it wasn’t for you,
Allen would still be alive.” May’s hands flexed and I wondered if she was
thinking about how much she’d like to wrap her fingers around my neck. Or
maybe claw my eyes out with those fake talons she called nails. “And
thanks to you, Gregory’s health is failing as well.”
I looked at Allen’s father. Aside from their eyes and hair color, they
looked nothing alike. It had been a while since I’d last seen Gregory, and I
hadn’t been paying enough attention before to see what I saw now. The
extra lines on his face. The weight loss.
“You can’t blame my sister for that,” Mitchell snapped.
May gave him a withering look. “This is none of your business.”
“Listen here, you vicious...”
 My head was pounding. “Why don’t we all just remember that today is
about Allen and honoring his memory? Can we do that?” My voice sounded
strained. “For Allen, please?”
There was a moment of silence and then Gregory spoke, his voice raspy
from years of chain smoking, “For Allen.”
Chapter Eleven
T hat truce lasted through the service and into the cemetery because there
was enough room for the entire family to sit in the front. When it came time
to walk past the coffin for the last time, however, I found that I couldn’t do
it alone. Even Mitchell’s arm around my waist wasn’t enough support. He
didn’t say a word when Jasper came to my other side and put his arm
around my shoulders. Together, they helped me move forward.
When we reached the coffin, I felt my knees buckle, and then Jasper’s
arm was there with Mitchell’s.
“I know, Shae.” Jasper’s voice was low in my ear, full of all the pain I
was feeling inside. “But it’s time to say goodbye.”
We each put a hand on the coffin and, in that moment, I knew it was
final. What was inside this coffin wasn’t Allen. He was gone and he wasn’t
coming back.
I spent the rest of the day in a daze. I was vaguely aware of the
Lockwoods sniping behind my back, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t care.
They could say what they wanted about me. It didn’t matter. I’d asked them
to respect the day for Allen, but it didn’t surprise me that they hadn’t been
able to do it. They’d always been more about themselves than others and
nothing would change that.
I didn’t care anymore. It was over. After today, everyone would go back
to their normal lives. Yes, there would be those who would miss Allen and
things might seem a bit off for a while, but even his family wouldn’t feel it
daily. The only other person who could even get close to understanding was
Jasper, and even his daily interactions with Allen had been limited.
Not me. It didn’t matter that he’d worked late so much recently that I
hadn’t seen him very much. For eight years, he’d been a part of my
everyday life. My friend. My lover. My everything. And now he was gone.
Everyone else would get to go back to their normal lives, but I didn’t have a
life to go back to. My life was being buried in a cemetery thirty miles from
here.
 I just wanted everyone to leave. I was tired. So tired. But they kept
talking and staying. Finally, I’d had enough and I stood abruptly, startling
the person who’d been talking to me. I had no clue who they were or what
they’d been saying.
“I’m tired,” I announced. I saw the Lockwoods throw dirty looks in my
direction, but I didn’t wait for them to say anything. I gave my brother and
Jasper both nods because I couldn’t even manage a polite smile, and then I
headed upstairs.
I locked my bedroom door behind me because I didn’t trust the
Lockwoods not to come barging in. My clothes dropped and I left them
there. I didn’t bother with a shower or even putting on anything else. I
crawled into bed and wrapped my arms around Allen’s pillow. I buried my
face against it, breathing deep the lingering scent of him and finally giving
in to the tears, crying until my exhausted mind and body finally let me
sleep.
When I woke up, my eyes were dry and swollen, my throat raw. And
there was an emptiness inside me that hurt more than all of that. I wanted to
stay in bed all day, but I knew if I did that today, then I’d do it again
tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that.
I wanted to give up, but I knew I couldn’t. Allen wouldn’t have wanted
that and doing what he would’ve wanted meant more to me than anything
else. So I forced myself to get up. Forced myself to take a shower.
The house was eerily quiet as I made my way downstairs. It wasn’t
unusual for me to be in the house alone, but after a week of constantly
having people around, it felt strange. Or maybe it was just because I knew
that it wouldn’t change. There was no waiting for someone to come home,
no anticipation of a possible surprise. I didn’t have to plan anything or even
look at the time. I had nowhere I needed to be and no one I needed to see.
I’d told Mitchell to go home after the funeral. He’d already taken a
week off of work and he needed to spend today resting before going back. I
didn’t want him to risk his job. The Lockwoods had loudly proclaimed their
own return to Texas once the funeral had finished, making sure everyone
knew that they’d been relegated to the guest houses and they didn’t want to
stay where they obviously weren’t wanted.
I started to wander through the house aimlessly, but I kept seeing things
that reminded me of Allen. Pictures of us. A book he’d never finished
reading. His mug.
 I needed to get out of here.
I stepped outside and scowled up at the sun. I knew it was foolish to be
angry that the sun was shining, but grief wasn’t logical. I considered
heading down the long driveway and going to see Gina. She and Junie
always spent their summer Sundays outside, communing with nature. That
translated to nude sunbathing most of the time.
I liked both women, but I didn’t feel like being around any couples
today. It didn’t matter if they were straight or gay. The connection between
them would be too painful. I couldn’t take the silence in the house, but I
wasn’t in the mood for strained conversation either.
I turned away from the driveway and went the other way, out into the
fields. I walked between the rows, trying to remember how it looked when
the vines were full. The heady smell of them. Right before harvest, I’d
always loved walking outside in the evening and just breathing in that scent.
Now, I felt nothing about them. Nothing about the harvest to come. I
knew Jacques would take care of everything, but there were some decisions
that would have to be mine. Because the vineyard was only mine now.
Allen had added my name onto the deed after we’d been married. His
parents hadn’t liked that too much, but it didn’t matter. It was mine.
But I’d give it all up if it meant I could have Allen back.
When I got back to the house, I wasn’t sure how much time had passed.
I was sweaty and dirty, and no closer to finding peace. Thirst clawed at my
throat and I decided that there was one solution that could take care of both
things. If I drank enough, I wouldn’t be thirsty anymore and I wouldn’t
have to think.
“Shae!” Jasper’s voice cut through the haze. “What the hell?”
I blinked at him. Where had that come from? Better, where had he come
from?
“Where have you been?”
I made a vague gesture behind me. “Walking.”
“Shit.” He came closer and I could see concern on his face now. “You’re
burnt.”
I frowned and then winced, feeling what I hadn’t felt before. My face
hurt. I looked down and saw that, beneath the dirt, my arms were red. Not
dangerous red, but red enough that I would feel the fire soon.
“Come on.” Jasper put his hand on the small of my back, a place where
my tank top had protected my skin.
 I didn’t ask why or where. I just let him lead. I felt a faint start of
surprise when he took me into the bedroom and then into the bathroom, but
I still didn’t say anything.
“Here, Shae. We need to get you cleaned off and then put something on
those burns.” Jasper’s voice was gentle.
When I still didn’t move, I felt his hands on the hem of my shirt. I raised
my arms and let him pull the tank top over my head. I barely registered that
my shorts and shoes came off next. Everything felt fuzzy and I had the
fleeting thought that I might have sunstroke.
“Um, Shae?” He sounded slightly embarrassed, but I couldn’t figure out
why.
I looked up at Jasper and the lines of his face blurred. I felt myself sway
slightly and Jasper swore. His arms went around me and I made a pained
sound as his t-shirt rubbed against the burned skin, but I didn’t struggle.
Moving felt like too much effort. My head rolled to the side, landing on
Jasper’s shoulder.
The world faded.
And came back as icy needles stabbed at my skin.
I jerked, trying to get away, but strong arms held me tight.
“Shh. I know it hurts, but it’ll feel better soon.”
The voice was familiar, deep and soothing. I knew it wasn’t Allen, but it
comforted me all the same. The needles still hurt, but I stopped struggling.
The world faded again.
In and out it went, bringing with it incoherent images and feelings.
A towel patting down my body, rough against my skin.
Hands working something cool into my heated flesh, something that
took away some of the pain.
A glass of water at my lips.
Concerned gray eyes looking down at me.
Dark, wet hair dripping on my cheeks.
Soft cotton too harsh against the burns.
“Go to sleep,” he said. “I’ll stay with you.”
I was too tired to argue, but I didn’t know if I would have anyway. Even
if I was asleep, I didn’t want to be alone.
Chapter Twelve
I wished I could say that things got better. That I woke up from my little
walkabout and my head was clear. That the grief didn’t come back with the
same crippling agony.
I couldn’t say that.
Aside from the fact that my entire body hurt when I woke up, there was
the fact that Jasper had fallen asleep next to me and I was pretty sure we’d
taken a shower together. Fortunately, he didn’t let it get weird. When I came
back in from the bathroom, he was awake and simply asked how I was
feeling.
I had to promise to call him if I needed anything before he’d leave, but
once I made the promise, he nodded and headed out, leaving me alone. I
wasn’t exactly feeling better, but I had at least lost the aimlessness that I
had yesterday. I wasn’t going to wander. I didn’t have school to distract me
– and I was actually grateful for that since I doubted I was emotionally
stable enough to deal with a class of screaming second graders at the
moment – but I could find other things to do.
As I was scrounging in the kitchen for something to eat for breakfast, I
realized that my refrigerator was packed. I sighed. All right. First thing on
my to-do list. Cleaning up the well-intended gifts everyone had brought
over. Whatever I didn’t want to keep, I’d take to Gina and Junie. The rest
could go to the local mission. I didn’t want any of it to go to waste.
With that decided, I grabbed an apple and looked around to see what
else I needed to clean up. Once I was done with that, then I’d figure out
what I wanted to do next. Having a firm goal in mind didn’t ease the pain
and didn’t prevent me from having to stop occasionally to wipe at my eyes
or have a short bout of crying. But still, it was better than not having
anything to do.
I wasn’t strong enough to go through Allen’s things, to start deciding
what I was going to keep and where the rest would go. Right now, I didn’t
think I’d ever be strong enough, though I supposed that would change with
time. Time was supposed to heal all wounds, or at least that was how the
saying went. I didn’t know about time healing, but I did know that it
wouldn’t stop passing.
There were some things, however, that I knew couldn’t wait. Business
things. I’d already talked to Allen’s lawyer, telling him that I wasn’t ready
to hear Allen’s will. I’d talked to Jacques too. He was taking care of things
at the vineyard, going through papers and making sure things were still
moving towards the planting and harvest that Allen had planned.
I couldn’t stay in the house once I’d finished cleaning, and I couldn’t
risk wandering about like I had before. I needed something constructive to
do. If it had been closer to the next school year, I would’ve been okay
working on new lesson plans and ideas. But it wasn’t. I needed something
else.
So I went to the one place where I knew I could be surrounded by
Allen, but not be crushed by his presence. Somewhere he’d been, but we
hadn’t really been together. And somewhere I could find something to do.
Jacques looked up in surprise when I knocked on the office door before
stepping inside. He was a short, wiry man with cropped black curls and
eyes that were obsidian black. His skin had been tanned and weathered by
the years, so he looked older than I knew him to be.
“Mrs. Lockwood.” He stood.
“Jacques, please, call me Shae.” I gave him the best smile I could.
He studied me for a moment and I thought he was going to refuse, citing
that it wouldn’t be appropriate, but his expression softened and I knew he
understood why I wanted him to address me by my first name. Hearing the
name I’d taken when I’d married Allen was a brutal reminder that he wasn’t
there anymore.
“Of course, Miss Shae,” he said with an incline of his head. “How can I
help you?”
I took a breath. “I’d like to learn about the business.”
His eyebrows went up, but all he said was, “Of course.” He pulled out
the chair he’d been sitting in. “Have a seat, Miss Shae.”
Jacques was a patient teacher. He began with the basics, reviewing the
different types of grapes and their uses. Allen and I had gone over that
when he’d first inherited the vineyard, but it hadn’t been information I’d
really retained. I’d never envisioned a future where I’d need to know it.
Now, I focused on every word, categorizing everything the same way I did
for school work. Part of it was because I still didn’t know what I planned to
do with the vineyard and I wanted to be as knowledgeable as possible. The
bigger part though was that this was something I could do and still feel
Allen’s presence, but not so much that it hurt.
We took a break for lunch and then kept going with a review of the
points of the grapes we grew. Not once did Jacques ask about my sudden
interest or even act as if this was something out of the ordinary. He also
didn’t ask about my crispy and peeling skin, which I was grateful for since
that wasn’t something I wanted to share with anyone. Ever. When I told him
I’d come back the next day, he simply nodded and wished me a good
evening.
As I stepped back outside and felt the heat of the summer sun, I knew
that, despite how much I missed my husband, I would be able to keep
going. I looked out across the land and then up at the house. The question I
had to answer now was if I wanted to stay here to do it.
I walked slowly up the path to the house, letting my thoughts flow
freely. The entire vineyard had been Allen’s, free and clear. The only thing
we owed on it were the yearly property taxes, and while those were hefty,
I’d be able to manage without too much of a problem. While my own salary
wasn’t meager, it also wasn’t as much as we made on our wine in a good
year. We had money put away for bad years too, plus what was left of
Allen’s trust for emergencies. With Jacques running things, I didn’t doubt
that staying was an option.
It was the matter of wanting I had to come to grips with. My emotions
about staying were conflicting. Memories of Allen were everywhere. I’d
moved in here with him after we’d gotten engaged, and before that, I’d
spent all of my school breaks with him here after my mother had died.
Pictures were everywhere. Eight years of memories hanging on the walls.
I’d helped decorate it. Turn it from a bachelor pad into a home. All of that
made it so much harder for me to be in the house.
But it was home. The only home I had.
After our mother died, Mitchell had put the family house on the market.
He’d known I wouldn’t be going back to Utah and he’d planned on moving
to be closer to me. Once he’d paid off what Mom had owed on the house,
he’d used the rest to get an apartment in St. Helena. While I loved my
brother, his apartment was definitely a one-man space, and he spent a good
deal of time out with his construction crew. The vineyard was my home and
had been since my mother had passed. It was solid, reliable, and I needed
that right now.
Maybe I’d feel differently in a few months, years, but at least for the
moment, I needed that familiarity, no matter how much it hurt.
With that initial decision made, I felt some of the pressure lift from my
shoulders. There was no need to make an immediate decision about
anything to do with the vineyard or Allen’s things. I had time and now I had
something to keep me busy until I was ready.
None of that, though, made it any easier to climb into my bed alone and
see the empty place where Allen had laid. I’d gone to sleep in this bed alone
plenty of times before...it happened, but it had always been with the
expectation that Allen would come crawling under the covers at some point.
That I would feel the heat of him, the strength of his arms around me. None
of that would ever happen again. The spot would stay empty, no matter how
much I wished it could be different.
My sunburned skin rasped across the sheets as I reached for Allen’s
pillow. The physical pain was still no match for the internal emptiness I was
feeling, but I didn’t dissolve into sobs as I had on the nights before.
Tonight, I just held Allen’s pillow tight and only a few tears escaped before
I fell asleep.
The days fell into a routine. Breakfast, working with Jacques in the
office and sometimes inspecting things outside, dinner, exercise to make
sure I was sufficiently exhausted, then a shower and bed. I knew it wasn’t
really moving forward, but it was as close as I could manage at the moment.
The fact that I could do anything other than lie in bed and cry was an
accomplishment in and of itself.
I continued putting off the things I didn’t want to do and ignored the
voicemails left on my phone: concerned ones from Gina and passive
aggressive ones from the Lockwoods. The only texts I answered were the
daily ones from Jasper, checking in to see how I was doing, and I only did
those because I knew he’d come over if I didn’t respond. Plus, he was
satisfied with short answers and didn’t push for more. And he didn’t
mention Allen.
Friday morning, just as I was getting ready to head down to the office,
the fragile bubble I’d been building over the past few days was broken by a
single phone call.
 I didn’t know why I picked up the phone when I’d ignored all of the
others. Maybe it was because my morning coffee hadn’t quite kicked in yet.
But the why didn’t matter. What mattered was that I answered it.
“Hello?”
“May I speak with Shae Lockwood, please?” a pleasant female voice
replied.
I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. If this was a sales
call, this woman was going to regret her job choice momentarily.
“Speaking.”
“Hi, my name is Rita Sandberg and I’m with Winthrope Insurance.”
I opened my eyes and frowned. This just kept getting better and better.
A sales call was bad enough, but if she thought she could sell me a life
insurance policy, we were going to have an issue. I could feel my anger
bubbling below the surface, eager for a reason to be unleashed.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Mrs. Lockwood,” Rita continued. “We usually
work through the mail, but there was a note to make direct contact with
you.”
“A note?” I let my confused impatience seep into my voice. “Look, I
don’t know who you are or why you’re calling, but you need to explain
yourself right now or I’m hanging up.”
“I apologize, Mrs. Lockwood,” Rita said. “I didn’t realize that you were
unaware of...it makes sense now.”
“What makes sense? What am I unaware of?” My grip on my phone
tightened as I resisted the urge to throw it against a wall.
“It makes sense why you didn’t call us about the life insurance policy,
ma’am.”
“What?” I shook my head. “The insurance company already sent a
check.”
At least, that was what Jasper had told me. He’d called them and taken
care of depositing it in the ’joint account Allen and I had opened years ago.
I barely remembered signing it. I didn’t care about it. Allen and I each had a
small policy, just enough to take care of funeral expenses. There was
enough money in savings and other sorts of stocks and things that we’d
never seen the point of having large policies.
“Not from our company, ma’am,” Rita continued. “With a pay-out of
this amount, our company policy is to deliver it in person either to the
beneficiary or an attorney.”
 That didn’t sound like the few thousand dollars Allen and I had agreed
on.
“What amount?” My voice sounded hollow in my ears.
“The policy is for one million dollars, ma’am.”
Chapter Thirteen
I sank into the chair behind me, grateful that I hadn’t taken the call while
walking down to the office. I would’ve ended up in the dust.
“Mrs. Lockwood?” Rita’s voice sounded like it was coming from far
away.
A million dollars. Allen had taken out a million dollar life insurance
policy? When? Why? If I hadn’t handled our personal checking account and
had just gone over the books for the vineyard with Jacques, I might’ve been
worried that Allen had done it because we weren’t as well-off as I’d
thought. But we were fine. More than fine. I could’ve quit teaching
indefinitely.
Unless it hadn’t been just me Allen had been worried about.
I put my hand on my stomach. I’d been trying very hard not to think
about the possibility of being pregnant. I’d already scheduled my blood test
for the last week in July. I wasn’t going to rely on my body to tell me. Not
with the amount of stress I’d been under. After my mother’s death, I’d had a
scare when I’d missed my period and I’d thought I was pregnant. I wasn’t
going to put myself through that again.
I hadn’t told anyone about it either. I wasn’t planning on it until I knew
for sure and was further along. I didn’t want to hear all of the advice. I
knew people would mean well, but all of them would try to get me to do
what they thought they’d do in my situation. That I should’ve gotten Plan B
at the hospital as soon as I’d found out Allen was gone. That I should
terminate the pregnancy because I didn’t want to be a single mother.
Adoption. Keeping the baby because he or she would be a part of Allen.
I knew all of the arguments because I’d been having them off and on
with myself. Just because I’d tried not to think about it didn’t mean the
thought didn’t pop into my head from time to time.
“Mrs. Lockwood, are you still there?”
I jerked out of my thoughts. Right. I had something I needed to deal
with right now, not a speculation of something that may or may not be in
my future.
 “I’m here.”
“I need to know if you’d prefer to meet with us in person or if you have
an attorney you’d rather work through.”
“Can – I need some time to think,” I finally said. “Do you need my
answer right away?”
“We prefer not to hold pay-outs for clients, Mrs. Lockwood.”
Something in Rita’s voice said this wasn’t a request she often got. I
wasn’t surprised. I was sure most people had to fight with the insurance
companies to get their money, especially considering how expensive
funerals were.
“My lawyer then,” I answered. “Savill Henley. He has a private
practice. Give me a minute to find his information.”
“Of course.”
I stood on shaky legs and made my way towards the home office. Allen
and I shared that one, so I knew where to look for what I needed. I tried not
to let myself think about the money or why Allen would have taken out
such a huge policy, instead focusing on getting Rita the information that
would get her off my phone as quickly as possible.
“Thank you,” Rita said after she’d repeated the contact information
back to me for the second time. “We’ll make all future contact with your
lawyer and he can contact you. Do you have any questions for me before I
let you go?”
I had a million questions, but none of them were for her or ones that she
could even answer. There was someone who might know though and he
was the only one I wanted to talk to at the moment.
“No. Thank you.”
As soon as the call ended, I sank into the armchair that sat across from
the desk. I needed answers. My fingers were shaking as I went into my
contacts list and tapped his name. I just hoped he wasn’t at work. I didn’t
know what I’d do if I had to leave a message and wait for him to get back to
me.
He answered on the third ring. “Shae, are you okay?”
“I’m not sure,” I answered as honestly as I could. “I need to talk to
you.”
“I’m on my way.”
He hung up and I felt a stab of guilt for taking him away from work. I
wasn’t Jasper’s responsibility. I could have called Mitchell. I should have.
He was family and we looked after each other. Jasper had been Allen’s
friend. But that was why I needed to talk to him and not Mitchell. I didn’t
need comfort. I needed to know what Allen had been thinking. If anyone
other than me knew, it would be Jasper.
I sat there for a few minutes, working to compose myself. It should have
been a good thing, this insurance money. Extra security against a bad year
at the vineyard and more than enough for me to take a year off of work if I
wasn’t feeling up to it come September. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling
that something was wrong. I didn’t know what or why, only that there was a
lump in the pit of my stomach.
“Breathe,” I said out loud. “Breathe and don’t overreact. You don’t
know what’s going on. No need to freak out for nothing.”
Not surprisingly, I wasn’t able to convince myself of any of it. Hearing
myself talk did at least jar me enough from my thoughts that I realized I
needed to let Jacques know I wasn’t coming down to the office today. I
made that call as I walked back to the living room to wait for Jasper to
arrive.
I didn’t know exactly how long it took to get from the vineyard to
Jasper’s practice, but I was pretty sure he arrived much faster than he
should have been able to. I didn’t quiz him on his driving habits though. He
was here in one piece and that was all that mattered to me.
“Are you hurt?”
I’d forgotten that he had a key. It had made sense to give an extra to him
and then one to Gina. She’d never used hers unless she’d been looking after
the house while we were out of town, and I’d never known Jasper to use his
either. Although, now that I thought about it, I supposed he must’ve used it
when he’d come over and found me sun-burnt and half delirious with heat-
stroke.
I shook my head as he closed the distance between us. My sunburn had
peeled badly earlier this week, but my skin looked relatively normal again
and it didn’t hurt.
“I need to ask you a question.” Even as I said it, I realized how lame it
sounded. And not just lame, but selfish of me to interrupt him at work for it.
Jasper didn’t say a word, but his face was too blank for me to be able to
tell if he was angry. He walked over to one of the armchairs and sat down. I
sat across from him, folding my hands on my lap. Now that he was here, I
wasn’t sure how to best approach the subject.
 I looked at him and found him watching me closely, his expression still
guarded. After a few minutes, I decided that straightforward seemed to be
my best bet.
“Did you know that Allen had taken out a million dollar life insurance
policy?”
Jasper’s eyes widened a fraction. “No.”
“Neither did I.” I let out a frustrated sigh. “We’d both agreed that we
didn’t need to take out huge policies on either of us. As far as I was aware,
that hadn’t changed.”
Jasper gave me a puzzled look. “I don’t understand.”
“Why did he think I was going to need the money?” I asked. “Our
finances are fine. I checked. The vineyard’s finances are fine too.” I didn’t
even mention the trust-fund.
“It’s not like he knew he was going to die then.” Jasper’s voice was
quiet. “Maybe he took it out because he didn’t know what things would be
like when he passed. He was trying to take care of you.”
“But why didn’t he tell me?” I asked. “I know we didn’t always
remember to tell each other everything and we didn’t exactly go digging
into the past to share every moment, but we didn’t keep secrets, especially
not ones this big.”
“He probably didn’t tell you because he knew you would say no.”
“Damn right I would’ve.” I scowled. It deepened when I caught a flash
of humor on Jasper’s face.
“That’s not really what’s bothering you, is it?”
I was surprised he could tell. Allen and Mitchell would’ve been able to,
of course, but I hadn’t expected Jasper to as well. I shook my head. “It’s
just...it feels like it’s blood money.”
“It’s insurance,” he said. “That’s what it’s there for.”
He was right, I knew, but it didn’t change the way I felt.
“I had you contact the other insurance company because that was how
Allen and I had talked about it. This is too much.” I ran my hand through
my hair. “I haven’t even had the will read yet.”
He moved from the chair to the couch, sitting close enough that he
could reach out and put a hand on my shoulder, but not so close that we
touched anywhere else.
“Do what you need to do,” he said. “If you don’t want the money, that’s
your decision. If you don’t want to hear the will read, then wait. I’m sure if
there’s anything that you have to handle right away, your lawyer will let
you know. It’s not like Allen would’ve left the bulk of his estate to anyone
but you anyway.”
That should’ve been reassuring. And yesterday, I never would’ve
considered that I didn’t know exactly what the will would say. There’d
probably be some little things here and there that he’d give to his family
and to Jasper, but my name was on the deed to the house and all of our bank
accounts were in both of our names. I didn’t see how any of it wouldn’t
come to me. But that was before the insurance surprise.
“Do you think he took out that policy because he knew I’d need it since
I wasn’t getting anything else?” I forced the question out.
“No.” Jasper’s voice was firm and I turned to look at him. “Allen loved
you more than anything. There’s no way he’d do that to you.”
“Some guys might think a million dollars would be treating me really
well.”
He shook his head. “You were everything to Allen.” He took my hands
between his. “Don’t ever think otherwise.”
Chapter Fourteen
While I didn’t feel any better about taking the insurance money, I did feel
better about why Allen hadn’t told me about it. Jasper had known Allen as
well as I had, and he was definitely seeing things from a much more
objective point of view. I didn’t know exactly why Allen hadn’t told me or
what he’d been thinking when he’d taken out the policy, but I was going to
trust in the man I’d loved and trust in the friend he’d left behind.
I didn’t go to the vineyard office after Jasper left, but rather went back
to the home office and started on one of the tasks I hadn’t wanted to do. I
didn’t have the strength to clean out Allen’s possessions, but I could start
sorting things out in the office so I didn’t get any more surprises like that
one.
I also took the time to actually listen to the voicemails that had been left
over the past week. As I’d thought, Gina’s were full of concern and offers
for whatever assistance I needed. I made a quick call to her to assure her
that I was okay and that my brother and Jasper were checking in on me. The
thing about Mitchell wasn’t entirely true since he hadn’t called or messaged
me all week, but that was just how we were. The two of us knew that, no
matter what, we could call on each other and we’d be there. We just weren’t
the kind of family who felt like we needed to be in constant
communication.
I knew she wanted to talk more, to suss out whether or not I was really
all right, but when I told her that I needed to go take care of some things,
she didn’t argue. With a final reminder that she was there for whatever I
needed, she let me go. That left me with the rest of my voicemails to listen
to. The ones from the Lockwoods.
Some were from Gregory, but most were from Marcus and May. All of
them started off sounding like they wanted to make sure I was okay, but
they always continued into the will and wanting to know when it was going
to be read. Apparently, they felt as if it was something they needed to be up
here for rather than trusting me to send them whatever Allen left for them.
With each call less polite and more direct, it became clear that they
expected the division of assets to be in their favor rather than mine. It
wasn’t until the next to last call from May that I realized the Lockwoods
thought Allen and I had a prenuptial agreement that covered even things
like this.
I couldn’t help but feel a vicious little stab of joy at the thought of them
finding out how much Allen had loved and trusted me. They’d never
thought I was good enough for him. Just some poor orphan girl from Utah. I
didn’t call any of them back. If they’d been genuinely concerned about me,
I would have, but I knew that they just wanted to know what they were
getting now that Allen was gone. All that warranted was an email to all of
them stating that they didn’t have to worry about traveling up here for the
reading of the will since I didn’t know when I planned on having it done.
I wasn’t sure whether or not to expect a response, but I did know that if
one came, it wasn’t going to be nice. To my surprise, I didn’t hear from
them all weekend. I was able to go through everything in the office in
relative peace. Relative, of course, because nothing about sorting through
Allen’s ’things was peaceful. While not easy, however, it still wasn’t as hard
as I’d thought it would be.
I went back down to the vineyard office on Monday morning and told
Jacques that I wanted to look through the office, see if there was anything
there that needed to be up at the house. Since he needed to oversee
something with the workers, he was fine with postponing our next lesson
until later.
It was nearly lunchtime when my phone rang and I saw Savill Henley’s
name pop up. Thinking there might be some issue with him keeping the
insurance check, I answered the phone.
“Mr. Henley.”
“Mrs. Lockwood.”
He sounded almost annoyed and I instantly knew that something was
wrong. While he and I hadn’t worked as closely as Allen and he had, Savill
Henley and I had always been on good terms.
“Is something wrong?” I straightened from where I’d been crouched
next to the filing cabinet, wincing as my knees popped. I moved to sit
behind the desk.
“I apologize if I sounded abrupt,” he said. “But we need to schedule a
day to review Allen’s will.”
 Okay, that was abrupt. A little rude actually. I felt my temper flare. It
had been close to the surface a lot since Allen had died. “Is there a problem
with things transferring over to my name?”
He sighed. “Yes, Mrs. Lockwood, there is.”
My stomach twisted. My previous suspicions came flooding back. Had
Allen changed things so that I wasn’t the second name on the deed
anymore?
“I received several calls from a lawyer representing Mr. Lockwood’s
parents and siblings.”
Shit.
Henley continued, “The family is contesting the will.”
“It hasn’t even been read yet,” I protested.
“That is part of the case they are making,” he said. “They claim that the
reason you’re putting off having the will read is because you know you’ll
be left with practically nothing.”
I pressed mute on the screen and let loose with a string of curses that the
lawyer didn’t need to hear.
He was still talking when I took the call off of mute. “They’re claiming
that you only married Mr. Lockwood for the money and the vineyard and
that there is a prenuptial agreement in place that prevents you from
inheriting any of that.”
“There was no prenup,” I said, barely managing not to snap. It wasn't
his fault that Allen's family was made up of greedy bastards. “Allen knew
that I didn’t care about the money.”
“The first thing they’’ll do is to try to subpoena my records and since I
don’t have any record of such an agreement, they won’t find one.” He
paused, and then added, “It’s not personal, Mrs. Lockwood. When grief and
money come together, people tend to do crazy things.”
“Trust me, it is personal,” I said with a sigh. “This isn’t anything new.
They’ve never liked me.”
The fact that he didn’t argue made me think that Allen had probably
shared some of this with him already, most likely over this exact issue.
“I’m not sure I’m ready to have the will read,” I admitted.
“I’m sure ’it will be difficult,” he said. “But that’s not the only reason
why I called.”
Lovely. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know more.
“I also received a call this morning from Winthrope Insurance.”
 This just kept getting better.
“You asked them to speak with me regarding a life insurance policy that
Mr. Lockwood had taken out?”
“I did.” I sighed. “They called me on Friday and told me that Allen had
taken out a million dollar policy with me named as the beneficiary. The
thing is, I didn’t know about it. The only policy I knew about was the one
for a couple thousand dollars that we’d agreed on to pay for funeral costs. I
didn’t know what to do about it and the woman I spoke to was very
insistent that I either meet with her or have them contact you about holding
the money until I decided what to do.”
Henley was silent for a moment and then he spoke again. “You also
need to decide what you’re going to disclose to the Lockwoods regarding
insurance.”
Fuck.
“I have to tell them about the policy?”
“Since it’s in your name, technically, you wouldn’t have to tell them,”
he said.
“But I should so they can’t say I was trying to hide anything about my
finances,” I finished his statement.
“Exactly,” he said.
An idea popped into my head. “Couldn’t I just give them the insurance
money? It wouldn’t have to mess with the will at all. I’d just cash the check
and turn around and have the bank write them a cashier’s check for it. We
could get them to agree to not contest the will and then it’d all be over.”
More silence and this one made the tension in my stomach knot.
“Mrs. Lockwood, I don’t think even a million dollars would be good
enough for this family.”
He had a point. I supposed it had just been wishful thinking. “I wouldn’t
have a problem giving up however much Allen has left in his trust.”
Another long pause and I began to wonder if he was doing it for
dramatic effect.
“They’re not just after the money, Mrs. Lockwood. They’re contesting
the deed to the vineyard and basically everything except your income from
teaching.”
The constant pain and grief I’d been feeling since the day Allen had
died was completely overwhelmed by anger.
Hell, no.
 If I wanted to sell the vineyard and move, fine. I’d even have considered
giving it to them if I’d thought I could trust them not to destroy it. But I’d
be damned if I let them take it from me because they thought I didn’t
deserve it. And it wasn’t about deserving anyway. I didn’t think I deserved
the vineyard. It was mine because Allen had been mine. It was a part of him
and that made it a part of me too. What happened to it was my decision to
make, not theirs.
“They can’t have it,” I said, my voice hard. “If they want the insurance
money, fine, but they don’t get anything else. I want to fight this. I don’t
care what it costs.”
“Very well, Mrs. Lockwood,” he said.
I almost thought I heard a pleased note in his voice, and I knew it wasn’t
about him making money. He’d been at the funeral, I remembered suddenly,
and he’d made no attempt to hide the fact that he’d been crying. He’d
known Allen for years, longer than I had, honestly. Allen had once told me
that he’d hired Henley the day he’d turned eighteen and received half of his
trust fund. A lump formed in my throat as I realized Henley had watched
Allen go from a high school graduate to the amazing businessman I’d
loved.
“I miss him,” I said softly.
“As do I, Mrs. Lockwood,” he replied. He cleared his throat and his
voice returned to its usual professional tone. “I recommend that you come
to see me as soon as possible. We won’t do an official will reading, but I
can at least give you an idea of what we’re looking at.”
“All right,” I said. “I’ll set something up with Gloria.”
“And, Mrs. Lockwood,” he continued. “Don’t tell anyone else about the
insurance policy. If we’re going to disclose it, we want to make sure the
Lockwoods find out from us rather than word of mouth.”
“I understand.”
And I did.
When Allen and I had first started dating, I’d thought his parents had
liked me. It hadn’t been until he’d brought me to the family Christmas
dinner that they’d realized how serious things had become between the two
of us and the masks had come off. I’d spent nearly eight years listening and
watching them manipulate and connive. I knew exactly what kind of people
they were, and I was going to make sure that they found out exactly what
kind of person I was.
Chapter Fifteen
Going to see Mr. Henley wasn’t as bad as I’d thought it would be. Aside
from the funeral, it had been a couple years since I’d seen him and there
was a bit more salt in his salt-and-pepper hair now. A few more wrinkles
too, but his light brown eyes were as sharp and intelligent as ever. He
greeted me with sympathy, but no pity, and he didn’t ask me how I was
doing. That made the whole process that followed a bit easier to handle.
He didn’t actually read the will, so I didn’t have to hear things Allen
had said read in someone else’s voice, but Henley had compiled a list of
each item in the will and who it had been left to. Aside from some money
being donated to a charity or two that Allen had particular interest in,
everything else had been left to me. With one exception. A million dollars
of the money in Allen’s trust had been set aside for Jasper. It hadn’t been
earmarked in any special way, but I knew it was meant for the clinic.
“Mr. Henley,” I asked suddenly. “When did Allen last come in to update
his will?”
If he was surprised by my question, he didn’t show it. “A week
before...” His voice trailed off and I didn’t need him to finish his thought.
A week before. I wasn’t going to ask, but I bet that one of the changes –
maybe the only one – Allen had made had been for Jasper. He’d known
about Jasper’s desire to start a clinic, but when he’d found out that his
friend still wanted it, he’d made sure it would be possible, even if
something happened to him.
Mr. Henley also had for me a stack of legal injunctions that the
Lockwoods had filed, freezing all of my assets as well as Allen’s trust. I
didn’t care about the trust, but they’d also had our joint bank accounts
frozen. Before I could recover enough from the shock to have a more
violent reaction, he assured me that he had an appointment to see a judge
later that afternoon to get at least the checking account unfrozen. All I
needed to do was provide proof that I’d deposited my own income into that
same account. Thanks to direct deposit and online checking, it was easy
enough to do just that. I was still fuming, but he assured me that the
checking account would be functional again by tomorrow at the latest.
Everything else, however, would be a bit more difficult. Even if I had
the will read now, the Lockwoods wouldn’t drop their suit because they’d
gotten nothing. I felt the worst for Jasper though. The money he needed to
quit his father’s practice and start the clinic he wanted was sitting right
there. Allen would’ve given it to Jasper when he’d been alive if he’d
thought for a moment that his friend would take it, and I was sure Allen had
been working on a way to get it to him anyway. With Allen gone, Jasper
would feel obligated to take it and do great things to honor his friend’s
memory. The clinic would probably even be named the Allen Lockwood
Clinic.
Only now it was being held up because Allen’s family were a bunch of
self-centered pricks who never thought about anyone other than themselves.
Jasper may have known how to deal with them, but they didn’t like him,
and they sure as hell weren’t going to agree to give him any of Allen’s trust.
There was one other clause in the trust that I knew Mr. Henley had
ignored. I knew it was there because Allen had told me about it years ago
when it had become clear to us both that we were going to get married. A
clause for our children.
I knew Henley hadn’t said anything about it because it appeared to be a
moot point. I resisted the urge to touch my stomach. I was late, but I knew
that didn’t necessarily mean anything. With all the stress I’d been under and
stopping my birth control, I would’ve been shocked if I hadn’t been late. It
didn’t matter though. I was going straight from here to my doctor. I wasn’t
even going to bother with a home pregnancy test. While they were usually
accurate, I didn’t want a false positive. I couldn’t handle that.
Once Henley and I were finished, we said our good-byes and he
promised to keep me posted. He also promised to delay billing until my
accounts were active again. Without that to worry about, I was able to focus
all of my anxiety on the pregnancy test.
I’d been going to Dr. Sanchez since I’d moved to St. Helena and she
greeted me with a hug. As soon as I told her why I was there, however, she
became all business. She drew my blood without making small talk and I
was grateful to see no pity on her face. If I was pregnant, I was sure I’d
have all of the pity I could handle.
 “I’ll send this to the lab and put a rush on it,” she said as she threw her
gloves into the bin. “But you should know that it’s been backed up all
week.”
“What does that mean?” I asked as I pressed the cotton ball to my
elbow.
“It means that it could be close to a week before I get your results.” She
hesitated and then added, “Or I could schedule an ultrasound for later
today.”
I shook my head. I swallowed hard and fought against the tears burning
at my eyelids. I’d hoped to have my answer tomorrow at the latest. Twenty-
four hours had been bearable, but anything more than that was going to feel
like torture. Still, I'd rather wait than risk seeing something on an ultrasound
when I hadn't decided what I was going to do. If I was pregnant and decided
I didn't want to continue...I knew I'd never be able to terminate the
pregnancy if I saw it, even if it did just look like a little blob of cells.
She didn't ask why I didn't want the ultrasound and I was grateful. I
didn't want to have to say any of it out loud.
“I’ll try to push the test through as fast as I can,” she said. Her voice
softened, but still held only sympathy. “I can’t even imagine what you’re
going through.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I needed to get home, away from
the public. I quickly finished up with the doctor and pushed the speed limit
heading back to the house. When I got there, I already had half a dozen
messages on the answering machine. I’d never understood why Allen kept a
landline or the answering machine around, but I didn’t feel up to getting rid
of it.
Once I pressed play and May Lockwood’s grating voice came pouring
out, I began to reconsider my position on keeping the machine. I didn’t
listen to the words. I didn’t have to. I already knew them all by heart. Sure,
there’d be some variation now that Allen was dead, but it all added up to
the same thing. I was just some sneaky gold-digger who’d never been good
enough for Allen and she was going to do everything in her power to make
sure that I never saw a penny of his money.
There were three from her and one from Marcus, all essentially saying
the same thing. As much as I tried to not hear them, it was hard not taking
things to heart, especially with how frayed my emotions already were from
the morning’s activities. By the time the last one had been deleted, all of the
fight I’d had in my system when I’d visited Mr. Henley was gone.
I didn’t even bother heading to the bedroom, but curled up on the couch
and closed my eyes, hoping I’d be able to escape into sleep somehow.
A pounding outside woke me up a few hours later. I was disoriented at
first, trying to figure out where I was, but then it all came crashing back
onto me. I shook my head, trying to clear it, and climbed off the couch. I
frowned as the pounding continued. It wasn’t someone knocking at the
door, but it still sounded familiar. I slipped on my shoes and followed the
sound outside and around the house to where I found Jasper on the roof.
“What are you doing?”
He peered over the edge and smiled at me. “Loose shingles.”
“What?”
“The shingles on this side of the house were loose. Allen had mentioned
it to me and I figured that I’d check to see if he’d gotten them fixed.” A
shadow crossed his face and he went back to hammering.
“You do know that my brother does construction, right?” I asked.
“I know,” Jasper said.
I waited for some sort of further explanation, but he didn’t offer one. I
stood there for a few minutes, watching as Jasper worked. Growing up,
we’d never had the money to pay someone to do home repairs, so Mom had
done them. When Mitchell had gotten old enough, he’d helped, and then I
had. I’d never enjoyed it though, not like Mitchell, and I’d been glad to
trade that sort of work for indoor chores whenever possible. After my mom
had passed, I’d found myself almost wishing for those days again.
For the next two days, Jasper came over and inspected the house,
checking for loose shingles and shutters, steps and panels. Every time, I
reminded him that Mitchell could do it just fine, but he just brushed my
comments off and went to work. He rarely talked while he worked, pausing
only to thank me when I brought him something to drink. I didn’t ask how
he was doing this around work, but I didn’t think he was using vacation
time. He looked tired, and not only physically from the work.
When he didn’t come on the third day, I was both disappointed and a
little relieved. I knew he was using the repairs as a way to check up on me,
and I appreciated it, but I didn’t want him to feel like he needed to do any of
that. I never wanted to be someone’s obligation.
 I did, however, see another truck in my driveway the next day when I
came back from the vineyard office. Mitchell was outside, leaning against
the door, the remnants of a cigarette clamped between his teeth.

I swore quietly. Mitchell had smoked since he was thirteen, but then he'd
quit, cold turkey six years ago when a buddy of his died from lung cancer.
Now, he only smoked when he was worried or upset.
“Hey, big brother.” I managed to give him a real smile. “What’s up?”
He dropped the butt and ground it into the dirt before picking it back up
again. “You didn't answer the door or your phone, so I went across the street
to talk to your neighbor.”
I pulled out my phone and scowled at it when I realized the battery had
died. “You talked to Gina?”
He nodded. “She said Jasper Whitehall’s been coming by a lot lately.”
I frowned. “I guess so. I mean, he’s checked in on me a few times
since...you know. And then he was fixing some things around the house for
me.”
“If you needed things fixed around the house, all you had to do was
call.”
“I know.” I kept walking towards the house, knowing Mitchell would
follow. It was mid-July and way too hot to be standing out in the sun.
“Why didn’t you call me?” he asked as we went into the kitchen.
I rummaged in the fridge for bottled water and handed him one.
“Because I didn’t actually know what needed to be done. Jasper did.
Besides, you were busy on a job.”
“I don’t want him alone with you anymore.”
“What?” I spun around to stare at my brother. Sure, he’d been a bit
protective growing up and it had taken him a while before he’d approved of
Allen, but it wasn’t like Jasper and I were anything other than friends.
“I know he was Allen’s friend, but he doesn’t have the best past, Shae.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I know he got into some trouble when he was
younger, but I don’t see what that has to do with this.”
Mitchell scowled, giving me his best big brother look. “Shae, we’re not
talking cutting class. I heard he’d been caught drag racing, arrested for
drunken disorderly, all while in high school.”
“I know all that,” I said quietly.
 “Did you know that three days before his graduation, he and a friend
were high on something and went for some sort of hike? No one knows
exactly what happened, but the friend ended up dead and Jasper barely beat
an arrest.”
I felt a burst of anger that Mitchell would bring up something like that.
And he didn’t even have the whole story. “Yes, they were high. His friend
had an allergic reaction to whatever it was and collapsed on the trail. Jasper
carried him four miles, but the kid was dead before the ambulance got there.
That’s what turned Jasper around, made him want to be a doctor. He’s a
good man, Mitchell.”
My brother’s eyes narrowed. “I still don’t want him around you. I don’t
trust him.”
I folded my arms and gave him my best glare. “Too bad. He’s my friend
and he’ll come around whenever he wants to. It’s my choice who I spend
time with, not yours.”
We kept up our standoff for several minutes before he cracked. He
sighed and came over, wrapping his arms around me. He put his cheek on
my head.
“I just worry about you, little sister.”
“I know you do,” I said, my voice muffled against his chest. “And I love
you too.”
Mitchell couldn’t be there all the time, and I needed to be strong enough
to stand on my own two feet, but for the moment, I was glad he was here.
Chapter Sixteen
I ’d known that going to the doctor before a weekend meant I probably
wouldn’t get my test results back until the beginning of the next week.
Then, when Dr. Sanchez had told me that I might have to wait even longer
than that, I’d considered running to the store for a regular pregnancy test. It
had been the fear of a false positive that had stopped me. When I hadn’t
heard from her nearly a week later, I considered going again. This time, I
remembered something else that kept me waiting on that phone call.
Everyone in St. Helena knew who Allen was. His uncle had been well-
known and when the handsome college graduate had arrived to accept his
inheritance, the whole place had been talking about it. The last thing I
wanted right now was to go into a store and have a clerk realize who I was.
All of St. Helena would know I was pregnant before I even finished peeing
on the stick. Right now, only Dr. Sanchez knew of the possibility and I
trusted her discretion.
Distraction had been my only salvation since my appointment. I walked
the vineyard with Jacques, listening as he told me about the different things
we needed to watch out for in the dirt and on the plants themselves. He took
me through the equipment shed and told me how everything worked. I had
dinner with Mitchell and listened to him talk about his latest job. I had
dinner with Jasper to thank him for all of his help.
And I started going through Allen’s things.
I started in the kitchen, throwing away the half-used and expired things
that only Allen had liked. The cinnamon creamer he used in his coffee. The
now-moldy bag of raisin bagels I hadn’t been able to bring myself to throw
away before. The things that were still good, I put aside to take into the
mission. I left Allen’s mugs, not quite sure what I wanted to do with those.
I moved into the living room next, knowing I wasn’t ready for the areas
with most of his things. Here, it was a matter of checking the books and
magazines, seeing what I’d want to keep around for my own use and what
could be donated. As I stacked things, the thought occurred to me that
Jasper might want some of this. I didn’t want to bother him at work for
something that wasn’t an emergency, so I wrote myself a note to call later
and kept working.
I was almost finished when the landline rang. I considered letting it go
to the answering machine, but didn’t want to risk missing the doctor’s call.
As soon as I picked it up, I was glad that I did.
“Mrs. Lockwood?”
I recognized Dr. Sanchez’s voice immediately.
“Yes?”
“I have your test results. Do you want to come in to get them in
person?”
I appreciated that she asked. If I had to set up an appointment to hear a
positive or negative, I was pretty sure I would’ve screamed. “No. Please,
just tell me.”
“The results came back negative. You’re not pregnant.”
All of the strength ran out of my legs and I sat down on the chair with a
thump.
“Thank you,” I heard myself saying. “I appreciate the call.”
I was pretty sure she said something else, but I didn’t hear it. I hung up
and set the phone down.
I wasn’t pregnant. I’d known that would be the most likely result, but
hearing it officially was still different.
Conflicting emotions warred inside me. On the one hand, I was relieved
that I wouldn’t be going through the mourning process while pregnant, my
hormones playing havoc on my already worn nerves. There would be no
bouts of crying over the father the child would never know. No wondering
how to tell him or her about Allen. No dealing with fallout from the
Lockwoods who would surely either regard the child as a ploy to keep
Allen’s money or as yet another prize of which they wanted to take control.
I wouldn’t have put it past them to try to sue for custody. I wouldn’t have
eighteen years of raising a child on my own. A lifetime of being a single
mother and all that entailed.
But, still, there was sadness too. Allen had wanted a family, wanted a
child. Now, he’d never have one. Allen’s branch of the family tree had
ended. I’d never hold a baby and wonder at the blend between Allen and I,
never see him in our son or daughter’s face. Never give an exasperated sigh
and tell my child that he or she was ‘just like their father.' I would have no
piece of him to hold onto. He was truly gone. Forever.
 I managed to make it to the big armchair Allen had loved so much and I
curled up in it, letting the tears come. I cried for the future that was now
definitely beyond my reach, and I cried because a part of me was relieved
that I wouldn’t have to face that future alone. When I finally cried myself
out, I got up, washed my face, and returned to what I’d been doing.
Progress, I supposed, but it felt a lot like moving on. I wasn’t sure I was
ready for that, but it seemed like it was happening, whether I wanted it to or
not.

A rough couple days followed, but I managed to get through. I finished out
the living room and library, then turned my attention to the garage. I had
decided to keep the cars and he only had a few tools in here for
maintenance. The tools in the vineyard equipment shed were for those
machines and they weren’t ones that Allen had used. We had specialized
people for that. Or, at least, Jacques knew what he was doing.
I’d texted Jacques, asking him to come over after work so that he could
go through some of Allen’s things before I took them to the mission, but
before he arrived, Henley called.
“You have an update for me?” I asked after greetings were exchanged.
“I do.”
His tone said it wasn’t anything good.
“I just received notice from the Lockwood’s lawyer that they’re going to
attempt to have your marriage to Allen declared invalid.”
The air went out of my lungs and I felt as if I’d been punched in the
stomach. My marriage invalid? I knew the Lockwoods were some obscure
sect of a Judeo-Christian religion, the kind who held to some seriously
archaic beliefs – hence the reason I’d had a judge stop the autopsy that
would’ve violated those beliefs. Allen hadn’t been devout, but I’d known
his wishes in that regard.
“How?” It was the only word I managed to get out as I clung to the back
of the armchair for support.
“They’re using their religion to state that the marriage contract was
never properly followed, that since your ceremony wasn’t committed with
their vows and sacraments, that it wasn’t legitimate.”
“That was Allen’s choice,” I said.
 “They don’t care,” he said simply. “They’re using religion to stall
things. I doubt any judge is going to listen, but I get the feeling they’re the
kind of people who aren’t above playing dirty.”
“They aren’t,” I agreed.
“They’re also attempting to say that the will is a forgery.”
I swore, not bothering to keep quiet.
“That was my reaction.” His voice was wry. “But that’s a claim easily
disproved,” he continued. “I have a good reputation and most judges will
take my word. I also have other documents with Allen’s signature that any
handwriting expert will attest matches.”
“So I don’t have to worry?”
“Be smart,” he said. “But don’t worry. Let me do my job.”
I nodded and thanked him. Even as I reminded myself that he’d said not
to worry, I couldn’t help but do just that. The forgery part didn’t bother me
as much as the Lockwoods trying to say that my marriage to Allen hadn’t
existed. It was as if they were trying to strip me of those years with him, to
say that none of it mattered.
I went over to the couch and sat down. It shouldn’t have surprised me, I
supposed, knowing the lengths they were willing to go to, but I supposed a
secret part of me had been hoping that they’d simply been driven by grief,
wanting to have something that had been Allen’s. Now I saw that they were
just as cold and cruel as I’d always thought.
A knock on the door kept me from spiraling into the darkness that
Allen’s family brought with them. I stood and walked over to the door. For
a brief moment, I thought it might be someone coming to serve me with
legal papers, but as I opened it, I remembered that I’d asked Jasper to come
over.
He took one look at my face and frowned. “What did Allen’s family do
now?”
I motioned for him to come in. He followed me into the living room, but
didn’t even look at the things I’d set out. I returned to my seat on the couch.
I was just so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of the accusations. I didn’t want
to forget Allen, but I wanted to move on, from this at least. I wanted the
chance to be normal again, even if I couldn’t be happy. I wanted to be able
to wake up and not dread what the day was going to bring.
“Shae, you can talk to me.” Jasper sat next to me. “What’s going on?”
 I gestured towards the boxes on the table. “Did you want any of Allen’s
things?”
He glanced at them and I saw his expression tighten.
“I haven’t gone through any of the stuff upstairs,” I said as I looked
down at my hands. “But I thought you might want some of his books or
tools.”
“Thank you,” he said. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“You’re more his family than any of them,” I said. I heard the edge of
bitterness in my words but didn’t apologize for it. I knew he’d understand.
If anyone could, it’d be him.
He put his hand over mine and I looked up. “What did they do?” His
voice was quiet, but there was an edge of something unpleasant that wasn’t
directed at me.
“I’m so tired of fighting them, Jasper.” I clung to his hand, grateful for
the strength I could feel him giving me. “They’re not just contesting me
inheriting his trust.” I didn’t tell him about the portion earmarked for him. I
didn’t want to get his hopes up for something that he might never get. “And
not only the vineyard either.”
“But your name’s on the deed,” he said, a crease forming between his
eyebrows. “And I know Allen wanted everything to go to you.”
“They’re trying to say that the will’s a forgery.”
“Bullshit.” His fingers tightened around my hand. “And I know Savill
Henley. He’s not going to let that stand.”
I shook my head. “He said that one’s easy enough to disprove.”
Jasper’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not all, is it?”
I shook my head again and looked down, my eyes burning with tears. I
didn’t want to cry again. I felt like all I’d been doing lately was crying.
Granted, I had a decent reason for it, but that didn’t mean I wanted to keep
doing it. I hated feeling weak and crying made me feel that way.
“You can tell me.”
I took a slow breath, hoping to keep myself calm enough to say it.
“They’re trying to have ’our marriage declared invalid.”
“Fuck,” he uttered the oath in a low voice. “How the hell are they trying
to do that?”
I looked up at him and saw that his eyes had darkened to the kind of
gray that reminded me of a thundercloud, the kind that threatened
destruction.
 “I was there,” he said. “I saw you both sign the marriage certificate.
Hell, I’m one of the witnesses.”
I nodded. “They’re saying that it’s invalid within their religion and that
should count for something.”
Jasper’s fingers twitched around my hand and I could feel the barely
restrained anger coursing through him. He’d always kept such a tight rein
on his emotions that his intensity was almost frightening. If I hadn’t known
that he’d never hurt me, I might’ve even been scared.
“They’re not going to get away with this,” he promised. “I’ll go talk to
Savill and let him know that I’ll sign whatever he needs me to sign, or
testify or whatever.”
My shoulders slumped. “I appreciate it, Jasper, but I don’t know if I can
go through with all of this legal stuff. I don’t have the strength to fight them
anymore. Most days, it’s all I can do to get up and go through a normal day.
I don’t even care about the money. I have a job and I know that I can at
least get them to agree to let me have some of my savings since Jasper and
I’ve had a joint account since we got engaged.”
“Allen wouldn’t want his family to have the money,” Jasper said. “But
if it means they’ll leave you alone, I could see giving that up. But what
about the vineyard? This is your home, Shae.”
“I know.” A few tears escaped and I brushed at them with my free hand.
“But I’m not sure if I can stay here anyway. There are so many memories
here. A part of me wants to just give it to the Lockwoods and move far
away from here. Not back to Utah. There’s nothing for me there either, but
maybe the other side of the country. As far from here as possible.”
“Shae,” Jasper began.
“I’ll see something that triggers a memory and I turn into a puddle of
mush.” I swallowed hard and then confessed what I was truly afraid of.
“But then, at least then I know I’m remembering him. What scares me is the
day that I don’t see Allen everywhere. Or if I do and it doesn’t hurt.”
“He wouldn’t want you living in pain, Shae.” Jasper let go of my hand
and put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me against him.
I let my head rest against his shoulder. He wasn’t my brother and he
wasn’t Allen, but he was familiar.
“I don’t want to be in pain,” I said, not bothering to wipe away the new
tears. “But I don’t want to forget him either.”
 “You won’t,” Jasper said. “Just because memories of him become
something you can smile about doesn’t mean you’re dishonoring his
memory. It just means that you can finally enjoy remembering all of those
times without it hurting.”
He was right, I knew. I didn’t have any memories of my father, so
thoughts of him had always been more wistful, even during times I wished
he was there. But my memories of my mother had already started to
become joyful rather than sad.
“I’m just so tired, Jasper,” I said, leaning harder against him. His arms
wrapped around me. “I don’t have it in me.”
“Do you know why Allen kept the vineyard even though it was hours
from UCLA and it killed him to be away from you for that long?”
I shook my head.
“He did it for you.”
I frowned even though Jasper couldn’t see my face.
“He never wanted to be a part of his family’s oil business because that
wasn’t the sort of thing he wanted for his own family.” Jasper’s hand moved
in a soothing up and down motion on my arm. “With the vineyard, he saw a
chance for a new start, a legacy he could make with you, for your children.
If you decide to sell the vineyard, I’ll support you in whatever way you
need me, but don’t give it up to his parents. Take some time to make sure
you’re thinking clearly.”
I heard what he’d said, but his mention of children twisted something
deep inside me, and by the time he’d finished speaking, I hadn’t been able
to hold back. I pressed my face against his chest and began to sob.
“Shh,” he whispered as he smoothed down my hair. “I’m here. You
don’t have to do this alone.”
I shook my head, trying to tell him without words that I wasn’t crying
because I was lonely. I was glad he was here, but that wasn’t the reason
behind my tears. Finally, I managed to get enough of a grip that I could get
the story out. How Allen and I had been planning on starting a family. How
I’d spent the entire time since the accident thinking that I could be pregnant
and not knowing how I felt about it. How, after the doctor’s call, after
knowing I wasn’t, I knew that Allen was lost to me forever.
“Oh, Shae.” Jasper pulled me tightly to him. “I’m so sorry.” His voice
broke and I knew he was crying too. Crying for his friend and what might
have been.
 As my tears began to subside, I started to feel a bit better. Not great, but
like some of the weight I’d had on my shoulders was letting up. I wasn’t
alone in my loss and Jasper would be there to give me his strength, to help
me stand up to my in-laws.
I didn’t pull out of the embrace, but I tilted my head up so that I could
look at Jasper to thank him.
The words were on my lips as he looked down at me, something
unreadable in his eyes. For a moment, the world froze, and then he was
bending his head towards me, his mouth covering mine. The hands around
me tightened briefly as his lips pressed against mine.
And then I was pushing against his chest and he let me go. He
practically jumped to his feet, his face flaming as he raked his hand through
his hair. He stared down at me, eyes wide, and then fled without a word,
leaving me with the heat of his mouth lingering on my lips.
Chapter Seventeen
I had to admit, a few minutes after Jasper kissed me, I wasn’t thinking
about my stupid in-laws and their games. For the first time since Allen had
died, my mind was completely blank. And then it shifted from blank into
“What the hell just happened?”
Jasper had kissed me. Jasper Whitehall, Allen’s best friend, best man at
our wedding, had just kissed me.
Not a peck on the cheek or even a brush of lips. That had been a real
kiss. No tongue, but a real kiss nonetheless.
Holy fuck.
The shock of it stayed with me, and no matter how much I wanted to
forget it, so did the feel of his mouth on mine.
And the look of raw emotion in his eyes the moment before he’d run.
A call from Principal Sanders finally gave me something else to think
about. I’d gotten a sympathy card from him and he’d come to the funeral,
but he hadn’t said a word about work. Now that it was the beginning of
August, I’d been waiting for the call, the one asking whether or not I’d be
coming back to school. I’d appreciated the reprieve before, especially since
I hadn’t been up to making a decision. I hadn’t really thought about it since
then, but when Sanders called, I realized that I actually had an answer for
him.
“Whatever you need, Shae,” he said. “If you need a year, I’ll hire a
substitute. If you want to ease back into it, I can use you as a sub for the
elementary.”
“No.” I shook my head even though I knew he couldn’t see it. “I want to
come back. Full-time. Back to my classroom and the kids.”
“Are you sure?” He didn’t sound condescending, but rather like he
wanted to make certain that I understood what I was getting into.
“I am,” I said. “Getting back to a normal routine is the best thing for me
and not working hasn’t helped with that. It’ll be good for me to get lesson
plans together, start thinking about my classroom and things like that.”
 “All right,” he said. “I’m glad to hear it. You’re a great teacher, Shae.”
His voice softened. “And if you ever need a break, just let me know.”
“Thanks,” I said. I didn’t add that I’d had enough of a break from school
to last me a while. I didn’t need any more free time on my hands. Free time
just meant more time to think and I really didn’t want that, especially now
that I had something new and just as disturbing for me to obsess about.
To my surprise, and blissful gratitude, the preparation work actually did
help. I was able to dodge the calls that Jasper started making the day after
the kiss and ignore the texts he sent. I worked from the school rather than
home, thankful they’d gotten the air conditioner working before school was
back in session. Even if Jasper had thought to look for me there, he
wouldn’t have done it. He respected my job too much.
For a while, I’d been afraid I’d come home one day and he’d just be
there, but he apparently wanted to make sure it was okay before we saw
each other, and as September grew closer, my worry about him faded. The
memory of his kiss did too and I began to hope that, eventually, I’d be able
to answer his call and the two of us would go back to being friends without
any awkwardness. I missed him, even with the awkwardness.
As for the Lockwoods...well, that wasn’t going nearly as well. I was
quickly finding out that the biggest problem with rich people filing lawsuits
was that they could afford to pay their lawyers to use every trick in the
book. Fortunately, coming up with the bullshit tricks seemed to take longer
than it did for Henley to figure out counter measures since their claims were
so completely ridiculous.
They were still trying for the religious route to say our marriage hadn’t
been real, but Henley assured me that would require them to prove that
Allen had been a practicing member of whatever their religion was. I knew
a bit about it, but only the parts that Allen had kept as he’d become an adult
was that he hadn’t wanted an autopsy or cremation. There was a possibility
that the lawyers might request a search of the house for religious icons or
whatever, but I wasn’t worried about that. We’d never attended any kind of
meeting or had any sort of religious artifacts in the house. I thought I
might’ve kept my family Bible, but I wasn’t entirely sure I even knew
where it was.
The forgery issue had already been taken care of with the presentation
of several notarized legal documents that proved the signature on the will
was valid. Henley had even gotten a few documents of Allen's that weren’t
connected to the lawyer so they couldn’t claim he’d been the one to forge
everything.
Partway through August, they tried another tactic and claimed that I
couldn’t inherit Allen’s trust since it was to be held for any children of his.
Henley was arguing that since Allen was gone and I wasn’t pregnant, the
child clause was null and void, and while it killed me that he was right, I
knew it was the best thing to say. I’d even told him that they could look at
my medical records to see that I’d never been pregnant. The Lockwoods,
however, were filing a motion that required proof that Allen hadn’t
contributed to a sperm bank at some point in his life, or that he’d fathered a
child with someone other than me. An illegitimate child, once paternity was
proven, would stand to inherit the trust and whatever else Allen had set
aside in his will for possible children. Henley told me that he was to blame
for not having insisted that Allen clarify in the will that the children be
mine.
With my permission, Henley hired a team of private investigators to
ensure there wasn’t any truth to their claims, but that would take time. At
least it was something I didn’t have to worry about. Allen had been faithful
during the time we’d been together and he’d ’always been careful about
birth control. If he’d ever used a sperm bank, he would’ve told me. It was
just another ploy, and after what Jasper had said about why Allen had
bought the vineyard, I wasn’t about to let the Lockwoods have it.
Being back at the school was fine when the building was empty, but
when the others started to come around, it was awkward for a while. Gina
and I were fine since we’d talked since Allen had died, but the others had
made an appearance at the funeral and that had been it. If they hadn't know
what to say to me before, it was even worse now. Once they made the
obligatory inquiries about my state of being and expressed the necessary
sympathies again, however, things went back to normal. Basically, they
ignored me and I ignored them. I preferred it that way now. I'd never been
an overly social person, but I found I had less patience for acquaintances
going out of their way to talk to me than I had in the past. It might've been
petty of me, but I just didn't have enough strength to spread around.
I had to admit, I was more nervous on the first day of school than I had
been since the first time I’d been in a classroom on my own. I told myself
that I was able to handle a room full of second graders again, that I had my
emotions under control, but there really wasn’t any way for me to know for
sure until I was actually there.
When I walked into the classroom and saw how normal everything
looked, the feeling was beyond surreal. This was my fourth year doing this.
My fourth year setting up a classroom, preparing to meet my students. It
was normal. The most normal thing I’d experienced since the accident.
Only now, for me, normal was surreal.
The kids came in together as the bus emptied, and I knew there’d be one
or two stragglers whose parents would be bringing them, but it was time to
see if I could do this. The moment I saw them looking up at me, some
expectantly, some in fear, nearly all with wide eyes, I knew I could. They
trusted me. Still at that age where they relied on adults, believed that we
held all the answers, they needed me.
Being needed was what did it.
“Good morning,” I said in my best teacher voice. Clear, loud enough to
be heard, but not patronizing. “Each of you has a cubby with your name on
it.”
I went through the usual first morning speech, the same words I’d said
last year, back when my life had made sense. Saying them again didn’t
make the world better again. It didn’t bring Allen back or give me some sort
of miracle solution about his parents. It did, however, make me feel like I
could live again. Right now, it was for those twenty-two faces staring up at
me, but it was enough. Enough to get me out of bed the next day. And the
next.
By the end of the first week, I had a routine and that meant I didn’t
really have to think about anything other than grading papers and basic
house maintenance. Jacques assured me that things with the vineyard were
going well and that I had a couple weeks before we needed to worry about
harvesting. By the time I was ready to learn that part of the business, I’d be
ready for a bit of a break in the routine.
Life wasn’t good, exactly, but it was at least bearable now.
Mitchell seemed pleased at how well I was doing. Henley was handling
things.
But as August ended and September began, there was one nagging thing
missing.
When I returned home from school the first Monday in September,
Jasper was waiting at my door.
 “Shae.” His voice was soft as he pushed himself away from the
doorframe.
“Jasper.” My heart thudded loudly. I didn’t know what to say.
“I’m sorry.” He met my eyes, but I couldn’t read anything in his. “I’m
not going to try to offer an explanation, but I will say again that I’m sorry. It
won’t happen again and I hope we can continue to be friends.”
There was an almost rehearsed quality to what he was saying, but I
didn’t doubt the sincerity of any of it. The relief I felt was stronger than I’d
anticipated, but I didn’t try to push it away. I’d missed my friend, my
connection with Allen. I stepped around the car.
“Of course. It’s forgotten.”
He gave me a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Friends again,
then?”
I smiled back and gestured towards the house. “I’ve got some leftovers I
was going to reheat for dinner. Not quite used to cooking for just one yet.”
The smile faltered a bit, but I managed to keep it. “Help me finish it?”
He gave me a strange look, then nodded and followed me into the
house.
Chapter Eighteen
I ’d never been one to sleep late, not even on weekends, but after the last
few weeks of stress and all that came with it, my body must’ve decided that
I needed the sleep, because that Saturday, I didn’t get up at my usual time. I
might’ve slept even later if I hadn’t heard someone shouting outside my
bedroom window. And not just one someone, but several someone’s.
It took a minute or two, but then my sleepy brain registered what they
were shouting and I bolted out of bed, immediately awake.
Fire.
I ran out of the bedroom and through the kitchen to the side door closest
to the vineyard. I was wearing only a camisole and a pair of boy-shorts, but
that didn’t matter. All I could think about was losing the home Allen and I
had built together. As soon as the heat hit me, I skidded to a stop, the dirt
beneath my feet burning my soles. It wasn’t exactly cool for September, but
this was stifling heat, thick with smoke that made me cough as soon as I
took a breath.
I barely registered any of that. I was consumed with the red-orange
flames licking their way across the grapevines. The end of summer had
been dry and the fire raced across the leaves and vines, withering and
popping grapes as it went. There was no wind, a blessing, but it didn’t
change the fact that fire was hungry and it didn’t stop until there was
nothing more to consume.
“Miss Shae, please, go back into the house!”
I snapped my head around and saw Jacques running past. He had a wet
cloth tied around his nose and mouth, another hanging from a bucket.
I saw the others now, the employees who always started around this
time of year for this exact reason. Fire was always a threat, and while I
didn’t doubt someone had pulled the alarm, we couldn’t wait for the fire
department to arrive, not if we wanted to save the crop.
It was the thought of losing what Allen had worked so hard to build that
jarred me out of my shock. I might not have been involved in the day-to-
day running of the vineyard, but I knew what to do in the case of various
emergencies like frost...and fire.
I ran for the side of the house where I knew there would be buckets
being filled by one of the employees. Sure enough, a skinny kid whose
name I couldn’t remember was there, filling buckets and tossing rags into
them. I was pretty sure he was Jacques’ nephew, but I didn’t stop to ask
him. As he stared at me, I grabbed one of the smaller buckets and started
back towards the fire.
I heard voices yelling at me to get back to the house as I passed the
vines that were already blackened and dead. I went past the biggest flames
as well, remembering what Allen had told me. The biggest danger of fire at
a place like this was that if we didn’t get ahead of it, we’d only be able to
put it out eventually, not stop it. With the fire department a minimum of
fifteen minutes away, we didn’t need to worry as much about putting out
what was already burning as stopping it from spreading.
Jacques barked orders at a pair of younger men, pointing as he
instructed them to cut through and tear up a few feet of unburnt vines. He
gave me an exasperated look as I joined the two men who were draping wet
rags across the nearby vines and dumping buckets of water onto the cloth
and the vines. If we could keep the fire from jumping to other vines until
the fire department arrived, the loss would most likely be sustainable.
I didn’t try to run back and forth, instead taking the buckets as the men
came up with them and focusing on keeping my side of the fire-line wet. I
knew there were others on the opposite side as well as people in front of it.
We had less than a dozen employees from August to harvest, but they were
all experienced and hard workers. Even as I worked, I made a mental note
to discuss bonuses with Jacques.
The roar of the fire at my back made it hard to hear, but the sound of
sirens slowly began to penetrate and I almost cried. I didn’t stop until I saw
the men in their suits, their hoses pointed towards the flames behind me.
Only then did I follow the others out of the way, shivering as droplets of
cold water came in contact with my blistering skin.
Everyone was too tired to talk as we trudged back up towards the house,
letting the firemen do their thing. We’d done our part and now it was time
for them to do theirs. Once they were finished, we could assess the damage
and move on. I slowed my steps until Jacques caught up to me and then
matched mine to his. As we stepped onto open land, I looked over at him.
 “We’ll need an official police report for the insurance,” I said. My voice
was little more than a croak. I coughed, spit up a gob of black-looking shit,
and then tried again. “Once everyone’s made their statements, send them
home. At least two days off with pay.”
“Mrs. Lockwood.”
The fact that he used that title told me whatever was coming next was
going to be serious.
“We need people to watch the fields tonight.”
“To make sure no sparks linger?” I saw a pair of squad cars parked next
to an ambulance.
“No.” He stopped and I did the same. “I don’t believe this was an
accident.”
Chapter Nineteen
While I waited my turn with the cops, I headed into the house to make a
call. I trusted the St. Helena paramedics, but there was only one ambulance
and two paramedics, the rest having been called away on a bad traffic
accident on the other side of the city. I wasn’t about to risk my people’s
health and he was the best doctor I knew. He was working today, so I didn’t
bother with his cell phone and called straight to the office.
“Dr. Whitehall’s Office.” A cheery female voice answered. “How may I
help you?”
“I need to speak to Jasper, please.” I suddenly realized that this was the
first time I’d called him at work.
“May I ask who’s calling?” The friendly voice became frosty.
I wondered if it had been my use of his first name, but I didn’t
apologize. “My name’s Shae Lockwood and I’m a friend of his. I need to
speak with him.”
“He’s busy right now, Mrs. Lockwood.”
Now I knew I wasn’t imagining the tone. For some reason, she didn’t
like me. If this had been some sort of social call, I might’ve apologized for
calling him at work and just left a message. At the moment, however, I was
strung too tight to be polite.
“There’s been a fire at my place and I need to speak with him right
away. I’d prefer not to have to use his private number.”
There was silence for a moment and I wondered if she was weighing her
options. When she spoke again, the edge to her voice had sharpened. “Very
well, Mrs. Lockwood. I’ll let him know you’re on the line.”
I half-expected her to ‘accidentally’ hang up on me, but then I heard the
usual hold music and waited. Less than two minutes later, he was there.
“Shae, are you okay? Georgia said there was a fire or something?”
I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “It’s a long story and no one
seems hurt, but they only have two paramedics here.”
He didn’t even wait for me to ask the question. “I’m on my way.”
“Mrs. Lockwood.”
 I turned around to find my two favorite detectives standing behind me.
The look Detective Reed gave me made me look down at myself and
suddenly realize that I wasn’t dressed in the most appropriate attire. I also
absently noted that I’d left footprints of soot and blood on my otherwise
clean kitchen floor.
“Detectives.” I gave them a hard smile and tried not to feel self-
conscious about the way my shirt was clinging to me or just how much leg I
was exposing with my tight shorts.
I reached over and opened the refrigerator door. I grabbed several
bottles of water as I took a slow breath, and by the time I closed the door, I
was composed again.
“If you don’t mind,” I said. “I’d prefer to give my statement outside.”
“Then why did you come in?” Detective Reed asked.
I looked down at the water bottles. “You’d be surprised at all of the shit
that gets in your mouth when you’re fighting a fire without gear.” I started
to walk. “Those are my people out there.”
“Who were you on the phone with, Mrs. Lockwood?” Detective
Rheingard spoke at last.
“Dr. Whitehall,” I answered as I stepped back outside. “Jasper
Whitehall, specifically. He works with his father in St. Helena. With only
two paramedics here, I thought it might be a good idea to have someone
else with medical expertise to come check people out.”
Neither one said anything to that, but they followed me as I went to
each of my employees and handed them a bottle of water. When I finished,
I turned back to them. The adrenaline I’d had coursing through me was
starting to wear off and I was becoming aware of aches in my muscles and
pain in my feet. I could also feel the cold clamminess of my wet clothes
sticking to me and smell the stench of smoke and sweat.
At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to shower off all this shit,
then soak in a hot bath for a year. Instead, I crossed my arms and reminded
myself of what Jacques had said, that this hadn’t been an accident.
“Tell us what happened, Mrs. Lockwood,” Detective Rheingard said,
already in his role as good cop.
Did they discuss which one was going to be the bad cop or were their
personalities such that they just fell into the roles naturally, I wondered. No
matter. My story wasn’t going to change no matter which one I talked to.
One of the best things about telling the truth.
 “I was asleep,” I began. “And I heard people outside shouting. When I
heard the word ‘fire,' I ran out. I saw that one of the rows was on fire so I
ran around the house, grabbed a bucket and went that way.” I pointed. “I
stayed there, helping my employees until the fire department came.”
“So you didn’t see what started the fire?” Detective Rheingard asked.
“No.” I looked around, spotted Jacques and motioned to him. “My
foreman, Jacques Rohner, told me as we were coming back up here, that he
didn’t believe it had been an accident, but that was all he said.”
Detective Reed gave me another full-body look. “You were sleeping
when it started?”
I looked down at my clothes and then back up. My patience dried up the
moment I saw the lecherous expression in the detective's eyes. “No,
Detective, I decided to throw on my pajamas and run outside barefoot to
fight a fire.”
Detective Reed’s eyes narrowed. “Were you sleeping alone?”
My arms went to my sides as my hands curled into fists, nails biting into
my palms. How had an arson investigation turned into an interrogation of
my sex life? “Yes. Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve been sleeping
alone since my husband died.”
He smirked. “Just seems like it might get a little lonely out here.
Besides, we’ve heard reports about a blond man, about thirty, coming
around a couple times since Mr. Lockwood’s passing.”
“Reports.” I tried to take a deep breath and ended up coughing.
Detective Reed looked bored, but Rheingard at least had the decency to
seem concerned. “First of all, that’s my brother, Mitchell, and , second, you
assholes already knew that.”
Reed’s face turned an interesting shade of puce.
“Secondly, you have no right to be watching my house in the first place.
And if you’re not watching me, that means you’re getting your information
somewhere else. Maybe the Lockwoods.”
Rheingard’s gaze shifted slightly and I knew I was right.
“Yes, my brother has been here quite a bit since Allen died. My friend,
Gina, and her girlfriend, Junie, have come by too. So has Jasper Whitehall.
Again, not that any of that is your business. Unless you’re implying that I
started a fire on my own vineyard and it has something to do with whether
or not I’m sleeping with someone, I think you’re out of line.” I straightened
my shoulders and glared at them both. “So unless you have some relevant
questions for me, I believe we’re done here.”
“Do you have insurance on your property, Mrs. Lockwood?” Rheingard
asked.
As much as I resented the implication, at least it was one that made
some sense. “Yes,” I said. “And I’ll be requesting a copy of the police
report so that I can file it with the company.”
“How are your finances?” he continued.
“Fine,” I said. “Both the business and personal accounts are doing well.
I don’t need the insurance money for anything.”
“So the Lockwoods haven’t had your accounts frozen?” Reed butted in.
“My late husband’s trust is frozen, but the rest isn’t.” I waved away the
paramedic who started to come towards me and gestured towards one of my
employees who hadn’t been seen yet. “I’ll give you permission to speak to
my accountant to confirm that I have no financial motive to do this.”
“Maybe a personal one, then?” Reed asked. “Your in-laws want the
vineyard. Maybe you figured if you couldn’t have it, no one could.”
I refrained from rolling my eyes, but just barely. “Then why would I
have tried to stop it? I’m not an idiot. If I wanted to destroy the place, why
would I have set one row on fire during the middle of the morning when I
knew I’d have employees here and then come out in my pajamas to try to
stop it?”
“Alibi,” Reed answered easily.
I shook my head. It didn’t matter what I said. They weren’t going to
believe me anyway. “I’ve told you everything I know. Can I go check on
my people now?”
The two men exchanged glances and then Rheingard nodded.
“We may have more questions for you in the future,” he said.
“Fine,” I replied. “As long as you’re doing your job, I’ll be happy to
answer your questions.”
As I turned away, a familiar car rounded the bend and some of the
tension inside me eased. I was strong enough to stand on my own two feet,
but I couldn’t deny that I appreciated having someone I knew I could trust
at my side. Aside from the first few moments of awkwardness, our
friendship had returned to the way it had been.
The police turned, but when Jasper got out and it was clear he wasn’t
unwelcome, they went back to what they’d been doing. He didn’t even look
at them, heading straight for me. His eyes were shadowed, a darker gray
than normal and I wondered what I actually looked like. Judging by the
concern on his face, I assumed it must be bad.
“Are you okay?” He reached out as if to take my hand, but stopped,
hesitating.
I knew what the problem was. After the kiss, he’d been careful not to
touch me. I held out my hands, palms up for his inspection, silently letting
him know it was okay. His touch was gentle as he took them both and I
could see the serious expression that he must’ve worn when he was
doctoring. His thumb swept across my palm, coming away dirty.
“You’re not burnt?” he asked, head still down.
“I don’t think so,” I said, dropping my hands back to my sides when he
released them.
He frowned at me. “Have the paramedics looked at you yet?”
“No.” I looked over at the ambulance. “The others needed to go first.”
The frown turned into a scowl, but before he could say anything,
Jacques was approaching. He didn’t look much happier than Jasper.
“I don’t think they believe me.” He glanced at Jasper, nodded a
greeting, and then turned his attention back to me. “They think it was an
accident.”
“Better than those two.” I jerked my head towards my favorite
detectives. “They think I did it for the insurance money.”
Jasper swore and Jacques looked like he wanted to say something
similar.
I changed the subject. “Is everyone okay?”
“Some singes, and Rupert got a pretty bad burn on his hand. Paramedic
wants to take him to the hospital.”
I nodded. “He should go. Make sure he has whatever time off that he
needs.”
“You need to get checked out,” Jacques said. He shook his head. “What
were you thinking? I told you to go back inside.”
“This is my home,” I said stubbornly. “I wasn’t about to just sit back
and let it burn.”
Under the thick coating of soot, one corner of Jacques’s mouth tipped
up. “Let me take you over to the paramedics.”
“That’s not necessary,” Jasper interrupted. “I’ll make sure she’s okay.”
 I half-expected Jacques to argue, but he just looked at me, and when I
nodded, he nodded back.
“What do you need me to do, Miss Shae?” he asked.
I thought for a moment and then asked the question I hadn’t wanted to
think, let alone ask. “Do you think it was one of our employees who did it?”
He didn’t look upset, which was good, because I didn’t want him to
think that I was accusing people he knew much better than I did.
“I don’t think so,” he said after a moment. “But I’ll take a look around,
see if I can find anything that could tell us more.”
“What do you think we should do about tonight?” I asked.
“Someone did this?” Jasper’s voice was low.
I looked over at him and was surprised by the depth of the anger I saw
on his face. “That’s what Jacques thinks, and I believe him.”
“I know a security company we can call,” Jacques said. “Mr. Lockwood
had one he’d approved of if we ever needed one.”
I felt a pang when he spoke of Allen, but it wasn’t as sharp as I’d come
to expect. I nodded. “Hire them,” I said. “Have them come out right away
and stay until we figure out what we want to do next.”
Jacques nodded, then glanced at Jasper. “I’ll finish things up out here.
You go inside and get yourself cleaned up, Miss Shae.”
I started to argue, to tell him that I’d stay until everyone had left, but
Jasper took my arm.
“You have school on Monday,” he said quietly. “Let me take a look at
you.”
I let him lead me into the house, reminding myself that I’d need to clean
wherever I’d walked. As if the memory of seeing blood before reminded me
of injuries, my feet began to hurt again.
We stopped halfway into the kitchen and Jasper let go of my arm. I
looked up at him as he brushed some hair back from my face, careful not to
touch my skin.
“Are you okay to get cleaned up before I take a look at you?” His tone
was completely professional, his expression guarded.
I nodded. “Probably better that way.” I managed a smile. “Besides,
you’d never be able to see anything under all this.”
I headed for the downstairs bathroom, not wanting to track more than I
had to. The water stung my back, telling me that I had gotten a bit scorched.
It didn’t feel any worse than the sunburn I’d had, so I wasn’t concerned. I
saw blood from my feet and could feel the splinters in the soles. Worse was
the coughing. I forced myself to breathe the steam in deep so I could get rid
of the shit clogging my lungs. The steam couldn’t get rid of the smell of
smoke, however, and by the time I walked back downstairs, I was clean but
still couldn’t smell anything else.
That, I supposed, was why I didn’t notice the smell of cleaning products
and didn’t realize that my footprints had been cleaned away until I came
into the kitchen and saw Jasper emptying out a bucket of sudsy, dirty water.
“You didn’t need to do that.”
“I didn’t have anything else to do while I was waiting,” he said as he set
the bucket on the ground. “Have a seat.” He gestured towards the kitchen
table.
I winced as I walked, breathing a sigh of relief when I sank down into
the chair. I’d put on a loose shirt and shorts, feeling a lot like I had the last
time Jasper had fixed me up. The skin on my back, shoulders and the backs
of my legs was sensitive to the touch.
“Let me take a look at your feet first,” he said as he knelt in front of me.
He lifted one onto his lap and began to examine it.
I watched him with curiosity. I’d never seen Jasper at work and the last
time he’d helped me out, I hadn’t exactly been very coherent. Now,
however, I could watch him as he ran his fingers along the underside of my
foot, his head bent close. When he hit a tender spot, I sucked in a breath and
he paused.
“Why didn’t you put on shoes?” he asked as he reached into a bag I
hadn’t seen him carry in. After a moment, he pulled out a pair of tweezers.
“I’d just woken up,” I said. “I heard someone yell fire and I ran outside.
I didn’t really think.”
“You seem to do that a lot for someone so smart.”
I heard a hint of a smile in the words. A smile, and a bit of something I
ended up recognizing as annoyance. He was annoyed at me and that almost
made me laugh. Allen would’ve sounded much the same way, so I
answered Jasper how I would’ve answered Allen.
“So I should’ve just let it burn? Let the others deal with things while I
went hunting for stylish shoes?” I made sure he could hear the teasing in
my voice.
Jasper pulled out a long splinter and set it on a paper towel next to him.
He didn’t speak as he finished searching my right foot. He cleaned it with
an antiseptic that stung, but wasn’t actually painful. He wrapped it in a
clean bandage and then switched to the other foot.
“You should take better care of yourself, Shae.”
It took me a moment to realize he was actually answering my rhetorical
questions. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was supposed to do with that
statement, so I said nothing, just continued to watch as Jasper finished
caring for my other foot. He took my hands next, turning them over in his.
When he was apparently satisfied that I only had a couple minor blisters, he
stood.
“I told you I wasn’t hurt.” I watched, puzzled, as he walked around me.
His fingers brushed my back as he moved my wet hair out of the way.
“Your skin’s red, but it doesn’t look blistered.” I felt his hand on my hair.
“Looks like some of your hair got singed.”
I turned to look at him and he took a step back. “What?”
“Nothing bad,” he quickly clarified. “I just noticed when I was looking
at your back.”
I glared at him, but there was no malice behind it. “I guess ’I’ll need to
set up an appointment with a stylist.”
“Not today,” he said firmly. “You need to take it easy.”
I didn’t want to argue. Despite the fact that I’d just woken up, I was
tired. But there was something besides exhaustion creeping in.
“What did you tell your dad?” I asked suddenly.
“I told him I had a friend to take care of,” Jasper said. He tilted his head,
his eyes searching my face for a moment. “Do you need me to stay a bit
longer?”
I pressed my lips together and nodded. I hadn’t wanted to ask, not after
the kiss. But I didn’t want to be in the house alone, especially since I
believed Jacques. Someone had tried to burn my vineyard. My home. And I
didn’t know if they’d only wanted to scare me or if they wanted to hurt me.
“Shae.” Jasper came around my side and put his hand on my shoulder.
“I’ll stay as long as you need me. Whatever you need me for.” His fingers
tightened for a moment. “Allen was my best friend and he loved you more
than anything. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You need me,
and I’m here.”
Chapter Twenty
F or the second morning in a row, I was woken from a fairly restful sleep in
a not so restful way. At least, this time, it was my phone going off rather
than someone shouting that the place was on fire. I blinked at the screen
twice and then answered the call from my brother.
“Mitchell?”
“Answer your door.”
“Coming.” I didn’t realize how strange his voice sounded until I was
partway down the stairs. I rubbed my hand across my face and looked at the
clock when I reached the foot of the stairs.
Six o’clock. It was six o’clock in the morning. Why the hell was my
brother calling me this early on a Sunday morning, telling me to answer my
door?
As soon as I did as he asked, I had a moment to see him standing there
and then he was grabbing my arm and yanking me out onto the steps. I
pulled my arm away and gave Mitchell’s chest a shove. He took a step
back. He was bigger than me, but I wasn’t happy with him at the moment. I
was stronger than I looked.
“What the hell?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Seriously, Shae? You want to tell me what the
fuck’s going on?”
Shit. I’d completely forgotten to call him yesterday and tell him about
the fire. Now I felt bad about pushing him.
“There was a fire,” I began. I ran through the story quickly, feeling my
sore feet beginning to throb as I stood there on the stone steps. I ended it by
telling him we had security watching the place until the police figured out
what had happened.
“Yeah, I talked to one of them at the end of the driveway,” Mitchell
said. “Had to show him my driver’s license and he still followed me up
here. Stayed until you opened the door.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you,” I apologized.
“You called him though.”
 I frowned. What? And then I saw where he was pointing. Jasper’s car
sat where he’d moved it after all of the police and everyone else had left
yesterday. Apparently, that had been why Mitchell hadn’t just knocked on
the door.
“There were only two paramedics available and he was the first doctor I
thought of.” I rubbed my arms. It would be warmer later today, but it was
still the middle of September and this early, the morning had a chill to it.
“The first doctor you thought of, or the first doctor you’re sleeping
with?”
If I’d been anyone other than his sister, his word choice certainly
would’ve been a lot cruder. I didn’t particularly care how he phrased it
though. The accusation was the same.
“Excuse me?” I stared at him.
He stabbed an accusing finger at the car. “He’s been here all night. I
asked the security guy.”
I was really getting tired of people acting like my romantic life was
open for criticism.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” I said. “Jasper stayed because I
didn’t feel safe being in the house by myself.”
“You could’ve called me.” Mitchell’s voice was getting louder and I
was starting to wonder if the security guys Jacques hired would get to hear
my brother acting like an ass.
I ran my hand through my hair. “Mitchell, I’m tired, my entire body is
sore. I have to grade papers before tomorrow and hope that my feet will be
feeling better enough that I won’t have to spend most of the day on
painkillers.”
He shook his head. “You aren’t even bothering to deny that you’re
having sex with your dead husband’s best friend.”
I almost slapped him. “I told you why he was here.”
Mitchell rolled his eyes. “Come on, Shae. You’re honestly telling me
that when I called, you didn’t have to sneak out of bed so you didn’t wake
Jasper?”
“How can you say that to me?”
“You have a hickey on your neck, Shae.”
Of all the things he could’ve said, that wasn’t even on the list of
possibilities. I had absolutely nothing to say. It was completely ludicrous.
“A hickey and you’re ‘sore.’ Come on. I’m not an idiot.”
 “Well, you’re doing a good impression of one.”
Jasper’s mild voice came from behind me.
I turned to see him standing in the open doorway. He’d had his gym bag
in the car when he’d come over yesterday, so he was still wearing the shorts
and t-shirt he’d changed into then. His hair was a mess, but there wasn’t a
trace of sleep on his face.
“You come over here, take advantage of my sister and think you can
talk to me like that?” Mitchell took a step forward.
“No one took advantage of anyone,” I snapped. My cheeks flushed as I
realized that statement could be taken more than one way. “I mean...”
“I’m not having sex with your sister,” Jasper cut in. “I took care of her
yesterday. Medically. She was helping fight the fire before the fire
department got here. That’s why she’s sore.” His words were clipped,
almost angry. “The mark on her neck isn’t a hickey. It’s a scrape. She has
them on her hands and arms too.”
“Shae.” Mitchell turned towards me, a familiar petulant expression on
his face. I loved my brother, but he could be a real dick when he wanted to
be, and he’d never been one to apologize. “I’m just trying to look out for
you.”
I sighed. “You want to know why I don’t call you for things? This is
why. I’m not a kid, Mitchell.”
“You’re my little sister,” he argued, shooting a glare over my shoulder
where I assumed Jasper still stood. “I’m just looking out for you.”
“Go home.” I ran my fingers through my hair, grimacing as I hit a snarl.
“If I need you, I’ll call.”
I didn’t wait for him to respond, but instead turned and walked back into
the house. Jasper stepped aside to let me pass and then shut the door behind
me.
“I should go,” he said. “Before anyone else gets the wrong idea.”
I stopped and turned to look at him. “My brother’s an overprotective
idiot. He once threatened to beat up my best friend because he caught us
hugging. It wasn’t until I told him my friend had just broken up with his
boyfriend that Mitchell calmed down. Even then, he asked around to make
sure Greg was actually gay.”
“I’m not gay,” Jasper said wryly. “So I doubt that’ll work.”
I laughed. “He’s going to think what he wants to think.”
 Jasper’s expression grew serious. “I’m more worried about what other
people are going to say. Jacques and your employees. I don’t want anyone
talking about you like that.”
I thought about telling him that it didn’t matter to me what people
thought because I knew he and I weren’t doing anything. I thought about
telling him that if people couldn’t understand friendship, that was their own
problem. But I didn’t say any of that.
“I’m in the mood for pancakes this morning. What about you?”
I was halfway into the kitchen when I heard his footsteps behind me and
felt some of the tension leave my shoulders. We’d worked past our little
weird moment and I didn’t want my brother’s idiocy to make things
awkward. I liked Gina well enough and I did love Mitchell, idiocy
notwithstanding, but Jasper was the friend I needed right now. He expressed
concern without making me feel like I was so fragile I would break.
As I began to get out the makings for pancakes, Jasper went to the
cabinets for dishes. We worked in silence, him being familiar enough with
the kitchen to not need to ask any questions. Once the food was ready, we
sat down, far enough apart that we weren’t touching, but close enough that
talking wasn’t strained. Not that we talked much at first. I waited until we
were both almost done to bring up a subject I needed to talk about with
someone, but that had nothing to do with my brother or his accusations.
“My lawyer wants me to make a decision about the insurance money.”
Jasper looked at me but didn’t say anything. He was listening, and that’s
what I needed at the moment.
I continued, “I didn’t know about it and I don’t need it, so I don’t feel
right about taking it. Plus, if I do keep it, the Lockwoods will find out about
it and use it against me.” I stabbed my last bite of pancake, but didn’t eat it.
“And now I have to deal with the insurance company about the fire.”
“How bad was the damage?” he asked.
We hadn’t talked about it yesterday. In fact, we hadn’t talked much at
all. We’d mostly just sat and stared at the television while I’d dozed on and
off.
“Not too bad,” I said. “Jacques is going to get me a full report
tomorrow, but from what I saw, it was just the one row and it only made it
about a third of the way down. A couple other rows had some minor
scorching, I think.” I set down my fork. “The fire hoses probably did as
much damage on the surrounding vines.”
 “The insurance will cover what was lost, right?”
“It should,” I said. “But it depends on what the investigation ends up
deciding happened. An accident, they’ll cover, and they’ll cover arson.
Unless they think I did it or hired someone to do it.”
“That’s stupid.” He stood and carried our plates to the dishwasher.
“Why would you do that?”
“That’s what I said.” I leaned back in my chair. “But if it gets out that I
had a big insurance policy on Allen, they’ll think I’m just trying to get more
money. I don’t think anyone but Mr. Henley and you believe I didn’t know
about the extra life insurance.”
“Donate it,” he said suddenly.
“What?”
“The life insurance money. If you donate it, no one can accuse you of
wanting it for yourself, plus it’s doing some good rather than just sitting
there.” He sat back down. “Find a cause that both you and Allen supported
and give them the money.”
“Henley said there were provisions in Allen’s will for a few charities,” I
said. “But they were ones he’d been involved with through his family.”
“Then look for something small,” Jasper said. “There are a lot of
different charities and non-profits that could use a boost. Trust me, there’s
never enough to go around. I’ve been trying to get funding for my clinic for
years.” His eyes widened slightly. “Oh, I wasn’t trying to make it...I mean, I
didn’t...”
“It’s okay,” I said with a laugh. “I get it.”
He seemed relieved that I didn’t think he was trying to get me to give
him the money. What he didn’t know, however, was that Allen had left him
a million dollars for his clinic. It was thanks to the Lockwoods that Jasper
hadn’t seen a dime of it, and I still didn’t want to tell him just to get his
hopes up.
Unless...
“Donating it might be the best option,” I agreed. I didn’t add that I was
considering donating it to him for his clinic. “I’ll need to talk to my lawyer,
see what the legal ramifications are.”
Specifically, I wanted to know if donating the money to Jasper for his
clinic would cause any issues with him getting the money Allen had left
him once all of the shit with the Lockwoods was done. Could he get both or
would my donation take the place of Allen’s?
 With so many questions, I didn’t want to get Jasper’s hopes up. I’d keep
things to myself for now. Once I got answers, I’d decide where I would go
from there. I hoped it would work out because I thought Allen would be
happy that, if I didn’t need the money, it would go to his friend. I liked the
thought of something good coming out of Allen’s death and helping people
get the medical care they needed from a doctor like Jasper would definitely
be something good.
Chapter Twenty-One
I was distracted all day Wednesday, so much so that I accidentally spilled
some glitter we were using for a project and got it all over the black skirt
I’d worn to work. I’d barely managed to keep myself from swearing. Bad
enough that it would take forever to get all of the glitter off of my clothes,
but worse was that I had a meeting right after school with Henley and the
Lockwoods. After I was done with that, I was supposed to stop by the
police station to answer a couple more questions about the arson.
It was going to be an absolutely awful and drawn-out day. I had a
feeling both the cops and the Lockwoods had chosen it for the middle of the
week because they knew I’d be tired going in and knowing that I still had
two more days left in my week would make it even worse.
I’d tried to get all of the glitter off of my clothes, but one look at the
Lockwoods told me that I’d missed some. Henley at least had the decency
to ignore it.
“Mrs. Lockwood, please sit.” He pulled out the chair next to him and
ignored the glare from May Lockwood that said she didn’t appreciate his
addressing me with that title.
Once I was settled, he glanced at me and I nodded. I just wanted to get
this whole miserable day over with so I could go home and pretend like it
never happened.
“We’re here to see if we can possibly come up with a solution that both
parties will agree to.” Henley looked across the long table at each of the
Lockwoods in turn, finally stopping on their attorney.
They had quite an impressive looking little line going on. May and
Gregory on either side of their lawyer. Marcus and Alice were both here, of
course, but without their spouses. Marcus sat next to his mother, Alice on
her father’s left side. It looked like some sort of bizarre Christmas card.
“My clients are willing to concede to Ms. Shae all monetary attributes
she entered the marriage with, as well as her full salary during the time she
and Allen were living together. They are willing to also concede half of the
possessions purchased during the time the two were living together.”
 The arrogant look on the lawyer’s face was almost enough to make me
want to just walk out. Instead, I folded my hands on my lap and reminded
myself to behave.
“As they are willing to look beyond the single year of marriage to
include the years when Allen and Shae were living together and engaged, I
believe that’s quite a compromise on their part.”
“Is that so?” Henley’s voice was flat and I suddenly realized that he was
just as offended by the offer as I was.
That made me feel better and I leaned back, content to let him handle it.
He wasn’t going to give in.
“Mr. Tribble, your clients have absolutely no legal standing to contest
this will, and you know it, which is why you’ve come forward with this
pathetic excuse for a compromise. The marriage between Shae and Allen
Lockwood was legal. They entered into it without a prenuptial agreement.
They combined their bank accounts and both names are on the deed to the
vineyard. Both cars have their names on them, one as the owner, the other
as the co-signer.”
“She made him do that.” May finally broke her silence.
I was surprised it had taken her that long to put in her two cents.
“She’s a gold-digging whore who weaseled her way into my son’s life
and took everything.”
I gritted my teeth and stayed silent. My temper had been more under
control lately, but the Lockwoods brought it out in me.
“Mr. Tribble, please remind your client that such accusations could be
considered slander and I might be inclined to file a lawsuit against her for
defamation of character.”
May’s face turned a funny color, but she held her tongue.
“Now, Mrs. Lockwood has authorized me to offer her in-laws Allen’s
trust, minus the portions earmarked for someone other than herself.”
“What portions?” Gregory spoke this time. He wasn’t yelling, but it was
clear he wasn’t happy either.
“Allen left some of his trust to various charities, but the remaining
amount would still be quite substantial.”
“That’s our family’s money,” Marcus snapped. “She has no right to it,
and neither does anyone else.”
“What about the rest?” May spoke up. “The vineyard and the money
Allen earned from it?”
 “The vineyard is my home,” I said quietly. All eyes turned to me and I
raised my chin. “Allen bought it for us. Losing it is not negotiable.”
“Not negotiable?” Gregory’s voice rose. “That vineyard belonged to my
brother. It’s part of the Lockwood legacy.”
“Your brother willed the house to Allen,” Henley interrupted smoothly.
“That wasn’t contested at the time the transfer took place.”
“Because I believed it would be kept within the family, given from my
son to my grandson.”
The pained look on Gregory’s face was almost enough to make me feel
sorry for him. Almost. If I’d thought for a single moment that he was
actually mourning the grandchildren he’d never have, I might’ve been
inclined to be sympathetic to what he said he wanted. But I knew Gregory
Lockwood, or at least as well as I could considering we’d rarely spoken
during the eight years Allen and I had been together. That alone would’ve
been enough for me to know that the actual reason for Gregory’s comment
was that he was obsessed with his legacy, his family line. It didn’t matter
that Marcus had two sons to carry on the family name. He’d wanted
children from Allen too. His own little dynasty.
“Don’t you have enough money?” May practically snarled. “After all,
you have your nice little insurance policy now. A million dollars seems like
enough to buy yourself a nice new home. Somewhere else.”
I didn’t bother to ask how they knew about the policy. They had private
investigators. “I’m giving the money to charity.”
“You’re what?” Alice spoke for the first time.
“I’m donating the life insurance policy to charity. I didn’t know about it,
and I don’t want to keep it.” I glanced at Henley and then repeated my
previous statement. “I’m keeping the vineyard. I’m keeping the money that
Allen and I earned together.” I stood up. “If you want the money in Allen’s
trust, you have to respect the wishes in his will about the charities. But
you’re welcome to my part of it.”
I took a moment to enjoy the look of shock on the Lockwoods’ faces,
and then I turned and walked out. I didn’t want to go talk to the cops, but at
the moment, they were preferable to my in-laws. I trusted Henley to take
care of everything else. He ’wouldn’t let them bully him into making me
give up something I didn’t want to lose.
I didn’t bother calling the police station to see if Reed and Rheingard
were in. It wouldn’t break my heart to put off seeing my favorite two
detectives again. Unfortunately, as soon as I walked in, I was directed by
the desk sergeant to a pair of desks near the back of the station.
“Mrs. Lockwood,” Rheingard stood. “I didn’t think you’d actually come
see us.”
Reed stayed where he was, but he gestured towards the empty seat
across from him. I sat down and took a slow breath.
“Do you have anything new on the fire?”
Reed folded his hands on his stomach. “Actually, Mrs. Lockwood, we
do. We found accelerant on the ground and on the vines.”
“So it wasn’t an accident or the weather?”
“No,” Rheingard said. “Your foreman was correct. It was arson.”
“So, Mrs. Lockwood, why don’t you tell us, again, what happened that
morning?”
Detective Faris Reed was a dick.
For two hours, Reed and Rheingard made me retell everything I’d told
them before. Then, they asked questions about what I said. Every little bit,
as if the questions would make my answers any different. Then they started
on other questions that seemed like they could be about the arson, but I
knew better.
They wanted to know if I’d been drinking the night before. What time
I’d gone to bed. Had I been taking tranquilizers or sleep aids since the death
of my husband? Any other medications. Was it usual for me to sleep that
late?
Then came the ones I knew they were really interested in, the question
Mitchell had been so ready to ask.
Had I really gone to bed alone? Had I woken up alone?
Then they branched out further.
Since Allen’s death, had I been involved with anyone? Gone on a date?
Been sexually active?
My face flamed, but I answered their questions. They hadn’t yet
officially closed my husband’s case and I didn’t know if it was because they
were just busy with other things, dragging it out for the Lockwoods’ sake or
if they actually had questions. I knew, though, that if I balked at these
questions, they’d make things with Allen’s case even more difficult. It had
only been because of Henley claiming religious reasons that I’d been able
to get Allen’s body released for the funeral.
 “So there aren’t any angry ex-lovers out there?” Reed asked. “Men who
might’ve thought they were entitled to more than you were going to give
him?”
“No,” I said firmly, but without any of the anger I felt towards the
question. “Allen’s the only man I’ve ever been with. I’ve taken no lovers,
gone on no dates or even hinted to any man that I’d be romantically
interested in them.”
Jasper’s face flashed behind my eyes and I felt the ghost of his kiss. I
pushed the thought away. That wasn’t what had happened. Jasper and I
were just friends. We mourned Allen together. Emotions sometimes ran
high. That was the explanation I’d given myself. The detectives didn’t need
to know any of that. Jasper hadn’t set the fire. I was sure of very little at this
point in my life, but that was something of which I was certain. I could trust
Jasper.
“What about at work?” Rheingard asked. “Is there anyone at work who
might wish you harm? Or at least harm to come to your property?”
The other teachers may not have entirely approved of my teaching style
or been overly friendly with me, but none of them would’ve done anything
like this. The worst I’d ever have to deal with from them would be gossip,
and that was just a fact of life, no matter who I was. In fact, I was a bit
surprised that there weren’t rumors about Jasper and me already. The
security company Jacques had hired had been discreet indeed.
“Not at work,” I answered.
“Elsewhere then?” Rheingard leaned forward, having caught my
specific wording.
I wasn’t as skilled at playing games as people like the Lockwoods, but I
wasn’t unintelligent either. I knew that if I came out and accused the
Lockwoods of arson without provocation, I’d come across as the woman
my in-laws had always claimed I was. If I got the detectives to ask,
especially after the meeting with the family today, I could make it a bit
more plausible.
“Well,” I purposefully hesitated.
“Spit it out.” Reed glared at me. “We don’t have all night.”
I swallowed my smart reply and went on with what I’d intended to say.
“My late husband inherited the vineyard from his uncle and now that he’s
gone, my in-laws...well, they want to take my home from me.”
“And you think they set the fire? As, what, a warning?” Reed asked.
 That was exactly what I thought had happened. They hadn’t wanted to
completely ruin things if they didn’t have to, but they also wanted to make
sure I knew that they were willing to do more than file a few lawsuits. I
couldn’t come out and say it that way though. The Lockwoods weren’t from
around here, but they had their reputation, and friends in high places, or at
least friends of friends.
“I don’t know,” I said. “All I know is that they’re the only ones who are
angry at me right now, and a good part of it is about the vineyard.” I
shrugged and tried to look almost embarrassed. “Maybe something got out
of hand.”
Reed and Rheingard looked at each other and then back at me.
“And you can’t think of anyone else who might want you to leave the
vineyard?” Reed asked. “Maybe this Jacques Rohner?”
I shook my head, annoyed that they’d dismissed my thoughts so
quickly. Maybe I’d have a look around myself, see if I could spot something
that might give evidence of my suspicions. I wasn’t sure the detectives
would find it themselves.
And the questions continued.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I ’d liked Jasper’s idea of donating the money and I’d been serious about
considering the clinic as a possible recipient. Then I’d announced my
intentions to donate to charity in front of the Lockwoods. Even if I did have
second thoughts, I wouldn’t be able to back out without the Lockwoods
using it against me.
They hadn’t been happy with my announcement, and I knew they’d try
to find something negative about it, try to use it to make me look bad. The
smart thing to do would be to find the most inoffensive charity possible and
give them the check. Nothing religious, of course, because that’d end up
coming across as being something against their religion. Maybe something
like cancer research. With my family history, I doubted they’d be able to put
a bad spin on things.
But as much as I loved supporting those kinds of charities, I knew what
I wanted to do. And knowing that it would piss off the Lockwoods just
made it all the more appealing.
I didn’t do it right away though. Again, I wasn’t stupid.
If I gave the money to Jasper just a couple days after the fire, after he
spent the night at my house, and the day after I had a confrontation with the
Lockwoods, it would look like I was up to something. I could just see Reed
and Rheingard saying I’d used the insurance money to pay Jasper to set the
vineyard on fire and then blame the Lockwoods.
By Friday, however, I’d decided that I at least had to tell Jasper about it.
I hadn’t seen him all week, but we’d talked a couple times and he hadn’t
sounded like things at work had been going very well. He hadn’t gone into
detail, but it was hard to get Jasper to talk about himself. He was more
concerned with how I was doing. After all he’d done for me, I wanted to do
something nice for him.
So, after I got home from work, I called him. I didn’t just want to tell
him what I wanted do over the phone. I owed him so much more than that.
Besides, I thought, it would be nice to see him under less than traumatic
circumstances. I needed some normalcy that involved interaction with other
people.
“Do you have any plans for tonight?” I asked once the usual niceties
were done.
“No, is something wrong?”
I chuckled. “Always assuming I’m calling because something’s wrong.”
“Well...” His voice trailed off, not needing to finish the thought.
“Well,” I said. “That’s why I’m calling now. I’m going to take you out
to dinner as a thank you for all the help you’ve given me since...” I made
myself say it. “Since Allen died.”
I waited for the sharp pain, but it didn’t come.
“You don’t have to thank me,” Jasper said. “It’s what friends do.”
“And friends also take other friends out to dinner to show gratitude,” I
insisted. A thought hit me. “Unless you really did have plans and you just
said no because you thought I needed help.”
“No,” he said. “I don’t have plans. Dinner sounds great.” He paused,
and then said, “Just a minute.”
I heard him hold the phone away from his mouth, so the words were
muffled, but I could still understand him.
“No, Georgia, I’ll come in tomorrow and do my paperwork.”
Another pause.
“No, I don’t need you to come in. I can take care of it myself.”
I heard a woman protest, but couldn’t tell what she was saying. After a
moment, Jasper spoke again.
“Thank you, Georgia. You have a good night.”
Then he was back to me.
“I can meet you at the restaurant in ninety minutes. Would that be
good?”
“Perfect,” I said. I could even get a jump start on my grading before I
headed in.
“So, where are we meeting?”
“Same place as before?” It was a nice restaurant, but not romantic,
which was perfect. He agreed and we said our goodbyes.
Instead of getting out something to prepare for dinner like I usually did
when I got home from work, I started to work on the papers I had to grade
over the weekend. I couldn’t stop myself, though, from checking my watch
every so often to make sure I left enough time for me to get ready.
Considering how Jasper had found me crispy from the sun and then covered
with dirt and soot, I actually wanted to look presentable tonight.
With forty-five minutes left before I had to meet him, I gave up on
grading and headed upstairs to shower and change. I wasn’t going to dress
up for Jasper. That would be weird. But, this was the first time I’d been out
since Allen’s death, the first time I’d dressed up since...the night the three of
us had gone out.
I frowned. Had it really been that long? Most of the time, it seemed like
Allen had just died yesterday, that each morning was a reminder of what I’d
lost, but tomorrow would be three months.
I sat down on the edge of the bed. Three months? For a teacher, summer
vacation often went by fast, but without Allen, each day had felt like it had
dragged on for years. Now, it seemed like it hadn’t been that long since I’d
seen him. At the same time, that last night out with him and Jasper felt like
a lifetime ago, before everything had been turned upside-down.
I wasn’t sure which was worse, I thought as I headed into the bathroom.
Feeling like it had been so recent, or realizing just how long it had been.
What would Allen have thought about how I was doing? It was the first
time I’d thought the question and it gave me pause. I knew he wouldn’t
want me to be sitting around the house and moping. He’d want me to be
going about my life normally.
I just didn’t know what normal was without him.
He hadn’t just been my husband. He’d been my best friend. The person
I’d talked to when I got home from work. The one I’d gone to with my fears
and my dreams. I’d never been a very popular kid back in Utah, but I’d had
a couple friends through school with whom I’d been relatively close. When
we’d all moved away for college, however, we’d drifted apart. Now, we
were little more than Christmas card friends. There’d been no rift and I
knew if I’d moved back to Utah like they had, we’d be able to pick up right
where we’d left off, but I didn’t want to go back. I’d been gone too long. I
didn’t belong in that conservative little town anymore. I wasn’t sure that I
belonged here either though.
I shook my head as I stepped under the hot spray to rinse the last of the
conditioner from my hair. I’d gone to Junie on Monday after school to ask if
she’d take care of the singed bits and she’d done a bit more styling than a
simple trim. It wasn’t really a noticeable change, but I could tell it was
lighter than it had been before.
 As I squeezed out the excess water, I told myself that the one thing
Allen definitely wouldn’t have wanted me to do was put my life on hold.
Having dinner out with a friend seemed like the best way to do that.
I stood in front of my closet, trying to decide what to wear. My clothing
ranged from ripped jeans and t-shirts that I used for work in the vineyard or
around the house, all the way to a couple elegant evening gowns for the few
times we’d had wine connoisseurs over. I had work-appropriate clothing
from dress pants to skirts and a handful of dresses for school dinners and
things like that. I also had a few date-night outfits and it was those that I
was staring at right now.
It wasn’t a date, of course, but those were the best clothes for a nice
restaurant as opposed to ordering in or making dinner. After selecting and
then rejecting three outfits, I finally decided to wear my favorite one. Not
because I wanted to impress Jasper or even get his attention. I wanted to
wear it because I liked how I looked in it, how it made me feel. That’s what
I needed tonight, because even though it wasn’t a date, it was being out in
public in a place where what had happened was common knowledge.
There’d be pitying looks and definitely some gossip about who I was with.
Gossip that I knew would get back to the Lockwoods. I needed to feel
confident in who I was to be able to deal with all of it.
I put on minimal make-up, slipped on a pair of heels and headed
downstairs. I arrived first at the restaurant, a good ten minutes early, but I
was glad I did. Jasper was early as well, coming in just a few minutes after I
did. He’d dressed similarly to how he’d done before. A pair of dark gray
slacks and a lighter gray fitted shirt that the hostess clearly appreciated. He
only gave her a polite smile as he sat across from me.
“You look lovely,” he said.
“Thank you.” A moment of silence fell between us and then I spoke
again, “I ordered us some wine. The same we had last time.”
A shadow crossed Jasper’s face and I knew he was remembering the last
time he’d seen Allen.
“It doesn’t seem possible it’s been three months, does it?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I keep expecting him to walk in and start talking
about some obscure bit of trivia that he discovered while researching new
harvesting techniques.”
I chuckled. “I found a stack of books at the vineyard on wine-making
practices throughout the ages and he’d underlined a few passages on the
traditions that went along with pressing the grapes manually.”
“Please tell me he wasn’t planning on hiring people to walk around in a
giant vat of grapes.” A smile played at Jasper’s lips.
“That is the kind of thing he would’ve done.” I thanked the waiter who
came with the bottle of wine, waiting until he poured a glass for us both.
When he didn’t leave, I realized he was waiting for one of us to taste and
approve the selection. I picked up my glass and did what I’d seen Allen do
a hundred times, tasting and then telling the server that it was perfect.
“I find myself missing him at the strangest times,” Jasper said as the
server walked away. “In the middle of an exam, someone will say
something that reminds me of him. Or I’ll see something and think that it’d
be a perfect present for him.”
“Me too,” I said. “I’ve woken up in the middle of the night because I
rolled over onto his side of the bed and he wasn’t there.” I looked down at
my wine glass. “Last week, when you yelled at me for going out to help
fight the fire, it sounded so much like something Allen would’ve said.”
“What kind of friend would I be if I let my best friend’s wife get hurt?”
I took a drink of my wine and Jasper did the same. “Thank you,” I said.
“You’ve already thanked me,” he said with a half-smile.
“No, for not calling me his widow.” My fingers tightened around the
stem of my glass. “I hate that word. It makes me feel like some old woman
in a retirement home or something.”
“Well, you don’t look like one.” Jasper glanced at me and then looked
back down at his glass as another silence fell.
That was another of those things that Allen would’ve said, the kind of
reassurance that had always come naturally to him. My stomach twisted. I
hadn’t realized it until just then that the discussion Jasper and I had been
having about Allen hadn’t hurt. Not really. It was just the kind of
wistfulness and nostalgia that I felt when I talked about my mother. There
would be times, I knew, when there’d be sharper pain, but that wasn’t right
now.
I should’ve been grateful for it, I knew. To be able to remember my
husband without suffering should’ve been a good thing. I couldn’t help but
feel uneasy about it though. Was it right that I was sitting here with another
man, smiling and drinking wine, enjoying myself, while he was gone? It
didn’t feel right.
 “Are you okay?” Jasper’s fingers brushed against mine to get my
attention.
I managed a smile. “Yes.”
“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” He gave me a knowing look. “You don’t
think you should be able to smile and laugh with him gone.”
I nodded, a lump forming in my throat. Jasper could read me almost as
well as Allen had been able to.
“He’d want that for you, Shae. Enjoying life isn’t betraying his memory.
I knew Allen better than almost anyone and I know that he’d want you to be
happy. He’d never begrudge you that.”
I nodded again. Jasper was right and I knew it. “He’d want you to be
happy too,” I said. Jasper gave me a puzzled look. “I didn’t just ask you to
meet me here as a thank you for all your help and support.”
He leaned back in his chair and took a drink of his wine, his expression
guarded. “Why did you then?”
“I decided to take your advice and donate the insurance money to a
charity.”
“That’s great.” He smiled.
“I’m giving it to you for your clinic.”
His jaw dropped slightly, eyes widening. “Shae, I can’t accept that...”
“Yes,” I said emphatically. “You can and you will. First, because I don’t
want the money and I know Allen would want it going somewhere it would
make a difference. Second, you’re going to take it because it’ll keep the
Lockwoods off my back about it. And, finally, I want you to have it because
Allen left a million dollars to you in his will, but it was supposed to come
from his trust and I don’t know what’s going to happen to that money.”
“Allen...left...me...” Jasper’s face was so full of emotion that it was
almost painful to look at. “Why?”
“Because he loved you,” I said. I reached across the table and put my
hand over his. “You were as much his family as I was, more than his blood.
He was trying to figure out a way to get you to accept the money before the
accident, but I think he figured that if something happened to him before he
could, you’d have to accept it afterwards.”
Our eyes met and, for the first time, I saw Jasper. Not Allen’s best
friend, but Jasper, the doctor, the man who wanted to take care of people.
I pulled my hand back and picked up my menu.
 “Now that you know you don’t have a choice about accepting it, how
about we order some expensive steak and celebrate you being able to quit
your job and begin doing what you’ve always wanted to do.”
Jasper chuckled softly. “That sounds like a great idea. And maybe some
of their dark chocolate mousse for dessert?”
“Perfect.”
The mood lightened as we gave our orders to the waiter, but I could still
feel a bit of tension that I couldn’t identify until after Jasper and I had
parted ways. As I drove home, I realized that it came from the fact that I’d
had a good time being out with Jasper, and while I’d missed Allen’s
presence, I hadn’t been ripped apart by it.
I was truly moving on with my life.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I ran my hands across his shoulders and down his muscular chest. The
light dusting of hair tickled my palms and I smiled as I felt his breathing
hitch when I reached his stomach. I leaned down, palms still flat on his tight
abs, and flicked my tongue across his nipple. The darker flesh tightened and
I put my mouth on it, worrying at it with lips and teeth until I felt his fingers
twisting in my hair, my name falling from his lips in gasps.
I kissed my way down his stomach until I reached my goal. He was hard
already, his shaft swollen and thick, eager for attention. I wrapped my hand
around his base and then slid up along the soft skin. He moaned as I
repeated the motion over and over again, keeping my strokes slow, my grip
not too tight.
I loved doing this to him, feeling him tense beneath me, teasing him
until he was desperate and begging. My own arousal was throbbing deep
inside me, an ache that I knew only he could fill. I wanted him inside me so
badly, but I pushed my own needs aside. This wasn’t about me but about
him. What I could do for him. To him.
I shifted up onto my knees to give myself better leverage and his hand
gripped my thigh, his fingers not quite able to reach where I’d like them. I
didn’t move though. I knew from experience that if I was denied my own
desires, when I finally gave it, I would come harder than I’d thought
possible. He’d taught me that.
I licked the tip of him, letting the flavor of pre-cum burst across my taste
buds. There was a hint of salt to him, but he was almost sweet-tasting. He
told me I tasted like raspberries. I doubted that was the truth, but I
appreciated the lie anyway.
I worked my tongue over him, savoring each inch of skin, the texture of
him, the feel of every ridge and vein. When I turned my attention to his
balls, the fingers on my thigh dug in with near-bruising force. My own
juices slicked my thighs as he groaned my name.
My hand took the place of my mouth as I raised my head to finally take
the tip of him between my lips. He swore as I slowly let him slide into my
mouth. I applied gentle suction as I moved my head, taking a little more
with each pass. He was too long for me to get all of him into my mouth, too
wide for my lips to stretch around him, but I was going to take as much as I
could. One hand caressed his balls as the other moved over the inches I
couldn’t take. It was a familiar rhythm, one both of our bodies knew well
and never tired of. I loved the heaviness of him on my tongue, the way his
hips moved in short little jerks as he fought to keep himself from thrusting.
When I felt his breathing begin to quicken, his balls tighten under my
hand, I pulled myself away from him. As much as I loved having him come
in my mouth, that wasn’t what I wanted tonight. I needed him inside me so
badly that it hurt. My stomach clenched at the sight of him, his cock wet and
glistening.
I threw one leg over his waist and moved down his body until I felt him
brush against my leg. I shivered at the contact, nipples hardening. I could
feel my entire body flushing, tensing in anticipation. His hands moved to my
hips, steadying me as I reached beneath me and positioned his cock at my
entrance.
I was wet, but tight and I knew I should take it slow, lowering myself at
an almost insane pace, drawing it out until we were both panting with need.
I didn’t want that tonight though. I wanted him all at once even though I
knew it would hurt. But it would be such a good hurt.
We both cried out as I dropped onto him. His fingers gripped my flesh
tight and my nails dug into his stomach as our bodies shook with the
intensity of our connection. I closed my eyes, head falling forward, my
entire focus on the place where his body penetrated mine. My body didn’t
know if it wanted to be in pain from the too-fast stretch or if it wanted to
acknowledge the pleasure of being filled, the slight friction against my clit
as our twitching muscles made us dance together.
Before I was entirely sure I was ready, I began to move, rocking back
and forth. Ripples of pleasure coursed through me as his cock pressed
against all of those wonderful places inside me. I splayed my palms on his
stomach, using his body for leverage as I started to ride him. I set a
bruising pace, forcing him deeper inside me, merging our bodies until I
wasn’t sure who we were apart, only who we were together. My legs began
to burn, but I didn’t slow. His hands moved from my hips to my breasts,
squeezing and caressing, fingers twisting and teasing my nipples. And then
his mouth was on my breast, teeth biting at my flesh, tongue soothing the
sting. There were too many myriad sensations, too much racing across my
nerves for my brain to process.
“Come,” he growled against my breast as he wrapped his arms around
my waist and pulled me down onto him.
I cried out as the tip of him hit the end of me and I came. As my pussy
spasmed around him, I felt him lose control. He fell back on the bed, his
hips pumping up into me as he came. I felt him emptying inside me, the hot
liquid filling me.
I collapsed onto his chest and he wrapped his arms around me, holding
me tight even as our bodies remained joined. He kissed the top of my head
and I turned slightly so I could press my lips against his chest.
“Do you think I’ll ever stop wanting you?”
I looked up at him. “I hope not,” I said. “Because I don’t ever want to
stop wanting you.”
His clear gray eyes lit up and he lowered his head to kiss me...
“No!” I jerked myself awake with the protest, tears already in my eyes.
“No,” I said it again, quieter this time.
In the eight years I’d been with Allen, I’d had the occasional sex dream.
Most had been about him, but a few had starred strangers or celebrities I
fancied. I’d never dreamed about someone I’d known before, and certainly
not...
I buried my face in my hands and cried. I knew I didn’t have any control
over my dreams, but to wake with my body still throbbing from climax, and
knowing that it had been a dream about Jasper that had done it...I couldn’t
help but feel as if I’d cheated on Allen. I curled up in the bed, desperate to
stay awake, my heart breaking over my unconscious betrayal.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I spoke with Henley and he assured me that handing over the policy
wouldn’t be an issue. He’d take care of all of the paperwork. All I’d need to
do would be to sign the papers when they were ready. All in all, the process
would be short, but Henley advised that we wait until Jasper had things
officially set up so that it didn’t look like I was writing a million dollar
check to a friend. Especially a friend I’d been spending a lot of time with.
Henley didn’t add that last part, but if he’d known about Jasper staying over
and coming by, he would’ve said it.
I knew I needed to call Jasper to tell him the good news as well as what
he needed to do, but this seemed like the kind of thing I should say in
person. I just wasn’t sure I could handle seeing Jasper today. Not after that
dream. Finally, I decided that tomorrow would be okay. I’d make sure I
didn’t dream tonight and then I could see him tomorrow.
With that decided, I sent him a text asking him to come over for lunch
the next day so we could discuss things about the clinic. If he thought it was
strange I didn’t call him, he didn’t say anything. His reply was cheerful and
brief. I hoped it was because he hadn’t noticed anything different with my
message – definitely a reason to send a message rather than calling. I didn’t
want things between us being weird again, and I sure as hell didn’t want to
explain the reason.
I spent the day out in the vineyard, assessing the damage and seeing if I
could find something that the detectives had missed. Jacques had spent the
week cleaning things up as best he could while it was still considered a
crime scene. I’d told him not to come in over the weekend to explain things
to me, but to write it all out and leave it in the office. I headed there after
my curiosity had been satisfied and spent the rest of the morning and into
the afternoon reviewing the loss. How much? What would need to be done
to fix the damage? It was too late to try to replant the row that had been
burnt, for this year anyway. The other rows nearby hadn’t been burnt, but
the high pressure hoses the fire fighters had used had done almost as much
damage to the grapes. All in all, nearly twenty-two hundred square feet
worth of grapes had been lost. Out of hundreds of acres, that wasn’t much at
all, and I knew that it could’ve been so much worse.
I leaned back in the chair as I thought about everything Jacques had
written down. It would take some time and some money, but it wouldn’t
stop the harvest or vastly affect our final product. We hadn’t lost much of
anything to insects or such, and if the weather held, we wouldn’t lose
anything to frost. The nights were chilly, but weren’t supposed to get too
cold until much later in the season. Even if we ended up with the ten
percent loss we’d averaged over the last few years, we’d still do fine.
Maybe we’d be down a bottle or two, but not even close to hurting us
financially, not at what we already had spoken for.
The question I had now was, had this been intentional? Had the person
who’d started the fire – and with the confirmation of an accelerant being
used, there was no doubt about it – done what they’d set out to do? Had
they been trying to send a warning and that was why they’d only lit one
row, or had they intended to set more of it on fire and they’d been
interrupted?
I was inclined to believe that they’d done what they’d set out to do
because I was sure the Lockwoods had been behind it. They didn’t want the
vineyard to lose all of its vines. It wouldn’t be worth anything to them burnt
up. The small bit we’d lost wouldn’t make the place any less valuable if
they decided to sell it. I didn’t buy Gregory’s whole ‘keeping it in the
family’ bullshit, not really. He might keep it or he might sell it. I had no
doubt the family would do whatever was most lucrative.
My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since early that
morning. I stood and headed back towards the house. I had papers to finish
grading and some cleaning to do. All of that and some wine, I should be
able to get a good night’s sleep. Hopefully a dreamless one.
When I woke Sunday morning, the first thing I felt was a wave of relief
that the only dream I’d had that night had been a strange one about a pigeon
and a watermelon. Nothing about Jasper or anything remotely erotic. I’d
take strange and surreal over that.
It couldn’t, however, make seeing Jasper again any less awkward. For
me, anyway. He had no clue what had happened and I wasn’t about to
share. I’d keep it to myself and he’d never have to know about the dream
that had left me shaking. In a very bad – and very good – way.
 He came with cold beer, which made me laugh because Allen had
always insisted on drinking wine. Even when we’d been in college, he’d
preferred wine or scotch over beer. I liked wine well enough, but I also
enjoyed the occasional beer. Apparently, Jasper had known it.
We settled at the kitchen table and shared the light lunch I’d made. I
could hear how stilted my voice sounded as I explained to Jasper everything
my lawyer had told me. Since we were talking business, he probably didn’t
notice, but I did. The kiss hadn’t changed things between us, not after
Jasper had apologized. My dream, however, wasn’t something I could
admit, let alone apologize for. I didn’t know how to make this less awkward
without sharing things I didn’t want anyone to know, especially him.
“Here.” Jasper placed a second beer in front of me as he took another
one for himself.
“I shouldn’t,” I started to protest. “It’s the middle of the afternoon.”
“And you look like you need to relax,” he countered. “I’ll bet you
haven’t slept well since the fire.”
He had no idea, and I intended to keep it that way.
“What about you?” I gestured towards the dark circles under his eyes.
“You don’t look like you’ve slept much either.”
He shrugged. “One of my friends at the ER asked if I’d cover for him
this week.”
“So you’ve been working with your dad and at the ER?” I took a long
drink of my beer. He was right, I needed it. The buzz was taking the edge
off of things and I felt myself relaxing. “When are you sleeping?”
“Like you said, I’m not.” He grinned as he took another drink. “But
every penny I put away goes towards the clinic. I don’t plan on taking your
money without putting out some of my own.”
“It’s not my money,” I said. “Allen wanted you to have it.”
Jasper shook his head. “I always knew you were stubborn, but I don’t
think I ever realized how much.”
“Excuse me?” I wasn’t angry at his assessment, especially considering
how accurate it was. I’d always been a stubborn kid, and that hadn’t
changed as I’d grown up. I was just surprised.
“You know, that was one of the first things Allen told me about you.”
Jasper drained the last of his beer.
“Really?” I’d never heard this story.
 “The day after he met you, he told me that he’d met the woman he was
going to marry. He told me you were beautiful, strong, and stubborn enough
that he knew once you’d made your mind up about something, you’d stick
with it.” He reached for a third beer, then seemed to think better of it. “And
he was determined to be the person you made up your mind about.”
I was quiet for a moment, and then said, “Do you know what he told me
about you?”
Jasper shook his head. “No.”
“The first time he talked about you, he called you his brother.”
Jasper swallowed hard and looked down at the table.
“He said you were the best person he knew.”
Silence fell again and I watched as Jasper traced a pattern on the table. I
didn’t know what to say. It felt strange, sharing Allen like this. It felt too
much like how Mitchell and I talked about our mother. Telling memories,
not in an effort to keep him alive, but to not forget.
“I’ll never know anyone like him again.” Jasper’s voice was soft, and I
didn’t know if he’d even intended for me to hear him, but I did.
It was that moment that I was able to identify exactly what I’d been
feeling these past couple weeks as I spent time with Jasper, and as I worked
alongside Jacques. I’d thought that I’d been uncomfortable with Jasper
because of the dream or the kiss. Then I’d considered that maybe I was
using that as an excuse because seeing Jasper reminded me too much of
Allen. Now, however, I understood.
Being with Jasper did sometimes make me think of Allen, but I could
see that wasn’t what I was seeing now. Now, I didn’t see the past, but rather
the future. A future without Allen. And it wasn’t the black emptiness it had
once been.
That scared the shit out of me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I needed to change the subject before I actually had to examine my
introspective revelation. That seemed more like something I should be
dealing with on my own.
“Have the cops made a ruling yet about the fire?”
I grasped onto the topic gratefully. I immediately began with my
meeting with the Lockwoods and telling them about what I planned to do
with the insurance money. That led into my trip to the police station and the
detectives blowing off my suspicions about my in-laws...
Former in-laws, I realized suddenly. Allen had been the tie that bound
me to his parents and siblings. They’d never considered me family and now
I didn’t have to think of them that way. They weren’t my family.
“Shae?”
Jasper was giving me a strange look and I realized I’d stopped mid-
sentence.
“Sorry,” I said with a half-smile. “I just realized that the Lockwoods
weren’t my in-laws anymore.”
He chuckled. “I could see how that would be a startling revelation. And
a relief.”
I laughed, grateful that he understood. A flash of guilt went through me,
both at the laughter and at the relief that came from knowing, once this case
was decided, I never had to deal with the Lockwoods ever again.
Jasper leaned across the table and put his hand on mine. “It’s okay,” he
said. “You’re allowed to laugh. You’re allowed to not want to have anything
to do with those assholes.”
I swallowed hard. That’s what I was afraid of. Not necessarily the act of
moving on, but the fact that it was okay. Jasper’s fingers curled around
mine and squeezed for a moment before letting me go.
“So no one’s found anything to tie the Lockwoods to the fire?” He
leaned back and picked up his empty beer bottle, rolling it between his
palms. A thoughtful expression was on his face and I didn’t speak, letting
him think. After a minute or two of silence, he looked back up. “Where else
did the cops look?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, did they just look at the area around the vines or did they look
over the whole place?”
“I’m not sure.” I thought for a moment. “I think Jacques said they went
into the office and checked out the books and then looked in the equipment
shed. I’m guessing they were looking for connections to the accelerant used
to start the fire.”
“Okay.” He was quiet again for another few minutes. “The detectives
think it was an inside job, so they’re looking at people who were here.”
“Right,” I agreed.
“Did they bother looking into ways on and off of the property without
being seen?”
My eyes widened. I hadn’t even thought of that. I mean, sure, I’d
realized that whoever’d done this had to have gotten here without being
seen and gotten away while we were all distracted by the fire, but it had
never occurred to me to investigate that part of it.
Jasper stood. “What do you say we do a little investigating of our own?”
I nodded as I stood up. “I think that’s one of the best ideas I’ve heard in
a while.”
We headed out.
For the rest of the day, we walked the property line, looking for some
clue of where our arsonist had gotten on and off the property. We talked as
we went, sometimes about the clinic and Jasper’s plans, sometimes about
random things we remembered, sometimes about the future. A couple times
we wondered about things like why the arsonist chose that specific place to
target, why he or she hadn’t gone to one of the sides of the vineyard where
the fire wouldn’t be seen until too late. Jasper tended to agree with me that
the intention hadn’t been to destroy the vineyard, but to send a message.
Actually, he agreed with most of my theories, and not just because he
thought it was what I wanted to hear. He actually considered each of them.
We didn’t find anything by the time it started to get dark, but Jasper
promised to come back when he could so we could keep looking together.
He also recommended I didn’t tell anyone else what we were doing. I
agreed with him on that. I didn’t want Jacques or any of the others dragged
into this, and I knew Henley wouldn’t approve.
 Jasper came back each night and we picked up where we left off. As
September ended, we still hadn’t found anything. But when he came back
on the first Monday in October, we tried something different. Instead of
walking the perimeter along the roads, we headed towards the side of the
property that butted up against the Benz’s Christmas tree farm. I didn’t
know them very well other than to know that they were a fairly odd older
couple who’d never caused Allen and me any problems.
I hadn’t even thought to go by their property since there wasn’t any
direct access, but it was the last place we hadn’t looked. We chatted about
our days, mine at school and his at his father’s practice, never touching but
walking in a natural sync.
I was paying attention to a story about a little girl who’d given Jasper
the third degree about why he wasn’t married and how she could set him up
with her mother, and I almost walked past it. A glint of something metal.
I stopped and Jasper did the same. I bent over and picked up the silver
keychain. As I straightened, I saw what was written on the half-dollar-sized
object.
“Jasper.” I turned towards him. “Look.” I read the inscription. “‘Five
Years of Service. Lockwood Oil.’”
Chapter Twenty-Six
I carried the keychain back to the house, barely touching it. I dropped it
into a plastic bag and then Jasper and I tried to figure out the best way to
handle our discovery. We’d marked the spot where we’d found it, but both
of us had felt that leaving it wasn’t the best idea. I had no way of knowing if
the owner would come back for it, and I didn’t entirely trust the cops not to
have someone on the Lockwoods’ payroll.
I couldn’t not turn it in though. The only explanation for the keychain
being where I’d found it was that someone with a connection to the
Lockwoods had cut through the Benz’s property onto mine and that they’d
left the same way. It made sense. The way the property was set up, heading
towards the Benz’s would offer the most coverage and since they’d have to
go through a couple miles of trees to get to a road, no one would’ve looked
that way.
In the end, it was a call from Henley telling me that I’d gotten my
emergency hearing on Friday regarding the vineyard that made me decide.
Jasper went with me to the police station, but I went in alone to give Reed
and Rheingard the keychain. Neither of them seemed impressed with my
find, but at least I’d given it to them, and if they happened to ‘lose’ it, I’d
taken pictures.
Once that was done, it was time to move on to preparing for the trial
that would decide if I’d be allowed to keep my home or if I’d lose it to my
former in-laws.
Even though the Lockwoods were from Texas, I knew they had a long
reach. Allen’s uncle had been well-liked in St. Helena and I didn’t doubt for
a moment that they’d use that to try to influence the judge. There was also
Celeste. Allen’s brother, Marcus, had married Celeste Ryan after getting her
pregnant when she was nineteen. With him belonging to the rich and
prominent Lockwood family, he might’ve been able to get away without the
shotgun wedding, except the girl he’d knocked up had been the local
sheriff’s only daughter. Even Marcus hadn’t been that stupid. And he
actually did seem to love Celeste, so I supposed I shouldn’t judge.
 I’d never really gotten to know her, but I hadn’t wanted to. Anyone who
could fall in love with a dick like Marcus...well, let’s just say I knew even if
Allen had still been alive, Celeste and I would never have been BFFs. Once
Marcus had married the sheriff’s baby girl and became the heir apparent to
the oil business, it had been all roses and rainbows. The sheriff had made
sure that the Lockwoods never got into real trouble. Granted, he was just
the sheriff of a small Texas town, but law enforcement often did favors for
each other, as long as no one was trying to take over jurisdiction of
something.
I needed to convince the court that the vineyard was mine, which should
have been easy since my name was on the deed, but I knew that the legal
system didn’t always side with the truth or what was right. It was about
what we could prove. Or who you knew.
Jasper and I went through all of Allen’s legal papers, making sure there
was nothing I’d missed that would discredit my claim. There wasn’t
anything. No hint of a prenup that I knew we hadn’t had. No mention of
changes to his will. No hints that he’d ever intended to divorce me, remove
me from his will or that he wanted anyone other than me to have the
vineyard.
When I went into the courtroom on Friday morning, Jasper went with
me, sitting on the opposite side of the room as the Lockwoods. He was the
only person, actually, who was on my side. I sat with Henley at one of the
tables. Gregory and May sat at the other table with their lawyer. The others
were all behind them.
When the judge came in, we all stood and I took a deep breath. It was
time.
Things went relatively smoothly. The Lockwoods’ lawyer stood and
talked about Allen’s uncle and how much he’d meant to St. Helena. He
talked about the desire to keep the vineyard in the family and how I wasn’t
family, how I wouldn’t ever have a Lockwood child. He talked and talked,
weaving a story of a conniving widow who just wanted money, the woman
that the Lockwoods had always accused me of being.
Then it was Mr. Henley’s turn. He didn’t try to tell a story. Instead, he
stuck to the facts and kept it very simple. Allen and I had been together for
eight years. Engaged from the time I’d moved into the vineyard and then
married for a year when Allen had passed. I’d been faithful to him. No
prenuptial agreement had been signed because Allen hadn’t wanted one.
There’d been no problems in our marriage, financial or otherwise. No legal
documents had been filed saying Allen wanted his family to have the
vineyard or his trust. My name was on the deed and had been added legally,
complete with witness signature and notarized documentation.
The whole thing lasted a couple of hours and then the judge called a
recess for lunch while he looked over the information. We needed the break,
so Jasper and I headed to a nearby diner. Neither of us talked and I was
grateful for the silence. I wasn’t sure I could handle much talking at the
moment.
When we went back to the courthouse, we sat outside the courtroom for
another half hour before we were called in to hear the judge’s decision. I
didn’t even try to hide reaching for Jasper’s hand behind me. He squeezed
my fingers as the judge cleared her throat.
“I’ve gone over all of the claims from both sides. I have two separate
rulings. I am delaying a decision regarding the trust. A hearing will be
scheduled for that alone as I believe I will need to see additional
information before I can rule on that. I have, however, made a decision
about the property.”
I swallowed hard, my stomach in knots.
“The property will go to Shae Lockwood in accordance with her late
husband’s will and her name already being on the deed. That is all. You’ll
be contacted later with a date regarding the trust.” The judge stood.
“Court’s dismissed.”
I stood there in shock, mouth hanging open. I could hear the Lockwoods
yelling at their lawyer and sending some less than kind comments my way.
Then Henley was shaking my hand and Jasper was congratulating me. I
turned towards him and he must’ve seen the complete shock in my eyes
because he immediately grew serious.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said. He gave me a soft smile. “You deserve
to celebrate after the shit couple weeks you’ve had. Drinks are on me.”
And that was how I found myself at a bar with Jasper, taking more shots
than was probably a good idea.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I was fine with some beer and wine, but hard liquor...well, let’s just say I
wasn’t exactly used to a lot of it. By the second tequila shot, I was starting
to believe that the ruling was actually real. The entire time Jasper had been
walking me to the bar and ordering for us, I’d felt like I was in a dream. A
good dream, but a dream nonetheless. I hadn’t felt like it could be real.
After everything that had happened, I’d been so skeptical that things would
go my way. Without even realizing it, I’d already been running through
scenarios in my head of what I’d do when the court ruled against me. Now I
didn’t have to worry about that. Granted, we still didn’t have a decision
about Allen’s trust, but I wasn’t worried about that part. I had my home and
I was confident enough in Jacques’s management skills that the vineyard
could make enough to pay the property taxes. Everything else would just be
extra.
After the third shot, I was sufficiently buzzed and thoroughly enjoying
Jasper’s company. He was matching me shot for shot, but I got the
impression he wasn’t quite as intoxicated as I was. He did, however, seem
to be amused by how relaxed the alcohol was making me.
He stopped me from taking my fifth shot and, when we stood, I was
glad he had. I wasn’t fall-down drunk, but I was definitely drunk enough to
be grateful for Jasper’s steadying hand on the small of my back. He hailed a
taxi and, to my surprise, joined me. The cool October air had taken a bit of
the edge off, but I didn’t let it bring with it any of the stress. I was relaxed
and wanted to stay that way. As I settled into the backseat of the cab, I
wrapped my arms around Jasper’s arm and rested my head on his shoulder.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
“For what?”
“For being here.” I didn’t look up at him as I finally said the thing that
had been on my mind for a while. “You were Allen’s friend. You didn’t
have to stick around after he was gone.”
Jasper was silent as the taxi drove us out to the vineyard and I let myself
enjoy the silence. It was comfortable with him. Never any pressure. When
we arrived, he paid the cab driver and walked me to the door. There, he
paused and I looked up at him, sensing something was on his mind. His
eyes were darker than normal and I had the fleeting thought that they almost
looked that deep, smoky gray.
“Do you really think that?”
I gave him a puzzled look. What was he talking about?
He cupped my chin, his thumb brushing across my bottom lip. “Do you
really think of me as only Allen’s friend?”
There was pain in that question. If I hadn’t have drunk so much, I
might’ve thought twice about it, but my inhibitions had disappeared
somewhere around the third shot and I just acted on what I suddenly
wanted.
I pushed myself up on my toes and pressed my mouth against his. I felt
his surprise, but it took him only a few seconds to yield with a groan. His
hands slid around my waist, heat burning through my blouse. I scraped my
teeth against his bottom lip and he gasped. I took advantage of the moment
to slide my tongue between his lips. That seemed to be all the further
encouragement he needed. He pressed me back against the door, tongue
plundering my mouth. I could taste the alcohol he’d consumed earlier, but
more than that, I could taste his desire for me.
The heat of the alcohol coiled in my belly, feeding my own arousal. I
wasn’t the kind of person who had to have sex all the time, but for the last
eight years, Allen and I had been making love consistently. The last four
months had been the longest I’d gone without it since the first time Allen
and I had slept together.
As I felt Jasper harden against my stomach, my body throbbed in
response. I pushed aside any thoughts or doubts. I was tired of thinking and
doubting. I just wanted to feel and my entire body agreed with me.
“Shae,” Jasper breathed against my mouth. “We shouldn’t...you’re
drunk.”
“No talking, please, Jas. I’m sober enough for this.” I twisted my
fingers in his hair and pulled his head down for another kiss.
I wasn’t sure how we ended up in the house, or when we made it up the
stairs, only that by the time we stumbled into my bedroom, I knew I didn’t
want him to stop. His kisses were fierce, desperate. For some reason, I’d
assumed he’d be gentle, but his fingers dug into my flesh as he held me to
him, his teeth and lips bruising my mouth.
 My fingers felt thick, clumsy, as I worked opened the buttons to his
shirt, needing to feel him. His chest was firm, the light dusting of hair
rubbing against my palms as I pushed the shirt from his shoulders. I raked
my nails lightly over his nipples and he growled. The sound went straight
through me.
He yanked my shirt over my head and I very much needed us both to be
naked. I unzipped my skirt and let it fall to the floor. As I kicked off my
shoes, Jasper tugged off his pants. When he straightened, he looked at me,
emotions playing across his face. I almost asked him about them, but I
didn’t. Instead, I held out my hand and let him pull me to him, let him lower
me to the bed. I didn’t want to talk.
His lips trailed over my jaw even as his hands roamed my body, burning
a path over my ribs and down my hips. He pulled my leg up, grinding down
against me. I moaned as his cock rubbed against the crotch of my now-wet
panties. He nipped at my neck, fingers squeezing my leg. I tipped my head
back, needing more of his mouth.
Suddenly, he raised himself up on his hands and looked down at me.
“You’re so beautiful.”
He brushed hair back from my face, then let his fingers dance down
across my collarbone. When his fingertips ghosted across the tops of my
breasts, something like reverence showed on his face. I reached up and ran
my fingers through his hair.
“Please, Jas,” I whispered.
He slid down my body, hooking his fingers in the waistband of my
panties as he went. He settled between my legs, but didn’t give me a chance
to process the fact that Jasper Whitehall, my late husband’s best friend and
former college roommate, was about to go down on me.
My back arched, crying out as he pressed his mouth against me. I came
almost instantly, my body so desperate for release that the feel of his tongue
sliding inside me was enough to trigger the start of an orgasm that
continued to roll over me in a never-ending wave.
Allen had always treated me like I was going to break, making love to
me with his mouth, sending gentle ripples of pleasure through me. Even
when he'd been a little forceful, I'd known he'd been holding back.
Jasper went down like he kissed. Determined, single-minded. Intense.
When he sucked my clit between his lips, he pushed a finger inside me and
I cried out again. Tears squeezed out from under my eyelids. It had been so
long...
“Come for me, Shae.”
A second finger joined the first before I’d been fully stretched, and he
curled them. I knew what he was searching for and nearly screamed when
he found it, pressing and rubbing the spot until I was writhing on the bed,
my body shaking. When he pulled his fingers out, I made a half-sobbing
sound.
Instantly, he was leaning over me, concern dampening the lust on his
face. “Shae, are you okay?”
I didn’t trust myself to answer in a steady voice, so I did the only thing I
could think of. I reached down between us and cupped him through his
underwear. He hissed, a shudder running through him.
“Condoms?” His voice was hoarse.
I gestured towards the drawer on what had been Allen’s side of the bed.
I pushed the thought of him out of my head, concentrating on stripping off
my bra as Jasper retrieved the condom. By the time I’d finished, he had too
and was once again between my legs.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
I slid my hands down his back and grabbed his ass, digging my nails in.
“Ah!”
The sound burst out of me as he surged forward, burying himself inside
me with one nearly painful thrust. I could feel my nails breaking his skin
but couldn’t move, couldn’t think. He wasn’t longer than Allen, but he was
thicker and my body wasn’t sure what to do with the conflicting sensations
rushing through me.
Suddenly, I was aware of a hand on my cheek and Jasper saying my
name.
“Shae, did I hurt you? I’m sorry. I didn’t...”
“No,” I finally managed to gasp. “It’s just – it’s just been a while.”
He leaned down and brushed his lips lightly across mine. “I know.” He
rocked his hips slightly, drawing a sharp breath from me. “Let me take care
of you.”
I nodded, my hands moving up his back to his neck, my fingers playing
with his hair. He pulled back and then thrust forward, making me cry out. I
rested my heels on the back of his thighs, feeling the powerful muscles
contract with every stroke. My eyes locked with his as he drove into me,
filling me completely each time. There was no teasing, no hesitation. I
could see in his eyes how much he wanted me and it fueled my own desire.
I’d known I missed the physical contact, but I hadn’t realized how much I
needed to be wanted.
Keeping himself propped on one elbow, he slid his free hand down my
side. His fingers grazed the side of my ass as he curled his fingers around
my thigh. Without taking his eyes off of me, he hooked my leg over his
arm, lifting it until my calf rested against his upper arm.
“Yes!” The word exploded out of me as he snapped his hips forward,
the new angle allowing for a different kind of penetration. He hit that spot
just right, then did it again. White dots sparked in front of my eyes and I
squeezed them closed.
“Let go.” His tongue flicked against the tip of my nipple and I moaned.
“I’ve got you, Shae. You can let go.”
When his teeth closed on my nipple, lightly tugging at the sensitive
flesh, I did as he said and let myself fall apart. I let go of it all. The pain, the
doubt, the confusion. I just let myself feel. Feel Jasper’s hot mouth around
my nipple, the sharp bite of his teeth, the soothing licks of his tongue. Feel
him inside me, dragging over my g-spot, stretching me wide. Feel the
friction of the base of his cock rubbing against my swollen clit.
I was shaking, my body protesting the overload of sensation as it all
culminated in a toe-curling burst of pleasure. I cried out, biting my bottom
lip to muffle the sound. I didn’t know if I was going to say Allen’s name,
but I didn’t want to risk it. It would’ve been involuntary, a conditioned
reaction from having had only one lover, but I knew it would hurt Jasper,
and I never wanted to do that.
His body covered mine, face buried in my neck as his rhythm faltered.
He wrapped his arms around me, and I clung to him, his solid body a rock,
unmovable, unshaken. He thrust himself deep and groaned my name. I
could feel his muscles tensing, his cock pulsing inside me, and I held him
close. I ran my fingers through his hair as I kissed his temple. I felt my
eyelids closing and didn’t fight them. I was a sweaty, sticky mess, but all I
wanted to do was sleep.
And I did.
At some point during the night, I became aware that Jasper must’ve
cleaned us both up and then come back to bed. He was behind me, his arms
wrapped around me. I had a fleeting moment of wistful wishing that it was
Allen, but it left as I fell asleep again, feeling safe and protected in my
friend’s embrace.
When I woke up for real, the first thing I realized was that Jasper was
gone. Then I saw the time and realized that he’d probably left for work.
Opening the practice on Saturdays had been his idea, so he worked most of
them. As I stretched out my hand to the empty side of the bed, I saw a piece
of paper on the pillow.
I had to leave for work and didn’t want to wake you. There’s aspirin and
water next to the bed in case you have a hangover. Text or call if you want
to talk about what happened. I can come by after five if you want. No
pressure, no strings and no expectations. - Jas
I let out a breath and smiled. I hadn’t let myself think about what this
would do to my friendship with Jasper, and I knew that was why he’d left
me the note. He’d wanted to assure me that he wasn’t going to read more
into last night than had been there. I rolled over and took the aspirin he’d
left me. I didn’t know how I felt about what had happened. Well, how I felt
other than pleasantly sore. My nipple throbbed and I realized Jasper
must’ve been a bit rougher than I’d realized. The emotional part of it
though, I wasn’t quite sure I was ready for.
I pushed the confusing thoughts from my mind as I got up. My sheets
needed washed anyway, so I pulled them off the bed. After a moment, I
pulled the pillowcase off of Allen’s pillow and tossed the linen into a
nearby basket. It was time.
I showered, shivering as I passed the washcloth between my legs. I’d
never imagined what Jasper would be like in bed, but I realized now that if I
had, I wouldn’t have thought he’d be so passionate. He always seemed so
self-controlled, so composed. Now, I’d gotten the impression that he’d
actually been holding back. Good thing too, because my skin was so
sensitive that wearing jeans would be impossible. Every step would rub
against me.
Since it was Saturday, I chose comfortable, loose-fitting sweats and a
sweatshirt before heading down to the kitchen. While in the middle of
making myself a fruit salad for breakfast, someone knocked on the door. I
hurried to open it, wondering if maybe Jasper had taken off early to come
back and talk. It wasn’t Jasper though.
“Mrs. Lockwood.” The mailman smiled at me as he handed me a
package and the rest of my mail. “Oh, I guess one of those in there got lost
for a couple months. We’re really sorry about that. If you want to speak
with a supervisor about it, just give us a call.”
I thanked him and went back into the house. I set the package down on
the table and made a mental note to walk it down to the vineyard office
later. It was a part for some machine. I was more interested in the lost letter.
I hadn’t had any angry bill collectors, so I didn’t think it was that. It was
probably a sympathy card, I realized as I sat down on the couch. I tossed
aside the junk mail and put the electric bill on the coffee table next to the
package.
It had to be this one. A regular envelope, no return address, and a postal
marking with a date from the middle of June. The day before Allen died, in
fact. So not a sympathy card. My name and address had been printed from a
machine, so that didn’t help. When I opened it, I found a single sheet of
computer paper and a typed letter.
My eyes automatically fell to the bottom of the page and I sucked in a
breath. Blood rushed in my ears and I couldn’t move.
Allen.
It was right there in black and white.
Love always, Allen.
I went back to the top, barely able to think over the pounding of my
heart.
My darling,
My love, I wished I never had to write this letter, but we can’t always get
what we want. I wanted to stay with you forever and I know now that isn’t
going to happen. I’m sick. Creutzfeldt-Jakob. No cure. Fast.
There’s nothing anyone can do and they’ve given me only a few months.
I’ve made sure that you’ll be taken care of, but I can’t put you through
months of debilitating illness. I’ll just get worse until I finally can’t move or
speak and you’ll have to watch me die.
I don’t want that. I want to go out on my own terms. It has to look like
an accident though. I got Jasper to clear me for an insurance policy and
there won’t be any question that it was an accident. He’s a good man,
always thinking of others. Use the money to start a new life away from here.
That’s what I want for you.
Love always, Allen.
I read it again, but it said the same thing.
Allen had been dying.
 He’d killed himself.
He’d taken out the life insurance policy so I could leave St. Helena.
And Jasper had known everything.

Continues in A Wicked Kiss. Click here to get the complete Wicked Box
Set. On sale for a limited time.
Also by M. S. Parker
The Client
Indecent Encounter
Dom X Box Set
Unlawful Attraction Box Set
Chasing Perfection Box Set
Blindfold Box Set
Club Prive Box Set
The Pleasure Series Box Set
Exotic Desires Box Set
Pure Lust Box Set
Casual Encounter Box Set
Sinful Desires Box Set
Twisted Affair Box Set
Serving HIM Box Set
About the Author
M. S. Parker is a USA Today Bestselling author and the author of the Erotic
Romance series, Club Privè and Chasing Perfection.
Living in Las Vegas, she enjoys sitting by the pool with her laptop
writing on her next spicy romance.
Growing up all she wanted to be was a dancer, actor or author. So far
only the latter has come true but M. S. Parker hasn’t retired her dancing
shoes just yet. She is still waiting for the call for her to appear on Dancing
With The Stars.
When M. S. isn't writing, she can usually be found reading– oops,
scratch that! She is always writing.

For more information:

msparkerauthor
www.msparker.com
msparkerbooks@gmail.com
Acknowledgments
First, I would like to thank all of my readers. Without you, my books would
not exist. I truly appreciate each and every one of you.
A big “thanks” goes out to all the Facebook fans, street team, beta
readers, and advanced reviewers. You are a HUGE part of the success of all
my series.
I have to thank my PA, Shannon Hunt. Without you my life would be a
complete and utter mess. Also a big thank you goes out to my editor Lynette
and my wonderful cover designer, Sinisa. You make my ideas and writing
look so good.