by Donna Hill
“I’m fine. A little tired.”
“You go back to school in the fall, right?”
“Doesn’t look good, but I’m still hopeful.”
Mellie patted her on the back. “Everything will work out.”
Bailey briefly glanced at her. “That’s what I keep telling myself.” She gathered her things and took the receipts and the cash drawer. “I’m going to put these in the safe, then I’m heading out. Get home safely.”
“You, too. See you tomorrow.”
Bailey went to the back offices to put the receipts and cash drawer in the safe and was surprised to see Vincent’s light on. She tapped on his door.
“Come in.”
“Hey, you’re here late.”
“Actually, I was waiting for your shift to end.”
She frowned. “Oh. Is something wrong?”
He leaned back in his seat. “Come in for a minute. Close the door.”
She did as he asked and sat in the chair in front of his desk.
“I’ve been thinking about things.”
“Yes...” she responded with caution.
“You’ve been here for a while now, and I know how hard you work, and I tried to make sure that you were compensated for it, by promoting you to Assistant Manager.”
Where was this going? Wherever it was, she didn’t like the direction.
“And...I don’t usually do this...but I want more.”
“Excuse me?”
“I did all of that for you because I like you, Bailey. I like you a lot, and I was hoping that you could put aside whatever reservations you may have about relationships with your boss.”
She blinked rapidly. “What...are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I want to take our business relationship and make it personal.”
Her stomach did a three-sixty. “Vincent... I...”
He held up his hand. “You don’t have to answer me now. Think about it. That’s all I ask.”
Bailey stood up slowly. This was the last thing she expected or needed. Her thoughts ran at a dizzying speed. There were no good choices. She needed her job and no matter what she did or said, things would never be the same. That much she was certain of.
“I, umm, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He nodded. “Good night, Bailey, and please think about it.”
Bailey walked out. Stunned could hardly describe how she felt. She closed the door behind her, made the deposit into the safe and mindlessly left the lounge. Her thoughts were still twisting in her head when she stepped outside, so much so that she thought for sure that she was imagining her name being called.
She glanced over her right shoulder, and there was Justin, perched on the hood of a gleaming Jaguar convertible as calm as if he was posing for a commercial. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them, certain that she was seeing things. But she wasn’t. Justin hopped down off the car and strode casually toward her, his hands slung in his pants pockets.
He stopped directly in front of her. “I hope I didn’t scare you.” He held up his hand before she could respond. “And I’m not stalking you.” He grinned that grin, and she knew she’d believe whatever he said.
“Okay,” she said, dragging out the word. “What are you doing? You left hours ago.”
“You made it pretty plain back there that you didn’t mix business with pleasure, and I can appreciate that. And you don’t go out with your customers.” He gave a slight shrug of his left shoulder. “But I figured since I’ll never be coming back to the Mercury Lounge again, you’d have to come up with some other reason why I can’t take you to dinner.”
Her throat went dry. She looked up and into his intense gaze, and there were a dozen comeback lines in her repertoire that she routinely doled out to would-be suitors at the job, but for the life of her, she couldn’t think of any and didn’t want to. She shifted her purse from her right shoulder to her left.
“Any reason you can think of?”
The air fluttered in her chest. “Not really.”
Justin tossed his head back and laughed. “Woman, you sure give a man a hard way to go.”
Bailey grinned. “So now what?”
He took her hand. “So now, you give me your number, and I’m going to call you, and you’re going to tell me what night is good for you.” He took out his cell phone. “Ready when you are.”
Bailey dictated her phone number, and Justin added it into his contacts. “Done.” He punched in her number and her phone trilled in her purse. She took it out. “Now you have mine.” He put his phone back into his pocket. “Let me walk you to your car.”
“It’s on the corner.”
They walked quietly side-by-side, and Bailey felt as if she was in a dream. She stopped in front of her Honda. She turned to him. “Thanks.” She dug in her purse for her keys.
Justin took them from her shaky fingers, opened her door and handed the keys back to her. He leaned down and placed a kiss so featherlight on her cheek that it sent a ripple through her limbs. Her heart banged in her chest. She ran her tongue across her bottom lip.
“Good night.”
“Night.” She slid in behind the wheel. He shut the door and stepped back.
Bailey managed to stick the key into the ignition and start the car. She slowly pulled off while stealing glances at him in her rearview mirror until she turned the corner, and he was gone.
Chapter 7
Bailey was grinning inside all the way home. She kept replaying their exchange in front of the Mercury Lounge and was still blown away that he’d actually waited outside, that he was willing never to come back simply because he wanted to honor her personal rule of not dating her customers. If it wasn’t so late, she would call Addison.
By the time she shut her apartment door and kicked off her shoes, her cell phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Wanted to make sure that you got home safely.”
Bailey’s stomach flipped. “Yes. I just walked in the door.”
“Good.” He paused. “Rest well. I’ll call you during the week.”
“Okay. Good night.” She pressed End on her phone then held the phone to her chest like a prize and did the happy dance. The heck with it being late. Waking Addison up from a well-deserved slumber with this hot bit of news was worth it.
* * *
After talking Addison’s ear off for nearly a half hour, and listening to her squeals of delight and “I told you sos,” Bailey bid Addison good-night, took a long, hot bath and then sank into her bed.
For the first time in quite a while, her night was filled with the sweet dream of possibility.
* * *
It had been only a couple of days since his talk with Jasmine, and already Justin detected the shift in the atmosphere at work. The partners were cordial and professional, of course, but there was an invisible distance between him and them that wasn’t present before, as if they’d put up a shield to protect themselves from the inevitable fallout. Justin was sure that the only reason he hadn’t been confronted by Mr. DuBois himself was because he’d been out of the country and was scheduled to return to the office that afternoon.
However, if he could withstand the rant of his father, who told him in no uncertain terms that he’d ruined his career and any chance at a partnership, and let that roll off his broad shoulders, he would deal with whatever Mr. DuBois had to say about “breaking the heart of his baby girl.”
Justin turned his focus to the intellectual rights case that he’d been working on for the past few weeks. Although it was important to the client and he knew he would give it his best, this kind of work was so far removed from his real passion of working for those who really needed legal services but couldn’t afford it.
His desk phone rang.
“Lawson.”
“Mr. Lawson, Mr. DuBois is in his office, and he’d like to see you.”
“Thanks, Rebecca. I’ll be right there.”
“Oh, and he said to bring the Warren file.”
His sat up a bit straighter. The Warren file was the intellectual rights case that he was working on. This request didn’t bode well.
“Sure. Thanks.” He hung up the phone, put on his jacket and tucked the folder under his arm.
Mr. DuBois, Senior Managing Partner, had an office on the top floor. The elevator ride seemed to last an eternity, and when Justin strode down the long corridor, with the senior partners’ offices on either side, to his boss’s domain, it was the equivalent of walking the gauntlet. There were quick, sidelong glances from the secretaries and awkward smiles from the attorneys. Everyone seemed to know something was amiss.
Justin tapped on Mr. DuBois’s door.
“Come in.”
Justin walked in.
“Shut the door, Lawson,” DuBois said, while covering the mouthpiece of the phone. He returned to his call.
Justin shut the door behind him and moved to the opposite side of the room. He took in the space. Massive and ostentatious were understatements. The room reeked of old money, power and prestige from the mahogany cabinets and bookshelves, to the persian rugs and twenty-seat conference table. The view from the floor-to-ceiling windows spanned one side of the room and overlooked the entire city of Baton Rouge. One wall was lined with degrees, certificates and photos of DuBois with his famous friends and wealthy clients.
“Have a seat, Lawson.”
Here we go. Justin turned from scoping out the photos and approached DuBois’s oversize smoked glass and cherrywood desk. He placed the Warren file on the desk. “The file you asked for.” He unfastened his one-button jacket and sat opposite DuBois.
DuBois reached for the file and pushed it aside. He leaned back and rubbed his chin. “Are you happy here, Lawson?”
“Yes, sir, I am.” It was a white lie but...what the hell. He rested his hands on the arms of the chair.
“You see yourself moving up within the firm?”
“I would hope so.”
DuBois murmured in his throat. “To move up in the firm, I expect that my staff—all of them—are loyal, that they are dedicated to ensuring the success of the firm, first and foremost.”
Justin waited for the ax to fall. He didn’t have to wait long.
“There is little chance of success when the boss—me—is distracted by the actions of his employees.”
“Sir?”
DuBois steepled his fingers. “I’m turning the Warren case over to Stevenson.”
He tapped down his rising temper and leaned forward. “I’ve worked on that case for the past two months.”
“I’m sure you’ve done the best you can with it.” The dismissive tone was apparent.
Justin’s eyes tightened at the corners. “You want to tell me the real reason why you’re taking the case? Because I know it has nothing to do with my abilities in the office or in the courtroom, and if the client had an issue, I would have known about it.”
DuBois glared. “The last time I checked, my name was on the door, and as long as it stays there, I don’t have to tell you anything I don’t think you need to know.” He lifted his chin in challenge. “Maybe there’s something you want to tell me.”
Justin knew exactly what DuBois was doing, and he wasn’t going to fall into a pissing match with him. He wanted Justin to get angry. He wanted Justin to steer the conversation in the direction of Jasmine. Justin wasn’t going for it. He stood up slowly and refastened his jacket.
“If Stevenson needs any additional information on the Warren case, he can see me.” He gave a short nod of his head, turned and walked out.
The faces were a blur as Justin moved steadily down the corridor toward the elevator. His jaw was so tight that his temples began to pound. He jammed his finger repeatedly on the down button as if that would magically make the elevator appear. Finally, it did.
It was clear that things were only going to get worse from here. DuBois was notorious for his ability to annihilate his opponents in the courtroom and in his life. Justin had now become his opponent, but he had no intention of allowing DuBois to pick him apart.
Justin returned to his office and shut the door. Once word got out that DuBois had pulled a case from him, it would only be a matter of time before everyone around him would know his career had derailed. He’d seen it happen to several other attorneys. Two eventually quit, one remained and basically did the required pro-bono work that big firms handled.
Justin leaned back in his seat and looked up at the ceiling. Everything happened for a reason. He’d been riding the fence long enough. He and Carl had been mapping out their future for months. There was no time like the present to seize the moment. How could he in good conscience stand up for others if he was unwilling to do the same for himself? He turned on his computer.
The confrontation with DuBois was the last bit of incentive that he needed. In one fell swoop he’d divested himself of the weight of a toxic relationship and a job that was sucking the life out of him.
He put his fingers on the keys and drafted his letter of resignation. He couldn’t remember feeling better when he printed out the letter and signed his name. He smiled with satisfaction. This called for a toast.
* * *
Bailey was stepping out of a well-deserved shower after a long run in the park when her cell phone began to dance on the nightstand. Draped in her striped oversize towel that she loved, she quickly grabbed the phone and a jolt of excitement shot through her. “Justin.”
“Hey, how are you?”
“Just getting out of the shower.”
“I was hoping you were off tonight.”
“As a matter of fact, I am. Why?”
“There’s a jazz concert in the park tonight. Thought you might like to go if you don’t have plans.”
Bailey spun around in a giddy circle. “Hmm. What time?” she asked, not wanting to make it too easy.
“Show starts at nine. I thought I’d stop by the gourmet deli, get some sandwiches, snacks and some wine. We can throw down a blanket and eat outside.”
She grinned as if he was asking her to accompany him to the inaugural ball. “Okay. Sounds good.”
“Plus, I have some celebrating to do.”
“Celebrating?”
“Tell you all about it tonight. What’s your address? I’ll swing by and get you by seven.”
She gave him the information. “I’ll be ready.”
“See you soon.” He disconnected the call.
* * *
Bailey floated around her bedroom getting ready and replaying the conversation over in her head. She never even asked who was playing tonight. Not that it mattered. It could have been the Three Stooges for all she cared. The main thing was that she was going to spend the evening with Justin and not as his bartender but his date.
She pulled out a pair of denim capri pants and a plain white spaghetti-strapped T-shirt. Accessories were the key with a simple outfit. So she selected a thick, bronze-toned metal bracelet, matching hanging earrings and a fabric belt that tied at the waist. She gathered up her springy spiral curls into a loose knot on the top of her head, added a splash of pink lip gloss and a hint of mascara. She appraised herself in the mirror. In all total her outfit might have cost eighty dollars, but she knew she looked like a million bucks. A plain canvas tote and simple platform slides finished off the look, and she was ready.
The doorbell rang and she went to the intercom. “Yes?”
“It’s Justin. Ready?”
“Yep. Be right down.”
“Oh, do you have a blanket?”
“Sure.”
Bailey took one last look in the mirror, grabbed her tote, cell phone, keys and a blanket from the hall closet and headed out.
When she stepped outside, she wasn’t sure what to expect or how she was going to feel seeing Justin, but no matter what she may have thought or felt, nothing prepared her for the impact of the real thing.
Justin was leaning casually against the side of an ink-black Jaguar that gleamed with a life of its own. He was surveying the neighborhood, which gave her a moment to take him in. He was just long, lean and fine. All caps. That’s all there was to it. From the top of the sleek waves of his hair, the yummy caramel of his skin, the broad shoulders and hard chest with abs outlined in a black fitted T-shirt, down to the length of his powerful thighs and legs hidden beneath low-riding black jeans.
He turned, sensing her and slid the dark shades from his eyes. Her heart jumped. He came toward her and met her at the bottom step.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself.”
He took the blanket from her, leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Good to see you,” he said, soft as a prayer. He placed his palm at the small of her back and led her to the car, opened the door and helped her inside before rounding the car and getting in next to her.
Justin put his shades back on and turned the key in the ignition. “You look great,” he said then put the car in Drive and pulled out.
Bailey adjusted herself in the seat and briefly wondered if he could hear her heart banging in her chest. Damn, he smelled good. “So...who’s playing tonight?” she managed.
Justin shrugged slightly. “A local group. The name didn’t ring a bell, though.”
“You keep up with the local talent?”
“Pretty much. My brother, Rafe, plays. When he’s in town he usually sits in on a couple of sets. So I try to keep up.” He turned to her with a grin that made her stomach flip.
“Are you musically inclined, as well?”
“If you can count singing in the shower then I’m a star, baby.”
Bailey laughed. “That remains to be seen.”
He stole a quick glance at her before turning the corner. “I hope so.”
