Groping in her makeup bag, she pulled out her compact and snapped it open with shaky hands. Lisa’s unwelcome image flashed through her mind. Mike had made love to Lisa once, too, and look where it had gotten her—tossed aside for someone new and probably ruined for other men. Dara had precious little experience, but enough to know Mike’s skilled lovemaking was a rare and wondrous thing. It certainly bore no resemblance to the awkward, unsatisfying fumbling she’d experienced with Antonio. Dara had taken Lisa’s place, and maybe, all too soon, someone else would take her place.
Stop it.
Disgusted with herself, Dara shoved all doubts and images of Lisa and Antonio far away. Mike loved her. She knew it even if he’d never said it. Their relationship was about much more than the thrill of the conquest, and her worries were just a sign of her pathetic—and groundless—insecurities. Mike had given her no reason to doubt him, and she needed to pull herself together and get to the office.
As soon as she saw him again, she’d realize how ridiculous her fears were.
Mike sat at his desk, flipping idly through his notes for the meeting with Sullivan, his mind on Dara. His panic was back, full-blown, and he knew why: He was whipped.
Just as he’d feared, she’d done a number on him last night, and he knew absolutely that he couldn’t live without her. Certainly not now or next month. Probably not ever. Leaving her this morning to come to work had been, quite possibly, the hardest thing he’d ever done. Giving her the only extra key to his house had been the easiest.
He pressed his eyes shut, dropped his head, and ran his hands roughly over his forehead and temples. What was he going to do? This kind of romantic entanglement was the very last thing he needed at this phase of his life. He should be spending all his time developing his practice, finding clients, billing hours and figuring out how he’d make payroll this month and finance the new roof. He needed to focus on his cancer-stricken mother and his idiot brother, not wonder when Dara would arrive at the office.
Before he’d had sex with her, he’d deluded himself into thinking sex would get her out of his system. Only now he wanted her more than ever. He’d always had plenty of sexual stamina, but with Dara last night, he’d ventured into uncharted territory.
Worse, he wanted to be in the room with her, to see her smile, make her laugh, watch her sleep.
Whipped.
W-H-I-P-P-E-D.
Whipped.
Whipped was a scary place to be, he was discovering.
When he heard voices a few minutes later, he started down the stairs to the reception area. Midway, he stopped dead in his tracks and watched the scene unfold.
Dara, still in her jacket, greeted Aidan Sullivan, their client, in his high-tech, sturdy wheelchair.
“Mr. Sullivan.” She smiled warmly and reached down to touch his arm. “I’m Dara Williams, Mike’s intern. I’ve been working on your case. It’s so nice to meet you.”
Mike watched, mesmerized, as Dara turned to greet Sullivan’s wife, Audrey, and relieved Audrey of a smiling baby of about six months while Audrey took off her coat.
Dara held the baby high over her head, laughing. “Hi, precious boy!” she sang while the baby laughed and gurgled at her. “How are you, sweet thing?”
An overwhelming, unwanted and undeniably primitive instinct contracted in Mike’s chest—the last thing he expected to feel at this stage of his life: He wanted to make love with Dara, get her pregnant and see her holding their baby.
He wanted her, and no one else, to be the mother of his children.
Dara grabbed her coat and hustled down the hall, pausing outside Mike’s office long enough to see that he wasn’t there. They’d been so busy with Aidan Sullivan this morning, they hadn’t had a word alone together, and now she needed to get to class. She really hoped she wasn’t forgetting something, she thought as she hurried downstairs. Her thoughts were so scattered today—oh, who was that older woman with Mike?
Dara slowed, took a closer look and realized, with a kick of nervous adrenaline, that it was his mother.
She was beautiful and petite—Mike must have gotten his height from his father—with her salt-and-pepper hair styled in a short, smart cut. Laughing up at Mike, she looked great and showed no sign of being sick that Dara could detect.
Just then, Mike glanced up and saw Dara, forcing her to stop lurking in the shadows and come all the way down.
“Leaving already?” he asked, smiling broadly.
“Yes. Time for class.”
She looked expectantly at Mike’s mother, who regarded her with warm, speculative eyes.
Mike touched his mother’s arm. “Mama, this is . . .”
Smiling, Dara held her breath.
“My wonderful intern, Dara Williams.”
Dara blinked, hanging on to her smile with the tips of her fingers.
So there it was. Not “my girl” or “my girlfriend” or any other loving and possessive title that men gave the women they were serious about. The night after they made love for the first time, he introduced her to his mother as his freaking intern.
Yeah, that was going to leave a bruise.
Dara extended her hand. “How are you?”
Mrs. Baldwin wrapped Dara’s hand in both of hers. “Dara! Sean’s mentioned you so often! I didn’t realize you worked for Mike! Why don’t you come to lunch with us?”
The pain in Dara’s chest intensified. So Sean had mentioned her to his mother, but Mike hadn’t, eh? She darted a glance at Mike and saw his face had darkened perceptibly at the mention of Sean’s name.
“Thanks for asking, but maybe next time.” She slid her arms into her coat. “I need to get to class. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
“And you, Dara,” said Mrs. Baldwin.
“I’ll talk to you later,” Mike told Dara.
It was a statement, but Dara saw the question in his eyes.
She also saw Mrs. Baldwin looking intently back and forth between them.
Somehow she summoned another breezy smile as she left. “Bye.”
She made it all the way out to her car before she realized she’d forgotten her keys.
Mike watched Mama settle herself in the chair opposite his desk. “You look like you feel pretty good today.”
Mama waved a hand. “Forget about me. That was her, wasn’t it, Michael? Dara?”
He should have known she’d figure it out, he thought, smiling wryly. His entire life, he’d never gotten away with so much as a filched chocolate chip cookie.
“That was her.”
“She’s beautiful!”
“I know.”
Mama beamed as if he’d been invited to the White House for dinner. He half expected her to start clapping. “Are you in love with her? Do you want to marry her?”
The L-and M-bombs sailed through the air and hit him squarely on top of his shocked head.
He got up from his chair as if the seat had caught fire. Mama’s questions cut a little too close to his possessive thoughts today, especially since he’d seen Dara with the baby.
“Marry? Where’d that come from? I don’t know what I’m going to have for dinner tonight. I don’t even know where I’m taking you for lunch.”
Mama’s face fell. “But you love her ...I could tell by the way you smiled at her.”
You love her.
Panic woke up and flexed inside him, cracking its knuckles menacingly.
Love.
Stalling for time, he rearranged some files on his desk.
“There you go with your fairy tales again,” he said, his forced laughter dying on the vine.
Mama’s smile finally evaporated.
“Why can’t I enjoy a relationship with a beautiful woman for as long as it lasts without you”—he flapped a hand—“booking a church and picking out china patterns?”
“Michael—”
“My private life is not up for further discussion.” He reached for his jacket, desperate to get out of there before the walls finished
closing in and suffocated him. “Are we going to lunch, or not?”
Hearing a scuffling sound outside his office, he poked his head out the door and looked up and down the hall, but no one was out there. Weird.
“Because if this is about Sean,” Mama continued, twisting at the waist to keep him in sight.
Irritated, Mike wheeled back around to face her. “Yeah, what about Sean? What do you think he’d do if he knew I was involved with the woman he wants? That would kind of ruin your whole little family reconciliation setup, wouldn’t it?”
Mama stared at him.
“If you love that girl, don’t you let her go, Michael,” she said sternly. “Not even for Sean.”
“Now really isn’t a good time, Sean,” Dara told him.
I don’t know what I’m going to have for dinner.
Somehow she’d made it through her afternoon classes when what she’d really wanted to do was curl up in the fetal position and die. Miraculously, she’d driven home without killing herself or anyone else, and now she needed to drink her way through the bottle of Riesling she had chilling in the refrigerator, or, at the very least, take a hot shower and try to numb her body, if not her brain.
Another Baldwin brother was a complication she did not need at this juncture.
Sean nodded morosely, then leaned against her apartment door frame and shoved his hands in his back pockets.
“I thought we could talk for a minute. You didn’t stick around after class, and I had a rough morning.”
Rough mornings. Well, now, that was something they had in common, wasn’t it?
Why can’t I just enjoy a relationship with a beautiful woman for as long as it lasts?
The room swirled in and out of focus, and she pressed her hand to her temple, trying to pretend everything was fine when really nothing was.
“Dara?” Sean’s worried eyes skimmed over her face. “Are you okay? You look a little ...pale.”
This is my wonderful intern.
Nodding, she motioned him inside, shut the door and followed him into the living room, where they sat on the sofa.
“What’s happened?” she asked.
“I got fired from my internship today.” He looked incredulous. “My boss said he’d counseled me enough. He said we were wasting each other’s time. That racist bastard never did like me.”
Dara gaped at him, surprised out of her own misery. “Sean, your boss has several black lawyers working for him. I don’t see how you can call him a racist.”
“Well, you didn’t know him,” Sean snapped irritably. “He’s been trying to get rid of me from the beginning.”
Something told Dara to just keep her mouth shut, but she couldn’t sit silently by while Sean rewrote history.
“Sean, he’s invested a lot of time in you. I don’t think—”
“I thought you were on my side,” he cried.
She held her hands up. “I’m just pointing out that your boss isn’t the Antichrist.”
Sean got up to pace. “Yeah? Well, what’m I going to do now? I’m probably going to get an incomplete and have to do another whole internship.” He thumped his fist on the wall. “I can’t believe this shit.”
Dara watched him dispassionately. She felt bad for him, but his little firing seemed like a fun day feeding the camels at the zoo compared to the mess her life had become in the last few hours.
Once again, she’d foolishly slept with a man who cared much less for her than she cared for him. Once again, she was just another notch on a bedpost—a hookup. Once again, she’d trusted her heart only to have her stupid fucking heart betray her.
Didn’t take long, did it?
Just as she’d feared, Mike had blown her life to smithereens, and all it had taken was a few careless words. She’d loved him and given him everything— everything—and what was he doing? Enjoying time with a beautiful woman while it lasted.
Well, at least she’d found out now, before she’d invested any more time and energy in him. Before she’d spent another unspeakably tender night in his arms.
Yes, she needed to look on the bright side.
She’d been a fool last night, but she wouldn’t be a fool tonight.
“I need to do some thinking, I guess,” Sean said. “About school. About my life.”
Dara blinked up at him, rewinding his words. “Do you really want to be a lawyer, Sean?”
He hesitated. “That’s what I need to think about, isn’t it?”
“You’ll get it figured out. I know you will.”
He smiled. “What would I do without you?”
She shrugged.
“Oh, and I’m finished with the con law notes I borrowed. I forgot them in my car. Do you want to come down and get them?”
Yeah. Like she cared about some notes at a time like this.
“Sure,” she said anyway. “Let me get my keys.”
15
Mike hummed as he pulled into Dara’s parking lot after work that night, at peace with himself and the world. Lunch with Mama had been followed by a calming brain wave from on high that had put things in perspective for him: he and Dara could do what they’d been doing, which was take things one day at a time. No one had pointed a gun to his head and forced him to make a final decision about his future with Dara before nightfall, so why bother freaking out about it?
The future would reveal itself in good time. If that meant marriage—and he was thinking it probably did; he was approximately 90 percent sure about that now, to be honest—then they’d get married when the time was right.
Until then, he and Dara were in a good place.
The best possible place, in fact, he thought, remembering snippets of last night with a shit-eating grin.
He’d even killed two birds with one stone by getting her a Christmas present that enabled them to spend some time together over her break, when she’d go home to see her parents in Chicago. That way they wouldn’t have to go weeks without seeing each other, an idea as appealing as a public prostate exam.
Yeah, he thought, still grinning, life was pretty freaking good—hang on.
Hang on. He squinted into the darkness, muscles tensing as he drove by. Was that Sean’s car under the lights over there? And was that Dara standing by Sean’s car, hugging Sean?
Typical. A twinge of annoyance killed the last of his grin.
By the time he’d finished parking, Sean was gone, thank God. Which gave him a little time to cool off. He really needed to notch down the jealousy thing, especially after last night.
Dara was his now. She wasn’t going to run off with Sean.
Taking the stairs to Dara’s apartment three at a time, he knocked.
No answer.
He knocked again, harder.
The door swung open.
“How’s my angel?” he asked, his heart soaring as he reached out to hug and kiss her like he always did.
But Dara flinched away from him.
What the—?
Bewildered, he took a good look at her face and didn’t like what he saw. The sparkle was gone from her eyes, making her look sad and flat, as though someone had died.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, shutting the door with growing alarm.
She walked to the dimly lit living room, where the blinds were uncharacteristically still open even though it was past sunset. Only the light from the foyer table kept the room from complete darkness. Hadn’t she noticed? He closed the blinds, then switched on the floor lamp next to the sofa.
That was better.
He moved toward her again, wanting to make sure she was okay, but she stiffened before he got within four feet of her.
He stopped dead. “Dara. You’re scaring me.”
She opened her mouth. Shut her mouth. Took a deep breath. Opened her mouth again.
“I forgot my keys,” she said finally.
“Okay . . .” he said, more puzzled than before, wondering how she’d gotten home and into her apartment with no keys. “Do you need some
help or—”
“So I went back to get them. To my office.”
“Okay . . .”
“And I overheard ...you talking to your mother.”
Mike stared at her, his mind racing. It took a long minute for the words to sink in, although he knew immediately he’d done something terribly wrong. He struggled to remember exactly what he and Mama had said.
They’d talked a little about Sean, right, and she’d claimed he was in love with Dara and asked if he didn’t want to marry her, he’d dodged the question, and ...Ah, shit.
Shit. Shit. Fuck.
“Dara—”
She backed away as if he’d approached her with a red-hot poker, her wide, miserable eyes riveted on his face, her voice oddly soothing.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”
“Of course, I have to explain. I know how it must have sounded, but—”
“It’s not your fault,” she said reasonably, making him wonder why she wasn’t furious with him. Where was the woman who’d never hesitated to read him the riot act when she thought he deserved it? “You never made me any promises and I guess I ...I just assumed things that weren’t really there.”
Stupid, stupid, stupid, Mike thought, infuriated at himself. Why had he spouted that bullshit?
He hesitated as he gathered his words, knowing he’d never argued a more important case, not even the times his clients’ appeals had gone to the Ohio Supreme Court.
“Dara, I do care about you. You know that. You know that.”
He touched her arm—maybe if he touched her he could start to bridge the gap between them—but she twisted out of reach and wrapped her arms around herself.
“Don’t make it worse by saying things you don’t mean.”
He held his hands out, palms up. “I do mean it! I mean ...I’m sorry I said something so stupid, but think. Think about all the time we’ve spent together. You can’t doubt how I feel about you.”
For the first time, her eyes wavered, but then her chin firmed and she scowled. “You called me your intern.”
Frustrated, Mike struggled to keep up with the flow of her thoughts. “What?”
“When you introduced me to your mother, you called me your intern,” she said impatiently.
Trouble Page 20
