by Pat Simmons
Shari’s flirty banana-colored suit against her rich dark skin shouted, “I’m all about business, so don’t mess with me”; her straight, trimmed mane hung down her back; and her stilettos showcased her well-toned calves. Evidently, she didn’t follow the trend of nondescript dark suits that he had grown accustomed to seeing on other lawyers. She was creating a fashion mode all her own.
Against his better professional judgment, Garrett indulged, admiring her expertise in walking. She seemed to have a natural sway that he wished other women would try to emulate. Wowed by her confidence, beauty, and aura, Garrett almost wished he were the unfortunate client she’d been hired to defend. Shari was a tease, and she didn’t even know it, which was why he’d kept having to refocus.
The court proceedings for his client were conducted without any hiccups. Garrett was almost hoping Shari would return to the courtroom, but she never did, nor did she appear when he chaperoned the prisoner out the courthouse and loaded him in the armored car to carry him back to prison.
It didn’t happen. Garrett supposed that if God was going to dangle this woman before him, he was obligated to kick his charm into high gear.
Chapter 6
A few days later, Shari had only one thing on her mind: finding food for her growling stomach. She’d already had two court cases that morning, and her next one was that afternoon, just a few hours away. A woman on a mission, Shari stepped out of the Criminal Justice Center on Filbert Street and prepared to search for some lunch.
“Shari!”
She twirled around and came face-to-face with Garrett. He closed the distance between them in a few long strides. His serious expression made him look lethal in contrast to his charming personality at Bible class.
“Hi, again.” The warm gaze returned as his brown eyes seemed to dance. When he smiled, not one stain dulled his gleaming white teeth. Nice.
There went that chill that made her shiver. Just then, a slight breeze seemed to spin around them, and she caught a whiff of his cologne. Ooh. She loved the way he smelled. “We can’t seem to get away from each other,” she joked.
“And who would want to get away from the lovely Attorney Sharmaine Carmen?” Garrett lifted an eyebrow. “Not me.”
Shari blushed and glanced away to gather her wits, then met his stare. “Believe me, there are plenty, mostly those who go up against me in court. I was shocked to see you there this morning. At first, I thought you were a defendant. I didn’t know you were with the U.S. Marshals.”
“Yes, and serving proudly for a couple of years.” He playfully bowed. “But if I ever need a damsel to rescue me, you would be my one call from inside my cell.”
Shari laughed.
“Seriously, you’re an amazing musician, a stellar attorney, and you have the prettiest brown eyes.”
His accolades, plus the compliment, rendered Shari temporarily speechless. When her voice returned, she thanked him. To stare boldly at him would be a challenge for him to say more, but she didn’t find anything around them that was remotely interesting enough to warrant her gaze.
Shari had to scratch her initial assessment of Garrett Nash. Actor Lance Gross wished he looked as good. She snapped out of the trancelike state into which his magnetism had drawn her. “Uh, I’d better go grab something to eat. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“I will if you’ll let me treat you to lunch,” Garrett said, inviting himself along, then reached for the shoulder strap of her computer bag.
Putting up no resistance, Shari relinquished her briefcase. His initiative flattered her.
Garrett took the lead and guided her down the street. “I think eating at the Gallery will spare your feet from a lot of unnecessary walking,” he suggested. The nearby mall extended four blocks and soared four stories high. Despite his long strides earlier, Shari couldn’t help but notice that he’d slowed his steps, evidently to match hers.
The subtle gesture of chivalry was attractive, but the man didn’t know that she glided around in heels every day—and soaked her aching arches for almost an hour every night. That was the price she paid for wanting to add inches to her five feet five height.
“I have a burning question.” He gently ushered her out of the way of approaching pedestrians with a slight touch to her arm.
“Okay.” She swallowed, trying to act unaffected.
“Where did you learn to blow the sax like that?”
Unsure of what Garrett would want to know about her, Shari relaxed and laughed. “I learned from my father and cousins.”
“That’s right—your father. John told me what the song ‘Thank You’ means to you. I’m sorry for your loss. I can’t thank you enough for sharing the piece with my family.”
“It was my pleasure.” Shari paused, then added, “Eventually.”
They approached the mall entrance. Garrett opened the door, and she walked inside. She was accustomed to receiving this courtesy from male family members and colleagues, but the gesture felt different—almost personal—coming from Garrett.
In the Gallery food court, the two weaved their way through the maze of tables and chairs. Shari eyed the Saladworks menu. The thought of building her own fruit salad sounded appealing. “Is this okay with you?” she asked Garrett. Judging by his build, he probably ate steak and eggs for breakfast.
“Sure. I didn’t come just for the food but the company.” He winked.
Once they had ordered, out of habit, Shari dug in her purse for money, but Garrett stayed her hand. “What man would ask a lady to lunch and allow her to pay?”
“I know a few,” she answered without thinking.
“Well, I’m not one of them.”
Shari thanked him, then looked for a place to sit while he paid the tab. She was still scanning the area for a clean vacant table when Garrett walked up to her with their tray and pointed to a square table for two in a cozy corner. She nodded and followed him there. He waited for her to be seated first before lowering himself into his chair. After she silently blessed her food, Shari studied his salad. Was there any lettuce at all beneath the pile of ham and chicken strips? She hid her amusement. Between the crunches and chews, Shari caught him watching her as she observed him. What was he thinking?
More than once, the scent of his cologne drifted over and tickled her nostrils. She attempted to hold her breath, so that she wouldn’t succumb to an attraction, but it didn’t help. His dark face was clean-shaven, except for his thick black mustache, with well-defined features that were hard to resist. But she had to resist. There were no hints to suggest that he liked her as anything more than a sister in Christ, despite what her mother and Faith had said. Bummer. That would have been nice.
“What inspired you to become a Deputy U.S. Marshal?” she decided to ask.
He wiped his mouth with his napkin and took a sip of water. “The short answer is, history.”
Tilting her head, Shari studied him. “I like long answers.”
He squinted as if concentrating hard on his response. “I’ll never forget seeing the image of a brave little black girl named Ruby Bridges being escorted to an all-white school in the South by U.S. Marshal Charles Burks. It was at that moment I understood that ‘protect and serve’ meant more than being a police officer. That image changed history, and I wanted my purpose in life to be to make a difference. I started off in Homeland Security, which I enjoyed, but I was biding my time, waiting for an opening with the Marshals. It came more than a year ago. I certainly don’t take my achievements lightly.”
Passion. Shari was impressed, and that didn’t happen often when it came to men.
Pushing his meal aside, Garrett folded his arms and focused on her. “Since we’re talking about careers, was it Law and Order or another crime show that compelled you to be an attorney?”
Shari shrugged. “Neither. Justice in this life isn’t a given. As long as man is in charge, life isn’t fair. The color of our skin plays a major factor in whether we’re a ‘have’ or a ‘have not’—and n
ot only in this country. More than once, I’ve been the victim of bias because of the way I look. And I’m a woman.” She paused. “You’re in law enforcement, so I’m preaching to the choir. Sorry.”
“Hey, I invited myself along, so I’ll listen to whatever you want to preach about. Being a black male in any profession has it challenges, too. For example, Bass Reeves was one of the first blacks to be appointed a Deputy U.S. Marshal west of the Mississippi River, way back in eighteen seventy-five. Now, fast-forward almost 150 years, and out of ninety-four districts, our president has appointed twenty African-Americans.”
Shari nodded as she stabbed her fork into her salad. “As long as there are minorities, regardless of their ethnicity, there will be racism and injustices that occur. That’s where I come in. As a matter of fact, if I recall, there have been multiple class-action suits filed against the U.S. Marshals Service for denied promotions—” She stopped. Why did she always talk shop when she found herself alone with a man?
Maybe because you’re trying to mask your personal insecurities with your professional achievements. It was just a wild guess, but it was also something her mother, sisters, or Faith might say.
Garrett was about to speak when his smartphone sang a tune played by Gerald Albright. The musician’s mastery of the saxophone was unmistakable. “If you don’t mind, let me take this to make sure everything’s okay at home.” He raised the phone to his ear. “Hi, Grandpa.” He winked, and Shari almost wanted to slide out of her chair. The intimate expression was so sexy.
She shook her head, trying to unscramble her jumbled-up hormones. She didn’t want to take his mannerisms personally. What she did find endearing was his concern for his loved ones, especially the elderly.
“I’m enjoying lunch with the most beautiful, fascinating creature God has formed.” He nodded as his eyes sparkled adoringly at her.
Okay, I’m a goner. How could he say those things and she not take it personally? Remember to breathe, she coaxed herself.
Seconds later, Garrett handed her his smartphone. “It’s Grandpa Moses. He wants to speak with you.”
Me? Surprised, Shari blinked, then cleared her throat. “He—he wants to speak with me?” she stuttered before accepting the phone. “Praise the Lord, Brother Miller.”
Garrett seemed amused at her discomfort. As a matter of fact, he began forking up his salad with more gusto, as if her speaking to his grandfather was the norm.
“Praise the Lord, young lady. I hope my grandson is treating you to a fine lunch.” The man’s friendly tone relaxed her. “We plan to visit G—I mean, Garrett—soon, and we look forward to seeing you again. Then we’ll treat you.”
“Okay….” Shari didn’t know what else to say. Her saxophone solo must have really earned her some fans. A smile tugged at her mouth. “Uh, would you like to speak with ‘G’?” she teased, ready to hand him back his phone.
“Oh, I can speak with him anytime. Enjoy your lunch, and God bless you.”
“Thank you. God bless you and yours, too.” Shari exhaled once they disconnected. She raised an eyebrow at Garrett and gave him the stare that she usually reserved for her clients, daring them to come clean with the truth. “If I didn’t know better, I would say you set me up.”
Laughing, he shook his head. “Not guilty. My grandfather and I just happen to have a crush on the same beautiful sister.”
Crush? Shari tried to maintain an unreadable expression as her heart fluttered. Finally she regained control. “Isn’t it true that the same Moses Miller is married and has professed his love to his wife of fifty years?”
Garrett nodded.
“And yet, you accuse this wonderful husband, father, and grandfather of upstanding character of this indiscretion?”
“Well, Counselor, let me clarify my statement. It is a fact that he does like you.” Garrett’s nostrils flared, and she almost expected steam to pour out at any minute. “I’m the one with a crush.”
Yes, Garrett was handsome, a fine specimen of God’s handiwork; but she knew little about him and wasn’t about to be blindsided by his charm.
Garrett leaned closer, as if the empty chairs nearby would eavesdrop, and lowered his voice to say, “You mesmerized me at the party, and my attraction has been growing ever since. We have other things in common besides my grandfather’s affections. The most important commonality is that we’ve both been baptized with the Holy Ghost by fire and water in Jesus’ name. Then, there is the fact that we both play tenor sax.”
Shari didn’t know what to make of the unexpected revelation. This was too serious a discussion over salad. She preferred to talk shop. She needed to keep a clear head and get back to her office.
“Ah, the counselor has doubts, does she? We both believe in law enforcement. You defend the laws of the land, and I make sure suspects pay for the crimes they committed by bringing them to court. And we have the same taste in vehicles. I, too, drive a black BMW X6.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“It was the multicontour power driver’s seat and the premium audio sound system that sold you. Am I right?”
Uncontrollable giggles escaped Shari’s lips. What script was this man reading from? How did he know? She couldn’t let him think he had the upper hand. “Actually, it was the turbo engine and the all-wheel drive,” she rebutted.
Their laughter mingled for a moment. Then Garrett reined in his chuckles, but his dark eyes continued to sparkle with mirth. “Thank God for dimples.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your dimples. God made them to perfection.” He kept staring.
As if she didn’t believe him, Shari fingered the indentations. She hadn’t thought about them since her recent conversation with her mother.
“There’s more, Attorney Carmen. Our dark skins blend into a robust cup of Jamaican coffee. The aroma is so sweet that I don’t care how the experts may try to duplicate the ingredients; only God got it right.”
How was she supposed to respond to that line of poetry? Garrett closed his large hand over her smaller one, and she thought she was going to pass out. His was so warm, hers so cold. Her heart seemed to lose its rhythm. She didn’t even know this man, and his well-rehearsed romantic lines were wreaking havoc with her peace of mind. Withdrawing her hand, Shari scooted back in her chair, putting some much-needed distance between them. She was one of the best lawyers in the region, and no stranger to tense moments and quick-witted repartee, yet she found herself at a loss for words.
Shari took a deep breath to clear her head—and inhaled Garrett’s cologne instead. Deciding it was time to prevent any further insanity, she steered the conversation away from the vulnerable party—herself. “Your assessment is duly noted and warmly welcomed, but I’m at a disadvantage. Somehow your presence in the City of Brotherly Love doesn’t fit.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“It’s evident that you are well-loved in Boston. What brought you Philly? It definitely wasn’t family or career.”
Suddenly, Garrett became tongue-tied. Her attorney instincts told her he was the one suppressing information.
“I have my reasons,” he finally responded.
“I see.” Shari wouldn’t press him for more details. Everything within her shouted, Watch and pray, and watch some more!
When their salads were finished, they headed back to the courthouse. Garrett had done more than hint at his affections; he had stirred up a lot of questions—questions that would have to wait until after her next court case to decipher.
Chapter 7
Although Garrett was enthralled with Shari and wanted to explore the fascination that God had instilled in him for her, he wasn’t ready to bare his soul. He didn’t want her pity for his humiliation. He had heard enough rumors circulating around the church: “Didn’t you know better?” “She sure made a fool out of you,” and the doozy: “You are going to give the other guy a beat down, right?”
The answer, of course, was no. Garrett had been too n
umb to lose it over Brittani. He’d opted for the default clause in 2 Chronicles 20:17 and let the Lord fight his battle.
Despite her high heels, Shari quickened her steps on the return trip from lunch. He had laid it on kind of thick, which surprised him. But once he’d begun to speak from his heart, the more freely his words had flowed.
Silence had replaced their lighthearted banter from earlier. Shari must have sensed his discomfort, for she didn’t press him. If only he knew what was going through her mind. She wouldn’t be a great attorney if she didn’t store their conversation away for future retrieval when necessary.
“I need to go to my office before heading back to court,” she said. Garrett followed her as she detoured onto a different street a couple of blocks before the Justice Center. When they reached her office door, she turned and gave him a smile that seemed genuine. “Thanks for lunch.”
“Thanks for letting me treat you.” Garrett nodded and walked away without looking back. Lord, I’m not ready for this,” he prayed under his breath. “It wouldn’t be fair to bring her my baggage.”
Put your trust in Me, not in yourself. God had the last word on the matter for that day.
The following Saturday, Garrett was disappointed when Shari was a no-show at band practice. He had been curious to see how she would respond to him after the impromptu lunch date and his shutting down on her. Once rehearsal was over, he pulled John to the side. “What’s the deal with Shari? Clearly, she enjoys playing. Why does she skip practice?”
His friend grinned. “Well, aren’t we our sister’s keeper?” When Garrett didn’t crack a smile, John wiped the smirk off his face. “She wears a couple of hats here at Jesus Is the Way. Since Shari’s an attorney, she lends her expertise to the prison ministry. They’ve been prepping and praying for their three upcoming prison missions trips, so her absences are understandable, considering she can pick up most songs with ease.”
Tucking away that tidbit, Garrett thanked him and was about to walk away when John stopped him.
