by Carsen Taite
“Actually, I’m supposed to be meeting someone. My name is Morgan Bradley. Is this your restaurant?”
The woman chuckled. “When things aren’t running smoothly. I’m the manager, Sally Gannon. Mackenzie Lewis is the owner. Did you have an appointment to meet with her?”
“No, I’m here to meet with an Aimee Howard. I’ve seen her picture, though, so I’m sure I can wander around and find her.”
“No need. She’s out on the Dock. I’ll take you to her.”
Ms. Howard must be a regular, Morgan reflected as she followed Sally through the restaurant. No wonder she picked this place, she must feel very comfortable here.
As they stepped out onto the patio deck, Morgan’s eyes immediately found the woman she was here to meet. She was every bit as beautiful as her picture, though not at all Morgan’s type. Aimee Howard was a buxom blonde, curvy and soft. She was in no way fat, but she definitely did not possess the lean, athletic body type Morgan was attracted to. And that’s for the best, Morgan decided.
Sally made the formal introductions and then left them to their privacy, promising to send a waitperson over in a few minutes to see if they needed anything. A scrumptious-looking plate of appetizers was already on the table along with a bottle of Pinot Grigio and two glasses. Aimee motioned for Morgan to take a seat and she poured her a glass of wine.
“Thanks for meeting me here. On a beautiful day like today, I think it’s important to be outdoors.” Aimee glanced around and added with a grin, “Well, as least as close to outdoors as you can be and still have all your creature comforts. My best friends own this place and, I must confess, it’s more like home to me than my own kitchen. The food’s better too,” she added with a grin.
“Thank you for meeting with me in the evening,” Morgan replied. “My days have been packed the last few weeks, and evenings are the only time I can seem to squeeze in personal needs.”
“Well, consider me in charge of this particular personal need.” Aimee handed a bulging folder to her. “I’ve pulled an extensive list of houses based on the sketchy parameters you e-mailed to me. Before we start looking, I’ll want you to go through this list and narrow it down so I can focus on what you are looking for in a new home. I thought we could do some of the narrowing down together tonight so I can get an idea of what you’re looking for.”
Feeling the weight of the folder, Morgan realized she hadn’t been very specific in her description of what she wanted, partly because she wasn’t sure. She knew she needed to find a place to live besides the luxurious Palomar. She had fond memories from her time in law school of tree-lined East Dallas neighborhoods with wood frame houses seated on large lots. Not sure where to begin, she had followed Yolanda’s suggestion to hire a realtor. Yolanda had recommended Aimee Howard, who specialized in the well-established and even historic homes located in East Dallas.
Morgan opened the folder and started sifting through the pages. “Wow, you’ve given me a lot of choices. Sure you want to watch me wade through all of these?”
“It’ll go faster than you think. As you start looking, you’ll realize there are certain things you can’t live without, meaning we’ll discard a bunch of these right off the top. When you think you have the list narrowed down, we’ll drive the neighborhoods. Some of them you’ll dismiss on sight, without even going in. We real estate folk are trained to write excellent marketing materials on the homes we have listed, but what’s on that paper doesn’t always measure up in real life. Kind of like pitching a case to a jury, right?”
Conceding the point, she replied, “Yeah, you’re right. We’re both in the marketing business, in a way. Though right now, I’m not practicing. I’m sure Yolanda told you I’m teaching at the law school.”
“She did mention your new position when she gave me the details of your needs.”
Morgan caught the sultry undertone and wondered what else Yolanda the matchmaker had mentioned to her.
Aimee changed the subject. “Say, did you hear the story on the news about Camille Burke? Isn’t she a student at your school?”
Morgan shook her head. “I did hear the story. She was a graduate student in the art department. I only heard she had been murdered, but I’ve missed the follow-up stories. Apparently, the Burke family is a big contributor to the university, which is probably the only reason I heard anything about this at all.”
“The news report on the radio earlier today said she’d been shot and they think the family handyman did it.”
“Interesting. I don’t envy his attorney. From what I hear, the Burkes are an influential bunch. They’ll want his head on a platter.”
“Do you miss being in private practice?”
“I enjoy teaching. It’s invigorating, working with eager students who are excited about the prospect of practicing law.” She realized she hadn’t answered the question, but she didn’t know how to answer. There were things she missed about private practice, but she was also grateful not to be running her own business while she was slowly recovering from moving across the country and breaking up with Tina.
Aimee changed her line of questioning back to real estate. “Do you have any particular reasons for wanting to live in East Dallas?”
Morgan told Aimee about growing up and going to school in the area and she listed off her favorite things about life there. Their discussion lasted through several glasses of wine and most of the appetizers on the platter between them. She found herself liking Aimee, not only for her professionalism, but also her easy way of inviting conversation. Morgan was pleased at the realization she might have herself a friend outside the law school.
Aimee interrupted their discussion to ask, “Do you know the dark-haired beauty who’s staring you down, or is she a secret admirer?”
Startled at the change in topic, Morgan shook her head. “Excuse me?”
“Over there.” Aimee jerked her head almost imperceptibly. “She’s with the big guy with red hair. Wait a minute, she’s still looking, or should I say glaring? Wait, wait, okay now, quick.”
Morgan turned her head slowly, feigning a stretch. She was too slow, however, and as her gaze connected on the couple across the room, Parker squarely met her glance. Without time to compose herself, she gasped in surprise.
*
Parker entered the restaurant and walked straight toward the wood-deck patio nicknamed the Dock by patrons of the Lakeside. As she suspected, Dex was already there making short work of an enormous gourmet hamburger. She plucked a sweet potato fry from his plate and slid into the chair across from him, munching the crispy snack.
“Thanks for waiting.”
“Sorry, Parker, I was starving and you were late. Eat all the fries you want. I prefer real potatoes.”
“Sweet potatoes are real potatoes, silly boy. And they’re better for you, though judging by the size of the burger you’re eating, you couldn’t care less about your health.”
Dex’s only response was to smile around the edges of the bun he held up to his mouth.
Parker ordered a turkey club and then spread her papers across the table. “I’ve been thinking about this and I don’t think she’s going to have us question each other in class.”
“Huh?”
“Keep up, man. I don’t think she’s going to have us question the person we prepared,” Parker repeated. “You don’t get to prepare adverse witnesses in real life, so it doesn’t make sense she would have us do it in her class. I think she’s going to switch things around when we get to class.”
“Makes sense. So what do you suggest we do to prepare?”
“I say we spend our time brainstorming what points we want to get out of the cross-examination and then work out the narrowest questions possible to box the witness in.”
“That’s one way of doing it.”
“You have a better plan?”
“We could walk over and ask Professor Bradley how she wants it done.” Dex pointed across the room.
Parker looked in the di
rection he was pointing. Morgan was dressed casually and the look did nothing to diminish her beauty. She wore jeans, sandals, and a sleeveless yellow linen shirt, which showed off tan, fit arms. Her toenails were painted in a soft pearl shade and she sat with one leg tucked under the other. Everything about her bearing conveyed she was relaxed in her surroundings, having a good time, and Parker glanced away from her only long enough to take in Morgan’s companion. She scowled at the blonde who was sharing wine and laughs with Morgan.
As the blonde looked up, Parker realized she was staring and hastily glanced away. Finally replying to Dex, she said, “Nah, looks like she’s busy. We’re smart. We can figure this out ourselves.” Her easy tone didn’t betray the anxiety she felt at seeing Morgan in this setting.
“Sure, Casey, whatever you think.” Dex pushed aside the platter containing the remnants of his meal and started pulling out papers to begin their work. As she watched him prepare, Parker felt heat on the back of her neck. She knew someone was staring at her and she suspected it was the blonde, returning looks. She turned slowly to meet the gaze, but the eyes meeting hers were unmistakably Morgan’s.
*
“Aimee, would you excuse me for a moment?” Morgan asked, already out of her chair. Barely waiting for a nod, she walked across the patio toward the table Dex and Parker shared.
“Dex, Parker, how’re you doing?”
“Great, Professor,” Dex answered. “Though we’d be doing even better if we were here without an assignment to work on.”
“Oh, am I working you too hard?” Morgan kept her focus on Dex Gallagher though Parker’s presence pulled at her, calling out for attention.
“Well, Casey here thinks you’re trying to trip us up on the assignment, lulling us into thinking we’re preparing our witnesses for a cross-exam, but you actually intend to have us mix it up in class to show how you don’t get to prep your adverse witnesses in the real world.”
Grateful for the opportunity to focus her attention on Parker, Morgan turned to her, her heart pounding. She tried for a teasing tone as she asked, “Parker, do you think I would set you up to fail?”
Parker met her look and held it. “I think you would do whatever you felt was necessary to prove a point.” The words were delivered with a calm, deliberate tone, but Morgan heard the undercurrent of anger. She didn’t blame Parker. She felt the heat flaming between them, but she had no plans to ignore common sense and fuel the fire. Risking a prolonged look into the eyes turned her way, she admitted to herself the difficulty of the situation. Every moment in Parker’s presence was a searing reminder of what was possible when passion reigned. For one night, Parker’s undivided attention to her every need had awakened in her the want she had suppressed for years, years spent in a dead relationship where desires died of disinterest. Ignoring the voice within crying out for her not to ignore those desires any longer, Morgan pulled herself together to respond.
“Trick’s on me then, since you’ve figured out my strategy. I suppose I now know who my best students are going to be.”
Dex smiled, while Parker’s face was impassive. “There was never any question,” she said.
*
“Parker Casey, what the hell are you doing here on a weeknight?”
“Back off, Irene, I swear I cleaned my room and finished all my homework.” Parker’s tone was jesting, but Irene knew her well enough to know not to push matters.
“Fine, girl. I suppose you’re entitled to blow off some steam considering how hard you’re working. Beer?”
Parker relaxed and she settled onto a barstool. “Great, thanks.”
“Hey, Parker, how’re ya doing?”
Parker turned to meet Dannie’s enthusiastic glance and couldn’t ignore the outstretched arms. Dannie was truly adorable and when she got to be a few years older, she would rule this roost. Parker knew because for years she had been the one in charge, picking who she wanted from the crowds of women who came here, all seeking something different in the same safe place. Parker hadn’t had a real crush in years, but she knew what it felt like to be the object of other women’s avid affections. The feeling was empowering.
Releasing Dannie from the hug, Parker replied, “I’m doing all right. How ’bout you?”
“Good, but we miss having you around. Glad you stopped by. Can I buy you a drink?”
“When you turn twenty-one you can. In the meantime, I’ll buy my own, but thanks for the offer.” Parker ruffled Dannie’s hair and softened her words with a warm smile.
*
Morgan was beginning to believe her second trip to the bar was a mistake. She hadn’t been ready to go back to her lonely hotel room and she didn’t feel like returning to her office. Aimee had asked her to stay for dinner, but Morgan detected an undercurrent of desire she didn’t share, so she begged off what was likely to turn into an uncomfortable encounter.
She would have been content to nurse a drink by herself in a corner booth with the presence of others serving as a backdrop to keep her from feeling truly alone. But her plan for solitude in the sparsely populated bar was foiled when she caught sight of Parker Casey seated at the bar. Her thoughts were invaded by feelings—strong, passionate feelings, all of which were hungry for attention and determined to drive away all reason. She had only herself to blame. You knew she works here, she chided herself.
She watched the easy exchange between Parker and the young androgynous barback with mounting jealousy as she noted the comfortably casual way Parker touched the other woman. Morgan forced herself to look deep into her vodka tonic, willing away the exchange taking place nearby. She felt rather than saw a body slide into the leather booth beside her. Morgan took her eyes off the floating ice cubes long enough to turn and tell the unwanted presence she longed to be alone. Surprise stopped the words before they left her lips.
“Why, Professor, twice in one day! We should be more careful. People might begin to talk.”
Morgan bit back a sharp retort when she noticed the teasing gleam in her eyes. Distracted as she was by the heat of Parker’s presence, she knew enough to know she was being baited and she was determined to keep the upper hand. Matching Parker’s tone, she replied, “Should I obtain a restraining order?”
“You may need one.” Parker grabbed Morgan’s hand and pulled her from the booth. Morgan amazed herself by following without resistance.
Moments later, they were standing in the alley. Morgan didn’t notice the smells or trash this time. All her senses were focused on Parker’s commanding presence. She felt a rush of heat as her thundering heart pushed blood fast and furious through her veins. She offered no protest as Parker pulled her into strong arms and kissed her with roaring passion. In this moment they were not teacher and student. They were once again strangers meeting in a strange place. The memory of the night they shared as strangers warmed her to this embrace. She kissed Parker with abandon, crushing her lips, melding her body against Parker’s welcoming frame, willing away all the barriers between them.
Her will wasn’t strong enough. She pulled away even as Parker moved closer, groaning soft words against her neck. Hearing her voice brought back the reality of their relationship. They weren’t strangers meeting for the first time. They were well known to each other in positions that rendered their current embrace taboo. Morgan was torn between temptation and convention. Convention won the first round.
“I have to go.” Morgan’s breathing was labored.
Parker stepped closer. “No, Morgan. You don’t.”
“Yes. I do.”
Parker placed a hand on either shoulder and gave Morgan a gentle shake. “You don’t get it, do you? We’re both adults. There’s nothing wrong with the attraction between us. I make it a rule not to fool around with anyone at school, and if I’d met you there first, we never would have had the night we had. But it didn’t work out that way, and I don’t see any logic in pretending things are anything other than what they are.”
“And what, pray tell, are t
hey?”
Parker’s lips delivered a complete and wordless response. Morgan ceded her last grasp at maintaining their formal roles and answered with equal passion. The deep kiss left her breathless and wanting. When Parker inclined her head in the direction of the path they had taken the night they first met, Morgan could only nod and follow.
*
The house was exactly as she remembered it. Morgan followed Parker up the stairs again, fighting away a persistent thought. Leave now before things get really complicated. As if sensing her consternation, Parker turned and gathered her into a tight embrace. She kissed Morgan and her tongue teased away all doubt.
“Who was the blonde?” Parker asked.
Morgan, hazy with lust, murmured back a question. “Huh? Blonde?”
Parker smiled. “Never mind.”
When they reached the room, Parker wasted no time trying to get Morgan undressed while ignoring Morgan’s attempts to do the same to her. Parker was intent on being in charge this time, knowing that outside this room, in the halls of the law school, Morgan would always be the one in control.
“My turn this time.”
“Your turn?” Morgan raised her eyebrow and flashed a questioning smile.
“I believe last time we were here, I let you run the show.” Parker began to unbutton Morgan’s shirt. “Now it’s my turn.”
Morgan answered by placing her hand over Parker’s and pulling it to her mouth. She eased Parker’s index finger into her mouth and stroked it with her tongue. Parker tried to continue unfastening Morgan’s shirt with her free hand, but Morgan’s warm, wet tongue drew her deeper, caressing the sensitive web of skin between her fingers. For a moment Parker forgot what she was doing, where she was. Ironically, it was Morgan’s voice that drew her back into the moment.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Parker opened her eyes. Her hand was back by her side and the only evidence of Morgan’s mesmerizing kisses was the cool moisture on her still slick finger.
Morgan met her glance. “Yes. I think you should run the show.” She finished what Parker started, undid the last button of her shirt and slid it from her shoulders. “You’re in charge.”
