Can't Stop the Feeling

by Maria Geraci

Jenna drove her car up to the podium in front of The Harbor House and handed her keys to the valet. She’d changed (or she’d never hear the end of it from Kate) out of her work clothes and into the white jeans Kate had practically ordered her to wear. Coupled with a black silk shirt and a pair of strappy high heeled sandals, she had to admit she’d taken extra care to look good for this non-date of hers.

  Ben was already in the bar when she arrived. He wore jeans and a light blue polo shirt. He stood and not-so-discreetly checked her out. By the look on his face, he liked what he saw.

  Good. Eat your heart out, Ben Harrison!

  Then she remembered the images on the computer of him and Tiffany McAdams. Compared to her, Jenna was practically a troll. Still, there was satisfaction in knowing that she looked her best and that her best wasn’t too shabby.

  “You look great,” he said.

  “Thanks.” So do you. Not that she planned to say that out loud.

  There was a moment’s awkwardness when she thought he might try to hug her, but instead he pulled out a stool for her and signaled the bartender. She ordered a white wine, and he ordered a club soda.

  He raised his glass in the air. “Go Canes,” he said referring to the nickname for their alma mater.

  “Let’s beat those Noles,” she responded automatically.

  “I don’t know, FSU is looking pretty good this year.”

  She scowled. “What kind of Hurricanes fan are you? FSU always looks good. That doesn’t mean they’re going to beat us. We look pretty good, too. Especially with our new coach. I’m predicting that this is Miami’s year to win an ACC championship.”

  He grinned. “I forgot how passionate you are about college football.”

  “It’s the only way to spend a fall Saturday in the south.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure you’re not married? Because I can’t believe some smart guy hasn’t swooped you up by now.”

  “Maybe I’m not married because I choose not to be.”

  “You have something against marriage?”

  “Not at all. I just refuse to settle. If the right person were to come along, I’d definitely consider it.”

  “By the way,” he said, holding her gaze, “In case you were wondering, Rachel is my niece.”

  There was no way she could hide the surprise on her face.

  “She was my brother’s child.”

  “Was?”

  “Jake and his wife, Cindy, passed away a couple of months ago.” It was said without emotion, except there was something in his dark eyes that made her want to wrap her arms around him. If it was anyone but him, she probably would have.

  She thought back to her earlier conversations with Rachel. No wonder she’d seemed excited when Jenna said that she knew her father. The poor thing. She’d unwittingly confused the little girl, and for that she was deeply regretful.

  “I’m sorry about your brother and his wife, and I’m so sorry that I told Rachel I knew Jake.”

  “You thought that I was her father.”

  “Yes.” She paused, not sure if she should go there. “How did they die?” she asked as gently as anyone could ask that sort of question.

  “I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not.” But a million questions still slammed through her brain. She’d begin with the most logical one. “So, you’re raising Rachel?” Maybe this was a good time to tell him that Greta the nanny was no Mary Poppins.

  “Not exactly.” He shifted around in his stool so that their knees were almost touching. The position was so intimate and… God, he smelled good.

  She didn’t know whether to push her stool back, because it was all too much. Or throw herself at him. Definitely not the latter. Been there. Done that. And got burned in the process.

  “Rachel is the main reason that I’m here in Whispering Bay for the next month. My mother is going to formally adopt her, and I’m helping with the transition.”

  She’d thought it was odd, his renting a home here for an entire month, not when he could easily do an overnight trip to visit his clients, but it made sense now. “So your mother still lives in the area? Hopalinka, right?”

  He nodded. “You remembered.”

  I remember a lot more than that. She took another sip of her wine. “It’s kind of a weird coincidence, don’t you think? Me being here in town and you being here in town at the same time.”

  “I wouldn’t call it weird. More like lucky. At least, on my part.”

  Oh boy. She definitely needed to get this out in the open.

  “You do remember that the last time I saw you, I called you an asshole?”

  “No,” he said calmly, “If I remember clearly, you called me a fucking asshole.”

  A few seconds passed and then they smiled, and before she knew it, they were laughing, because yes, while it had been horrible at the time, at least for her, they were both adults now and she could see the humor in their current situation. She’d been a naïve eighteen-year-old with unrealistic expectations. He’d been a jerk, but then in her experience so were most college boys, no matter their actual age.

  “I guess that whole scene on South Beach was pretty dramatic of me,” Jenna admitted.

  “That wasn’t actually the last time we saw each other.”

  “You mean the day of the calculus final? You know I got a low C on that test.”

  He playfully cringed. “Sorry about that.”

  “Not your fault. I ended up with a B in the class, so it was all good.”

  He turned serious. “That’s not all I’m sorry about, Jenna.”

  Before he could say anything else, the hostess approached him. “Mr. Harrison? Your table for two is ready, if you’d like to follow me?”

  Jenna raised a brow.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I went ahead and made a dinner reservation. Please say yes.”

  He said it with a sincerity that made Jenna reconsider everything she’d thought about Ben in the past thirteen years. Yes, he’d hurt her, but so far tonight hadn’t been as horrible as she’d imagined. Talking to him like this seemed like the most natural thing in the world. As if they were back to all the times they’d spent together studying, and the night they’d had sex and the days that followed had never happened.

  Except, there was a definite something in the air between them. Just like there’d always been. And it wasn’t hatred. The tension between them was both melting away and escalating at the same time.

  She’d have to be careful to keep things on a strictly professional basis. Or as professional as they could be considering their history. And unlike her eighteen-year-old self, the woman she was now knew exactly who this man sitting next to her was. A handsome charmer who played with women’s hearts. Not to ever be taken seriously.

  “Sure. Dinner would be fine.”

  Chapter Eight

  The hostess led the way to their table. Ben, being the gentleman that he was, allowed Jenna to walk ahead of him, which turned out to be an ironic joke because gentlemen didn’t stare at women’s asses. He was thirty-six years old, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off hers. It was pathetic, really. But Jenna Pantini was the one woman he’d never gotten a chance to get out of his system. Hopefully, that would change tonight.

  Their table faced the water, giving them a great view of the gulf. Jenna drank some wine while he sipped at his club soda and they made small talk, which was making him a little crazy because he didn’t want to talk about the weather or college football. The only thing they needed to discuss was whether dessert was going to end up at his place or hers.

  Jenna waited till their plates were in front of them and their server was out of earshot before she said, “So, you’re a big shot lawyer now. I hear you’ve even made the tabloids.”

  “If you’re referring to the articles about me and Tiffany McAdams, about ninety percent of what they’ve written isn’t true.”

  “So that leaves ten percent that is true?”r />
  “Tiffany was a client of mine, and now we’re friends.”

  “The way we were friends?”

  “Let me be explicit. Tiffany and I have never had sex. We’ve never even kissed.”

  “But you’ve thought about it.”

  This was one of those questions that got a guy in trouble no matter which way he answered, so he might as well tell the truth. “Sure I’ve thought about it. I think about having sex with every woman I meet.”

  She nearly choked on her wine. “Every woman?”

  “Almost every woman. It’s a subconscious reaction. Ask any guy. He’ll tell you the same thing. Be honest. It’s the same for women, too.”

  “No, it’s not,” she denied hotly.

  He stared at her.

  “Okay.” Her cheeks went pink. “Maybe every once in a while, someone will catch my eye, and I might kind of think about it. Against my will, of course.”

  He tried not to laugh. “Of course.”

  She sniffed primly. “Take that guy over there.” She pointed to a server across the room.

  “The tall skinny guy trying to grow a beard?”

  She nodded. “He’s got that whole Shaggy thing from Scooby Doo going for him that, frankly, is pretty irresistible. You’re right. I could definitely think about having sex with him.”

  An image of Jenna and the scruffy server popped into Ben’s head. White hot jealousy speared him through the gut. He squelched the urge to bound across the room and punch the guy’s lights out.

  He laid down his fork. “Let me tell you what would happen if you had sex with that guy. He’d take you back to his dingy little apartment—no, make that the dingy little apartment he shares with two other losers—toss you onto a bed that hasn’t seen a clean set of sheets since his mama changed them three months ago when she dropped by to bring her baby boy a casserole. He’d spend about five minutes, tops, on foreplay, and then he’d be done in another five. Twenty minutes after you walked through the door with him, he’d be snoring.”

  “Five minutes tops? It sounds like you have some personal experience with that scenario.”

  “I—” He froze.

  A little smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

  “You’re playing with me, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe. Just a little.” She delicately speared a jumbo shrimp onto her fork. “So do you really win all your cases?”

  He’d prefer to keep talking about sex, but he could be flexible. “Who told you that?”

  “Pilar. Even though you’re technically the enemy and she’s totally in love with her husband, she still has a lawyer crush on you.”

  “The feeling is mutual. She’s good, but in this case being good isn’t going to be good enough.”

  “Wow. There’s no problem with your ego, is there?”

  “I’m just telling the truth, Jenna. I work my ass off to make sure my clients get the best representation I can give them.”

  “Is it the money? The thrill of winning? Or the fame that drives you?”

  “There’s no reason to take a case except money. And yeah, winning isn’t too shabby either.”

  “Ah, yes, I remember now. You were going to join a big firm and make a million bucks. How’s that working out for you so far?”

  “Pretty damn fantastic.”

  “Glad to know I won’t be confusing you with Atticus Finch.”

  He shouldn’t let the disapproval in her voice faze him. “I might sound mercenary, but I don’t work for free. Do you?”

  “No, but I like to think that what I’m doing is helping the community.”

  “So do I. Representing clients who need my help fighting the legal system is all part of the checks and balances our democracy depends on.”

  “Sounds like high-priced fancy lawyer speak to me.”

  There was that judgmental tone again. She might think him an arrogant asshole, but he was who he was and he had no problems with that. Normally, he’d blow her off at this point. There were simply too many willing women in the world to waste his time on one that needed more than some simple wining and dining.

  He should smile and guide the conversation toward something safe and bland, finish his dinner, pay the check and say good-night. After all, she was nothing more than a girl he liked thirteen years ago.

  A girl he’d more than liked, if he was being honest with himself.

  If circumstances had been different back then, he would have wanted their relationship to evolve and progress. Maybe they would have broken up after a few months. Or maybe not. They’d never really know.

  The thing was, she wasn’t just a woman he wanted to sleep with again.

  Her opinion of him mattered.

  He didn’t believe in fate or karma or any of that psychic woo-woo shit, but the idea that meeting up again with Jenna after all these years was nothing more than a stroke of dumb luck seemed too coincidental. Tonight he had a chance to make things right with her and he wasn’t going to blow it. He laid his napkin across his lap and prepared to do the unthinkable. He was going to defend his actions.

  “Let me see if I can explain this to you. Take the Arthur Clendenin case. There’s no doubt the old guy had a lot of money, but that’s not the only reason I decided to represent his widow. I was the fifteenth lawyer Tiffany came to for help. The prenup she’d signed was cut and dry. The other partners at my firm asked me to turn her down flat.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “Tiffany genuinely cared for the old guy, and it was obvious from talking to his staff and the people who knew him that she made him happy. Which is more than you can say for those money-grubbing kids of his. What most people don’t know is that a big chunk of the change she won in her suit she gave right back to all the charities Arthur supported.”

  “But not all of it?”

  “Tiffany’s a good person. Not a saint.”

  “So that’s why you took her case?” she pressed. “Because she’s a good person?”

  “It was a factor,” he answered cautiously. “And the money, of course.”

  “And all those pictures of the two of you in the tabloids?”

  His relationship with Tiffany wasn’t exactly a secret, but it wasn’t something he’d ever been comfortable talking about, so he gave her the simplest explanation. “Like I said, we’re friends and friends do things together.”

  “If you say so.”

  Her tone implied that she either didn’t believe him or that she simply didn’t care. He wasn’t sure which was worse. Biting back his disappointment, he switched the topic to something safer.

  “City manager, huh? How did that happen?”

  She told him about getting her master’s at Cornell (he was impressed, but then she’d always been impressive) and her subsequent jobs in Tampa and Clearwater. As a kid, she’d spent a lot of summers visiting her favorite aunt and uncle in Whispering Bay, falling in love with the beautiful beaches and the quiet lifestyle. After Uncle Bob had passed, she’d made a point to visit Aunt Viola, who was childless, as often as possible. When the city manager position became open, she’d immediately applied, and the rest was history.

  “You think small-town life will suit you?” he asked.

  “Definitely. I have big plans for this town. What about you? Is Miami permanently home now?”

  “As long as Martinez and Martinez keep paying me what they do, then yes.”

  “So if your mother is adopting Rachel, then your niece will be living in Hopalinka?”

  Over his dead body. “I’m hoping to persuade my mother to move to Miami.”

  “Oh, sure. That makes sense.” She fiddled with her drink. “When you say persuade, it sounds like she’s not exactly on board with the move.”

  “She’s warming up to it. I’ve got a house in Miami all lined up for us, and Rachel is already enrolled in the best pre-school in the city. She’ll have a full-time nanny, and I’ll be there to help out. It’s really the best solution for everyone.”

&nb
sp; “It sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”

  There was a hint of censure in her voice, but she didn’t know what was at stake. The girl he’d known in college had been open and sweet and incredibly easy to read, but the beautiful woman sitting across from him had learned over the years how to mask her feelings.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said.

  “I’m not thinking anything.” Then, as if she sensed their conversation was about to get too personal, she cleared her throat. “I have to tell you, whatever you have planned to contest Earl Handy’s will, it’s not going to work.”

  “So you said before.”

  “Everyone knew Earl suffered from dementia, but that will has been in existence for years. According to witnesses, Earl was completely lucid when he had it drawn up.”

  “That’s what I understand.”

  “Then what possible grounds could Nora have to contest her daddy’s will?”

  He was under no obligation to tell her anything about his case, but once again he found himself about to do something completely out of character. He’d always liked having the element of surprise on his side, but he was filing the motion Monday morning, so she’d find out soon enough anyway.

  “We’re going to contest the will on grounds of undue influence.”

  “Undue influence by whom?”

  “Doug Wentworth.”

  She barked out a laugh of disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  He wasn’t surprised by her reaction. If he were in her shoes, he’d feel the exact same way. “Last year, Earl called his attorney, Murdock Cole, and told him he wanted to change his will back in Nora’s favor, but when Cole came to see him the next day, he’d changed his mind again.”

  “How exactly is that undue influence?”

  “Because in the meantime, somehow, Wentworth found out that Earl wanted to change his will and he went to see the old guy to plead the city’s case.”

  “And… I’m confused,” Jenna said. “Doug Wentworth told you this?”

  “It’s part of his big confession. He admitted to robbing the ticket booth at this year’s Spring into Summer festival, and he tacked on this bit about trying to talk Earl out of giving the land back to Nora.”