by Virna DePaul
“But don’t we have some kind of duty to report him? He’s a public servant. Aren’t there rules about judicial ethics?”
“Mattie, you’re a single mother trying to make it on your own. I’m just starting to make headway on my career. What do you think reporting the judge’s little indiscretion is going to do to either one of us? That’s even assuming anyone believes us. No,” she said, “We pretend like it never happened. We didn’t see a thing.”
“But there are two of us. You’re a prosecutor. Why would you lie?”
“Why would a judge be stupid enough to get caught in such a compromising position? Look, let’s just get out of here, okay? I don’t want him following us and trying to explain, do you?”
“No. No, I don’t want to hear anything he has to say about it.”
Mattie moved to open her car door, then groaned. “My keys. They’re still in my purse.” She bit her lip. “Should we see if they’ve left?”
“No way. I’ll drive you home and pick you up in the morning.”
They looked at each other, their nervous amusement gone, the tense reality of what they’d witnessed bearing down on them. “Hey, Linda?”
“Yeah?”
“Lay off about Deputy Jeffries, okay?”
Linda glanced behind her, back at the building where a little bit more of their dwindling idealism had been left behind. She tightened her lips and nodded. “You bet. And I’ll even do you one better. I’ll do my best to keep him distracted and away from you.”
The thought of Linda “distracting” Dom didn’t sit well with Mattie, which was ridiculous, she told herself. All the more reason to have Linda do it. Still, even as Mattie smiled and nodded, she imagined how hurt she’d be if the distraction actually worked.
Chapter 8
“Damn him!” Two minutes after Linda dropped her off at home, her hands shaking, Mattie cursed Judge Butler for once again confirming that men couldn’t be trusted. Hoping to calm down, she paced outside, then juggled her files in order to get to her cell, which she’d slipped back into her pocket rather than her purse. She dialed Ty Martinez’s number. When he answered, she asked for a rain check, only saying that something unexpected had happened. She could tell by his voice he wasn’t happy with her, but rather than feeling bad about that, she felt relieved.
She’d been distracted lately. Confused about her priorities. All a relationship would bring her was heartache and she’d had enough of that to last her a lifetime. Maybe when things settled down, she’d be more interested in getting to know Ty better. But right now…
She slipped her phone back in her pocket and was heading up the walk when her leg slipped on the path still damp from the automatic sprinklers. Whimpering, she caught herself on her palms, scraping them and her right knee, but not before she dropped her armful of files and the bag full of Judge Butler’s offerings. Nose just inches from the sidewalk, she stared at the mottled concrete through a sheen of tears. “Damn him,” she whispered, head hanging, knowing in her heart it wasn’t so much Judge Butler that she cursed as it was Dominic.
She’d moved on. She’d been able to go days without thinking of him, and given the similarity between him and Jordan, that was saying something. Now he was back, not content to keep his distance but wanting…what?
Slowly, she straightened until she was sitting upright, knees pulled to her chest, forehead resting on her knees. Exhaustion wrapped around her and for a moment she was tempted to simply hide in the dimly lit shadows cast from the setting sun and the light on her front porch.
The muffled sound of footsteps had her scrambling to her feet. Across the street, a man slowly walked toward her, his head down, and his features covered by the bill of his baseball cap and his upturned coat collar.
Bending over, her hair covering half her face, Mattie quickly picked up the files she’d dropped. It was only when she straightened that she noticed the man had stopped moving and appeared to be staring at her. For a moment, she thought of Dom, but the man was too short and too thin to be him. Arms tightening around her files, she took a step closer, straining to see the man’s features. “Can I help you?” she called.
He tilted his head slightly, indicating he’d heard her, but he didn’t move. Didn’t respond. The scrapes on her palms and knee throbbed, but couldn’t compare to the sudden chill of fear that danced down the length of her spine. She took one step back. Then another. Then she was spinning around, running toward her front door, and pushing back one of the bushes where she always hung a spare key. She fumbled to open the screen door, looking over her shoulder to check whether the man was coming after her.
She couldn’t see him. Automatically, she checked to the right, to the left, and then in front of her again.
But he was gone.
Her heart slammed against her chest. She forcibly stopped herself from shoving open the door. She couldn’t go inside yet. Not until she was calm. She couldn’t frighten Jordan or Tony. She wouldn’t.
With watchful eyes and her hand still poised on the door handle, she took several deep breaths and tried to will her rattling heartbeat to slow. As she calmed, she began to feel foolish. She scolded herself for overreacting. It had probably been some kid trying to amuse himself. Or someone who’d thought the woman sitting on the sidewalk might be a little too kooky to talk to.
She shook her head. Dom’s presence, his sudden come-on, and the judge’s deplorable behavior were obviously making her more jumpy than normal. She pushed the door open and stepped inside her house, pasting an unconcerned expression on her face.
“Mommy!”
Mattie’s anxiety seemed to drop away as soon as she got inside. Jordan barreled toward her and wrapped her arms around her. Dropping her files on the foyer console, Mattie buried her face in her little girl’s neck and let the sweet smell of strawberry shampoo and dough wash over her. “I missed you, sweet girl,” she murmured.
“I missed you, too.” Jordan wriggled out of Mattie’s arms and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the kitchen “Come see what me and Uncle Tony made.”
“Uncle Tony and I. And is it animal, vegetable or mineral?”
Jordan giggled. “None of the above.”
“Well, I can’t imagine what it is, then.”
Jordan motioned her closer and whispered in her ear. “It’s apple pie.”
Mattie straightened, stuffing back her automatic pain at the combined echo of her and Dom’s voices, both of them fantasizing about their perfect home together:
“…we’ll pack up whatever we can carry in the back of my truck,” he’d said. “We’ll drive during the day and camp out at night, making love in front of a fire. We’ll stop at coffee shops to find the perfect apple pie and—”
“—when we drive into a town with wide streets,” she’d interrupted, “and see a house for sale with a big wraparound porch and blue shutters, we’ll know we can stop. You’ll get a job at the local police department and I’ll set up a little art studio, baking in my spare time until I call you home from work and surprise you with a hand-sewn baby quilt hanging over the front porch railing—yellow, because we won’t find out the baby’s sex until it’s born.”
“Mommy?”
Jerking back and staring into a feminine version of Dominic’s blue eyes, Mattie chastised herself. Get it together. Jordan’s been through enough. “Wow, really? Apple pie is my favorite.”
Jordan giggled. “I know.”
She followed Jordan into the kitchen and pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.
Her brother Tony stood at the center island with a sappy look on his face. His brown hair, even curlier than hers, lent him a boyish quality that had been the bane of his existence, at least until he’d grown into his lanky limbs and filled out a little. When he’d been in college, he’d learned to work the hair along with a roguish smile. But then the drugs had started, and for six years, he’d fought the addiction off and on. In and out of rehab, he’d vacillated between the brother she kn
ew and loved, and the sullen, distrustful brother she feared. His last stint in rehab, however, seemed to stick. He’d been off the drugs for over two years now, with no apparent relapses. He’d packed on muscle again, his cheeks no longer gaunt or his eyes shadowed. She was finally allowing herself to believe that her brother was back and here to stay; otherwise, she would never have let him care for Jordan, even for the two short hours that he had. It seemed her trust had been rewarded.
Tony was wearing one of her aprons, the one that said, Kiss the Cook, and he had flour on the tip of his nose. Nine-year-old Jordan, on the other hand, was spotless.
“You’re just in time to help us put the pie in the oven.”
Jordan ran off, shouting, “I just started High School Musical.”
Mattie walked to her brother and kissed his cheek, so grateful that he was back in their lives. “How’d she wrangle you into this?”
“I had fun with her.” His expression turned somber. “Thanks for trusting me, Mattie.” Though he tried to hide it by looking away, Mattie saw the old shadow of guilt in his eyes.
“Don’t be silly, Tony. I owe you.” Wearily, Mattie walked to the sink, turned the water on, and winced when she placed her hands under the tap.
Tony immediately strode toward her. “What happened to your hands?”
She rolled her eyes. “You know me. Graceful as ever. I slipped on the walkway and skinned them. I’m fine.” Grabbing a kitchen towel, she dried her hands, then fell into one of the kitchen chairs and propped her chin on her hand. She traced a water mark on the table with her finger.
“So what else is wrong, then?”
She glanced up. “A defendant got a little unruly today—”
Tony covered his eyes with his hands and groaned. “I knew it. I can always tell when you’re hiding something.” He lowered his hands and propped his hands on his hips. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“I’m fine. He barely grabbed my arm before the bailiff cuffed him. I’m more upset that the bailiff got it into his head to ask me out.”
“Smart guy,” Tony offered loyally.
She smiled. “Thanks, little brother.” She hesitated, then decided not to tell Tony the bailiff was the same man who’d broken her heart in college.
Tony walked over and grabbed her hands, releasing them immediately when she winced. “Sorry, sorry.” He pulled her into a hug, released her, then retrieved a tube from the first-aid kit she kept under the sink. Coming closer, he removed the top from the tube of Neosporin.
“I can—”
He pulled the tube away from her reach and glared at her.
With a sigh, she held out her hands and he smeared them with the thick gel. The sting in her hands increased, then subsided to a dull throb. Tony blew on her palms, just as she would have done for Jordan. Finally satisfied, he put the medicine back where he’d found it, then washed his hands. “You didn’t park in the garage. Did someone drive you home?”
“Uh, yeah, I got a lift.”
Tony threw the kitchen towel down and crossed his arms over his chest. “Linda?”
Mattie grimaced. “Yeah. Linda.” She couldn’t lie, but suddenly she wished she’d taken a cab instead of letting Linda drive her home. Although she and Tony had dated for six months, they’d broken up over two years ago, towards the beginning of Tony’s last relapse, and she knew there wasn’t a day that went by that Tony didn’t regret it.
Tony stepped back, turned and loaded the unbaked pie into the oven. “So, is she dating?”
“No. I don’t know. She hasn’t mentioned anyone.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
A low buzzing cut Tony off. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He frowned as he looked at the screen. “Just a sec, Mattie.” Bringing the phone to his ear, he turned his body away from her. “This is Tony.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “No. I’m not interested. I already told you that.” He listened for several minutes, his lips pressed into a grim line. “I can’t talk now. Let me call you back.” He flipped his phone shut and returned it to his pocket before running a hand through his hair. “I should be going.”
“You don’t want to stay and have some pie with us?”
“No, you’ll have to tell me what you think. Eat at your own risk. I’ve got plans tonight.”
She tried to sound casual when she asked, “Who with?”
Tony’s face tightened in anger. “Don’t, Mattie. Please. I don’t need you or anyone else keeping tabs on me, okay?”
Mattie nodded, automatically biting back her annoyance. “Fine.” Then she remembered. “Hang on a second. Judge Butler gave me something for you. Let me go get it.”
“Judge Butler? Why would he—?”
But Mattie was already striding toward the foyer where she’d put down the bag. She found the envelope that had Tony’s name on it and brought it over to him. “He asked how you were.” She tilted her head, puzzled by the way Tony stared at the envelope as if it was going to bite him. “What’s wrong?”
“Huh?” Tony looked up, grabbed the envelope from her and stuffed it in his back pocket. “Nothing. It’s probably a gift certificate for a round of golf at his country club. He’s been nagging me to go back.”
Confusion marred her brow. “Back? When did you go the first time?”
“I’m going, short stuff,” Tony called out.
“Bye, Uncle Tony!” Jordan yelled back.
Tony headed for the kitchen door and opened it.
“Tony, wait!” Mattie rushed up to him and lightly grasped his arms. “I forgot to tell you, I’m not going to leave a spare key outside the house anymore. I—I just think with Jordan, it would be better…” She paused lamely and before she could continue, Tony nodded.
“Good idea. A lot of unsavory elements out there. Can’t be too safe.”
Knowing what he was thinking, she almost winced. “We’re okay, right?”
Her brother smiled and she could see the regret in his eyes that she even had to ask. “We’re fine, Mattie. You have enough to worry about, so don’t worry about me. I know you had to at one time, but that’s over.” He stepped outside, then grinned at her over his shoulder. “Hey, maybe this bailiff guy can deliver on some fun. You deserve to have fun, Mattie.”
Mattie shrugged. “Right now, my idea of fun is a nice, boring night at home watching a movie with Jordan. So I’ve got everything I need.”
Tony shook his head and sighed. “I know, babe. That’s what bothers me more than anything.” Tony leaned in, kissed her check and said, “See you later.”
She locked the door behind him and pushed aside the curtains that covered the glass pane to watch him get into his truck. He waved at her and called out, “Bye, mother,” which she heard clearly even through the door. She laughed and turned away, hugging her arms to her chest.
She sank back into her chair and laid her head on her arms. For a brief moment, she thought about Judge Butler, and what she and Linda had walked in on. Then she thought of Dom and the look in his eyes as he’d caressed her arm.
Both incidents had been disturbing. Still, she enjoyed the shiver of heat her thoughts of Dom generated, even as she swore to stop fantasizing about the man once and for all.
Chapter 9
Thursday
The next morning, as everyone in the courtroom waited for the judge to return after a short break, Dom knew something was up. Mattie seemed even more tense around him, and not just because he’d asked her to dinner. She seemed to avoid everyone. She avoided even looking at anyone. Anyone except her friend, Linda.
On the other hand, the D.A., who’d seemed more keen on taunting Dom than seducing him, was now hitting on him harder than an anvil on steel. It didn’t escape his notice, however, that she only did it when both he and Mattie were around. She obviously wanted him to stay away from her friend and wasn’t above using her impressive cleavage and long legs to make that happen.
Her sudden turnaround filled him with con
flict.
On the one hand, it pissed him off. Normally, Mattie wasn’t a coward and their past didn’t excuse her playing petty games with him and her friend. On the other hand, the fact that she’d resorted to such measures must mean that he’d gotten to her and she was running scared. And not because she wasn’t interested. He trusted his instincts when it came to women and she was still interested, just wary. That wasn’t exactly a relief. Given the explosive chemistry between them, he wasn’t sure they could fight it off for much longer. Maybe he could resist his own feelings, but knowing Mattie wanted him? Could he really walk away from that temptation again? He couldn’t even tell himself that staying away from her was what the job required. Given Dusty’s attack and the package that Judge Butler had asked Mattie to deliver to her brother, he should be getting closer to her. It was the reason he’d asked her to dinner, or at least that’s what he told himself. After all, Brenda had strongly hinted Mattie was single and Mattie had pretty much confirmed it when he’d asked whether her boyfriend could pick up her daughter. So whatever it took to get the job done, right?
It didn’t hurt that every time he thought of her single status, his heart rate picked up and a sense of possessive satisfaction filled him. He wanted to get close to her again, figure out the intricacies of the woman she’d become and, if it helped him do his job, all the better, right? Only he hated the thought of using her that way, even if it would be to help find Joel’s killer.
Because the only other person he’d loved more than Joel was Mattie.
Realization shuddered through him. Mattie was single. Yes, he had a job to do. Yes, getting close to her could help with that. But those were the things that had brought him to her, not reasons to stay away from her. Unlike with Joel, he had a second shot here. For what, he wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t going to give up the chance to find out.
“Excuse me, Linda,” he said, interrupting the woman’s flirting act. “I need to talk to Mattie.”
