“We all do. Beyond that. You’re beating yourself up for being honest?” She turned to eye him over square framed glasses. “Acknowledging what is real? You hardly have to ask me for the answer to that.”
He cast her a grateful look. “You aren’t maybe just a teensy bit prejudiced.”
“Now why would you say that?” Giving his jacket one last vigorous pat, she returned to her desk. “Because you’re a multi-decorated military veteran with one Purple Heart, scores of other merits and awards and the admiration of any soldier fortunate enough to have served under your command? If that’s prejudice, I guess I am. You did the right thing.” She dropped into her chair. “What were you supposed to do, pretend it wasn’t happening?”
“I didn’t want to upset the bride, but I did want to acknowledge his service.”
“Who’s more important, those who charge headlong into harm’s way or those left, safe and secure I might add, back here waiting for their return?”
“Safe and secure at home is the reason we go in the first place.”
“Yes it is.” Resting her forearms on the desk, she sat forward to look him in the eye. “Sometimes for people who don’t appreciate your service.”
“Alana was under a lot of pressure. She—”
“Still determined to defend her, though your response is no longer quite as automatic. That’s progress. The woman doesn’t deserve it, you know.” She paused and her original grimace deepened. “Indulge me as I seek the proper term to describe a woman I make no apologies for detesting. The one who cheated on you, took your name off of the townhouse you’d purchased together, then for good measure broke your heart.”
“Joyce, change the channel for God’s sake.”
Unfortunately, she was stuck on this one. “While your singular crime was to be unavailable because you were fighting for your country. Heroes deserve to be recognized. You more than most should appreciate that fact.”
He didn’t bother to correct some of what she said. In a strange way, losing Alana had brought more relief than heartbreak. “I wanted to acknowledge the kid’s service.” Though he tried to avoid it, resentment bit into his tone. “I have an idea he’ll go through some pretty rough days ahead and come back a changed man.”
“Changed maybe.” The edges around another pointed look softened. “But who’s to say not changed for the better.”
“Maybe.” With a shrug, he glanced out the door where something, rather someone, caught his eye. A woman sat on the bench directly across from his office with tightened lips and eyes focused somewhere else. She was either deep in thought, or sorely pissed about one thing or another. “A member from the wedding party is throwing confetti right there in the main hallway. You’d think they’d at least wait until they were outside the building.”
“Oh, the night shift janitors are going to love that.”
“No worse than the wads of gum and the other disgusting detritus they usually deal with.” He hadn’t moved one iota from the doorway, unable to take his gaze off the woman who appeared mildly out of place. “Plus, the confetti served an honorable and patriotic purpose.”
“If you say so. Now head for chambers. You’re set to convene in less than twenty minutes.” She waved with the back of one hand. “Scoot.”
Knowing better than to argue, he took a step out the door.
“Oh wait.” Her words stopped his progress. “Before I forget.”
He turned back into the room. “I thought you were too efficient to forget.”
“After all we’ve been to each other, you insult me with flattery?” The breadth of her smiled matched his. “And poorly chosen flattery at that.”
He put his palms out in a gesture of surrender. “Sorry. I momentarily lost my head.”
“Did you now? This Saturday night is the Friends of the Children Charity Ball. Your ticket is in the top drawer of your desk. In the locked compartment. Don’t forget to take it home with you.”
Shoulders slumped, he dropped his chin. “Is this another of those duty calls situations?”
“It is. They advertise, and I quote, your chance to rub shoulders with local dignitaries.” Her tone became dry. “Like it or not, you’re one of those.”
“Do I have to dress up?”
“Your usual tux is ready at the rental store. You can pick that up on your way home tonight.”
“Thank you.”
“If it’s any consolation, some of the proceeds from the party benefit the domestic abuse shelter you’re so fond of supporting.”
“I know that. It doesn’t mean I have to like many of the people I’ll be forced to associate with.”
“No. It doesn’t. But, it never hurts you to see and be seen at this type of thing.”
“For a good cause, right?”
She turned to face a computer screen and keyboard. “Yep.”
“Thought so.” He spoke more to the floor than Joyce as he walked out the door as instructed.
Though the back entrance to his courtroom was across the hallway and to his right, he headed left instead.
“Good luck!”
“Much happiness!”
A small horde of well-wishers jostled along behind the new bride and groom, spouting similar words of good will and encouragement while tossing handfuls of confetti.
The woman he’d noticed—noticed, hell, the one he couldn’t keep his eyes off—worked to rid herself of the iridescent bits as if she’d been beset by a swarm of locusts.
Half of a sheaf of papers in her lap fluttered to the ground.
“Let me.”
It was automatic for Jonah to stoop down to retrieve what she’d dropped, something he’d done scores of times before. But he paused with a jolt as his gaze came in direct contact with a pair of killer calves, crossed at the ankle and sheathed in the tempting shimmer of sheer nylons.
Shifting then lifting his head, he took in the outline of well-honed thighs beneath a straight skirt and stunner breasts encased in a fitted jacket.
“I can get those.”
As the appealing form bent forward, he tore his gaze from where it didn’t belong. With two hands that had suddenly become all thumbs, he made a show of scooping up the last of her papers.
“Here you go.” Fixing the pages in as neat a pile as possible, he handed them over. And tried to figure out if those stockings were attached to pantyhose or held up some other way. Maybe garters?
“Thank you. That was nice of you to gather everything up for me.”
The smooth, feminine voice put him in mind of satin sheets at midnight as he flexed his knees to stand.
A head crowned with short blonde hair lifted as he rose. Clear blue eyes in a make-up model’s face rose as well. Her gaze, a mixture of apology and impatience, caught his and held. “Thank you again.”
“You’re—” The word came out sounding like tires on loose gravel. He cleared his throat. “Not a problem.”
She tilted her chin to keep her gaze on his face until he reached his full height. The skin on the arc of her throat was just as flawless as the rest of her complexion. A tiny pulse flickered at its base.
“Here’s to the newlyweds!” More hoopla reverberated back at them.
“They seem to have gotten a little overzealous with their celebration.” Tearing his gaze away again, he made the observation. “Guess they’re entitled. He’s about to ship out for at least a year-long tour of duty.”
Her concern was immediate. “How awful for them.”
Me! What’s gonna happen to me? Alana’s strident demand made just before his last deployment slammed to the forefront of his mind. “Sometimes being forced to come to grips with that kind of situation can make a couple stronger.”
“Only if their relationship is strong to begin with.”
While they talked he’d tried his best to shove aside all memories of a former time in his life. Images of those same satin sheets suddenly floated down to finish the job for him.
“I imagine that’s
true.”
Her attention turned toward the bank of elevators at the end of the hall. “They seem to be happy together.”
“They do.”
“Uh-huh.” When her gaze returned to his, a small smile on that beautiful face held a strange mixture of sadness and envy.
Releasing his hold on her papers, he let his hand drift slowly to his side. It was either that or grab hold of this woman’s hand and do his very best to stroke away her despair.
Chapter Three
“Lovers.”
His clear, deep voice uttered the single word.
Cynthia’s hands stilled on the papers he’d handed her as a tiny spark somewhere inside her ticked to life.
“I beg your pardon?”
“That newly married couple who just left.”
He turned his head toward the departing wedding party, and she snuck a peek at his strong and sturdy profile. High cheek bones, cleft chin. Before she knew it, his focus returned to her, and her gaze settled on the incredibly handsome features of a man with warm brown eyes.
She glanced away before he caught her staring to concentrate on clearing her clothes of tiny pieces in the shape of wedding bells, hearts and top hats. Incriminating evidence she was missing in action from the jury room. “Yes. I saw them.”
More than that, images of the newlyweds had been painted into her mind as if by a brush wielding rich oils. The bride’s face was nothing short of radiant. Hope, joy, pleasure, excitement, love. All had played across the young woman’s features in the split second Cynthia observed her. Brought on merely because she gazed up at the man who had just become her husband.
Shaking her head to clear away such frivolous thoughts, she shoved the letters into the valise she pushed aside as well.
“You could tell they are ardent lovers.”
Unable to help herself, she looked up as the corners of a full and appealing mouth kicked upward. “You don’t say.”
Was that some sort of perverted pick-up line?
Wasn’t he aware it was never a good idea to talk to someone you didn’t know? Especially given the topic he’d chosen to introduce. “I hardly spend my time speculating on details of the sex lives of perfect strangers.” Keeping her tone even, she refused to admit how the close proximity of this perfect stranger made the unexpected spark he generated begin to sizzle.
Dark brows inched upward as the captivating mouth curved into an even larger smile. “Who said anything about sex?”
She worked to turn her trance like attention away from him, but not before the sincerity in his eyes diminished some of her caution. Her gaze lowered to study strong hands with huge palms extended toward her. “You did, just now.”
“No.” The hands closed slowly and came to rest at his sides. “I said lovers. Lover can mean many things. Admiration for, a strong enjoyment of. One could be a lover of music. Love doesn’t necessarily mean the strong desire for wanton physical contact.”
He casually took a seat beside her. Whether inadvertently or not, their thighs brushed and she tried to ignore the unmistakable sensation of heat that ran through her. With a slight shift, she completed an automatic scan of the large form that had suddenly invaded her space. The finely tailored cut of black slacks and light blue dress shirt couldn’t hide the strength beneath. Still, his appearance brought a sense of comfort rather than intimidation.
“We see so much more of that these days.” With an angle of her head, she indicated the beaming couple. As his gaze followed hers, she wondered if they saw the same things. Wondered if this man had any idea of the horror stories she’d been told from veterans who’d seen things she could only imagine.
“Happy couples?”
Typical civilian response. She looked over at him but kept her face from revealing her thoughts. “The uniform. I was referring to his uniform.”
“As I said, they’re going to be separated soon.” His voice held a sincerity that pulled at her heart. “That’s got to be hard.”
“Yes, I’m sure it is. But they seem happy now.”
Live in the moment. Incorporate your past, but don’t continually relive it. Funny how the set advice she gave her patients applied here as well.
She never planned to touch his arm. It just happened. Then before she could retreat, his hand came down on top of hers. Like a butterfly would land on a leaf. Rather than pull away, she didn’t move as warmth—no, more than that—searing heat, seeped into her skin.
Echoes of subdued laughter and excited voices continued to filter back as the entourage came to the bank of elevators located down the hallway. “It’s going to be—”
The revelers entered an arriving car, and its heavy steel doors clamped shut behind them.
Her gaze stayed on the hand still covering hers. “It would certainly be a better world if we had more of that these days. If people could learn to love each other more. Not just couples like them, but people in general.”
She had no idea what made her keep talking. Until recently, like it or not, she’d been an avowed pessimist. And here she was spouting peace and love like some flower child from the sixties. “But, who are we to change the bad things of this world? And why should we have to?” Both feet on the floor, knees tight together, Cynthia straightened.
“It sure would be great to try.”
That large hand remained in all of its heat bearing glory, laying smack dab on top of hers. Sweat broke out along her neck and trickled downward. What a lousy time to have a hot flash. Early on-set menopause was a bitch.
She scrounged up enough of her voice for a comeback. “It would, wouldn’t it?”
“The world will have to manage without our enlightened guidance, I suppose.”
“I suppose.”
What was this? Here she was talking in ludicrous absolutes with a man she’d never laid eyes on before.
As if she’d known him her entire life.
“This conversation reminds me of a line from my ninth grade biology class.”
“Which is?”
“All living organisms are designed to seek pleasure and avoid pain. And on that note, I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you alone with our mutual fantasy.”
He broke contact, just before he stood. Cynthia had to grab hold of the bench with both hands to keep from standing, too.
Dark eyes enhanced by corner laugh lines had shown with interest, genuine interest, as they exchanged personal opinions.
She and Phil could talk at length about the child or some other intimacy they shared. Except he wouldn’t be half as attentive.
“Do you work here?”
“I’ve been known to.” He spoke simply, then added as if in afterthought for the usual verbal amenities. “Well, nice talking to you. Have a great day.”
“I’ll try. Take care.”
As much as she didn’t want to, she kept a critical gaze on the charming man’s retreating backside. Which, she had to say was one of the easiest things she’d done in weeks.
Long, purposeful strides told of a man used to power. Who knew precisely where he was going, exactly how to get there and what to do when he arrived. Even looking away did nothing to alter the direction of her thoughts.
What was she, anyway? Sprung from a loveless marriage and hot to trot for whatever handsome candidate might come along?
How about she’d met a man who seemed to genuinely care for other people, who took an interest in what was going on in their lives. A novelty in the self-absorbed social circles, Phil’s world, she used to wander in. With a soft click, the latch on the door he walked through settled home. Taking one short breath, Cynthia remembered where she was.
The suddenly drab hallway outside the courtroom, with an imminent stint of jury duty in her immediate future.
Hands braced on her thighs, she stood then retrieved the valise she zipped shut. Turning, she hurried back down the hall then took a sharp right toward the jury room to find her fellow inmates were just filing out of it. With an apologetic smile and sile
nt pleading in her eyes, she cut in front of a tall, white haired gentleman who returned a small smile then stepped back to accommodate her.
“Thank you. My short break took longer than expected.”
“Don’t they always?”
Unsure how to respond, she offered a second smile just before she faced forward to begin walking.
More than the memory of a pleasant conversation deserved, the image of the man from the hallway stayed with her as, with the rest of the captive herd, she shuffled into the courtroom.
Benches stood eight or ten deep in the gallery area Cynthia and her fellow jurors were ushered to. These seats were covered in thick, dark green cushions and proved to be as comfortable as they looked.
As for the room itself, gleaming wood was everywhere. From the spit shined railing that bisected the high ceilinged chamber, to the latched gate at its center which allowed access from the gallery area to the judge’s bench and witness stand in front, the jury box to her left.
“All rise!” The strident order coincided with the opening of a side door.
Setting the red attaché on the floor, she launched to her feet like everyone else. Then had to concentrate to keep her bottom lip connected with the top as the judge who owned this courtroom entered to take his place in a high backed leather chair.
“This court is now in session.” The no-nonsense announcement went on. “With the Honorable Jonah Colt presiding.”
Jonah. She tried out the name. Jonah Colt. It fit.
“Please be seated.” Judge Jonah Colt waited a moment as those in his courtroom complied. When he spoke again, Cynthia focused her gaze on a portrait of Abraham Lincoln hung on the wall just over his left shoulder and forced her undivided attention to remain there.
“Jury duty can be an irritating requirement of your time, but it is as the name implies a duty. A civic responsibility, an obligation. One of the perks, if you will, of living in a free society.”
A person near Cynthia lowered his head and sneezed.
“Bless you.” Jonah issued the courtesy but didn’t miss one syllable as he continued. “Some of you will be chosen to become one of fourteen, twelve jurors with two alternates, to sit on the case before us. The rest of you will ultimately be excused with the gratitude of this court.”
Only If You Dare Page 2
