“Jonah. And I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage. Unless I can call you potential juror number twenty-three.”
“I’m flattered you remembered.” Smiling now, she stepped closer still. “I wouldn’t have thought my presence in your courtroom was all that memorable.”
“I try my best to keep track of what goes on in there.”
“I saw that for myself.” She turned to face him full on. “My name is Cynthia Buckingham.”
“Nice to officially meet you.” As he accepted her offered hand, she grabbed hold then squeezed, and welcome warmth filtered through him.
He realized with one brush of that soft skin somewhere along the line he’d forgotten how good it felt to be touched.
“Well, it’s been nice talking with you Judge Colt.”
“Jonah.”
She shifted away from him and the contact he’d enjoyed was lost. “Jonah. But, I think I’m going to leave.”
He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’d hate to see you let something like that spoil your evening.”
A head shake was her initial answer. “Don’t be. I wouldn’t let that nastiness scare me away. I was contemplating leaving anyway. I was supposed to meet some friends tonight who, I just learned, ended up staying home with a sick child.”
“You’re going home alone?”
Her eyes narrowed as if to size up, not only him, but his comment. “Yes, alone. Since that’s how I arrived.”
“Don’t tell me that, nastiness as you call it, didn’t affect you.” He gave her no chance to lodge a protest as his hand covered hers. “Though you put up a good front, you’re trembling and in no condition to drive.”
She was quick to pull away. “How else am I going to get home?”
“At least let me go with you.” He didn’t exactly know where the offer came from. Only that he’d never meant anything more in his life.
Her startled gaze turned his way. “Excuse me?”
“I’ll rephrase that. How about I follow you in my car? To make sure you get there safely.”
He glanced toward a side entrance. When her gaze followed the same path, her eyes widened and she took a quick breath.
“Oh.”
Old blotto leaned against a door jam, sullen gaze trained in her direction. It didn’t take her long to make a decision.
“Now that you mention it, I would appreciate the company.”
“He’s probably harmless. However...” Cupping her elbow with his palm, he guided her in the other direction. “Why take the chance?”
“I—” She paused to swallow. “I need to get my coat.”
Her mild unease empowered him to circle her waist. “We will. On the way out.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
Pleased with the control she’d given him, he led her to the opposite exit with a smile on his mouth. His question about whether or not she was attached, having been answered.
Chapter Five
Cynthia glanced up in her rearview mirror at the single set of headlights following close behind. Well, not too terribly close behind. All the way from the country club parking lot, to a brief stretch on the expressway, and on into her subdivision, he’d maintained what those in law enforcement undoubtedly deemed a safe and sure distance behind.
It would seem Jonah Colt had a cautious streak. Which fit with what she’d learned about him over the past few days.
She returned her focus to the road.
While doing on-line research for Jen’s wedding, she may have wandered over to the local circuit court website. Admittedly, that meant the bulk of her knowledge came from what sterile professional information had been put there. For the most part, bullet point details of his life. A one time trial attorney, he was a former special prosecutor for the state’s attorney general before first being appointed then elected a circuit court judge.
Given the information she obtained, it was apparent he’d spent the bulk of his career putting away the bad guys. Suffice it to say she wasn’t being followed home by someone she knew nothing about. The man had a stellar reputation in the community.
And who was she to argue?
Another glance up at the pair of shining and winking headlights confirmed he was still with her as she made a left onto her street and turned left again to pull up to her house.
Once inside her garage, she stopped the car then shut off its engine. In the driveway, Jonah’s headlights blinked off.
The motion light she’d recently had installed flooded her path as she met him on the sidewalk. She lifted one arm to indicate the modest two story. Her residence since the divorce. “Well, you’ve seen me safely home.”
He glanced up and down the street which, except for a neighbor slowing to pull into a driveway two doors down, was empty of traffic.
“It doesn’t appear your friend is anywhere around.”
At the idea he might be, she shook her head on a shudder. “Not my anything. Just a jerk devoid of manners.”
“Totally harmless, I’m sure.”
“Probably.” She agreed as the remnants of her fear fell away.
When he looked around again, her breath hitched. Had he seen something?
“Herb and Jackie Carver live around here somewhere don’t they? Do you happen to know them?”
With a nod and exhale, she pointed west. “Next block over. When we turned left to get here, you turn right to get to their house. At the light flashing caution.”
A lot like her inner intuition which, at the present time, implored her to take this slow. Yes, she’d met someone who seemed to have an innate talent for taking care of her. In addition to being, as Jen would say, hot, extremely hot.
That didn’t necessarily mean there wasn’t a place here for care.
“Herb and I went to law school together. When our schedules allow it, we try to meet for lunch every few months.”
She looked up into dark eyes that revealed nothing about his inner thoughts. Except to shine with appreciation each time his gaze fell on her.
“Jackie and I try to get together to jog-walk on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons.”
“Small world.”
“It is. Would you like to come in for a moment?”
To her surprise, the invitation slipped from her lips. When he readily agreed, she waited until he’d followed her into the garage then depressed a button on the wall to lower its paneled door.
“By now, they’re sitting down to dinner back at the country club. I have some chicken Kiev in the freezer I could heat up.”
“You don’t need to feel obligated to feed me.”
She unlocked the door to her side entrance, and they stepped into the small mudroom. One more door and he’d officially be inside her house.
All of a sudden, she was certain that was exactly where she wanted him. “I feel I owe you at least some snacks for pulling you out of there before they served dinner.”
“I was looking for a reason to take off, anyway.”
“Really?”
“After you left, I’m sure no one else in the room would have held any interest for me.”
“Aren’t you just one smooth talker?”
His gaze didn’t flinch. “Just being honest.”
Having led him into the family room as they talked, she stopped at the small closet to hang up her coat. “Can I take yours?”
“Yes.”
She accepted the tuxedo jacket he slid off broad shoulders to lay across her outstretched arms. A definite masculine scent drifted up to tease her senses.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She quickly turned to retrieve a wooden hanger. Smoothing the garment into place, she allowed her fingers to linger over the fabric still warm from his body.
“You really don’t have to bother hanging that up. After tonight I’ll just take it back where I rented it from.”
She jerked her fingers away and swept the door shut. “Too late. It’s hung up now.”
“Well, then,
thank you again.”
“Can I offer you a nightcap to go with the food?” When he smiled, she lost what misgivings remained.
“That would be great.”
“The champagne they were serving was a little sharp for my taste.” She walked to a small wine cooler built into one wall of the family room. “I have white, red or blush.” Fingers on the handle, she turned toward him. “Or would you like something stronger?”
“Whatever you choose is fine.” The smile hadn’t dimmed one whit, and a flutter of anticipation stirred to life inside her.
“I prefer white.”
Taking out the first bottle her fingers closed around, she made short work of removing the cork before glancing at the label. “Looks like we’re having a chardonnay.” She poured two stemmed goblets three quarters full then set one down and walked over to give him the other. “I’ll go find something for us to eat.”
Glass in hand; he took a seat among the pillows of the white overstuffed couch that centered her family room. “Anything I can do to help?”
She shook her head. “Stay here and wait for me.”
A few minutes later, she left the kitchen with a platter piled with fresh strawberries, an assortment of sliced cheeses, some ham chunks and a sleeve of crackers.
“We can get started with this.”
He helped her steady the large tray she set down on the coffee table, then reached for one of the empty plates. “This looks better than any over-dressed, over-priced item they planned to serve tonight.”
Still standing, she concentrated on the movements of his hands as he collected a few pieces of cheese and some chunks of ham. After a moment’s hesitation, she retrieved her wine glass then came back and sat down beside him.
What else was she supposed to do? Take her seat a safe distance across the room and jump up when she wanted a little refreshment? She was forty-two, not twelve. Time she started to act like it.
“That’s quite a monitor you have hooked up to your laptop over there.”
She turned to the nineteen inch screen resting on a high legged oak table she used as a desk.
“My daughter set that up when she was here a couple of weeks ago. She’s getting married soon and since we’re a couple thousand miles apart, this helps fill her need to have me involved in every step of the arrangements.”
“You’re very fortunate. Most kids want nothing to do with their parents. How old?”
“Barely twenty one. I had her shortly after I graduated from college. Her appearance made graduate school a challenge so it took me four years to finish a two year program.” The conversation stalled as they each took a sip of wine. “Has that attorney you gave the dressing down to done what you asked?”
“I won’t know for a couple of weeks yet. But, then, it’s not my place to share particulars.”
“You’re right. Judicial privilege. I shouldn’t have asked. Let’s see. If we’re not allowed to talk about your work, let’s talk about you. What got you involved in the legal system?”
Taking a healthy drink, he set down his glass. “My dad was an attorney. My mother a court reporter. Law school was kind of a given for me. The Bar Exam then private practice for a time. Now this.”
“Sounds like a very cut and dried way to live.”
“Is that a nice way to say I seem boring?”
Her laughter caused a smile to curve the straight line of his lips.
“Not what I meant to say. I’m sorry if you took it that way. I’m afraid the well planned out part eluded me until much later in life.” When he continued to regard her, she went on. “Now that my daughter is grown, I’ve embarked on my current life’s passion.”
He sent her a sideways glance. “What is that exactly?”
“Helping those who can’t help themselves.”
“In what way?”
“I counsel crime victims. Help them reclaim their lives after trauma. Some combat veterans.”
The glass he reached for fumbled and sloshed between fingers he flexed around the stem. “Sounds like important work.”
“I was there tonight to try to talk to someone about getting money for the center where I work.” When his lips tightened, she dropped the subject and shifted away from him. “So what’s the best part about being a judge?”
“I have to say finalizing adoptions and performing marriage ceremonies are my favorite parts of the job.”
“Did you believe all those things you included in that wedding ceremony the other day?” She spoke before she thought and took a quick sip to cover her embarrassment. “I have to admit to eavesdropping.”
He leaned forward to set his glass on the table top. “I said them, didn’t I?”
“For the benefit of the couple who got married. I get that. But how about for yourself?”
It took a long time for him to look at her again. Too long, because she held her breath the entire length of it and was feeling a little light headed.
“If you think about it, much of what I said—commitment, devotion and such—come naturally when you truly care about each other.”
She sipped again as she contemplated his words. “You are a tremendously caring person, Jonah Colt.”
“It’s nice to hear you say that. Why? Don’t you believe what I said?”
“Sure. For most people. Like my soon to be married daughter who doesn’t know any better.” She looked into the depths of her wine. “Though I am monumentally grateful she’s found someone who appears to be devoted to her.” As if some spell were broken, she slowly glanced his way. “But, who’s to say that will never change? Her parents couldn’t stay together forever.”
“You obviously have an ex-husband.” The gentle voice seemed to come from far-away. “Do you still think about him a lot?”
“Not really.” She shrugged. “His leaving was calculated. Others don’t always have the luxury of that kind of control.”
Without using names, she related how her newest patient once had a husband devoted to her too. Until some psychological phenomenon, for some reason, she refrained from using the technical term PTSD, changed who that husband was.
Her posture had grown more and more rigid as she finished detailing the misfortunes of someone else. Before she knew it, his fingers were kneading away the knots of tension that had collected between her shoulders.
“How in the world did you know I needed a neck massage just now?”
“Maybe you aren’t as good as you think you are at masking your emotions.”
By all rights, she should have been offended by his observation, but wasn’t. “Keeping my emotions in check is part of the job description. It’s what I do.”
“Not a bad thing, once in a while.”
The fingers had moved to the tops of her shoulders and her head dropped forward. “No.”
“You strike me as a woman who’s always done for others. Maybe you need to try doing more for yourself.”
“Jen’s still young enough, naive enough, to listen to her heart and heed what it says.”
“Isn’t that what we all do? When we can?”
As she looked up, the same male appreciation glittered in those kind brown eyes, and once again any and all misgivings vanished.
Before she could answer, his lips covered hers. Without breaking contact, he lifted the glass from her hand. It made a muted clink as he set it down. One arm slid around her shoulders. His other circled at her waist.
Then his mouth returned to hers with the expected warmth, along with an odd sense of promise. The tang of white wine blended with the sweetness of strawberries and a third taste that was definitely male.
Tiny sparks of electricity flowed from her heart and down her limbs as she brought her arms up to wrap around his back then clung to the solid expanse of muscle she found there.
“You’re a beautiful, giving woman, Cynthia Buckingham. Don’t ever doubt that.”
Before she could answer, his lips returned to hers. Without breaking contact, he lifted the glas
s from her hand. It made a muted clink as he set it down.
He had her dress unzipped and sliding off her shoulders before she had a chance to fully grasp what was happening, though she knew with flawless certainty she welcomed what was about to take place.
Then his lips found that sensitive area on the back of her neck, and her lids fluttered shut as her breathing quickened. Standing and pulling her up beside him, he gently grasped her waist and, with his guidance, she stepped out of the material that fell at her feet. When he turned her around to face him, she lifted her chin to look directly into his eyes.
A heady mixture of want and need smoldered in their depths. Reaching behind her with one hand, he undid the clasp of her bra with a single flick. Then with a gentle tug, he slipped the satin and lace from her body and held onto it for the space of a heartbeat before he let it drop to the floor.
Stepping forward, she undid the buttons of his tuxedo shirt, then brought her hands up push the material off his shoulders. Ready to sample the smooth skin she’d uncovered, her left palm slid the length of rough, raised flesh by his right collarbone. Unable to stop herself, she recoiled away with her eyes wide, and came in direct visual contact with an angry looking gash that ran in a remarkably straight line up and over his shoulder.
“Whatever did you do there?” The question was out before she considered it might be rude, yet her fingertips kept coming back to stroke the elongated ridge.
“Car accident. When I was younger.” Wrapping his fingers around her knuckles, he pulled her hand away.
“How?”
“Kind of freakish, really. Hit the rearview mirror at an odd angle.”
His short explanation was accompanied by the continued strokes of his palms up and down her back, his lips against her throat.
“Oh. Those things happen I suppose.”
She had his shirt off and zipper down only seconds before he tugged her against him. With a slight shift and shrug, his trousers joined the discarded heap of clothes accumulating on the floor.
He pushed her backward with a tender shove, then brought his hands together behind to lower her down. As she settled into the plush cushions, he slowly crawled up the length of her, mouth imparting delicate kisses along the way.
Only If You Dare Page 4
