Justice for All

by Olivia Hardin

  Van waited for her to speak, expecting an apology, but she said nothing. Her eyes focused on a spot just behind his head, and he could tell by the movement at her jaw that she was gritting her teeth.

  “You nearly lost us a client, Kay,” he finally said.

  “Nearly lost? Isn’t that what she came here for? To nonsuit her cases and to fire us so that she can go back to her husband?”

  He rolled his neck, reveling in the popping sound and hoping it would ease some of the tension building up there. She still wasn’t looking at him and part of him wanted to lean across the desk and kiss the blank stare from her face. Another part of him wanted to throw her over his knee like a misbehaving child.

  But she wasn’t a child. She was a woman who needed to act like an adult. And he was the poor besotted fool who had to suck up his admiration for her and treat her like one.

  “Mrs. Faucett did come here today to dismiss all of her cases and end the firm’s representation. After speaking with her, she’s agreed to keep the divorce action pending, but with a stay of all temporary orders pending an attempt to reconcile. Her husband’s going to go to counseling with her. She does, of course, want the protective order dismissed.”

  “Those children shouldn’t be in that house with their father.”

  He inhaled as he leaned forward, fingers crossed together on the desk. “That’s not your call to make, Miss Rawley. You apparently missed the class on emotional involvement and ethics. We lead our clients, we don’t berate them and give them orders. We can’t make Mrs. Faucett’s decisions for her. Besides, if you’re so worried about the children, certainly driving her away from the firm entirely puts the matter completely out of our hands. We might not like her decision, but keeping her as a client is the only way we can continue to help her, and by extension, the children.”

  She dropped her eyes, looking at her hands with an ashen expression. “So keeping a high-paying client is the goal here. I understand.”

  “Dammit, Kay. You know that’s not what I’m saying. Do you think I like it any better that her boys will be in that situation again? I don’t. I don’t like it one damn bit, but we have to be pragmatic here. She’s our client. No, she’s my client. You’re off this case.”

  “I signed her!” Kay stood up, cheeks flaming now.

  “You’re an intern. And if the other partners knew about this, you wouldn’t even be that any more. You have a lot to learn, and I’d like to give you the opportunity to do that at this firm, but I cannot abide what happened today.”

  Kay watched her mother glide across the room, her movements lighter than air even though she stood on four-inch heels. Always the lady, even in sneakers, but with the air of a queen in ballroom attire. All eyes were on Lady Rawley, faces lighting up and hands extended to greet her. The sight of it never ceased to amaze Kay.

  “Here you go,” her companion, Brad, said as he handed her a glass of punch.

  She took just a small sip, not surprised when she tasted the burn of alcohol. She knew Brad and his friends well by now, and spiking her drink was just one of his many faults. “Thanks.”

  She felt her mother’s eyes on her, and realizing she had an audience, she immediately peered up at Brad through her eyelashes, smiling at him coyly. He winked at her and then Kay turned, searching out her mother again. Larra Rawley nodded her head in approval, and Kay inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

  Daddy was standing not too far from his wife, chatting amicably with an old friend. Their trips to Durma had been few and far between. Her parents refused to share the truth about her Aunt Iggie’s disappearance with their relatives and acquaintances in the old country, so staying away had seemed the best course of action.

  But her mother had insisted that they make this two-month trip for her debutante season. As for Kay, she could hardly complain. She’d been treated as a princess with fine dresses, elegant balls such as this and more suitors than she could ever imagine.

  Brad touched a hand to her elbow and guided her towards a group of couples around their same age. Kay spent some time smoothing the silken skirt of her lavender gown before frowning and looking up to decipher what the others were chattering and giggling about.

  Across the ballroom and in the hallway, a woman weaved around on her feet. Kay watched, and after a moment she began to stumble, reaching an arm towards the nearest table which was unfortunately at least a foot too far away for her to grasp. When the woman dropped to her knees, Kay handed off her glass to Brad and then shoved through the throng of adolescents to rush to her side.

  “Lady Marlin, are you all right?” she queried, kneeling in a pool of heavy skirts and petticoats to help the elderly woman.

  “I don’t know what happened,” she muttered, her words a bit slurred. “I’m not feeling quite right at all, though, dear.”

  Kay helped her to stand, then handed her off to a gentleman she recalled was the dowager lady’s grandson. As she watched them go, her eye caught something on the floor, and she found a spilled glass of punch. A deep frown pinched at her forehead as she made her way back to her escort.

  “Told you it was too much.” One guy punched at Brad’s arm.

  Brad shrugged and winked suggestively. “She’s a lush. Everyone knows it. You’d think she could hold her liquor a little better.” He smiled when Kay was back at his side, handing her the glass of punch she’d left with him.

  Anger bubbled to the surface and Kay gritted her teeth, trying to hold herself at bay. Lady Octavia Marlin had been one of her sponsors, hosting the first luncheon that Kay attended when she landed in Durma. She was a nice old woman who did indeed enjoy her spirits. But that didn’t give Brad and his groupies the right to spike the poor woman’s punch and embarrass her in front of the peerage.

  Kay glanced over her shoulder and saw her mother engaged in conversation with Lady Browning, one of her school friends. A twitch of her eyes to the left and she found her father, though he had lifted his chin and was watching the commotion over Lady Marlin. With a deep breath, she lowered the hand holding her punch just slightly, then murmured Brad’s name.

  When the boy turned his head to her, she chucked the punch into his face, then grabbed his hand and put the empty glass into it. “You’re a jerk, Bradley Lasko.”

  And without waiting for a reply, she huffed in the direction of her father, thankful she was wearing slippers instead of heels so that she wouldn’t have to worry about tripping in her haste.

  “Oh my, Kay, what have you done?” Lord Rawley asked, concern in his expression as his attention averted to the scene she’d just caused.

  The door slamming open in her apartment woke Kay from the fitful nap she’d been taking. She bolted upright to find Thomas with several bags in his hands. He kicked the door closed with his foot, then began deposited his goods on the bar in her kitchen.

  “Okay, we’ve got a couple burgers, extra-large fries and two drinks. Then we’ve got ice cream.” He lifted the tub and swept his hand like he was showing it off for the Home Shopping Network. “Chocolate Chip for you. And Cookies and Cream for me.”

  She laughed and stood up, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders as she advanced on the fast food bag. “Let’s start with the hamburger.”

  “Ah, but that ain’t all we got. Look at this!” His hand emerged from another bag with a huge bottle of rum. “So here’s what we do.” He took one of the extra-large drinks and poured some of the contents down the sink. “Add a little of this.” He dispensed entirely too much rum to the Styrofoam container and handed it in her direction.

  “I’ll take this one for now.” Kay grabbed the uncontaminated cup before he could touch it.

  Thomas’s expression turned to disappointed, but she smiled at him, and he eased up. “Okay, we’ll save your rum for later.”

  They sat down together at her little dinner table, Kay scarfing down her food like a starving woman.

  “So seriously, don’t let this get you down. There’re lots of firms in Dalla
s. You’ll find someplace to go.”

  She’d given Thomas a redacted version of the events a few days ago, careful to keep out specifics about the firm’s client, Mrs. Faucett. “I still have a job, Thomas. That’s not the issue. The issue is I screwed up. And I feel … I don’t trust myself now. I can’t even finish writing a damned brief without worrying I’m going about it all wrong. It’s been two days since the thing went down, and I can’t concentrate and I can’t sleep. I’ve gotta break this cycle and get my groove back.”

  He chewed and listened, slurping up copious amounts of his rum and cola. “Yeah, I know. But it doesn’t do any good to keep beating yourself up about it. Besides, I think that dude was way harsh with you. He didn’t have to take you off the case. I mean, way to kick a girl when she’s down. I think you should leave that place. He’s no good for you.”

  She cocked her head at Thomas and wondered what he meant by that. She hadn’t told him anything about staying the night with Van and especially about her kissing him. The last thing she wanted was to set off his jealous streak again.

  “Way harsh would have been actually sending me packing. I think Van’s reaction was pretty measured considering. I could have lost them a very good client.”

  “Yeah, a client who needs a good ass-kicking herself.”

  Kay chuckled and shook her head. It didn’t matter what she said, Thomas would always minimize the situation. Nothing was ever serious for him. Why would it be? His trust fund ensured he never had to face consequences from his actions.

  Her thoughts turned to Van. He’d been avoiding her since the incident. Her heart sank when she considered that might be the extent of their relationship from now on. Not only had she enjoyed working with him, she’d allowed herself to think about things possibly moving forward after that kiss. It was probably a foolish train of thought, but how could her mind not go there after the way her body and his had reacted to the brief intimate encounter?

  “Hey, you listening?”

  Thomas brought her back to the now, and she took a deep breath as she forced a smile. “What?”

  “Ready for ice cream?”

  She glanced down at her empty French fry container and wadded up sandwich wrapper. A belch welled up from her stomach, and she covered her mouth as she swallowed it back. “I think I’ll wait a bit on the ice cream. Want me to put the movie in?”

  “Right on, girl. I love me some movie night.”

  The oven alarm beeped at about the same time Van’s doorbell rang. He made his way to the kitchen first, hitting the button to stop the sound and then reaching in with oven mitts to remove the small casserole and place it onto the stove top.

  By the time he reached the door and opened it, the visitor was walking away from the house. “Kay?”

  She jerked around, her blonde bangs falling across her eyes. She brushed them away, and he could see her face was flushed pink. Licking her lips, she stuffed her hands into her jacket and stood there a moment staring at him. Finally, she took a few steps closer and dropped her gaze to her feet.

  “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting something. I just wondered if we could talk.”

  The smile that broke across his face was genuine. The truth was, he’d missed her. He’d kept his distance from her in the office, and he had two very good reasons for that. One, he knew she would be licking her wounds after the debacle with Mrs. Faucett. Two, he was afraid he’d cave and be unable to maintain the stern example that was expected of him as her boss and one of the firm partners.

  He couldn’t have been happier to find her practically on his doorstep. “C’mon. But you should know something.”

  She’d started to follow him inside, then stopped at his words. “What’s that?”

  “You’re required to eat. I just finished heating up my aunt’s lasagna, and it’s a rule in my family.”

  Kay’s little laugh brought a bigger smile to his lips. He motioned for her to enter the house, and she immediately headed for his kitchen. Van caught up with her, slipping his hands onto her shoulders to take her jacket. Shrugging out of it, she handed it to him, and the touch of her cold fingers made him want to take both of those hands and clasp them tight between his to warm them.

  “There’s a rule in my family, too,” she said after she’d entered the kitchen, opening cabinet doors and stopping when she located the plates. “I’ll eat, but only if I can help.”

  “Deal.”

  Van detoured to the living area to grab a bottle of merlot from his wine rack.

  While he popped the cork, she apportioned two healthy plates of food, placing them at the bar. He could have told her where to find the silverware, but he enjoyed watching her make her way around his kitchen, pulling out drawers and setting the table.

  She was wearing a pair of skinny jeans that were clearly designed with her figure in mind because they hugged every inch of her body just perfectly. Her feet looked dainty in ballerina flats, the creamy white of her ankles visible just above. When she reached above her, the buttons at the breast of her shirt strained a bit. Van swallowed against the lump in his throat.

  “Napkins?” she asked after a bit of searching.

  “Under the sink.”

  She swung around and retrieved them. “Remind me to get you a napkin holder next year for Christmas.”

  He thought of what his mother had insisted about next Christmas, that Kay should be there with his family. His hand reached up and scratched at a spot just over his heart as he wondered if his mother could really have had some sort of sign about this woman. He didn’t know about premonitions, but he did know that the longer he was around her, the more he wanted to know about Kay Rawley.

  “Well, I had one, but I broke it.” He leaned across the counter to grab two wine glasses, then poured them each one. “Now have a seat and eat.”

  She did, sliding onto the bar stool and waiting for him to pick up his fork before she took hers. He watched her bring the first bite to her mouth, mesmerized by the way her lips closed over it. When she made a little noise of appreciation, Van almost groaned. His jeans felt at least two sizes too tight at the crotch about that time.

  “This is really good. Your aunt made it?” She took a long drink of wine, looking at him over the rim of her glass.

  Van nodded and focused all attention on his plate. “Aunt Betty is quite the casserole maker. That’s her specialty actually. Christmas mornings we always have breakfast casseroles.”

  “Huh. I’m not much in the kitchen. I could really use an Aunt Betty. We always had a cook so…” Her voice trailed off, and Van side-eyed her.

  “A cook? I’m not surprised. I always thought there was probably a silver spoon somewhere in your cupboard.”

  He saw her stop with a fork-full of lasagna almost to her lips. She grinned and tucked her chin to her chest. “You did, huh? Well, you’re pretty much right.”

  Van chewed his food, still watching her. She wasn’t in any hurry to talk about that evocative statement, and as curious as he was, he wasn’t in any hurry either. He liked having her here, in his house again. There was something easy and comfortable about it, and he wanted to keep it that way.

  When they both finished eating, Kay picked up their plates and took them to the sink, rinsing them out and then opening the dishwasher. “You don’t have to clean up,” he insisted, pouring them each some more wine. “It can all wait, anyway.”

  “Well, that’s another family rule. I might have been born with a silver spoon in my mouth, but doing the dishes when you’re a guest is still something I was taught.”

  “All right, that’s twice you’ve thrown out the lure. I’ll bite. Tell me about your silver spoon.”

  She stopped in the midst of scrubbing one of the plates, raising her head and studying the backsplash. “My father’s an earl.”

  “Christ. You’re Durman royalty.” The air rushed from between Van’s lips then he gave a little chuckle.

  Kay snorted in derision. “Let’s say Durman aristo
cracy. Besides, being the daughter of an earl isn’t the same as being the son of one. My brother has to contend with that. I mostly get to live my life in avoidance if I want to.”

  The way she said “mostly” gave him the impression there was a story there as well. He swallowed down a large swig and placed his glass on the counter at the same time as he handed Kay’s to her.

  “Listen, Van, I haven’t told anyone this. None of my college friends, the people I went to law school with, the firm. No one. Okay?”

  He rounded the island and approached her. “I’m not going to share anything you tell me. When you’re here with me like this, everything is just between us.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured, swirling the wine around in her glass.

  He came to stand directly in front of her. “Is that what you came all the way over here to tell me? About your silver spoon?”

  She lifted her head, looking up into his eyes and searching for something. “I came out here to apologize. And to explain. And to say a lot of other things that I can’t seem to remember right now.”

  “Can the other things wait?”

  She blinked, surprised and a little confused. “Yes. I guess. Why?”

  “Because I want to kiss you, Kay. And then I want to make love to you. And then, after I’ve taken you and you’re so exhausted you can hardly move, then you can lie in my arms and tell me anything else you came here to say.”

  The hand holding her wine drooped, and if not for Van catching it, she might have spilled it entirely. Kay hadn’t really prepared herself for this. Of course she’d imagined kissing Van again, even imagined making love to him. But coming here tonight, that had been the furthest thing from her mind. Not only had he made himself clear about his position the night she kissed him, but he had also been avoiding her like the plague since the incident with Mrs. Faucett.