A Conflict of Interest

by Anna Adams

  “Did she speak to you?” Maria asked.

  For a second, he actually had to wonder who she meant. “No,” he said, sounding hoarse even to himself. “She didn’t answer the door or the phone.”

  “I’m sorry.” Maria had lit a fire in the large stone fireplace, and she led him to the sofa. As they sat, she leaned into him and he pulled her across his chest. “Really, I’m sorry, even though I made a fuss.”

  “I agree with everything you said, and I don’t want you to feel tied to me.” More than part of him wondered if that was the biggest lie he’d ever told. She raised anxious eyes. “I want you to feel safe,” he said. “With me. Not rushed.”

  “Did you tell Leila she could find you here?”

  He shook his head.

  “Why not?”

  “I didn’t want to leave that information in a phone message.” He kissed her temple, breathing in her scent.

  “I know.” She lifted her head. “That makes sense. But are you sure that’s the only reason?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you worried about how she’ll take the news of us seeing each other?”

  “A little,” he said. “But I believe in my daughter. And you can believe in me.”

  “Trust isn’t my strongest trait right now.”

  “Time will show you I’m safe to trust,” he said, trying not to be frustrated. He cupped her breast, and his arousal could have left her in no doubt about his feelings tonight. “I want to be with you.” Beneath his thumb, her nipple puckered, and her breathing grew ragged.

  She met his gaze with the hunger he wanted to slake. “I’m sorry I’m acting like this. It’s not me.”

  “Maybe you’re afraid.” He was. He’d never cared like this. He’d never acted out of character for any woman before, and yet here he was, filled with doubts and bullying Tom Drake, who’d never been anything but a friend.

  “Maybe you’re right.” Passion curved her mouth as she opened her arms to him. “I’m afraid because I care about you, and we’re moving too fast in a situation that isn’t normal.”

  Behind her, Bryony pranced into the hall, bedecked in a new purple costume with a massive frilly collar. He let Maria go, and she backed away immediately, but Bryony darted back into her room, with a laughing “Sorry.”

  “Oh my God,” Maria said. “You can’t imagine how bad this is.”

  “I don’t care,” he said. “Bryony, at least, won’t be traumatized. Come to bed.”

  As they reached Maria’s bedroom, he was already tugging her tank top over her head. She shut her door and then reached for his belt buckle. He sucked in his stomach.

  “This feels so good, it has to be wrong,” she said, pressing her breasts to his chest.

  “You’re out of your mind.” He caught the nape of her neck and kissed her with the hunger that had grown out of twelve or so hours of not holding her.

  She undid his zipper. Her hands, sliding inside his waistband, were cool and strong and drove him insane.

  “I thought women liked foreplay,” he said.

  “I’m sure we’ll need it someday. Right now, I just need you.”

  THE NEXT MORNING, Maria awoke in the early dark, doubts coming back in full force.

  With bare-naked need, she smoothed Jake’s dark curls over his forehead. His eyes flickered. He caught her hand and kissed her palm, his mouth opening just enough to destroy her will to leave.

  “I don’t like being late,” she said. “Especially not two days in a row.”

  “For the paper route?” He laughed, stretching his long, gorgeous body. “I’ll wait here.” He folded her fingers and kissed her knuckles. “Wake me when you get back.”

  “All speed records for paper folding will fall today.”

  She went to her appointed corner, trying not to analyze where she might be headed with a business-first, justice-oriented, no-feelings-allowed guy. Well, she conceded, that last part was untrue. He obviously had feelings.

  She didn’t notice the newspaper photo at first. She was inserting flyers for roasting hens and “green” cleaners when she recognized Jake wearing only his pants. She dropped the flyers and moved under the streetlight, staring at the back of the Sentinel’s first section in horror.

  Honesty’s only paper had a tiny gossip page. Most folks liked to cover the good stuff face-to-face, over a back fence or a coffeehouse counter. But Honesty was also a microcosm of the bigger world, and the small section usually covered fundraisers or who was sexing it up with whom—relayed in subtle hints.

  Jake hadn’t received the benefit of even a bludgeoning hint.

  Someone had been outside Maria’s house when Bryony had arrived. Someone who’d taken a picture of exactly the moment that had stopped Bryony in her tracks.

  The photo had caught Maria standing just in front of Jake, not quite covering up the fact that he was nearly naked in her open doorway.

  She felt sick, but the Sentinel editor must have felt the people of Honesty needed to know how a steadfast judge spent his time with a recently disgraced psychologist who’d clearly made the most of her visit to his courtroom.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  TEARS OF SHAME scalded Maria’s eyes as she scanned the brief article on her part in getting Griff acquitted. Not even Beth Nikolas would be able to respect her now. Without exactly saying it, the article managed to imply exactly what she’d feared, that she’d lost her job for good and was making do with Jake.

  He’d be lucky to salvage his own career now.

  She swore and folded the papers even faster. Delivering them was like stabbing Jake in the heart over and over again. She was grateful for the cover of a dark morning as she made her way back home.

  She scooped her paper out of the holly bush beside her front porch and carried it inside. Still in her coat and gloves, she opened her bedroom door.

  Jake came out of the bathroom in another towel, his face swathed in shaving cream. “You did break records.”

  “I have to show you something. You need to go to Leila before she sees it.”

  “What?”

  She held out the paper. While he read the article, she got another towel and handed it to him when he came after her into the bathroom.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “What about you? You’ll be lucky if the town doesn’t find a rail built for two. I know I inserted flyers for tar and feathers this morning.”

  “That’s real funny.” Jake avoided her glance as he wiped shaving cream off his face. “Will you come with me to talk to Leila?”

  Maria stared at him in the mirror, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze. Showing uncharacteristic vulnerability, he seemed fascinated by the foam that had dripped to the edge of the sink. He looked up so suddenly, his dark expression startled Maria.

  “I’m not asking you because I’m afraid to talk to Leila,” he said. “But I am afraid for her. You’ll be able to tell if she—”

  “You didn’t ask me along last night.”

  “Because I wanted to be the one to tell her and you’re not supposed to see her. I wasn’t being outed by the local newspaper.”

  “I—” If she went, it could mean the end of her license. She tried to look into Jake’s eyes. “I know I can never treat Leila again, but the Psychology Review Board doesn’t. I’m afraid if I go with you now, I’ll never be able to treat anyone else again, either.”

  “You’re saying no?”

  “No.” It wasn’t in her, but to give up everything she’d worked for…“I could offer you the names of the same therapists I recommended to her.”

  “The ones she refuses to see?”

  Silence filled her bathroom and the lengthening space between them. She watched as he reached for his pants. She cared about Leila, and that photo was going to be a blow. The younger woman had never even been able to admit aloud that she wished her parents would find a way back to each other. Seeing her father in such a compromising position with Maria would hurt her.r />
  “Okay,” she said. “As soon as you dress.” She moved to the bathroom door and clung to the jamb for dear life. “You look as if you’re sorry, as if we made a mistake.”

  “I’m sorry for you.” He turned away as he dropped the towel and began to dress. In the past two days, they’d shared their bodies the way they’d shared her quilt and late-night snacks from the fridge and one pillow in the middle of her bed. But it seemed that was all over now. The fruit of the tree of knowledge had dropped on their heads. “And Leila,” Jake said. “This is going to hurt both of you.”

  “And you. Being with me puts your career in jeopardy.”

  “You’re sorry?” he asked.

  “I am now.” She turned away, but let him catch her arm.

  “What are you thinking, Maria?”

  “Same as you. Keeping our distance would have been the safer, wiser move.” She laughed, seeing nothing funny in their so-called relationship. “You don’t respect us in the morning.”

  “Respect? What are you talking about?” But he turned away to button his shirt, too.

  Neither could face the other.

  “It’s okay.” It wasn’t. It was anything but. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to ask outright for reassurance about the respect and intimacy that had linked them the past two nights. Had she imagined the connection that had made her sleep happily in his arms?

  Happiness and safety—two things she’d never depended on anyone else to give her.

  “I’m sorry someone took that picture,” he said. “And I’d like to ask the editor why he thought it was newsworthy. I’m not sorry about—” She tried to back into her bedroom, but he caught her arms. “I’m not sorry about being with you. How do I convince you?”

  “Get your shoes,” she said, her voice a rasp. “We should take the paper along, and we have to hurry. Leila’s working the early morning hours at the day care this term, and she opens up. We need to catch her at home.”

  Jake touched her face, his fingers gentle. His eyes were kind but hollow. “Why do you assume we’re over?”

  “That’s a problem I have, left over from a long time ago. I tend to believe people I care for are going to flee.”

  Jake leaned down. His lips against her temple were warm. The scent of shaving cream and clean male made her want to lean against him, but a last stubborn vestige of caution stopped her.

  The kiss was apparently supposed to ease her confusion, despite the silence between them. After a few seconds, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged tight before pulling abruptly away. It was as close as she would ever come to asking him to care for her.

  “Let’s drive,” Jake said, buttoning his shirt. “I’d hate to see her pass us as we’re walking to her place.”

  Fine. Less time to think or talk. All good. For both of them.

  Awkwardness spiked the silence while they drove to Leila’s town house. As they climbed the icy steps to the small porch, Maria’s heart banged in her chest like a ball bearing in a pinball machine. Before they could ring the bell, Leila snatched the door open, as if she’d been watching for them.

  To Maria’s surprise, Jake twined his fingers with hers. She shivered and saw Leila stare at their hands. Maria couldn’t stop herself from pulling away.

  “Don’t you think it’s a little late to hide what you’ve been doing with my father, Doctor?” Her sarcasm was a bitter cloud.

  “Let me explain,” Jake said.

  Leila raked them each with an icicle glance and then reached behind her. She turned back with a coat and her purse. “How many times have I prayed you’d say that to me, Dad? You keep making decisions that turn my life upside down, and I still don’t know why you threw my mother out.”

  “This has nothing to do with your mother, and that photo doesn’t tell you everything.”

  Maria opened her mouth, but Jake took her hand again, a clear warning in his too-firm grip. She stared at him. What next?

  Leila burned Maria with a glance. “Back then, I wanted to know what was going on in our own house. At least you don’t have to explain what’s been happening with my psychologist.” She grabbed the paper from his free hand and banged her purse against the photo. “Everything’s there for the whole town to see. In black-and-white pixels.”

  “I want to explain,” Jake said. “Everything.”

  “I said you don’t have to. Who were you sleeping with when you got tired of Mom?”

  “Leila, you know me,” Jake said, his voice harsh with pain and truth. “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “I don’t know you or Mom. I don’t know what happened to us, and Maria, I don’t get how you can jump into bed with my father. Are you trying to bribe him into talking to that board?”

  Maria sucked in a shocked breath. Jake stepped forward.

  “No,” he said. “Stay mad at me, Leila. I deserve it, but Maria wouldn’t use me.”

  “What can I believe except what they say in there?” She slapped at the paper in her father’s hand. “I don’t know why you came over here anyway, and I’m busy.”

  “Call your boss. We have to talk this out,” Jake said.

  “I don’t want to see either of you. Ever.” Maria had been afraid Leila might try to hide her feelings, but they spilled into the cold air. Leila pushed between them onto the sidewalk, but Jake went after her.

  He skidded around Leila on the ice, managing to stop in front of her. “I don’t blame you for feeling betrayed, but I tried to call you last night.”

  “I won’t start cutting myself again over your affair with my therapist,” Leila said, and Maria found her heartfelt disgust almost a relief. “Get out of my way, Dad.”

  “I will.” He didn’t. “I love you, Leila. I stayed with your mother when our marriage was long since over because I love you. I will never stop loving you, no matter how many mistakes I make. If you have to hate me, that’s your choice, but it won’t stop me loving you.”

  “And that’s supposed to make me—what?”

  He finally took a step back, his intensity softening into confusion. “Remember that I love you,” he said. “One day, when you need to count on me.”

  “Right. I don’t see that day coming.” She continued down the sidewalk to her car. She opened the door and started to get in, but straightened. “Dr. Keaton?”

  “Yes?” Maria said, bracing herself.

  “You’re fired.”

  MARIA WAS SHOVELING her walk two days later when two wolfhounds dragged their silver-haired owner down the frozen sidewalk. Helen Sloane, Jake’s aunt, being walked by her dogs.

  Maria bit her lip. It wasn’t safe, but if she were seventysomething, she’d resent a younger woman suggesting she couldn’t handle her own pups.

  Maria had minded her own business instead of offering Helen Sloane help for months. Now that she’d put the finger of guilt on Jake’s bare chest in the morning newspaper, it was a bad time to change her approach.

  But the ice and the dogs were a lethal combination. And it wasn’t just because her feelings for Jake made her feel connected to his family, too.

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Sloane,” she said.

  “Whoa,” the lady called to her charges. “Madden, Montana, slow it down before you break my hip.”

  Since she’d mentioned it first…“Can I help?” Maria asked. “I’d be happy to walk your dogs for you.”

  “I beg your pardon,” Mrs. Sloane said as her dogs sniffed anxiously at Maria’s ankles. “I’m perfectly capable of caring for my animals.”

  “Of course, but the weather’s cold.” Maria danced out of the reach of one long snout, only to find herself close up with the other. “I’ve just given up my gym membership, and I could use the exercise.”

  “I couldn’t pay you much,” Helen said, while she looked as if she were calculating in her head.

  “Pay me? I’m offering a favor,” Maria said. One of the dogs gave a high-pitched yelp that probably shattered several windows. “Don’t worry about money.”


  “Oh, no.” Helen Sloane yanked the leashes out of Maria’s reach. “I love my babies, but I know they’re wild boys. I can’t let you walk them if you won’t let me pay you.”

  “We’re neighbors.”

  “Let’s be businesslike. I have a need, and I know myself. If I let you walk Montana and Madden once, I won’t be able to resist using you again.”

  “I’d be glad to do it until the weather improves.”

  “Businesslike obviously won’t work, so I’ll try bluntness.” Helen waggled the leashes, offering the temptation of employment, however ungainful. “My nephew tells me you’re looking all over town for work.”

  “Jake asked you to help me?”

  “Don’t be upset with him. We got frank with each other after I told him off for letting some sniper with a camera get a shot of him apparently exiting your bedroom.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “Pray for your sins later. Let’s talk terms.”

  Maria considered getting sick on the woman’s sturdy boots instead.

  “Come on, girl. You’re no wilting lily.”

  “Oh, yeah.” She might be. “What kind of pay are we talking?” Maria patted one aristocratic, canine head. “Is this Madden?” The yelper.

  “And the other one’s Montana. I name my dogs after the figures in the glory years of football.”

  Maria had no idea whom she meant, but she smiled as if she understood. “They’re beautiful. You take good care of them.”

  “It’s a constant effort. I even have to wipe them down after walks because they loll about and get themselves filthy. Maybe I could engage you to bathe them, as well?”

  “Sure. I might as well rob you blind all at once. You already know my name is Maria?”

  “You’re my own Christmas elf.” The woman stuck out her hand. “Helen Sloane.”

  “Do you prefer Mrs. Sloane?”

  “Helen.” They shook. “I’m thinking forty dollars a week,” she said. “Three walks per day, a bath each week, and emergency baths if they manage to escape you and paddle in a puddle.”