This Time for Keeps

by Rochelle Alers

  He knew he had to be patient with Nicole and not broach the subject or to put undue pressure on her about her upcoming plans. It was September and he still had at least four, maybe even five, months to subtly convince her to stay.

  “What are you doing, Fletcher?” she whispered as he trailed light kisses down the column of her neck.

  “Seeing if you taste as good as you look.”

  She giggled. “What’s your verdict?”

  Fletcher pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “You are delicious.” Leaning back slightly, he saw her smile. “Your eyes are the pieces they put in chocolate chip cookies.” He punctuated his words with a kiss over each eyelid. “Your nose reminds me of the peak on a miniature macaroon, and your lips are as sweet and soft as meringue.”

  “You make it sound as if I’m quite a confection,” she teased, her smile becoming a wide grin.

  Fletcher stared at her under lowered lids. “You just don’t know the half of it, Nikki. Whether you realize it or not, you’re the total package.”

  Her expression changed like quicksilver as a slight frown appeared between her eyes. “Don’t, Fletcher.”

  His frown matched hers, deepening with each passing second. “Don’t what, Nicole? Don’t say what I feel,” he said, not giving her the chance to answer his question.

  She pushed against his chest. “You don’t know what you’re saying. I can’t give you whatever you want.”

  “How do you know what I want?” he countered.

  “You want something I’m unable to give you.”

  “And what is that?” Fletcher asked, enunciating each word.

  “You want me to stay.”

  He swore under his breath, wondering if she was that perceptive or he that transparent. “And you don’t want to?”

  Nicole shook her head. “It’s not that I don’t want to, but I can’t. I have a life in Florida and—”

  “A life?” he asked, interrupting her. “Didn’t you tell me that you have to look for employment once you get back? What if you can’t find something you like?”

  Her eyes narrowed, reminding him of a cat about to pounce. “Do you know how selfish you sound, Fletcher? How can you think you know what’s best for me? I may not have a job, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have options. If I can’t find a position with a firm and a salary commensurate with my education and experience, then I can always apply to the Miami-Dade State Attorney’s Office. So don’t think I’m a one-trick pony.”

  Suddenly, Fletcher felt as if he had come down with a serious case of foot-in-mouth. He hadn’t meant to belittle her ability to take care of herself; all he wanted was to love and protect her.

  “I’m sorry, Nikki. I shouldn’t have said what I said. Will you forgive me?”

  The seconds ticked by before her expression softened and her lips parted in a smile. “Yes, I forgive you.” Reaching up, she placed her hand on his cheek. “You have to remember you’re no longer Special Forces and I don’t need saving.”

  Fletcher ran his forefinger down the length of her nose. “Can’t you allow me to put on my cape and play superhero once or twice?”

  “Aquaman doesn’t wear a cape.”

  “Maybe I should see the movie to find out if I even like him.”

  “Oh, you’ll like him, Fletcher.”

  Taking her hand, he led her to the oversize chaise and seated her. He folded his body down and pulled her into his arms. “I need you to put the brakes on me whenever I get carried away and try to run your life.”

  Nicole snuggled closer. “All I have to do is pull rank and that should stop you, Sergeant Austen.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “That’s not fair, Captain Campos.”

  “Haven’t you heard life’s not fair?”

  “Please don’t remind me. That was my mother’s favorite phrase whenever she wouldn’t let me do something and I told her she wasn’t fair.”

  Nicole laughed. “My mother used to say the same thing.” She paused. “Do you think that’s a mama thing?”

  “It has to be,” Fletcher said as he closed his eyes.

  The gentle splash of rain tapping on the windows, the melodic sound of the trumpet and the soft curves of Nicole molded to him, lulled Fletcher into a state of total relaxation. Now, if she were to ask him what he did to relax, he would have to admit having her with him was fundamental.

  Chapter Ten

  “Yes, Miss Pratt?”

  The buzzing of the office intercom shattered Nicole’s concentration. She was scheduled to attend a court hearing the following morning to defend her shoplifting client who’d violated probation. The young woman had only completed ten of her mandated one hundred hours of community service, and she had been arrested again for breaking into a neighbor’s house and taking off with a laptop computer.

  “There’s someone up front with a delivery for you.”

  Nicole massaged her forehead with her fingertips. “I’ll get it later, so please sign it for me.”

  “I think you better come up and see it for yourself.”

  Nicole bit down on her lip in frustration. When she’d come in earlier that morning she had instructed Marlena Pratt to hold her calls, telling her that she couldn’t see anyone because she had to put together a defense to keep an eighteen-year-old client from going to jail—a client who denied having a substance-abuse problem.

  “Okay, I’m coming.” She walked out of her office and down the hall to the reception area. The deliveryman from the local florist held a vase with a large bouquet of red and white long-stemmed roses.

  “The vase is heavy, Miss Campos. After you sign the receipt, I’ll carry it to your office.”

  “Who sent you flowers, Nicole?” Miss Pratt asked, peering over her half-glasses.

  Nicole deliberately ignored the older woman. Nothing went on in the office that the receptionist was not aware of. She would occasionally overstep her responsibility as office manager, while Preston held off reprimanding her because of her blind loyalty to his father, and now to him.

  She signed the receipt, removed the small envelope off the colorful cellophane and slipped it into the pocket of her slacks. “I don’t know.”

  Miss Pratt stood behind the reception partition. “Why don’t you read it?”

  Nicole smiled at the deliveryman. “Please come with me and I’ll show you where to put the vase.” She retreated to her office, him following, and removed a bill from her handbag. “You can leave it on the credenza.” She handed him a tip. “Thank you.”

  He inclined his head. “Thank you, Miss Campos.”

  Waiting until he left the office, Nicole closed the door, pulled the envelope out of her pocket and read the card.

  Thank you for a wonderful weekend. We must do it again!

  JFA

  Pressing her palms together, she brought her fingers to her mouth. Fletcher had sent her flowers to thank her for the weekend, when she should’ve been the one thanking him. The weather had conspired to keep them indoors and they’d passed the time listening to music, playing board games, cooking together and watching movies. She and Fletcher had stayed up past midnight to binge-watch Ray Donovan.

  The rain had slackened off to a steady drizzle when they’d left to go to church. She had not missed the whispers when she’d walked in with Fletcher and her nephews; it was the first time they were seen together in public. Fletcher had surprised Luke and Daniel when, instead of driving to his house, he told them they were going to Ruthie’s for Sunday brunch. The family-style all-you-can-eat buffet restaurant was a favorite for locals who opted out of the tradition of serving Sunday dinner.

  Sitting and reaching for her cell, she tapped his number.

  “Should I assume you got them?”

  Nicole smiled. “What happened to hello or good afternoon?” she teased.

&n
bsp; His chuckle caressed her ear. “I much prefer a kiss good-night.”

  Heat flooded her face when she recalled the stolen passionate kisses they’d shared whenever they were certain the boys were asleep. Fletcher holding and kissing her conjured up old and new sensations.

  “You’re going to have to wait on that,” she said quietly into the mouthpiece. “I called to thank you for the flowers. They’re incredibly beautiful.”

  “Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman. And please don’t tell me I’m good for your ego.”

  Nicole pantomimed zipping her mouth even though Fletcher couldn’t see her. “Done.”

  “Good. What’s on your calendar today, Counselor?”

  “I’m working on my argument to defend a client who violated probation.”

  “When are you scheduled to appear in court?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “I’m certain you’re going get him or her off.”

  Nicole smiled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “You don’t need it, babe. Whatever happens, don’t forget I’m here to lend a shoulder or we can celebrate with a bottle of bubbly.”

  “I’ll be certain to let you know the outcome. By the way, I only called to thank you for the flowers.”

  “You’re welcome, and I’m going to hang up because I know you’re busy. Do you mind if I call you later tonight?”

  “Of course not, Fletcher.”

  “Later, babe.”

  Fletcher hung up and Nicole ended the call. She stared at the decorative hand-painted vase cradling at least two dozen roses. It was the second time he had sent her flowers. The first bouquet was delivered to the house, and now her office. It was as if he was silently announcing to her coworkers that they were involved with each other. And she knew before the day was over that Preston and the paralegals would know she’d received a bouquet of flowers from an admirer—an admirer who had unknowingly sneaked under her wall to keep all men at a distance because she’d felt at this time in her life she didn’t want or need them.

  But Jesse Fletcher Austen had proved her wrong. He’d won her, Daniel, Luke and Othello over just being himself. Not only did she want him, she also needed him. She needed Fletcher to fill up the empty hours when she wasn’t caring for her nephews or reviewing client files. He was good to and for her, and she hoped she was the same for him.

  * * *

  Nicole sat across the table from her client and struggled not to lose her temper. She had spent hours interviewing Sheryl Lynn Dixon and it was the first time she’d admitted to having a drug problem. She glared at the teenager with her wealth of dirty-blond hair and large dark green eyes framed by a double set of black lashes.

  “I’d asked you over and over whether you were using drugs and you said no. Your parents hired me to defend you. How do you expect me to do that when you lie to me? If your family hadn’t taken out a loan for my firm to represent you, I’d walk away and let the judge send you to jail. And now instead of facing sixty days, it might be a year.”

  Tears filled Sheryl Lynn’s eyes and streamed down her face. She attempted to wipe them away but her right wrist was handcuffed to the table. “I can’t go to jail, Miss Campos. My mama’s cancer came back and she needs me.”

  Nicole wanted to tell her client she should’ve thought of that before burglarizing her neighbor’s home to get money to buy drugs. “I’m going to do everything I can to keep you out of jail, but you have to promise me that you’re going to do exactly what I’m going to ask the court, otherwise you’ll finding yourself looking for another attorney.” She glared at Sheryl Lynn. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “When was the last time you used?”

  “Two days ago.”

  “Good. I’ll see you in the courtroom.” Nicole rose and nodded to the court officer standing near the door. “Thank you,” she said when he opened it for her.

  * * *

  Nicole stood next her client, her eyes trained on the director of probation entering the courtroom through the doorway that led to the judge’s chambers. His appearance did not bode well for Sheryl Lynn, who still wore the jail-issued jumpsuit. “I don’t want you to say a word until I tell you.” The younger woman nodded.

  The prosecutor from the DA’s office introduced the charges against Sheryl Lynn, recommending she be remanded to prison to serve out her sentence on the prior charge along with an additional two years for the burglary.

  Nicole stared straight ahead when she heard Sheryl Lynn’s father gasp from where he sat on the bench behind her. There was no way she was going to allow her client to spend three years in prison for nonviolent misdemeanors. “Your Honor, I’d like my client to be drug tested.”

  The elderly judge leaned forward. “Here? Now?”

  She nodded. “Yes, Your Honor. My client is addicted to drugs and, as such, shouldn’t be in jail but mandated to a treatment program. Her mother’s cancer has returned and she’ll need Miss Dixon to care for her when she undergoes her chemotherapy treatments.”

  “Miss Dixon, are you currently taking drugs?” the judge questioned.

  Sheryl Lynn stood. “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “And you agree to have someone test you?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  The judge banged his gavel. “We’ll have a twenty-minute recess while the defendant is drug tested.”

  Nicole watched a female court officer lead Sheryl Lynn out of the courtroom. Her client had lied to her once and she prayed she was telling the truth about her drug use. If she came up with a positive toxicology, she would be mandated treatment in lieu of incarceration. She also would have to complete her community service hours and meet with her probation officer.

  Sheryl Lynn was led back into the courtroom as an officer handed the judge a sheet a paper. Nicole squeezed the girl’s hand before he revealed the results of the test. She’d tested positive for cannabis, opiates and crack cocaine.

  Judge Shelton stared at Sheryl Lynn. “It looks as if you’ve dodged a bullet, Miss Dixon, because you were on your way to jail.

  “I’m mandating you to an outpatient treatment program for the next year, where you will be subjected to random drug testing. If any of them come back dirty, it doesn’t matter what is going on in your private life because you will go to jail. You will continue with your community service and check in weekly with your parole officer to let him know when you’re scheduled to take your mother for her therapy. He will give you a curfew and make unannounced home visits. So, it’s up to you, Miss Dixon, whether you’re ready to comply with the dictates of this court.”

  “I am, Your Honor.”

  “Miss Campos, I suggest you assist your client in enrolling in treatment ASAP.”

  Nicole nodded, smiling. “I will, Your Honor.”

  “Miss Dixon, you’ve been given a second chance, so take advantage of it.” He banged his gavel. “This case is closed.”

  Nicole turned and smiled at Mr. Dixon, who gripped her hands in gratitude. “You’ll be able to take her home as soon as the paperwork for her release is completed.”

  “How can I thank you, Miss Campos?”

  “Thank me by driving your daughter directly to the Wickham Falls drug counseling center for an evaluation. She’ll need all of your support to help her through this crisis.”

  Nicole felt sorry for the man who now had to deal with his wife’s disease and his daughter’s addiction. West Virginia, along with many states, was in the grip of an opiate epidemic, and treatment, not incarceration, had become a priority.

  He nodded. “I will.”

  Nicole left the courthouse and got into her car. She sat staring through the windshield without starting it up. Defending a client with a history of substance abuse had come too close to home for her.

  Reggie had denied o
ver and over that he was abusing his pain meds, until he wasn’t able to get out of bed to care for his sons. The one time he’d answered the phone and was totally incoherent, Nicole had known something was wrong and immediately booked a flight to West Virginia.

  Her instincts were proved right when she’d driven up to discover Reggie so high he initially did not recognize her. However, in a moment of lucidity, she did get him to agree to sign the documents giving her temporary custodial custody and power of attorney of his finances.

  Nicole started up the SUV and tapped Preston’s private number on the navigation screen. “I have good news,” she said once he answered the call.

  “You got her off?”

  “Not entirely. She’s not going to jail.” She told him everything about her pretrial conversation with Sheryl Lynn and the judge’s mandate about treatment.

  “Nice work, Nicole. I’ve been seriously thinking of asking you to come on full-time as a partner.”

  Nicole grimaced. “I’m honored you’ve asked, but you know I can’t accept your offer.”

  “You don’t have to give me your answer now.”

  “But I just did give you my answer, Preston.” Her boss had dropped hints about making her a junior partner and, although flattered, Nicole knew she could not accept his offer.

  “It is possible that you will change your mind.”

  “No, Preston. It is not possible.”

  “Well, you can’t blame me for asking.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take the rest of the afternoon off.”

  “Take the rest of the week off, Nicole.”

  Nicole smiled. “Are you sure the office won’t fall apart without me?” she teased.

  “We’ll try to hold it down until you come back Monday.”

  “I’ll stop by to drop off Sheryl Lynn’s file—”