Defensive Heart: The Donnolleys, Book 2

by Dorothy F. Shaw

  “You ’bout ready to get out of here?” Ryan asked.

  “I’m gonna catch a ride with Heather back to the hotel. You planning on meeting me there?” Jimmy pulled his wallet from his back pocket.

  Ryan looked at Maiya. “I don’t know. Maiya, am I meeting him there later?” She smiled but said nothing. “Tell you what.” Ryan glanced at Jimmy again. “I’ll shoot you a text if I am heading your way, cool?”

  “I’ll leave my phone on.” Jimmy tossed thirty bucks on the table and got up, pulling Heather with him.

  “Talk to you later, Heather,” Maiya said.

  “Count on it,” Heather called out behind them.

  Jimmy fussed with the radio while Heather drove in the direction of his hotel. She chattered on, oblivious to his apparent lack of attention to what she was saying.

  When they arrived he dragged her into the bar, did a shot and drank another Guinness. May as well prime his buzz again. He had a feeling that if he didn’t, he was going to send this bundle of hotness back where she came from. Heather smiled and giggled about everything he said. Was he always this funny? Nope, probably not.

  “Let’s go.” Taking her by the hand, he led her to his room. After getting the door open and pulling her inside, he closed them in and stepped toward her.

  A coy smile arched Heather’s lips. “What next?”

  “How flexible are you?”

  “I can do a split. Does that count?”

  “Can you now?” Jimmy pressed close to her body and ran his hands down her lower back to her ass. He bent forward and gripped the underside of her ass cheeks, picked her up and urged her thighs around his hips. Then he kissed her.

  Sonja’s face slammed into his mind and the feel of her fingertip tracing the ink on his neck rolled through him—the recollection so vivid, his skin tingled.

  Heather hiked herself up higher, using his shoulders for leverage and chased after his tongue with her own.

  Nope. No.

  Not happening.

  Shit.

  Come on! Don’t be a dumbass! Jimmy broke the kiss and laid her on the bed. He pulled away and removed his shirt. He was fucking doing this!

  “Holy fuck! Those are incredible.” Sitting up, Heather raised her hand to his chest. “I had no idea you had this much work hiding under your clothes.”

  “Thanks.” He looked at her fingers on his skin and then up at the ceiling. They didn’t feel anything like Sonja’s. Fuck me.

  Heather traced the intricate lines of the Asian dragon’s tail inked into the flesh of his neck and down over the dragon’s body adorning his shoulder and chest. She continued her exploration to his abs, and when her fingers met the top of his pants, she tugged open his belt.

  He grabbed her hand, stopping her. “You know, honey. I think maybe…”

  “Maybe what?”

  Dammit. Frustration burned through him. Bending forward, he kissed her again, trying for all it was worth to get the damn lawyer out of his head. Yet there she was. Front and fucking center, smiling with her blue eyes. What the hell? Jimmy kissed Heather harder, but abruptly pulled away when she moaned. Christ, his dick wasn’t even hard. Nope. This was not happening. “I think maybe you should go.”

  “But… I thought…”

  “Yeah, I know.” He pulled her up from the bed. “I’m sorry. A little too much booze. You know how that is, right? Totally not you.” He walked her to the hotel room door.

  “But… Are you sure? I mean, I can try and…” She turned and cupped his dick through his jeans. “I’d be happy to—”

  Jimmy cringed and pulled her hand away. “I bet you would. That’s not necessary though. But, hey, thanks for the offer.” He forced a smile and opened the door.

  “Oh… Um…” She shrugged, a confused look on her face. “Well, it was really nice meeting you.”

  Damn, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt this chick’s feelings, but it wasn’t going to happen tonight. Or ever, actually. “It was really nice meeting you too. You’ll be okay getting home, right? You good to drive, or should I call you a cab?”

  “Nah, I’m good.” She gave him a crooked smile and walked out of the room.

  Jimmy watched while she made her way down the hotel corridor. She didn’t look back and that was for the best. He blew out a breath and closed the door. Pressing his back against the cold metal panel, he ran his fingers through his hair.

  Damn. Did he really just do that? Turn down sex with a hot chick? I sure as hell did. Jimmy walked deeper into the room and stripped off the rest of his clothes. He stretched out in the empty bed, propped his hands beneath his head and stared up at the white ceiling. What was Sonja-the-lawyer doing right now? With any luck she was thinking about him, like he was her. A woman like that—Jimmy’s heart pounded in his ears—out of his league for sure, but damn if that made one bit of difference.

  Chapter Four

  Sonja leaned back in the first-class seat on her flight home and closed her eyes. Ginny hadn’t stopped talking since takeoff, but had finally—thank God—started reading a magazine. Bless the silence because she needed a nap. After drinking too much and being up half the night, Sonja had reached her limit.

  “He’s definitely going to call you.”

  That didn’t last long. Irritation prickled the back of Sonja’s neck. “Will you drop it already, Ginny?”

  “You’re not interested; it’s fine. Give him my number when he calls.”

  Sonja opened her eyes and glared at her friend. “You have got to be kidding me, right?”

  “What? I’m totally serious. He’s James Donnelly, for God’s sake. You don’t want him. He’s not even your type; you said so yourself. I’ll take him off your hands.” Ginny faced forward again, brushed her long auburn hair over her shoulder and flipped another page of her magazine. “Consider it a favor.”

  “I didn’t… I am not… I can’t believe you just…” Sonja snapped her head forward and glared at the back of the seat in front of her. “Seriously? A favor?” Frustration pulsed through her. She pinched the bridge of her nose and blew out a breath. “Really? Stop talking. Just stop.”

  “You’re so touchy. Take a nap, okay?” She patted Sonja’s hand.

  Sonja jerked her hand away. “That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to do for the last hour, except you won’t shut up about the spectacular James Donnelly. For the last time, will you just drop it, please?”

  “Soorrryyy! Jeez, Sonja.” Ginny frowned and looked back at her magazine.

  “I’ll be right back.” Sonja stood and headed for the bathroom. Once inside, she splashed cold water on her face and took a couple deep breaths. She wasn’t going to hear from him; she was quite sure. She didn’t intend to contact him—not like she could anyway—he hadn’t given her his number or business card. Typical playboy. Though she hadn’t asked him for it either.

  Once they landed at JFK, Sonja said goodbye to Ginny. After retrieving her luggage from baggage claim, she made her way outside and let out a sigh when she saw the limo driver waiting, sign in hand with her name on it.

  “Ms. Martin.” He nodded and grabbed her bags from her.

  Sonja took in his salt-and-pepper hair, his broad shoulders and solid frame. He was a good-looking man, at least six feet tall. No tattoos. However, he could be hiding them. No visible piercings—doubtful he had any of those hiding. Nothing colorful about him at all really.

  He was probably older than she was too. The man was, without a doubt, more her type than James Donnelly had been. Although she’d noticed and appreciated the limo driver’s good looks, Sonja was thoroughly uninterested.

  Once they were on their way, she busied herself perusing the many emails that had arrived during the five-hour flight from Vegas. After she flagged the ones needing attention, Sonja set her phone down and stared out the window at the city lights whizzing
by.

  She’d been gone since Wednesday evening, and her live-in housekeeper and occasional babysitter had been keeping an eye on her daughter. Maybe Casey would come out of her room and enjoy some ice cream with her. A little mother-daughter time to catch up on anything going on at school or whatever else her daughter might be inclined to share. Which wasn’t usually much.

  They pulled into the underground garage of her building on Park Avenue and Sonja let out a sigh. The driver insisted on walking her upstairs so she didn’t have to pull her suitcase herself. It wasn’t necessary, but she didn’t argue. It was just easier to go along with what he wanted.

  The elevator dinged when they reached the fifteenth floor, and Sonja stepped off, heading for her front door. She’d grown up in this co-op, and her father had transferred it to her name when he retired and moved to Connecticut six years ago.

  Setting her keys in the small crystal dish on the sideboard in the entryway, she turned and took her suitcase from the driver and handed him a generous tip. “Thank you. I can manage from here.”

  He smiled, his warm brown eyes crinkling at the edges. “Quite welcome. Will you be needing anything else tonight?”

  “Thank you. No.” She tilted her head to the side, taking in his features again. Yes, still handsome. No, still no spark.

  Nodding, he stepped back from the door. “Have a good night, Ms. Martin.”

  “You as well.” The house was quiet, as usual. Maybe the maid was in the kitchen or asleep in her room. It was a little past nine o’clock—too early for Casey to be asleep yet.

  Once in her bedroom, Sonja made quick work of unpacking before removing her clothes and then went into the bathroom and took her hair down from the up-twist it’d been in all day—but then pulled it into a loose ponytail. She rarely wore it down. After she finished, Sonja made her way down the long hall to her daughter’s bedroom and knocked. She opened the door and peeked in. “Casey?”

  “Yeah?” Casey glanced up for a brief moment from the iPad positioned on top of a pillow on her lap.

  “I’m home.” Sonja stepped in and closed the door and then took a seat on the edge of the bed.

  Casey’s long hair hung loosely around her shoulders. She was a brunette, like her father, but the teenage years had hit hard and Casey had started coloring her hair black with all sorts of other colors mixed in. This month it was bright, electric blue.

  Casey brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “I heard the door.”

  “I missed you. Did you have a good weekend?”

  Her daughter shrugged, keeping her attention on the screen. “It was all right, I guess.”

  “Did you go to synagogue on Friday night?”

  “No. I didn’t feel like it.” Casey tapped the device with her fingertips, typing something Sonja couldn’t see.

  Sonja sighed. “Honey, you know it’s important you go.”

  Her daughter shrugged again, apparently uninterested in anything Sonja was saying. Girls, more specifically teenaged girls, could be a handful. Hormones and whatever else they happened to have issue with at the moment made for difficult relations. After a few beats of uncomfortable silence, Sonja stood and gathered a pile of dirty clothes from the floor and tossed them in the hamper in Casey’s closet.

  Turning, she looked around her daughter’s bedroom. Posters of bands she’d never heard of littered the walls. Walls that at one time had been pink when Sonja occupied it as a child on through her young adult years until she’d gone to college.

  Now the walls were a muted gray color. Drab and depressing, but what her daughter had requested two years ago. Sonja had protested, but in the end she’d had the room painted for her. It was just easier. Same went for the hair and the thick, dark eyeliner Casey wore around her eyes. It was a phase. That’s what Sonja kept telling herself anyway. It was only a phase. Normal for kids these days. “Want to have some ice cream with me?”

  The offer got Casey’s attention. She paused her typing and looked at Sonja. Her pale, ice-blue eyes, lined like a cat’s, sparkled in the dim light of the room. “I guess.” Casey set the pad aside and moved off the bed.

  Sonja smiled and opened the door for them. “I think we have some chocolate syrup in the fridge still.”

  After dishing up two big bowls of cookie dough ice cream, she covered both with a generous layer of warmed chocolate syrup. She topped them with whipped cream and a cherry and slid Casey’s across the center island to her.

  Casey grabbed a spoon, stuck it in the mountain of ice cream and moved toward the door with a mumbled, “Thanks.”

  “Wait. Don’t you want to eat it in here with me? I was…” Sonja set her own bowl on the counter. “I was hoping we might sit and chat.”

  Casey turned around. “About what?” She spooned some whipped cream into her mouth.

  “I don’t know. Anything, I guess. About your week or mine, maybe?” Sonja felt at a complete loss, and disappointment settled heavy in her stomach. The gap between her and Casey stretched wider every day. Sonja had no idea how to navigate it. When her daughter started acting out last year, Sonja had gotten her into therapy, but it wasn’t working. Things were not getting better.

  “Nah.” Casey spooned in a mouthful of ice cream and swallowed. “Maybe another time. I’m gonna go back to my room.”

  “All right.” Sonja let out a resigned sigh and sat at the island. “You’re welcome.”

  “Yeah. Thanks for the ice cream, Mom.” Casey licked her spoon and left the room.

  Things were definitely not getting better.

  Chapter Five

  Jimmy stepped into his apartment in Greenwich Village after an exhausting flight from Los Angeles. Actually, the flight wasn’t too bad, but the last week in L.A. had been tiring. He’d ended up being in Los Angeles just over four weeks.

  He’d stayed an additional week to take care of his nephew, Jacob, while Ryan ran out to Vegas to help his girl—at least she was supposed to be his girl. Jimmy wasn’t sure if his brother was going to figure out the mess Ryan called a relationship or not.

  Since his brother had finally let go of his fear of getting involved with someone again, he seemed to know what and who he wanted. Now Ryan’s chickie, Maiya, needed to figure her side out. Hopefully they’d get it all together and shit would work out for them. Sure would be nice to see his brother happy and settled after so many years of madness. Ryan deserved it.

  Jimmy climbed the spiral metal stairs leading to his loft bedroom, dropped his bag in front of his dresser and flopped on his bed, intent on closing his eyes for only a minute. He’d taken a red-eye home and it was barely ten in the morning. Shit, he didn’t even get up this early after getting a full night’s sleep.

  Norton, his cat, jumped up next to him and started mewling with requests for attention, and probably food. His neighbor, Mrs. Lansky, had been taking care of the cat while he’d been away. Stroking Norton’s black fur from his head to tail, he then scratched under his chin. The cat rewarded him with a resounding purr and kneaded Jimmy’s belly. After a few minutes, Norton finally settled, curling up in the crook of Jimmy’s arm.

  The next thing Jimmy heard was the sound of his cell ringing. Rubbing his eyes, he peered at the clock on his bedside table. Two p.m. He snorted. Damn, long minute. Rolling to his side, he reached for the phone, which had stopped ringing. He swiped his thumb across the screen and Norton jumped off the bed. Jimmy pulled up the missed calls and saw it was his brother. Hitting the Send button, he rose from the bed and walked downstairs.

  “Thanks for letting me know you got home okay.”

  Jimmy chuckled. “Sorry, Dad. I fell asleep when I got home.”

  “Whatever. You’re lucky I didn’t call Mom and let her know I hadn’t heard from you.”

  “You’re right. Totally lucky.” He stifled a yawn behind his palm. “Seriously though, I did fall asleep and it was to
o early to call you anyway.”

  “I figured.”

  Jimmy knew the resigned tone he heard in his brother’s voice had more to do with his chickie than it did him. It worried him. “You hear from her yet?”

  His brother sighed. “Nope.”

  “Sorry, man. That sucks.” Jimmy picked at the pile of mail on his countertop.

  “Is what it is.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. All right, let me go. I got a pile of mail I need to sort. Hungry too. Give Jacob a hug from me?”

  “Will do.”

  “Hey, Ry?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Keep your head up.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jimmy disconnected the call and set the phone down. He scooped up the pile of mail and moved to the small dining table. Pulling his wallet from his back pocket, he tossed it on the table. The end of a white business card sticking out of his billfold caught his eye. He slid the card from its hiding place.

  Bergman and Bergman. Sonja Martin, Esq. Criminal Defense.

  He’d thought about Sonja-the-lawyer several times over the last four weeks, but he hadn’t called her. Not that he’d forgotten about it, just that whole out of sight, out of mind thing. Maybe she’d be up for dinner. Hell, it was worth a shot, right? Scooping up his phone, Jimmy stared at the card in his hand. He hesitated a moment—chicken shit—and dialed the office line, rather than her cell.

  “Bergman and Bergman. How may I direct your call?”

  “Ah, yeah. Sonja Martin, please?” Jimmy rose from his seat.

  “I’m sorry; she’s in court. Would you like to leave a message?”

  “Which court?”

  “Are you one of her clients?”

  “No, ma’am.” He cleared his throat. “My name is James Donnelly. She was interested in commissioning a piece of art from me.” What’s a little white lie, right?

  “Why don’t I take your number and I’ll let her know you called?”

  Jimmy pinched the bridge of his nose. Think. Think. “Sure, that’d be fine. I just figured… Wait, it’s public record isn’t it? I mean…the court cases and stuff. I want to—you know what? I’ll just call her cell. Thanks.”