by Noelle Adams
“What’s going on?” he demanded, glaring down at his brother. “What did you do to her?”
“I didn’t do anything. I was just teasing. It’s none of your business.”
Baron made a face like Steven was nothing but trash and turned toward Leila. “What did he do to you?”
“Nothing.” She didn’t have a problem telling on a jerk like Steven, but she was upset about the whole thing and didn’t want Baron to know about it.
“Why are you on the ground? Why did he push you?”
“It was an accident. He took my journal, and I was trying to get it back.”
He extended a hand to help her to her feet. Her bottom hurt from falling on it so hard, and her cheeks burned from the emotional and physical turmoil. When she was standing, she accepted the journal Baron handed her.
Then she saw a motion behind him. “Baron,” she said sharply, “Look out—”
Steven had made a running start, evidently in an attempt to tackle his older brother, but Baron reacted too quickly. He didn’t seem to do much except make a swat with his hand, but Steven ended up back on the ground.
Baron glared. “Why are you always such a brat?” Then he turned his back on his brother again. “I was headed over to play basketball with Dave. Do you want me to walk you back?”
She nodded, feeling upset and relieved and incredibly shy. She straightened her glasses and grabbed her purple-ink pen, which was on the grass near the rock where she’d been sitting.
Baron didn’t say another word to Steven. Just started walking toward her house. She fell in step with him and had no idea what to say.
“Are you all right?” he asked, after a minute.
She nodded, her eyes on her sneakers. She didn’t feel all right. She felt like she might throw up—either from the push, the fall, or too much emotion.
“Did he hurt you?”
Licking her lips, she managed to say, “No.”
“It looks like he hurt you.”
“I just fell. I’m okay.”
They walked in silence for another minute. Then she summoned up the courage to say, “Thank you.”
“It was nothing.”
“He’s going to be mad at you now.”
“He’s always mad at me.”
“But he’ll do something to get back at you.”
“He’s always trying to get back at me.” He looked really tired for a moment. More tired than she’d ever seen him. “I don’t know why he hates me so much.”
She knew. She’d known both Baron and Steven her whole life, and she knew the answer. It took her a long time, but she finally worked herself up to saying it. “He’s jealous.”
Baron glanced over at her in surprise. “What?”
“He’s jealous of you. That’s why he’s always mad.”
“Jealous of what?”
“You can do everything better than him. Everyone likes you. No one likes him. He wants what you have, and he’s mad because he can never have it.”
“How do you know that?”
She shrugged and looked away. “I just do.”
“There’s nothing I can do about any of that.”
“I know. It’s not your fault. It’s his. People would like him if he was nice.”
They’d reached her backyard, but Baron stopped in the middle of it, looking down at her, as if he was really seeing her. “You’re pretty smart, kid.”
She blushed and stared at the grass, trying not to wriggle in pleasure.
Despite the unexpected compliment, she could tell Baron felt bad about how mean his brother was, and she wanted to make him feel better. “Dave and I fight all the time too.”
Baron laughed. “You have no idea what fighting really is. You have a good family. Mine…isn’t like yours.”
“Oh.”
Dave called out from the house just then, and they both turned toward his voice.
Leila went to hide her journal under her mattress, and Baron went to play video games with Dave and forgot all about her existence.
***
Present
Leila tried to juggle her books, papers, and coffee cup as she unlocked the door to her office. She managed—barely—just catching one of her books as it slid off the pile in her arms.
The entire pile toppled, however, when her office phone rang and she hurried over to answer it.
At her greeting, a familiar male voice said, “How was class?”
She swallowed and felt an odd shudder from somewhere inside her. “Baron. Hi. How did you know I was in class?”
“Your class times and office hours are listed on your college web page.”
It was true. For some reason, however, Leila felt strange about Baron looking her up on Benton’s website.
“I wanted to make sure I caught you in your office,” he added.
“Oh. Right. Well, here I am.”
“How does your week look?” It sounded like there was a smile in his voice, but she couldn’t quite identify the resonance.
“About normal.”
“I was hoping we could get together some time to talk about the church.”
After the mess with poor Charlotte and the tree the previous week, Leila had thought Baron would do his best to make himself scarce, so she was surprised by the invitation. She didn’t like the way he sounded now—smooth, charming, totally in control.
It made her feel like that silly, besotted girl she used to be.
He’d gone way out of his way to rescue Charlotte, though, and she could have gotten seriously hurt. Leila hadn’t forgotten the surge of absolute panic she’d felt when she’d come out of James Hall and had discovered Charlotte very near to falling.
Part of her wanted to shut Baron down completely—throw his offer back in his face—out of nothing more than an irrational resistance to a man so sure of himself.
That would be immature, though, so she said, “Sure. We could do that.”
“Dinner then? On Thursday around eight?”
She was about to give an automatic agreement when she stopped herself. She wasn’t busy on Thursday evening, but Baron hadn’t even asked.
Despite herself, she was definitely still attracted to the man, but she’d been married for too many years to a cool, overconfident bastard, and she knew better than to let herself be taken in by it now.
“Dinner is kind of hard, with the girls and everything.”
“What about lunch then?” There was a pause in which she knew he was checking his schedule. “I could try to move some things around.”
“Tomorrow’s good. I don’t teach on Wednesdays.”
“Where would you like to meet?”
She was kind of surprised he asked, and she suggested a little sandwich shop near campus.
When they disconnected, she sat for a few minutes staring at the telephone.
Baron was an absolute mystery to her. She’d thought she’d known him when they were growing up—the good-hearted, charming boy who exceled at absolutely everything but still struck her as somehow lonely. That boy, however, had morphed into something else.
She pictured again Baron sprawled on the grass last week. His expression had been genuine, for perhaps the first time since she’d reencountered him. Real. Human. A tangled mixture of bewilderment, frustration, and irony.
As ridiculous as it was—and it must say something weird and twisted about herself—she found that memory of Baron infinitely more attractive, more arousing, then the kiss they’d shared at the party.
And the kiss had been really good.
* * *
Lunch with Baron the next day was baffling.
They sat at a corner table in the sandwich shop for almost an hour and talked about her research on Great Awakening era churches. Baron had obviously done his homework. He knew her publications in detail and had incredibly intelligent questions to ask about them. That wasn’t what was surprising.
What surprised her was, at the end of their lunch, she still couldn’t
figure out why he was interested in West Church at all.
Their conversation had faded into a natural lull, and Leila idly stirred her water glass, trying to think of any possible reason for Baron’s inexplicable interest in some obscure little church.
Finally, she gave up. Looking up, she met dark eyes that always seemed to see so much more than they should. “So why does any of this matter to you?”
Baron blinked, something in his suave façade shifting just a little. He gave a half-shrug. “I’m interested.”
“But why? What about this church is important to you?”
When he answered, the words were almost swallowed over. “My parents were married in that church.”
“Oh.” She was completely shocked. Completely taken aback.
He gave the half-shrug she’d seen him do several times now. A characteristic gesture indicating that whatever he was saying wasn’t really important to him. “It meant a lot to my dad. He always talked about restoring it, and I know he wanted to do it because he always loved my mom—even after they got divorced. She couldn’t stand that he worked all the time, so she finally left him. But he never stopped loving her. So now that he’s… It just seems like a good time buy the church and restore it like he’d wanted.”
“Oh.”
He was acting like it was no big deal, like it was just a nice thing to do in his father’s memory. She could tell it meant something to him, though—simply by the fact that he was pretending it didn’t.
She felt a sudden pull of empathy toward him. As a boy, he’d always had an incredibly kind heart, rescuing stray dogs and birds and her more than once.
If the last decade of his life was any evidence, he appeared to have lost that kind heart in the wake of too much money, too many women, and too much excitement.
He hadn’t, though. She could see with crystal-clarity now that he hadn’t.
Today he wore another business suit with steel gray tie. The chiseled contours of his features were distinct, inexplicably compelling, and the little lines around his eyes and mouth etched maturity deep into his face.
People looked at him. All the time. Sometimes recognizing him for the James name or his notorious reputation. Sometimes women, manifestly appreciating his physical appeal.
His appeal to Leila was more than physical, but it was also incredibly dangerous.
She wanted—needed—a normal, stable life for her and the girls, and she could never find that with Baron.
It didn’t matter that she suddenly felt close to him, the way she used to feel as a girl.
She stared down at her empty plate and tried to convince herself to get it together.
Baron obviously loved his father, wanted to rebuild the church in memory of his family. That was a good thing. Spoke well about him. Revealed a humanity at the heart of him.
But it didn’t mean he was suddenly good boyfriend material.
She glanced down at her watch. “Oh, damn, it’s almost two. I have a department meeting.”
Whatever strange tension had been filling the air dissipated immediately. Baron thanked her for her time, and she thanked him for lunch, and they went their separate ways.
As she left, Leila told herself that all of her wise reflections were moot, since Baron would never be seriously interested in her anyway.
* * *
On Friday, Leila got in the elevator in James Hall with Jane and Charlotte—and with Miss Martin, who had brought them up to wait in her office, since it was drizzly outside.
Leila leaned against the wall. She was exhausted. Really glad the week was over.
“Please can’t we play by the church, Mommy,” Charlotte begged, folding her hands in an exaggerated gesture of supplication.
“It’s too wet today, and we’ve got to get home so we have time to make our pizza and watch a movie.”
“I guess.” Charlotte stuck her chin out a little, but Leila was relieved to see there were no signs of a temper-fit.
“It’s my turn to put the pepperoni on,” Jane informed one and all. “Last time, Charlotte did it, so this time it’s my turn.”
“That’s right. It’s your turn.” Leila slanted a look over at her other daughter, who had taken a deep breath in preparation for something. “Right, Charlotte?”
The girl let the breath out in a loud gust. “Right. Next time is my turn.”
Fortunately, it wasn’t raining when they got outside, and Leila started toward the lot where they were parked.
Then Jane tugged on her jacket and pointed in the direction of the church. “Mommy, there’s the movie-star man.”
“The movie-star man!” Charlotte exclaimed, taking a few excited steps toward where Baron stood with a portfolio, talking to another man, whom Leila recognized as the Vice President of Finance for the college.
“Why do you call him the movie-star man?” Leila asked in genuine curiosity, trying to ignore the way her heartbeat had sped up at the sight of Baron.
“He looks like a movie-star. Doesn’t he?”
He did. Kind of.
The girls both started toward Baron.
“Jane, Charlotte,” Leila said, loudly enough to make both girls pause and look back at her. “Remember what we talked about?”
Jane hurried back over and took Leila’s hand. “Can we go say hi to Mr. James, Mommy?”
Leila wanted more than anything to say “no,” since she felt uncomfortable about the odd way their lunch a couple of days ago had ended. But she’d had a long talk with Charlotte last week, and this was as good a time as any to follow through with it. “Charlotte? Are you ready?”
Her daughter’s little face contorted slightly, as if she were trying to swallow down her bubbling excitement. “Okay.” She let Leila take her hand too, and they all trooped down toward the church.
Baron was facing away from them, so he didn’t know they were approaching until Charlotte started to call out, “Hi—”
“We don’t interrupt when other people are talking,” Leila chided, with a familiar sense of trying to herd milling sheep into proper order.
Baron had turned around at Charlotte’s first syllable. The initial flash of expression on his face was surprise and something less clear, but his expression settled itself into his characteristic charm.
Leila gave Charlotte a significant look and a very slight nudge forward.
The girl squared her shoulders, her ponytails falling messily down her back, and took a few steps toward Baron. “Hello, Mr. James. Thank you for helping me down from the tree and it was very nice of you to help me and I’m sorry if you got hurt or messed up when I landed on you.”
The college VP who had been talking to Baron did a double-take.
Baron’s face was very still as he stared down at Charlotte.
Leila was unaccountably pleased with the way his focus was only on the girl, even if it meant he was basically ignoring Leila herself. A lot of adults acted as if they liked her girls but wouldn’t even meet their eyes when they talked to them.
Leila was pretty sure that Baron wasn’t a kid-person, but at least he treated them as human.
“You’re welcome,” he said at last. “And your apology is accepted.”
Charlotte clapped her hands and did a little jig of joy.
Baron looked from Charlotte to Leila, and she shrugged in response to his slightly dazed expression, trying to smother a little giggle.
Jane cleared her throat, and they all turned to the other girl, who was trying to smooth the wrinkles out of her khaki skirt. When she was satisfied with her attempts, she walked over to Baron as well.
“Thank you, Mr. James, for helping my sister. She was silly to climb up in the tree that high.” Ignoring Charlotte’s outraged protest, Jane went on, “You were pretty good as Will Scarlet, but next time you should wear something red.”
After another blink, Baron said seriously, “You’re welcome too. I’ll keep that in mind.”
They weren’t exactly the kind of apologies and off
ers of thanks that Leila had in mind when she’d talked to the girls about how they should act if they saw Mr. James again, but they’d done their duty as best they could.
So, when they both looked back at her expectedly, she smiled and nodded. Then couldn’t help but laugh when they squealed and ran off toward the two Thermopylae mounds of earth.
“I am sorry,” she told Baron ruefully. “I know I thanked you before, but I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your going up after her last week.”
Baron shrugged off her thanks, the way he hadn’t done with the girls. He also didn’t meet her eyes when he told her it wasn’t a big deal.
Then, looking more like himself, he gave her his charming smile—the one she was growing less and less fond of. “Thank you for lunch on Wednesday. We’ll have to do it again.”
She tried to think of an appropriate reply that would make clear she wasn’t swooning over him but at the same time wouldn’t sound rude.
Her attempt to think of something to say distracted her from what she should have noticed. She didn’t notice, though. Not until one of her daughters had snuck up and stuck her little hand in Baron’s pocket.
It wasn’t even Charlotte. The thief was Jane.
Baron stared down as the girl dug through his jacket pocket, as if he couldn’t quite figure out what was happening.
Purloining Baron’s phone, the girl sprinted away, just as Leila yelled, “Jane!”
Charlotte had been waiting—evidently to gloat over her sister’s ill-gotten gains—so both of the girls turned toward their mother with looks of indignation.
“It’s a game,” Jane explained, with an air of tested patience. “He taught it to us last time. We’re Robin Hood, and we rob from the rich to give to the poor.” She stared up at Baron, hiding the phone behind her back. “Tell her!”
“I did indeed teach them the game,” he admitted, with the tiniest glimmer of a smile. It was so subtle, so unexpected, Leila thought she must have mistaken it. “However, I didn’t expect it to backfire on me in this outrageous way.”
Leila darted a look over at her girls, momentarily afraid they’d be cowed or upset by his words and his sober tone.
They were both giggling hysterically.
Baron held out his hand, and Jane reluctantly returned the phone.
