Hard To Resist

by Kylie Brant

  The expected witticism didn’t come. He merely nodded. “It was the least I could do. If you hadn’t been so furious with me maybe you would have reacted more quickly when that car appeared.”

  Whatever she’d been expecting from him, that wasn’t it. Her shrug was self-conscious. “I think we’ve covered my lack of grace previously. Let’s lay the blame where it belongs, on the idiot driver.” He didn’t respond, just shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, drawing her attention to the way his action drew the material tauter across his hips. She cleared her throat. “I’d better go down to the street to wait for the cab.” She retrieved her briefcase and then turned for the door.

  “I meant what I said earlier.”

  She turned her head quizzically. Dare hadn’t moved a muscle. “What?”

  “About steering clear of each other. You were right. That’s best for both of us. I’ll do my part.”

  “I…thank you.” Her reply sounded inane, even to her own ears. She let herself out of his apartment with indecent haste. And as she pulled the door shut after her, she was acutely aware of an absurd sense of loss.

  Chapter 6

  A.J. had always found work to be a great diversion from troubling thoughts. And if her job wasn’t proving to be as complete a distraction as she could wish for, her experience in court that morning provided, at least, a measure of satisfaction.

  When she entered the reception area outside her office, Song took one look at her and said, “You look pleased. Good day in court?”

  “I nailed that scumbag to the wall.” The memory of the armed robbery case still had the power to warm. “Tripped him up on the cross-exam. He contradicted himself so many times his public defender will never be able to undo the damage in closing arguments.”

  She paused by the woman’s desk to take the messages she held out. “Any other calls?” Song shook her head, and A.J. suppressed an emotion she refused to identify as disappointment. She hadn’t heard from Dare since she’d left his apartment two days ago. It would be comfortable to believe that she was relieved he was keeping his vow to maintain his distance. Comfortable, but not totally truthful.

  Song lowered her voice. “I hate to tell you this, but Mr. Stanley is waiting in your office.”

  Her good mood abruptly evaporated.

  Shrugging helplessly, the woman said, “He claims the two of you have a meeting and decided to wait. I told him I could just contact him when you came in, but…”

  But Mark had insisted, and the woman hadn’t wanted an unpleasant altercation with a superior. Imagining the scene, A.J. gave her a grim smile. “Don’t worry, Song. I’ll take care of it.”

  She opened the door, stepped into her office. Mark Stanley turned from the window to face her. Shutting the door with a little more force than necessary, she said, “You’re a little early, aren’t you? I thought our appointment wasn’t for another hour.”

  He flashed his trademark smile. “I had some extra time, and I heard Gaffney was ahead of schedule. I figured you’d be getting done early. Since I have another commitment later this afternoon, I was hoping we could move our meeting up.”

  Silently, she walked to her desk, deposited her briefcase on it.

  His look was quizzical. “You’re not mad that I’m in here, are you?”

  Deep breathing took the edge off her voice, if not her temper. “I’d prefer that you do me the courtesy of respecting my privacy.”

  He gave a helpless shrug. “Sorry, I had no idea you were so touchy about your space.” The silence stretched, until he fidgeted slightly under her steady regard. “Are we going to have a problem?”

  They had, A.J. thought, a much bigger problem then the man would ever admit. But she wasn’t about to give him the opportunity to run to Beardmore and accuse her of not playing nice. “Not as long as this doesn’t happen again.”

  “Fine.” The word was imbued with the soothing civility of a man dealing with a hysterical female. A.J. found the tone every bit as irritating as his behavior.

  “You said you wanted to finalize strategy for the prelim,” he reminded her. “I wouldn’t lose sleep over it, if I were you. I figure the only reason Paquin’s going through with it is for the opportunity to grandstand to the press.”

  Opening her briefcase, she withdrew a legal pad and crossed to a nearby table. She’d spent quite a bit of time considering Paquin’s motives, and hadn’t liked any of the conclusions she’d drawn. Most felonies arrived in court after the defendant had waived the preliminary examination. The state didn’t have to show reasonable doubt at this stage, and it seemed apparent that Delgado would definitely be held over for a trial. But it was never wise to dwell on the obvious when dealing with the wily defense attorney.

  Seating herself at the table, A.J. gestured for Mark to do the same. “My first impression was the same as yours.” She dearly wished she could continue to believe it. “But Paquin’s more devious than that. He’s got a reason for proceeding with the prelim, all right. I’m guessing he’s going to try to get the charges dismissed or reduced to a misdemeanor for trial in district court.”

  Mark stared at her for a moment before giving a disbelieving hoot. “C’mon. You’re giving the man too much credit. He’s playing to the media, pure and simple. Sure, he may go in there and blow some smoke, but there’s no way he can convince a judge to reduce the charges.”

  She tapped her pen against the pad before her. “I’m counting on that. But he’s not going to go in there empty-handed, either. I know this guy, Mark. He’s counting on the reduction, and he’ll have something to back his plea up.”

  Folding his arms across his chest, Stanley leaned back in his chair, clearly unconvinced. “Like what?”

  “I’m still drawing a blank on that,” she admitted. “I expect him to concoct some fairy tale explaining away a connection between Delgado and Patterson. But Paquin will have to have proof if he wants to show reasonable doubt doesn’t exist.” She reflected for a minute, then shook her head. “I’ve given it a lot of thought, but I can’t figure what he might be planning.”

  “I think you’re wasting your energy. We’d be further ahead if we spent our time…”

  Song stuck her head in the door, interrupting the other lawyer. “You’ve got a phone call, A.J. Someone from St. Anne’s Hospital?”

  A greasy wave of apprehension rose swiftly, was ruthlessly suppressed. “Thanks.” She stood on trembling legs to cross to her desk, snatch the phone up. Later she wouldn’t be able to remember the entire conversation—only a few phrases registered.

  “Can’t calm her down…agitated…”

  Voice controlled, she said tightly, “I’ll be right there.” She replaced the phone, reached for her purse. “We’ll have to postpone this, Mark.”

  His expression was disapproving. “But we really need to…”

  She was already out the door, striding past her assistant’s desk. “I need to take some comp time, Song. I won’t be long.”

  She hoped, with a strength born of fear, that she spoke the truth.

  A.J. had the cab drop her off three blocks from the hospital, because she could walk the distance faster than the driver could maneuver through the snarled traffic. She didn’t halt by the front desk, and the nurse on duty was forced to follow in her wake down the hallway. “I didn’t even know you had a brother, Ms. Jacobs.” Her tone was reproving. “Normally we like to be apprised of any family members who might come to visit.”

  “Is he still here?”

  “Yes, he’s in with her now.”

  Violence was a mainstay of her childhood, and she had nothing but loathing for those who reverted to it. But right now it was boiling in her veins, throbbing for release.

  Halting in her mother’s doorway, she took in the tableau before her. Leo sat in a chair facing their mother’s, his back to A.J. But it was Mandy’s expression that held A.J. spellbound. How long had it been since she’d seen that kind of animation in her face? It had been twenty-three day
s since her mother’s regression to a near catatonic state. It had been much, much longer since she’d been heard to laugh. The sound of it now had A.J.’s throat knotting.

  “I see you have a guest, Mama.” Her voice as normal as possible, she strolled into the room. When Leo turned to look at her, their gazes met, warred. Then she focused on her mother again, still marveling at the change in the woman. She’d deal with her brother later, she vowed grimly. But not here. Not in front of their mother.

  She crossed to the older woman and bent to kiss her cheek, breathed in the smell of her shampoo. Scents evoked the most powerful of memories, and A.J. could never smell peaches without thinking of her mother. She kept her supplied with the familiar shampoo, in a futile hope that the scent would help ground the woman to reality in a way that medications and therapy often failed to do. Lately, the times were all too frequent when the aroma was the only familiar thing about the woman.

  For a moment Mandy’s eyes clouded with confusion, before the mental haze lifted. “A.J.!” Her gaze shifted back to Leo. “A.J. is here. She never forgets.”

  “And who could forget a beauty like you?” He clasped both the woman’s hands in his own, while she beamed. “I told you I’d come back, didn’t I?”

  It was doubtful he’d told her anything of the kind. A.J. couldn’t remember the last time Leo had visited their mother, but it was long before he’d gone to prison. She’d told herself that their mother was better off for the slight. Leo had a way of causing friction wherever he happened to be. But it was difficult to deny the pleasure his presence was bringing her now.

  Strolling to her mother’s side, A.J. put a hand on her frail shoulder in a gesture that was unmistakable. Taking in her protective stance, Leo’s lips twisted. He gave Mandy’s hands a squeeze and rose. “I have to go now, but I’ll come back soon. I promise.” He bent to kiss his mother’s cheek, and her fingers clutched at his shirt.

  “Don’t leave again, Richie. Please don’t go.”

  The words sent daggers of ice stabbing deep into A.J.’s heart. Her throat clogged. “Not Richie, Mama. It’s Leo, your son.”

  The older woman didn’t seem to have heard her. Leo was attempting to unclasp her grip from his shirt, but she held fast. “It’ll be different this time, Richie, you’ll see. We can be happy. I’ll make you happy.”

  Her voice had become shrill. Experience had taught A.J. that without intervention, hysteria would be the next stage. She slipped from the room and summoned a nurse. “My mother’s becoming upset again. You may need to sedate her.”

  She didn’t wait for the nurse to hurry down the hallway for reinforcements. She reentered the room to find Leo bent over their mother, her hand clasped in his, speaking soothingly.

  “Next time I come you’ll put on your best dress and we’ll go out to do the town right. Just like we used to. Remember?” The memory seemed to calm her, because her grip loosened and then fell away.

  “Next time,” she repeated dreamily. “Next time, Richie.”

  Leo rose and turned to go. A.J. followed him out the door, and when they were several yards away she grabbed his elbow, pulled him around. “What the hell did you think you were doing in there?”

  Pulling away, he made a show of smoothing out his sleeve. “What do you mean?”

  It was far more difficult than it should have been to resist the urge to pound comprehension into her brother. And it would give him far too much satisfaction were she to try. Hands fisted at her sides, she struggled for a composure that continued to elude her. “Do you have any idea what you just did back there? The damage you might have caused?”

  Chin at an arrogant tilt, he said, “What I did was get the old lady’s attention. For the first time in about a month, from what the nurses told me.”

  A deep breath filled deprived lungs, but did nothing to lessen A.J.’s fury. “You have her believing you’re Dad, for God’s sakes! She’s no closer to reality now than she was when she wasn’t speaking at all!”

  “Then she’s no further from reality, either. Matter of fact, it’s hard to imagine her further gone. The old gal’s a complete fruitcake, isn’t she?”

  Oddly enough his callous remark brought calm, layering over the anger. His attitude, after all, was so very familiar. “Sympathetic as always, Leo. Your sense of family loyalty is overwhelming.”

  His mouth thinned. “Something we have in common.”

  Pushing aside the welter of emotions caused by the earlier scene, she reached for logic. “I’m sure you couldn’t have known what your appearance would do to her. That’s why it would be better if you call first before coming back. I need to talk to the doctor, get his opinion…”

  “Do what you want. His opinion won’t matter a damn to me, and neither will yours. If I feel like coming back, I will.” A crafty smile formed on his lips. “I promised her, as a matter of fact.”

  “I pay the bills. I can control Mama’s visitors, especially if the doctor says it’s in her best interests. If you continue to upset her, I’ll do it.”

  She barely flinched when her brother’s fist slapped against the wall next to her. His face was a tight mask of anger when he shoved it close to hers. “It’s no wonder the old lady didn’t recognize me. You always did try to keep us apart.”

  Age-old weariness rose in her. Leo had a convenient way of twisting things around so responsibility rested with everyone but himself. Arguing with him was futile, so she distracted him with a question. “How did you find out where she was staying, anyway?”

  He shifted away, mentally as well as physically. “You’re not the only one with contacts, you know. Matter of fact, I just might talk to a few other people I know.” His smile was taunting. “I wonder what kind of case I’d have if I hired a lawyer to force my dragon sister to let me see dear old mom?” He cocked his head for a moment, as if contemplation of the idea gave him great pleasure. “If I were you, I wouldn’t push, A.J. Because you never know when I’ll push back.” With that he turned and walked jauntily down the hall, as if he hadn’t just stabbed a knife deep in her heart and given it a savage twist.

  She had just enough self-control to wait until her brother was out of sight before sagging against the wall, her head drooping. Is this what family was? This violent emotion, these depths of despair? She couldn’t understand people who gave their love so freely, so carelessly, without consideration for the consequences of letting someone close. Far better to chance loneliness, she thought, than to hand someone an invitation to shred her feelings whenever the mood struck.

  “Ms. Jacobs?”

  It was habit that had her straightening immediately, her features smoothing. “Doctor Gannon. Have you had time to evaluate the change in my mother?”

  The doctor’s seamed face was set in serious lines. “The truth is, I’m just not sure what it means yet. It’s hard to tell whether the new medication took effect, if the alteration was caused by the unexpected arrival of your brother, or if it was a combination of the two. At any rate, Mandy still appears quite confused. She didn’t recognize her son. As a matter of fact, his presence at first really seemed to upset her. How long has it been since she’s seen him?”

  “Seven or eight years, I think.”

  Gannon nodded. “No surprise then. But mistaking him for her ex-husband…does your brother resemble your father?”

  Not in looks. The thought was swift, and better left un-spoken. “No.”

  “Well, despite her confusion, this change may well be encouraging.” He gave her a bolstering smile. “She recognized you today, I’m told. Given time, she may remember your brother, as well. We’ll know more after we’ve had additional time to observe her.” He gave her arm a reassuring squeeze and walked away. A.J. focused on his journey down the hallway without really seeing the doctor at all.

  Psychiatry, she’d been told, time and again, was an inexact science. Who could really understand the workings of another’s mind, or understand what precipitated the gradual slide from reality?
Logic told her she’d never be certain. Instinct told her differently. Her mother had loved Rich Jacobs, if their relationship could be dignified by the word. She’d tolerated beatings, infidelity, emotional and psychological abuse. And when she’d finally faced the fact that their life together would never change, she developed a psychological haven where just the opposite was true. Mandy Jacobs had handed her heart to the man she loved, and he’d used the very strength of her love to destroy her. Of that A.J. was certain.

  The certainty never failed to terrify her.

  When she came face-to-face with Dare in the courtroom, the intervening days since the scene in his apartment abruptly vanished.

  “Hello, Addie.” His face was sober, his voice expressionless. Sending a quick glance over her form, he asked, “Looks like you’re healing okay.”

  “I…yes. I’m fine.” She gripped her briefcase handle more tightly with fingers that had gone damp. The scrapes that still marred her shins were disguised, at least somewhat, by the dark nylons she wore. As more people entered the room, they shifted to the side, still facing each other.

  Awkwardly she said, “I want to thank you again. For a few days ago, I mean.” She tried for a smile. “With your skills you could moonlight as a medic.”

  “Given your distaste for hospitals, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt for you to have your own private physician on call.”

  She would never know whether he’d intended to volunteer himself for the position. At that moment Mark looked back from the prosecution’s table and frowned. She took a step backward. “I need to get settled before the judge enters.”

  He nodded, his face carefully blank. “Good luck.”

  But as she headed to the front of the courtroom, it felt more like she was hurrying away from, rather than toward something.

  A.J. lost her customary calm and gaped across the courtroom at Paquin. “You’ve got to be kidding!” She ignored the nudge Mark Stanley gave her, and suffered a glare from the judge.