by A M Jenner
He dismissed the idea that she was now living on the streets; she wouldn’t have left the apartment early unless she’d had somewhere else to go. This was his only lead to finding her. He just hoped the manager wouldn’t recognize him from the party, and would give him Sheila’s new address.
The receptionist returned. “Go right in, sir.”
Anders smiled at her. “Thank you.”
He crossed to the door and entered the complex manager’s office.
“A lawyer, huh?”
Mr. Kooper looked up at Anders with a malicious gleam in his eye. Anders suddenly knew exactly which tack he needed to take to get the information he wanted.
“I was admitted to the bar two years ago after my graduation from Harvard.” And disbarred six months ago, but he doesn’t need to know that, Anders thought.
“And you need Sheila Everett’s address why?”
“There are some legal actions arising out of the events at her apartment during the wild party on December fourth that I need to speak with her about.” Another true but incomplete statement. If he could talk her into it, she would be marrying him, a legal action which would have arisen from the events at the party. If he hadn’t gone to the party, he would never have met her, and therefore the marriage would never have happened. If he could just make it happen.
“Somebody suing her, I expect?” The wicked gleam in his eyes brightened.
“I’m not at liberty to divulge my client’s business with anyone other than the parties involved, however,” he patted the breast pocket of his suit, “I believe I can say that I have some very sensitive paperwork which needs to be delivered to her in a timely manner.”
Also a true statement. He had a copy of the code of conduct for his escort service, which specifically prohibited him to have a sexual relationship with any of his clients. He hoped it would be sufficient argument to prove to Sheila that while he was a paid escort, he was definitely not a gigolo.
Mr. Kooper cackled with glee. He opened a drawer and began flicking through files. He obviously thought Anders was about to deliver a subpoena, and was positively delighted at the idea that she was in some sort of legal trouble. Anders felt sorry for the old man, that he would have a life so empty that he could take joy in the misfortune of others.
Within a minute, Mr. Kooper had copied Sheila’s new address onto a sticky note and handed it to Anders. Anders slipped the paper into his pocket, thanked the complex manager, and returned to his car.
He entered the address in his GPS, and realized it was only a few miles away. With any luck, he could get things cleared up between them tonight.
Chapter Twelve
For the second time in as many hours, Anders stood in front of a door and knocked, roses in hand, hoping to see Sheila answer the door.
For the second time in as many hours, Anders was disappointed to see an attractive but unfamiliar blonde woman answer.
“Can I help you?”
“Is Sheila home?”
The girl looked into the driveway, then shook her head. “I don’t see her car. She should be home from work any time now, though. Would you like to come in and wait?”
“I’d like that, thank you.”
She let him in and closed the door behind him. Three silver bells hanging on the back of the door bounced and jingled with the movement. She showed him into the living room, turned on the lights, and pointed to the television remote. “Help yourself.” Then she turned and dashed up the stairs.
Anders set the roses in the middle of the coffee table, and looked around. It was a nice two-story home in a good neighborhood. The furnishings were plain and well used, but also well taken care of. The public rooms he’d seen were neat and tidy. It seemed like a good place to live.
The door opened and closed firmly, setting the door’s bells jingling once again. It made as reliable annunciator system as the rattling stairs had been at Sheila’s last home.
“I’m home!” Sheila’s voice called from the entry hall.
“You’ve got a guest in the living room,” the blonde’s voice returned from the upper reaches of the house.
Anders heard the clicking sound of Sheila’s heels on the tile floor. He took a deep breath. This was his last chance for happiness.
Sheila walked into the room, and froze as she spotted him.
“You!” The color drained from her face and she swayed. Anders moved quickly to her side, reaching out to support her.
“Me,” he agreed with her.
She backed away from him, not allowing him to touch her. He refrained from following her.
“Get out. I don’t want to see you. I never...” her voice trailed off, and he hoped it was because she couldn’t bring herself to complete the lie that she never wanted to see him again.
“I thought we lived in the United States of America?” he asked.
She stopped backing away, and her face showed her puzzlement.
“What? We do.”
“Oh, good.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Well, under the constitutional law of the United States of America, a man is considered to be innocent until he is proven guilty. Could you at least extend the same privilege to me? Give me fifteen minutes to plead my case, and if you still judge me guilty, I’ll leave and promise to never bother you again. Will you grant me those fifteen minutes?”
He saw a slight softening in her eyes before she answered, and knew what her answer would be. She jerked her head into a reluctant nod, and sat down in a chair. She pointed to the far end of the couch. “Sit there. Don’t touch me. Just talk. You have fifteen minutes.”
He nodded and sat where he was told, then took a deep breath.
“I can only assume that the reason you’ve been avoiding me in the last two weeks is because you disapprove of what you think I do for a living?”
She nodded.
“In fact, the last thing you said to me was to call me a gigolo.”
She nodded again.
“Well then, I don’t blame you for being upset. I wouldn’t take it kindly either if I discovered that the woman I love was promiscuous on either a professional or a personal level.” Surprise showed in her eyes. Good, the battle was half-won.
“I work for an escort service. Despite how they are portrayed on television, “escort service” is not a synonym for “brothel”. As a matter of fact, it’s even written in my contract that I’m not allowed to have sexual conduct with my clients. I brought my copy of that contract with me so you can see it if you’d like.” He reached into his pocket and took out the sheaf of papers, but she shook her head just the tiniest bit. He put the papers on the couch beside him and continued.
“I’ve never so much as kissed any of the women I’ve dated because of my work. I’ve never touched them any more than is required for the evening’s activities; helping them in and out of vehicles, offering my arm as we walk, and very occasionally, dancing with them.
“I got the job six months ago because it would pay my bills and leave my time free during the day to pursue some investigations I needed to make.”
“So you’re not a--”
Anders smiled. She couldn’t even say the word out loud. “No, I’m not a gigolo, or a male hooker, or any other related term you’d care to place on that profession.”
He looked steadily into her eyes as they defrosted completely.
“Then how on earth did you end up, um, dating women for a living?” She shook her head as if to clear it.
Anders laughed. “I was a lawyer, and a good one. However, when one of our clients didn’t get the results he wanted, he lost a great deal of money. He blamed me, because I’d been handling that matter for him. In truth, justice was carried out because he wasn’t entitled to the money, but he was still unreasonably hot under the collar.
“He brought charges against me, claiming I had had an inappropriate relationship with his underage daughter. He showed enough of his manufactured proof t
o the bar association to get me disbarred, but never brought the matter to court or complained to the police.
“My boss believed I was telling the truth, but obviously can’t employ a lawyer who can’t practice. He has promised that if I can clear my name, I can have my job back, though, and I have that promise in writing.
“I took the job at the escort service because it would cover my living expenses and student loan payments, while giving me time off during the day to find proof that I was framed.
“Sheila, I love you. I want to marry you. If you can find it in your heart to let me back into your life, I will find some other job, even if it means taking longer to clear my name. I’ll be a waiter, or a dishwasher, or even work at McDonalds. I’ll do whatever it takes to have you in my life, because without you, my life is an empty space that I hate living in.”
Sheila smiled at him, and his heart immediately sped up to what felt like an unsafe level. He wasn’t sure if it would jump out of his chest and skitter across the floor under its own power, or simply work itself into a frenzy and quit.
“Anders, my dearest love, thank you for explaining everything to me. I’m so sorry that I jumped to the wrong conclusion. I promise I’ll never do it again. I don’t want to face a life without you in it, either. Will you forgive me for being so judgmental?”
Anders stood and opened his arms. Sheila flew into them, and he swore he could hear the sizzle of electricity as their lips met in joyous union. He reveled in the feel of her body in his arms, her softness pressed against him, and the devastatingly mind-numbing effect her kisses had on him.
Sometime later, when they finally managed to tear their lips apart, she murmured in his ear.
“Did you really mean what you said?”
“I always mean what I say. Which part are you checking on? Do I need to start looking for different work tomorrow?”
“The part about wanting to marry me. Was that a proposal?”
“Absolutely. Will you marry me?”
“On one condition.”
“Anything.”
“Really? You’ll agree to anything I ask without finding out what it is first?”
“I will do whatever it takes to get you to be my wife. It doesn’t matter what it is.”
She snuggled closer into his arms.
“I just want you to promise that as soon as your name is cleared and you go back to being a lawyer, all of your nights will belong to me.”
He laughed. “I promise.”
She kissed him lightly on his cheek.
“Have I told you how sexy I think your dimple is?”
He shook his head.
Sheila laughed. “When I first saw you standing there in your tux, I thought you looked like James Bond.”
“James Bond, huh? That’s a reputation that will be hard to live up to.”
“Just so long as I’m the only Bond girl in your life.”
“You’re the only woman I’ve ever been interested in even kissing. You are the only woman I’ll ever look at for the rest of my life.”
She pulled his face back down to hers, and gave serious attention to kissing him.
Anders, suddenly weak in the knees, sat on the couch, Sheila falling into his lap as they continued the most important kiss in the world, the one that sealed their love.
About the Author
A M Jenner lives in Gilbert, Arizona with her family, a car named Babycakes, several quirky computers, and around 5,000 books.
Books by A M Jenner
Tanella's Flight
Fabric of the World
Clues to Food
Deadly Gamble
A Heart Full of Diamonds
Reading Sampler
Assignment to Earth
Inherit My Heart
The Moms Place
The Siege of Kwennjurat
Connect with me online
Website: www.am-jenner.com
Blog: amjenner.blogspot.com
Email: [email protected]
Facebook: Anne Marie Jenner
Twitter: @AM_Jenner
Google+: A M Jenner
