A Judge's Secrets

by Danica Winters

  “Do you think there’s a chance of the perpetrator finding us again?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I know you said you thought no one would find you at your mom’s place, but if someone had really done their research into you, I think it would’ve been easy enough for them to track us down. So for tonight I think you can relax.”

  “Didn’t you say that when you’re at your most comfortable, that is also when you are in the most danger?” she asked, a playful grin on her face.

  “How dare you use my words against me?” he teased. “But yes, you’re right and I didn’t say that I would be relaxed. I just think you could.”

  He opened the door, and the hinges didn’t even make a sound. As they walked inside, the place smelled like cinnamon sticks and apples. Though they had eaten not that long ago, it made her mouth water.

  Her first impression of the log home paled in comparison to the charming entryway. It had at least a twenty-foot cathedral ceiling, complete with slate floors, which led into a variety of rooms. In the living room, there was a crackling fire in the river-rock fireplace. It was an open floor plan; the only thing dividing the living room from the kitchen was a large quartz countertop. Even from this far away, she could make out glittering flecks of gold in its surface. The cabinetry in the kitchen was built of natural wood, with curls and knots in their surfaces. Though they were a shade lighter than the surrounding log walls, they were perfectly offset.

  The place was breathtaking.

  At the center of the counter in the kitchen was a large bouquet of red roses and white lilies. The arrangement had always been her favorite and it made her wonder if someone had known, or if it was just one of those odd coincidences that happened in life.

  As he closed the door behind them, she walked to the flowers and gently ran her finger along the silky edge of the lily. Was this all some kind of message, a sign? Did she even believe in signs? Some days she thought such things were complete drivel; if a person looked for something hard enough, they would always find it...good or bad. This time, though, she had a surge deep in her belly that made her wonder if she had just been forced by the universe to face the fact she had been brought to this place, this time with this man all for a reason. It felt almost as though she was meant for this. What exactly this was, however, was still up in the air.

  He had made it clear he didn’t want a relationship, and she had made some of the same arguments, but the heart wanted what the heart wanted. There were few words that could make two souls, who wanted to love one another, stop from loving. But just because her soul called to his, it didn’t guarantee that his did for her.

  He had seemed attracted to her, but maybe he had rebuffed a relationship with her out of some misguided kindness to cover his change of heart. If he wasn’t attracted to her, it would have been so much easier for her if he just came out with it—or, maybe not. His saying “I’m not attracted to you” would hurt, too.

  He walked past her and washed his hands in the sink. After drying them, he went to the stainless-steel fridge and opened the door. Inside was a bottle of chardonnay and a plate with a bow atop. Taking them out, he then placed the bottle and the plate next to the flowers. Unwrapping the cellophane revealed a circle of soft cheese, smoked salmon and an array of crackers.

  “Whoever your friends are that own this place, I am going to need to meet them.” She took a cracker and added a bit of cheese and fish to the top and popped it into her mouth.

  “The owner is pretty cool,” he said. “And keeps the place well stocked.”

  She could tell he was holding back something, but she didn’t mind that he wanted to keep his relationship with them quiet. Her life was forced to be treated in much the same way. Thanks to her variety of roles in the legal system over the years, she had learned more secrets about people than she had ever thought possible, secrets she would never share.

  Yet, that didn’t stop her from being slightly curious if the person who owned this home was another contractor like Evan, or if they were a client. If she had to guess, she would say client. No contractor would live this...this boldly.

  “Is your apartment anything like this?” she asked as he opened a drawer and pulled out a corkscrew.

  “Ha. No.” He shook his head. “There, I live with my family and my team. But it is nice to have a private place to crash when I need a break, so I keep an apartment on the side.”

  His family; the word echoed in the high-peaked room.

  “Have you ever thought about having a family? You know, kids with your ex or anything?” she said, bringing up the subject with tiptoeing words.

  “We talked about it, but we had gotten married so young and we both agreed that we didn’t want kids. We just wanted a life full of adventures and travel.” He paused. “In the end, she changed her mind. Adventure begins to lose its allure after a while. Even travel does. At a certain point, what you yearn for the most is to be home with the people you love.”

  “But if you don’t mind me saying, wasn’t she the person you loved—your family?” She cocked her head to the side and ended up hoping he would hear the question for what it was and not perceive it as some kind of needling.

  He rolled his lips together like he was trying to keep from saying something, or possibly he was just thinking. “I believe that ideally your spouse should be. And I think that for most people that would be true. But she and I... We should have never gotten married. We’re still friends, though. But even as friends, going through divorce is tough. I’m not one who likes to fail.”

  “Just because you got divorced, it doesn’t mean you failed.” She scowled at such a ridiculous idea. “There are a million reasons couples don’t make it. I’ve heard most of them. Choosing to walk away from one another is far harder than staying in a relationship you know isn’t working. In fact, I think that you call your divorce a success. You’re still friends. That’s admirable. It means that you chose, as two respectful adults, to accept that your relationship wasn’t a good fit. It’s astounding to me the number of people who try to force a marriage to work and then end up hating each other.”

  He nodded but she could see that he still struggled with feeling like a failure.

  “Besides,” she continued, “if you had stayed, can you imagine how different your life would be?”

  He stuffed a bite of cracker into his mouth. He popped open the wine bottle, grabbed two glasses from the cupboard and poured them each a healthy glass. He handed hers over. “What about you? Any successes or failures? You know, in relationships or whatever?”

  “I...” She didn’t know how much she wanted to tell him. If she opened up to him and let him know exactly how mundane her life had been, would he lose interest—this man of adventure? “I haven’t had a lot of serious relationships. Never been married. I have been asked, but I have always been so focused on my work and my goals that I failed in my relationships.”

  He huffed out a laugh. “I can respect that.”

  She smooshed her lips, dispelling some of the tension from the air. “Yeah, I’m a crappy girlfriend and I knew I’d make a crappy wife.”

  “Why would you say that?” He looked at her with genuine interest, like he couldn’t possibly understand why she would have said something like that about herself.

  She shrugged, even though she knew the innumerable reasons and arguments that she could put forth in order to validate her assessment. “Like I said, I’ve never been very good at putting my partner first.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  She scowled. “What is crazy about it? It’s in every relationship how-to book and every episode of midday television...you have to put your loved ones first in order for your love for one another to survive.”

  He seemed to once again scoff at the idea. “Don’t get me wrong...” he started. “I love Dr. Phil-isms as much as the next person, but who says we have to conform
our love and our lives to what society deems as ‘perfect’ or ‘ideal’? You and I are cut from a different cloth. What if we were going to be together? I would never expect you to put me before your job. Ever.”

  She didn’t know what to say.

  “Seriously. What you are doing with your life...you are making a difference in the world. Who would dare to ask you to stop putting yourself and your work first in order to affirm your love for them? You love them or you don’t. You don’t seem like the kind of woman who would mince words or waste time.”

  She couldn’t possibly have been hearing him right. Men, especially alpha types, were rarely this progressive when it came to relationships. In fact, the few men she had dated—mostly cops—had been more of the caveman type. She was lucky not to have been clubbed when they had tried to take her back to their caves for the night. What had made those dates even more frustrating was the fact that they knew exactly who she was, what she wanted in her future and where her priorities lay and yet, it was like they didn’t know those things when they were finally over their initial phases of lust. Then both men had wanted her to settle down, to conform.

  They were left wanting.

  “Are you screwing with me right now? Telling me what you think I want to hear?” she said, taking a sip of the wine.

  “No. Because I feel the same way. I mean what I say. I can change my mind about many things, but once I tell someone I love them, I love them forever.”

  She wasn’t sure how she felt about the thought of him still loving his ex-wife—most women would have been jealous, and maybe she was a touch, but mostly she found it endearingly sweet. Throughout a person’s life, they loved many people—lovers, family and even friends. To think that he would give it forever, no matter what happened between them, that was incredible. She cherished the thought that a person whose love was so pure and unending was in her life. Not that he loved her. But to think he was capable...

  She needed more wine.

  She took a long drink, emptying her generously filled glass. He poured her another as soon as she sat the glass back down. She was glad she didn’t have to go through the questions of “do you want another” and then feel like she had to pretend to be in favor of temperance. It was like he knew what she wanted without her speaking. She could get used to this.

  “About work before love,” he said, taking a drink from his glass and setting the bottle down. “We need to go over the other people who’ve ordered the chemical. And I should check in with the FBI. They might have more info by now.”

  She nodded, and then had to stifle a yawn. Despite her pleasure at being in this home with him, the day was taking its toll.

  He must have noticed.

  “We’re tired, and won’t be at our best. It can wait till the morning.”

  “Okay,” she said. “But go on—about work and love and priorities.”

  “I didn’t want to give the impression I think either of us should not value the other more than their job. I’m just saying that it’s okay for your priorities to be on succeeding in life. Happiness in one area of your life tends to lead to happiness in all the others.”

  Did he say us?

  She smiled at him, her chest threatening to explode with joy. “I never realized what a philosopher you were. I like it.”

  Though it was probably the endorphins or dopamine hitting her brain and making her feel a rush, as his gaze settled on her and his lips pulled into that sexy smile, she didn’t care what the physiological reason was for her yearning to touch him. All she wanted to do was reach out, pull him between her thighs and kiss his lips until they were both unable to do anything but bask in the flavor of the other.

  “I’m no philosopher, but I definitely have seen enough of life to know my way around it. Though I’m more than aware others may have different perspectives than myself.” He looked down at his wineglass.

  Was he worried that she felt differently than he did? How could she? Everything he had said so far made complete sense to her. If anything, it was almost as if he could read her mind. Or was telling her what she wanted to hear, like she assumed before.

  “I think an indicator of a good relationship is one that brings out the best in both people.”

  He nodded but had a contemplative look on his face. “I agree, but I think it’s impossible for two people to expect perfection from each other. While you can bring out the best in each other, in a relationship I think you can also expect to bring out the worst. It’s how you deal with those moments of weakness that separates you from who makes it and who doesn’t.”

  “What do you think is your greatest weakness?” she asked.

  As soon as she asked the question, she wondered if that was the most prudent thing she could have done. Oftentimes, the best thing a person could do was remain silent. But if they were really going to seek a relationship with one another, like she hoped they would, she needed to know the weaknesses in his case along with the strengths.

  He took another long drink of his wine and then refilled his glass. “Do you want an indexed list, or would you prefer the top ten?” He chuckled.

  “Hit me with your best shot,” she teased, quoting one of her favorite ’80s songs.

  “Okay, Pat Benatar.” He laughed, throwing his head back.

  As he moved, she caught sight of a few silvery hairs in the dark underbelly of his beard. Damn. He was so damned sexy.

  “I guess if I had to pick my worst fault... I would say that I can be super hard on myself. I mean, look at this situation. I feel terrible that I haven’t been able to keep you completely out of harm’s way. When we get through this, and I know we will, I am going to go over every turn of events at least a thousand times in my head. I will pick it apart and overthink—all so I don’t make the same mistakes.”

  “Like kissing me?” she asked, looking down at the flecks of gold in the countertop and running her finger along the stem of her wineglass.

  “That is one thing I will definitely be replaying in my mind for the rest of time, but not because it was a mistake. Rather, I will wonder how I got to be so lucky.”

  Heat rose in her face and she was embarrassed by such an adolescent response as her blush deepened. What a vicious cycle.

  “If anyone is lucky here, it is me in meeting you. You may not see it this way, but if you hadn’t walked into Hanes’s office when you did, it’s very likely that I would have died—possibly either way—by now. You saved my life.”

  He looked away, humbled. “That’s not true. If I would have shown up a few minutes earlier, maybe neither of you would have fallen into harm’s way.”

  “It’s unfortunate about the judge, but even if you had been there earlier...he still would have fallen under attack.” Emboldened by the wine or maybe his words, she reached over and put her hand on his. “You couldn’t have seen that coming. It was an innocuous thing. No one would be wary of a pen. None of this is your fault.”

  “It happened on my watch.”

  “That doesn’t matter. A lot of things happen independently of us. We just have to deal with the consequences. I would like to say it’s indicative of our jobs, but I think everybody has exactly the same problem. Everyone in the world is just doing the best they can after what some other person has done to them.”

  He twisted his hand so he could take hold of her fingers. “At least there has been something good to come of all of this.” Leaning forward, he kissed her knuckles, his hair brushing against her skin and making goose bumps rise on her arms.

  Her mind went straight to all the other places she would love to feel his beard scrape against her.

  He looked up, his mouth still on her skin, and his cheek lifted with his smile. His eyes were devilish. Even if she hadn’t secretly loved him before, that look and she would have been done for. She was his.

  “Do you even know where the bedrooms are in
this place?” she asked, not bothering to beat around the proverbial bush.

  He nodded, taking her hand and motioning for her to grab her glass of wine.

  She walked behind him as he led her upstairs and to the large bedroom at the end of the hall. “Wait.” She stopped, trying to fight the buzz of the wine to bring forward some amount of lucid thought.

  She couldn’t jump into bed with him just because she wanted to...and he wanted to. There was no real rush if they wanted to be together.

  “I know we talked about this before, and I know it’s going to be a major mood killer, but if we do this... I don’t want it to be a one-night thing.”

  He smiled back at her, the same look in his eyes as when he had kissed her downstairs. “Me neither.”

  “So if this happens...we...you and I are going to do this whole relationship thing?” she asked, suddenly more nervous than when she had been thinking about having sex with him.

  He stopped abruptly and turned to face her. He put his arms around her waist and she followed suit. They stared into each other’s eyes. “I hate that you have to look at the world like that. I mean, I understand why. I get that sex has turned into an item of convenience. But it hasn’t for me. I don’t just have sex with anyone. If we’re going to do this it means that I care for you, and you care for me. And I want a relationship.”

  Though it was the last thing she wanted to do, she could feel tears forming in her eyes. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice.

  “Now, do I think the relationship is a great idea? No. But like you said, love isn’t convenient. Relationships aren’t always convenient. But I think that in this world, where two people who meet and actually have the same feelings toward one another is completely unusual, I would like to give it a try. What do you think?”

  She wanted to jump in with both feet. She wanted to press her lips against his and shut him up right then and there. She wanted him to promise her forever. And yet, the realist in her—the one who had seen the most heinous crimes and terrible pain—kept her from doing so. The cynic in her reminded her what a bad idea all relationships were, even with the man of her dreams.