Still, she wasn’t living as comfortably as she once had.
“Evidence speaks,” William said. “Maybe instead of looking for proof of abuse, you need to look for whatever it is that’s frustrating Josh Taylor.”
It was the thought he’d woken with that morning. And now had the confirmation he’d been seeking that he was on the right path.
“Start with Heidi,” William suggested again. “She might tell you something if you ask the right questions.” And then he grinned. “But you already planned to do that, didn’t you?”
Greg didn’t answer. He made a six-foot shot with his empty coffee cup into the trash can.
They had a status hearing with the court in a week and three days. William would be talking to Josh’s defense prior to that to try to reach a settlement agreement. If Josh would just admit that he’d lost his temper and agree to counseling, this would all go away.
And then he wouldn’t have to go find the trigger that had set the whole thing in motion. Because as much as he wanted to believe otherwise, Greg knew it was out there.
“Just let me know whether I’ll be doing this with or without Heidi’s testimony,” William said. He was leaving it up to Greg to decide if Heidi was still going to be a credible witness.
Greg nodded. Paid attention as he and the prosecutor discussed several other cases on the docket. Made a mental list of the actionable items he’d be taking out of the discussion. And went out to do his job.
* * *
Jasmine called her counselor Monday afternoon. Dr. Bloom Freelander worked with The Lemonade Stand but had a private office in Santa Raquel. A victim herself, Dr. Freelander had almost died at the hands of her ex-husband. These days she was married to the cop who’d investigated her now-ex. Things weren’t always rosy. But in the end, she’d trusted Sam. And that trust hadn’t been misplaced.
It happened. Survivors were capable of loving and being loved. Not all were destined for marriage and children. But Jasmine could still love and be loved, too, couldn’t she?
“It’s all about the trust,” Bloom told her when they met Tuesday after school at The Lemonade Stand, where the gifted psychiatrist had offered to meet Jasmine. “Abuse strips you of your trust in yourself, which emanates outward. The only way to truly and happily love and be loved is to find a way to trust again.”
They talked about Desmond, and Wynne, and Noah. About her untrustworthy track record when it came to choosing lovers.
And about the fact that Wynne had been the one to end the one incident of verbal abuse. To get help. That she and Jasmine were still good friends. That Wynne was in a healthy relationship with someone more suited to her. And that Wynne was making wonderful contributions to society, too.
Jasmine had chosen wrong in terms of a relationship with that one. But she hadn’t chosen a systematic abuser.
As the hour moved by, Jasmine’s confusion grew. She’d wanted reassurance. A pat on the head. She’d wanted to be told she was allowed to be excited about her new friendship with Greg. That she was making a good choice that would serve her and her family well.
“I wish there was a magic bullet,” Bloom said, her long auburn curls a compliment to the colorful scarf she wore with the light purple suit. “An ability to trust isn’t something that I, or anyone else, can give you. It has to come from within you. But in my opinion, you’re heading in the right direction. You’re open to finding an ability to trust, which is the first step. And just as important, you’re aware of your challenges,” she said, her smile taking any sting there might have been in that last confirmation.
Yes, Jasmine had challenges.
“Do you think there’s a possibility that I am capable of choosing a good man to spend time with?” She sat in one of the many homey little rooms used for private conversations at the Stand. Though fabrics and styles were different, each had a couch, a chair or two, a coffee table and plenty of tissues.
“Absolutely.” Bloom’s response gave Jasmine the first easy breath she’d taken since she’d walked over from her classroom.
“I don’t want to live with a partner again. Things change. People change. You never know what’s going to come out in someone. Or what they might not be showing you.”
“There are people who love each other and still maintain separate lives as well. If that’s the choice that makes you happy, then it’s the right one for you. I’d urge you to be honest from the outset, though...”
“I was.” She stopped. “I am,” she said. And then, looking into Bloom’s compassionate, knowing eyes, she told her all about Greg. About her brother’s case. About the investigator who was open to seeing the truth. About feelings so intense they couldn’t be denied. “It’s not like anything I’ve ever felt before,” she told Bloom, letting the excitement, the genuine joy out as she talked.
It wasn’t perfect. It was complicated, just like Greg had said.
“But I want it,” she told Bloom.
“Then go for it.”
“You think it’s the right thing to do?”
Bloom just looked at her.
“You can’t tell me what’s right.” Jasmine said what she’d been told many times in the past. “Only I can make that choice for myself.”
“We’re all in this life together.” Bloom repeated something Jasmine had heard before. “And each of us has our own unique journey to complete.”
“So, let me ask you this. Do you see any obvious signs that I’m committing emotional suicide here? Or any signs that I’m falling back into my old patterns?”
“Do you?”
“I don’t,” she said, frustrated, and yet understanding, too. She wanted guarantees. Safeguards. There weren’t any. “I really don’t.”
“Then that’s all the answer you need.”
In one sense, the meeting had been a waste of time. She hadn’t had any huge insights—she, with Bloom’s guidance, had already done that work—nor had she received the permission she’d been seeking. But Jasmine left the appointment with clarity anyway.
There were no sure things. But she was alive, aware and determined to live, in spite of the possibility of making mistakes.
She was also, like anyone who’d learned from their mistakes, better prepared this time around.
CHAPTER 18
He found Josh Taylor’s trigger: having his daughter around anyone who had any kind of a temper. Heidi let it all fly that week when Greg met with her. She opened up about the fights that she and Josh had had over the past six months, the time he’d held her up against a wall so she didn’t go down the hall and open her daughter’s bedroom door to tell her goodbye when Josh had told her she had to leave. He hadn’t trusted her to say a quiet goodbye to the sleeping child.
The time he’d shoved her out the back door, causing her to fall on her knees and then shutting the door with her foot still in the jamb. Luckily she’d had on hiking boots and hadn’t been seriously hurt. That time she’d been going off on him about his refusal to even consider petitioning the courts to grant her partial custody.
There were others. Every time she’d been pushing him about Bella. Getting upset with him. And every time, he’d been contrite afterward. Offering to let her stay over so she could spend quality, in-home time with her daughter.
Greg met with her twice that week, getting dates and times as accurately as she could remember. Some were spot-on, based on memories she had of where she’d been or what she’d been doing, like having to cancel a walkathon the day after her foot had been shut in the door because the appendage was too sore. He followed up the interrogation with more security-camera digital footage requests for new dates and times. Asking Heidi for various receipts, which she could provide for him. Checking phone records for repeated calls from Josh that had come to her after each incident. Looking up text messages. It was all there. Not one thing that didn’t fit.
Claiming that Josh and Jasmine had her trapped and were egging her on so they could take Bella from her permanently, and because of the new charges against her, she was willing to give Greg everything. Her story was that she still loved Josh, and didn’t want him in jail or even out of her life, which was why she hadn’t talked about the other times she’d suffered abuse All she’d wanted was shared custody of Bella. Greg had let it be known to her that her testimony in one case could help her defense in the other.
Every night that week, he also spoke with Jasmine. Hearing how her day went. Giving her what he could of his. His work was going to cause her great pain. And yet, in the end, it could save her or Bella’s lives. Josh’s violence was escalating. His frustration.
And he had to know he was a danger. That was why he’d asked Jasmine to take Bella. It was all adding up.
Why he wouldn’t just admit he was struggling and go into counseling, Greg could only guess. He hoped like hell that with all the new evidence, the man would agree to a plea deal during the settlement conference the next week.
In the meantime, he ached to hold Jasmine. To taste her again. So much so that on Thursday night he drove to Santa Raquel, called her and asked if he could just stop by for a minute. He was leaving the next day for a weekend in Seattle to attend a function with his parents and just needed to see Jasmine before he left.
He knew that, until the court case the following week, she’d be safe. Josh’s whole life was about keeping his daughter safe. And in his mind, her safety meant Jasmine. Besides, he couldn’t see either of them without his caseworker present. And lastly, Jasmine was currently giving him what he needed—nightly access to Bella via video calling—and all the support a guy could ever want.
Greg still didn’t like leaving town with everything unresolved.
She greeted him at the door like a long-lost lover, and he hauled her into his arms like she was one. It had been six days since he’d kissed her. It seemed like a lot longer than that.
A lifetime longer.
There was so much he knew now. Nothing that he could ethically tell her. Or help her to understand. He could only hope that when her brother was presented with the truth, he’d do the right thing for his family.
Perhaps a domestic violence admission would hurt his professional reputation. Greg was well aware that there were scores of kids who benefited from Josh Taylor’s programs. But if they were run right, surely the Play for the Win board would be able to do enough damage control to keep the nonprofit healthy. Of course, how many of those programs were supported by Josh’s personal investors? Some could dry up when it became known that the great defender was an abuser himself...
One taste of Jasmine’s lips, and he couldn’t think about any of it. She was sweet and pure and hungry power all wrapped up in one very caring and compelling package.
She broke away from him long enough to shut the front door and lead him to the room in which he’d first kissed her. Over to the sectional couch.
“So what’s this function in Seattle?” she asked, picking up a throw pillow and holding it as she sat down on the couch. In leggings and a thigh-length red sweatshirt, with her hair up in the ponytail she’d already told him she’d been wearing all week, she looked innocent and so sexy to him. His jeans were pinching him again, and he dropped down beside her, determined to control himself. They weren’t going to have sex until after Josh’s case was over. Hopefully that just meant seven more days. One week.
“Some celebrity client thank-you dinner given by the company my parents are overhauling. A football player I used to follow as a kid is going to be there, and so they asked me to come up.”
Any other time, he’d have been pretty psyched to go. At the moment, he really did not want to get on that plane in the morning. He told her what he knew about the company. Talked for a second about the two years he’d spent playing football in Colorado as a kid, and then leaned over, hands on his thighs, to kiss her again.
He’d keep them to himself. He was just going to kiss her.
She moaned, moved closer, seeming to understand that the kiss was it. Her hands, which had taunted and tantalized him the week before, were still holding her pillow. Her tongue met his. Her lips suckled his just as he’d been remembering with sweet agony all week long.
For the past few nights, she hadn’t even mentioned Josh. Or the case. Neither had he. They were separate and apart from the charges pending against her brother.
“I thought I was imagining how great this feels,” she murmured in between kisses, her lips tickling his as she spoke. “How right.”
Her words were like an aphrodisiac. “I’ve missed you this week,” he told her, words coming naturally from a guy who didn’t talk—or hadn’t ever liked talk—during sex.
He kissed her again, deeply, his tongue doing more than just playing with hers. It was like they were mating with their clothes on. With no other body parts engaged. And yet...the connection was so intimate. So...
Jasmine groaned. Stuck her tongue in his mouth again.
And her hand landed on top of the bulge in his jeans.
* * *
She understood his wanting to wait. Appreciated it. She couldn’t wait anymore, though. With a boldness she’d never known herself to have, she caressed Greg’s rock-hard penis through his zipped fly, needing nothing in that moment more than she needed to have him be free of the constraints.
He’d stopped kissing her the second she’d touched him. He’d pretty much frozen in general. Until her hand started moving. She glanced up at him. Saw the intense gaze in his eye as he watched her, and then she glanced down to her hand over his jeans, paying acute attention to what she was doing. He moved against her. Raising his hips. Moving them slightly from side to side. Filling her hand.
When the jeans were just too frustrating to deal with anymore, she went for the zipper, pulling it down carefully.
She got about a quarter of an inch before his hand fell on top of hers. Holding everything in place. Then he gently readjusted himself, back inside his pants.
“It’s just another week,” he said, his tone soft—and hoarse.
“I’m no longer sure why we’re waiting,” she answered back immediately. “This has nothing to do with anything but you and me. I want to show you I trust you before any court decision.”
“It might not go your way.”
“But I know you’re doing your best, Greg. That you want the exact same thing I want. The truth. I want to show you that I trust you to find it.”
He moved her hand off from him. Sat up.
“What’s wrong?” What had she said?
“What if Josh loses? What if he’s found guilty? Or decides that taking a plea deal is better than going to trial?”
“You think I’m using you? That I’d do this...have sex with you to ensure that you help Josh?”
She could kind of see it. If she was Heidi. Or someone else. But...she was hurt. Disappointed. Getting ready to cry, which was plumb dumb. If he thought... He didn’t deserve...
He touched her hand, and the emotional turbulence gearing up inside her subsided. She’d just told him she trusted him, and yet she thought he’d accuse her of...
“If I thought you were using me, I’d never have kissed you to begin with.”
“I kissed you first.” They were looking each other right in the eye now, and that place...the space they occupied together like that...she never wanted to leave it.
“If Josh loses, you might hold me responsible,” he said, still holding her gaze. “And if you do, you’ll wish you hadn’t slept with me.”
He was thinking of her. Thinking rationally.
“And I know that if you ever think that, I’ll wish it, too.” He kissed her lightly. “Once we make love, I don’t want you to ever regret doing so.”
“I won’t regret it. No matter what. We...this that’s
happening between us...it’s completely separate and apart from Josh’s case. Please, Greg. I need to be able to trust my own mind. To make love to you without knowing if Josh wins or loses. I don’t want it to be mixed up with some kind of gratitude feelings for helping us. I want it to be this...” She pointed between their two faces. “You and me. Period.”
Standing, she moved over to the double French doors closing the living room off from the rest of the house. Increased the volume on the child monitor over by the television set. Pulled her top over her head, and dropped it on the floor, feeling sexy as hell as she headed slowly back toward him.
* * *
Greg relived their lovemaking all the way to Seattle. Through the fancy dinner. He was distracted for a short time, meeting one of his childhood heroes, a man who was bigger than he was—not an ounce overweight even at fifty—and was also now a lawyer. And then it was right back to thoughts of Jasmine on top of him on the couch, her body sliding down on his, taking in every inch of him, those breasts, firm and responsive as he splayed both hands over them as she moved with him inside her. That hair—he’d pulled it down and loved how it tangled around her shoulders, getting sweaty around her temples and at her nape.
And the look on her face, pure confidence and pleasure as she’d come all over him.
Yeah, it had been one hell of a good hour. Best lovemaking he’d ever had.
And he hoped to God she didn’t regret it. She’d needed him to give her the chance to be right about trusting herself. About trusting her own mind.
And he knew that when she found out what he knew—what his investigative abilities had managed to dredge up, when she found out what he’d known before they’d made love—she wasn’t going to trust him, or maybe even herself, again.
Harlequin Romantic Suspense July 2021 Box Set Page 80
