Let's Make It Legal (13 page)

“It’s not so hard to figure you out.”

“I can’t even figure me out. How’d you manage to do it?”

He chuckled. “I had you pegged from the very first time I set eyes on you, Counselor.”

“Oh?” But she smiled, because she had a feeling he was right.

“The thing that drives you is the challenge. Once that’s gone, there’s bound to be a letdown. Only natural. Tell you what, why don’t I get a sitter and we’ll go out and celebrate tonight?” His voice deepened. “Better yet, we can order a pizza and celebrate at your place.”

Sydney closed her eyes. There was nothing she wanted more than to spend the evening with John. Since yesterday, when he’d kissed her on the sidewalk in front of dozens of people, she’d dreamed of seeing him again, of making love with him again.

Regret filled her voice. “Oh, John, I wish I could, but my.. .my parents are taking me out.”

“Oh, well...”

For one moment, she considered asking him to join them, but her feelings for him were too confused, too new and too fragile to put them out there for anyone else to see. Until she knew what place John would occupy in her life, she wasn’t sure she wanted her family to know about him. Bad enough that Claire probably suspected something, but at least Claire would not question her or expect answers Sydney wasn’t willing to give.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “It’s just that it’s a kind of tradition—”

“I understand. You don’t owe me any explanations.”

Sydney bit her lip. He sounded so distant. She wished she knew what to say. Oh, God, she was no good at this kind of thing!

“Maybe you could come over later?” she said.

“My sitter is a teenager, Sydney,” John said in a patient voice, a you-should-know-better-than-to-suggest-this voice. “And it’s a weeknight.”

“Oh, of course.” Her lack of knowledge about the practical aspects of having children were underscored every time she talked to him. And they only emphasized the differences in their lives. She hoped desperately that he would suggest they see each other tomorrow night. Pride wouldn’t allow her to.

“Listen,” he said, “I’ve got another call, so I’d better go. Have fun tonight.”

Sydney swallowed her disappointment and fought the urge to say something, anything, that would keep him on the line. “I will. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

“Damn,” she whispered after he’d hung up. “Damn.” What should she have said or done differently? Maybe she should have said yes to John and called and canceled with her father.

But how could she do that? Her father would have been crushed. He’d looked forward to this for months, ever since Sydney had first told him about the case. He would never have understood. His feelings would have been hurt.

But she’d hurt John’s feelings, she was sure of it. And after he’d made the effort to come to court to hear her give her final argument.

Sydney laid her head down on her arms. She hated feeling tom like this. Hated being in the middle of forces she wasn’t sure she understood. Hated knowing she was such a complete dud at anything having to do with a relationship.

“What if I’ve screwed everything up with John?” she whispered.

Before she could even contemplate an answer, Norma buzzed her on the intercom. For the rest of the day, the phone calls of congratulations and invitations and requests for interviews came nonstop, and Sydney had no more time to think or to worry.

* * *

“You know, John, you’re acting like a bear with a sore paw. What’s wrong with you?”

John looked at his sister. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“Are you angry about something?” Janet persisted.

“No.”

“Did something happen that I should know about?”

“No.”

“Well,
something’s
wrong! It’s just not like you to snap everybody’s head off. You practically had Tammi in tears a few minutes ago.”

John grimaced. “Dammit! Why does everyone have to be so damn sensitive?”

Janet gave him a long-suffering look—a look that was so exactly like Emily’s when she was exasperated that John almost smiled. “And I don’t appreciate your swearing, either,” she said stiffly.

John heaved a loud sigh. “Okay, okay, you’ve made your point. I’ll go apologize to Tammi. Will that make you happy?”

In answer, Janet just gave him a withering look, then she stalked off in the direction of her office.

A few minutes later, John walked into the reception area. “Tammi?” he said to their receptionist.

Tammi looked up. Her gray eyes held a wounded look.

“Janet said I hurt your feelings. I’m sorry. I wasn’t mad at you. I had something on my mind, that’s all.”

“Well . . . “ Suddenly, she smiled, her freckled face once more sunny. “It’s okay, John.”

Later, sitting in his office, he tried to figure out why he’d gotten so bent out of shape over Sydney’s declining his invitation. He’d acted like one of the kids when they didn’t get their way. Just because Sydney had already made plans didn’t mean she hadn’t wanted to be with him.

Careful, he cautioned himself. Remember, this relationship is only temporary. You’re allowing it to assume too much importance in your life.

He wished now that he’d been nicer about it when Sydney had said she couldn’t go out with him tonight. He hoped his churlishness hadn’t spoiled her evening in any way.

Boy, you’ve sure got a swelled head! She’s probably having a wonderful time and hasn’t thought about you once.

The thought didn’t make him feel any better.

* * *

Sydney had never spent a more miserable evening in her life. No matter what her father said or did, all she could think about was John.

“Sydney, I don’t understand you,” her father said over their chocolate soufflé, a Tony’s specialty. “I thought you’d be ecstatic over this victory.”

“Sid,” her mother said, “maybe she’s tired. Listening to you expound all night would make
me
tired.”

Sydney’s father didn’t bat an eyelash at his wife’s admonition. In fact, he acted as if he hadn’t even heard her. “Sydney, this is what we’ve been waiting for,” he continued. “This is our chance.”

Sydney bit back the words she longed to say. Her father acted as if he’d had something to do with her victory today.
Well, didn’t he? Isn’t he the one who pushed you and encouraged you and believed in you? What’s wrong with you? Why are you so ungrateful?
“Yes, Dad, I know. Mom’s right. I
am
tired.”

For the rest of the evening, she tried to wipe thoughts of John out of her mind. She tried to respond to her father’s comments and questions with enthusiasm. And she promised herself that if John didn’t call her tomorrow, she would call him.

* * *

“Sydney, Mr. Folger would like to see you in his office,” said his secretary the following morning.

“Now?”

“Now.”

Francis K. Folger was the managing partner of Folger & Hubbard, the grandson of the original founder of the firm. When he said jump, everyone in the firm jumped.

Sydney straightened her olive green suit jacket and ran a brush through her hair before exiting her office. Three minutes later, she stood outside Mr. Folger’s office door while his secretary announced her.

The door opened. Brenda, his secretary, said, “You can go in now, Miss Wells.”

“Sydney, my dear, come in,” Francis Folger said, looking up from his massive oak desk. His dark eyes studied her as she walked toward him. “Have a seat.” She sat in one of the burgundy leather chairs grouped to the right side of his desk. Behind him, the glass faces of dozens of buildings that made up the Houston skyline glittered in the November sun.

“Congratulations on winning the Montgomery case,” he said, smiling at her.

“Thank you.” She tried to relax in her chair, but there was something about being summoned to Francis Folger’s office that produced the same feelings of nervousness that a summons to a principal’s office might produce in a recalcitrant student.

“I understand you’re being assaulted by the media,” Folger said.

Sydney smiled. “Yes, they have been rather relentless since the verdict came in. But that should die down soon... I hope.”

“Brenda tells me you’ve been contacted by the
Geneva Ward Show.
”

“Yes,” she answered guardedly.

He tented his hands in front of him. “She also tells me you’ve refused an invitation to appear.”

So that’s what this was all about. “Yes, I have.”

“May I ask why?”

Sydney chose her words carefully. “I don’t see the point of rehashing the case on a talk show.”

“Don’t you? You disappoint me, Sydney.”

Sydney stared at him.

“Would it make any difference to you if I told you I would very much like you to call them back and tell them you’ve changed your mind?”

Sydney swallowed. “You know it would.”

Francis Folger smiled and leaned forward. “I was certain you’d see it my way.”

* * *

A little after three that afternoon, Norma buzzed her on the intercom and said, “Miss Wells, Mr. Appleton is on line two.” Sydney’s heart went
zing,
and she realized that no matter how she’d tried to pretend differently, she’d been worried that he wouldn’t call her.

Her hand actually trembled as she picked up the receiver. She wondered what John would think if he could see her.

“Hello, John,” she said.

“Hi. Are you busy?”

“Not too busy to talk to you.”

“Have things settled down since yesterday?”

“Yes, thank goodness. I don’t think I’d like being a celebrity. Being hounded by reporters isn’t much fun.”

“Good for business, though.”

“Yes.” She thought about Francis Folger and his edict concerning the
Geneva
show.

“Did you have a good time last night?”

“It was nice.”
I wish I’d been with you, instead.

“Good. Now that the trial’s over, do you think you might have some free time this weekend?”

Sydney smiled happily. “I’ve got a lot of free time this weekend.”

“Good,” he said again. “Do you like to dance?”

“Well...”

“Well what?”

“I like the
idea
of dancing, but I’m not a very good dancer.”

“Is that your opinion, or did someone tell you that?”

“I didn’t need anyone to tell me what is painfully obvious.”

“Maybe you just need the right partner.”

“Maybe I do.”

“What about me?” His voice was light and teasing.

“What about you?” she countered, grinning.

“Do I fill the bill?”

She waited a couple of seconds before saying, “I think you probably fill the bill perfectly.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

* * *

John decided that dancing with Sydney was as close to being perfect as anything could be. Contrary to what she’d told him, she wasn’t a bad dancer. In fact, he thought she was pretty good.

He had brought her to a favorite spot—a small Village club he and Andrea had frequented. The club featured a live band on Friday and Saturday nights. The band played mostly popular ballads from the forties, with a few more contemporary pieces interspersed throughout the evening.

He had wondered about bringing Sydney somewhere that held so many memories, but found it was okay. He didn’t feel sad at all. The realization was bittersweet. Some part of him didn’t want to let go of
his
past, even as the other part of him was reaching toward the future.

“This is nice,” Sydney said, as they did a slow foxtrot.

“The club? Or dancing with me?” John pulled her closer and breathed in the jasmine scent she wore.

“Both.”

He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of her body moving against his. After a moment, he murmured in her ear, “When we get back to your place, it’ll be even nicer.”

“Is that a promise?” There was a funny little catch in her voice.

“It’s definitely a promise.”

For the rest of the evening, making love to Sydney was all John could think about. And he knew she felt the same way. Each time he looked into her eyes, he saw the awareness and the expectation. Finally, he said, “Let’s go home.”

“Yes,” she said.

He drove too fast because he couldn’t wait.

When they reached her condo, they barely made it inside the door before John hauled her into his arms and began kissing her greedily.

They undressed each other standing right there, and their lovemaking grew so frenzied they didn’t make it to the bed before John was driving into her, listening to her moans and cries, which only fueled his desire.

When Sydney’s body contracted around him, John exploded. He held her tightly, her legs locked around him, as pleasure assaulted him.

Afterward, while their breathing slowed and their bodies cooled, he held her close. He could feel her heart beating against his, and he stroked her slowly. He kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry I was so rough with you,” he whispered.

Her hands tightened around him and she buried her face against his neck. Her warm breath feathered him as she said, “You weren’t rough.”

“I wasn’t exactly gentle.”

“We were in a hurry.”

He chuckled. “Yes, I guess you could say that.” He gently disentangled her, then propped himself up on one arm so he could look at her. Her eyes gleamed in the moonlight, and her skin looked like porcelain. He traced the curve of her jaw with his forefinger, then slowly trailed it down to her collarbone. “Let’s go slow this time, okay?”

“This time?” she said, her voice husky.

He smiled, his hand closing over her breast. As he gently rubbed his thumb over the peak, he felt her quick intake of breath as it hardened into a tight little nub. “If you don’t want to,” he murmured, “just say the word. I’ll stop.”

She reached up and pulled his head down to meet her mouth. “If you do, I’ll kill you,” she whispered, and then they stopped talking entirely.

Much later, after Sydney had fallen asleep in his arms, John lay there and wondered what was going to happen to them. Making love to Sydney tonight, especially the second time, when it had been slower and he had been intent on giving her pleasure, had made him realize that he’d been lying to himself.