The Child Comes First (12 page)

Regardless, he needed to make an appointment with a real-estate agent to arrange selling his condo and buying a family-oriented place. With the equity from his current home in the heart of the city, he'd be able to pay cash for a house in the suburbs. Maybe he'd even have some funds left to put aside, in case things completely went south at work. He'd need a nest egg to start up his own firm, if it came to that.

Would it? Could he so easily give up his dreams of becoming a partner and living an affluent, high-powered life? He took a cab to his condo and went straight to the parking garage, getting into his Mustang and allowing the roar of the engine to soothe his nerves. Then he set out for a drive, leaving behind all the other things he should have been doing in favor of accelerating onto the highway, feeling the power of the magnificent machine. The experience provided no answers, but he felt better for having done it.

 

“Y
OU TWO HAVE BEEN WORKING
too hard,” Barbara said to Jayda as dinner simmered on the stove. Simon stood in the door frame listening, and Jayda was profoundly aware of his presence just behind her. The man seemed to exude some kind of electric current that made everything inside her shimmer with interest.

“You've been working hard, too, taking care of Tiffany,” she replied.

“But you've both been trying to hold down jobs and you've also been coming here night after night to spell me. And, anyway, Tiffany is much better.”

“Yes, I am,” Tiffany said from the kitchen table, where she drank hot tea and nibbled toast. “And I don't ever want to be that sick again.”

The adults nodded their heads in agreement.

“So now that Tiffany is better and we've had a few restful nights, I want the two of you to go out and have some fun. Don't think about work—don't think about anything serious. Go to dinner, go to a movie. Anything! Just go out and have a good time. Unwind.”

Simon straightened up as Jayda turned to see his reaction to this command. For a man who always seemed to know exactly what to do and say, he didn't appear to be all that sure of himself. He just stared at her, waiting.

“Simon has other friends I'm sure he'd rather go out with,” she suggested, even as she hoped he'd insist that wasn't the case. All the while in the back of her mind, the part of her that always followed the rules kept shouting, “Don't go, don't go, don't go!”

“Not really,” he said. “But if you don't want to, I'd understand.”

Say it would be best to keep things professional, she told herself firmly. Say you just can't do it. “Honestly, going out for an evening sounds really nice.” No, no, no! She chided herself for being so weak. Marla would have a fit if she found out Jayda had gone on a date with Simon.

“Well, that's settled, then,” Barbara said. “Be gone, the two of you.”

Simon smiled. He was still wearing his suit from his day at work and Jayda felt extremely underdressed by comparison.

“I'll have to go home first and change into something else,” she said.

“You look great the way you are,” Simon and Tiffany said together. From the corner of her eye, Jayda saw Barbara nudge Tiffany to silence.

“Still, I don't get to dress up much for dinners out, so I'd rather change.”

In a voice that seemed full of barely repressed sensual promise, Simon said, “Let's go to your place, then. You can drive, so I can leave my mom's car here for her. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said. There was no hint in her voice that her heart pounded furiously as they set off.

S
IMON WAITED IN THE LIVING
room while she changed. He paced the floor, remembering when he'd been in Jayda's apartment the first time—remembering their kiss. He knew he shouldn't think about that. Knew he ought to hold to his promise to forget it had ever happened. But he couldn't do it. And when Jayda walked out of a back room, dressed for the evening, he swallowed hard and stared.

“Too much?” she asked.

“No,” he managed to say. “No, you look great. Perfect.”

She wore a simple black dress with short sleeves and a neckline that scooped delicately below her throat. The hem hovered just above her knee. No extra skin on display, and yet the style and fit suited her figure so well, his heart began to race.

“Should we go?” she asked with a guileless smile. She seemed to have no appreciation of what she was doing to him.

“Yes, let's go.” If they were on their way, maybe he'd be able to think about something other than what he wanted to do with the body waiting for his touch beneath that little black dress.

They went to Luigi's, a place Jayda chose, in Baltimore's Little Italy. Simon had never been to this tiny hole-in-the-wall with its checkered tablecloths. It wasn't the kind of restaurant he was used to, but the food was excellent. And the company was even better. Simon couldn't help but notice the differences between this meal and the last one he'd had in the company of a woman. His dinner with Megan had been charged with negativity. With Jayda, he talked about ways to help children in need, about favorite breeds of dogs, about Tiffany, about his mother. It was good for him to be reminded that he was capable of having a good time that didn't involve cutting anyone down.

Over dessert he asked about her family.

“My father's dead,” she said with forced nonchalance.

There was a story behind that, but he sensed she might not readily talk about it. “I'm sorry.”

She shrugged. “I was little. I don't even remember him.”

Gently, he asked, “And your mother?”

Her gaze slanted off for a moment, then slid back to her plate. “I don't really talk to her very often. We never got along that well. She's busy with a whole new life in northern Maryland.”

He thought about how hard it must be for a caring woman such as Jayda to be estranged from her mother. “When was the last time the two of you talked?”

“Hmm, a long time. But she called me on my birthday and left a message on my answering machine. That was nice, I guess.” She shrugged again, and gave a small, wistful smile.

He ate a few bites of the chocolate confection he'd ordered, sipped his coffee and waited. If she was going to talk to him about her past, he had to leave some space for her to do so. What surprised him was realizing how much he wanted her to confide in him.

“I didn't have the greatest childhood, though nowhere near as bad as some of the kids' I deal with in my work,” she volunteered. “My father was gone and my mother distracted. I never had much luck getting her to listen to my problems. Now that I'm older, I can see she had so much on her own plate, she didn't have anything left to deal with me. But kids need help with issues sometimes, right?”

“Yes. Kids need help,” he agreed. “They need guidance and love. Parents have to pay attention, and if they don't, things can go badly.” The lawyer in him wanted to ask straight out if something had gone badly for her. But he resisted, sensing she shouldn't be rushed.

She smiled and waved a hand dismissively. “Well, I turned out okay in the end, I guess. Can we talk about something more cheerful?”

They did. And Simon marveled at the way she made him laugh, considering the dismal condition of his legal career and the lousy odds on adopting Tiffany despite everything he was willing to give up to prove his worthiness. The waiter brought the check and Jayda reached for it.

“You're not going to insist we split the bill, are you?” he asked, picking up the tab. “Because I'm still employed at one of the most prestigious law firms in the tristate area. I can handle the cost of a meal.” And besides, he might not be able to treat someone else to dinner for much longer. Funds were likely to become tight if he maintained his current course. Renauld Canter would make sure the firm's senior partner saw the wisdom of cutting Simon loose. “Besides, you cooked for me at your house and I want to reciprocate.”

A blush crept into her cheeks and he knew she must be recalling that night in her apartment. His gaze dipped to her mouth as he thought of that kiss, too.

“Thank you,” she said, and then took a sip of ice water.

He made himself look away, but he couldn't stop thinking about whether he'd be able to kiss her again before the night ended. “So I'm not ready to go home yet,” he said. “I know a club near here—there's a dance floor and decent music. Come with me.” He almost reached across the table to take her fingers in his own, as if this were a real date and he could persuade her with his touch. But instead, he waited to see what she would say.

As if she couldn't quite make her voice work, she nodded. When they stood up to weave their way between the closely placed tables, he had the urge to rest his hand on the small of her back, as if to guide her. He would have done that with Megan, and the contact would have begun their dance toward ending the evening in bed together. But this was Jayda, and he had no right to expect anything from her. He kept his hands to himself.

Yet all the way to the club, he kept thinking about getting her to slow dance with him and how good it would feel to hold her. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he was playing with fire, that he shouldn't be trying to indulge his unanticipated desires regarding this particular woman. But he couldn't seem to stop himself.

 

S
HE HADN'T WANTED TO TALK
about her childhood, though she supposed it would have helped to confide in someone. The fact that Simon hadn't pressed her to tell her story said a lot for his sensitivity. Who would have guessed that a go-get-' em guy like Simon could also be patient and considerate? Then again, no one would have expected him to want to adopt an eleven-year-old murder suspect, either.

“I put in the paperwork a few days ago,” he said when she asked him about the adoption. “I know it'll be an uphill battle, but I'm hoping the powers that be will see that I'm her best chance for a normal life.”

She nodded and sipped her drink. The musicians had been on a break when they'd arrived, but now they came back onto the stage. She turned to watch and applauded with the other patrons, but her attention remained fixed on the man seated next to her at the little cocktail table.

“Do you like to dance?” he asked as he leaned close to be heard over the first chords from the stage. Her heart gave a little flutter and all she could do was smile and nod.

He stood up and put out his hand. She placed her palm against his and got to her feet. “But we'll lose our table,” she said, and then immediately regretted the words. They revealed too much about her tendency to cling to safe and familiar paths.

Without hesitation, he took off his suit jacket and placed it over the back of her chair. “Usually the clientele here will respect a sign that a seat is taken,” he assured her. “Otherwise, no one would get up to dance and what fun would that be?”

Indeed. No fun at all. Simon led her to the dance floor. But instead of letting her go so they could move independently to the beat of the music, he drew her closer, nearly flush against his lean torso. Looking down, he cocked an eyebrow inquiringly. And she didn't pull away—even though she knew it would be safer to keep some distance between them.

He was a natural dancer and capable of making her body move with his, a first-rate dirty dancer. The titillation, the danger, the sheer sexuality of the movements made her a little light-headed. And hot. If he'd offered to take her home to bed right then, she would have accepted on the spot. But instead he led her back to their table and ordered her another wine spritzer. She fought back disappointment even as a voice inside her whispered that it would be emotional suicide to involve herself with the likes of Simon—no matter what her libido wanted. She sipped her drink, wondering how she was going to extricate herself from the situation. Clearly, she ought to find a way to go home alone without offending him.

And then suddenly a half dozen people walked up to their table, surrounding them.

“Simon Montgomery! Where have you been these past few weeks?” said one woman as she leaned in and placed a red lipstick smooch on his cheek.

“He's been driving his career into the toilet with his pro bono case,” one of the men replied. “What are you doing with that loser, Simon? You know better than to let your other cases slip.” The man's voice carried a note of censure, but there also seemed to be an expectation that Simon would respond with something sly and witty, as if the great young defense attorney must have something planned, something that would propel his career forward despite appearances to the contrary.

Jayda sat completely still, watching Simon. She hadn't realized until this moment that he'd jeopardized his career for Tiffany's case. Why would he do such a thing?

“I'm just fine, folks. You should know better than to worry about me.” He didn't look at the newcomers as he spoke—instead, he looked into Jayda's eyes. His smile had a tautness to it, and Jayda couldn't help but feel that there might be something to his friends' concern. In the next moment, however, she realized his tension might stem from something else.

“Come dance with me, Simon,” urged one of the women. She wriggled closer to him, apparently confident he wouldn't decline.

“Not this time,” he said with a chill smile. “I'm with someone.” To Jayda he said, “These are some of my professional colleagues.”

The eyes of his friends turned to look at her, as if they'd only just realized she was there. And it dawned on Jayda that they'd been behaving as if she didn't matter. She wasn't one of them and perhaps that made her unworthy of notice in their eyes. No wonder Simon had gone rigid—his friends had no manners.

“Who are you?” one of them asked.

To his credit Simon didn't respond for her, although she could tell he was tempted to do so. “I'm Jayda Kavanagh,” she said. There were too many of them to make handshakes feasible, so she kept her fingers wrapped around her glass. “I'm working with Simon on that pro bono case.”

As if they comprised a single organism, the group pulled back slightly in unison. Did they realize how insulting they'd been so far? As one, they returned to ignoring her presence and spoke only to Simon.

“Canter is gunning for you, Simon. You need to show Boyden you're not slacking.”

“Are you planning something? Do you have some strategy going that'll blow everyone away?”

“Did you hear about Greg? He screwed up royally. What a loser.”

“C'mon, Simon, dance with me. This is my favorite song.”

And quietly, one of the females said to another, “Is he really with her?”

Simon let out a little sigh. “Let's go,” he said as he stood up and reclaimed the jacket he'd slung across the back of the chair.

Though this would be a good way to get herself out of any more dangerous fantasies about Simon and where the evening might be heading, Jayda didn't really want to go. She wished his friends would go instead. But she could see that wasn't going to happen. So she got up, too.

“Nice meeting you,” she said to the lawyers, even though it hadn't really been all that nice. Interesting, however, to see what Simon's friends were like. Very interesting.

“Simon, you're not leaving, are you? We just got here.” This said as if the fun couldn't possibly have started until they'd arrived, so why would anyone leave now that they'd made their appearance? Jayda almost laughed at the arrogance.

“You're gonna get yourself fired, Simon. Canter will jump at any excuse to bring you down,” one of his friends said ominously as he held Simon's sleeve to make him listen.

“You should worry about your own career, Jason, and leave mine to me.” It sounded like a warning, and Jason immediately stepped back.

Jayda followed Simon out of the club, glad for his wide shoulders, which cleared a path for her through the crowd.

“They're friends,” he said, the minute they were buckled into the seats of her Mini Cooper. “I know them from work and sometimes we hang out together. Or we used to, when I had time. I'm sorry if they seemed rude. They're not used to seeing me with someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” What, exactly, did
that
mean? She just sat there, waiting to hear what else he would say.

“You're very different from them,” he said. “I'm sure you could see that. You're a lot nicer, for one thing. You're a much better person than any of the rest of us.”

And just like that, with those few words, the charge of excitement returned. Only now, the intensity seemed to have been magnified a thousand times. She wanted Simon to touch her, kiss her, transform her into the passionate woman she knew she could be. Right here, right now. Her heart rate and breathing raced as she leaned toward him seductively.