The Child Comes First (7 page)

“Hey, I can do that,” he said. As he reached around her to take the knife from her fingers. His shoulder brushed hers. It could have been accidental, but it felt like something else. Anxiety flooded through her. But at the same time she wanted to lean back into him, to see what might happen next. Simon completely rattled her. And yet he also attracted her more than any man had in quite some time.

 

S
IMON COULDN'T QUITE
understand the feelings that were racing through him. All during dinner, he was filled with contentment. And yet he wanted something else, and the urge to figure out what that “something” might be kept him on edge. He talked more, revealed more than he had in a long while. By the time they'd finished the pasta and sipped the last drops of wine, he'd become completely, uncharacteristically mellow. And yet a subtle buzz vibrated inside him.

“Let me help you with the dishes,” he said.

“You don't have to do that. I'll just put everything in the dishwasher.”

“Then I'll help load the dishwasher. Because if my mother finds out I didn't help, I'm in big trouble.” He picked up some dishes and headed for the sink.

Jayda rinsed them off under the faucet and Simon took a place beside her fitting items into slots in the machine—plates, flatware, glasses, serving dishes all arranged neatly. But then she leaned back a bit to look around him and inspect his work. Disapproval sprang to her eyes. He looked down at his loading and could see nothing wrong with the arrangement of dirty dishes. When she casually began to shift things around, he captured her hand.

“There's nothing wrong with how I put them in there,” he protested.

She had the grace to look sheepish. “I know, but I just like things a certain way,” she admitted. She tried to slip her hand from his and he let her escape, but he also moved himself in front of her so that she couldn't reposition anything else.

“C'mon,” he urged. “Live on the wild side and leave it the way I did it. Find out if they don't all end up just as clean.”

She attempted to slip around him, laughing a little, but he nudged her away with a shoulder. “I won't be able to sleep if they aren't in there properly,” she declared.

“You're kidding,” he said, but he could see she believed it. All the same, he slid the lower dish tray into the cavity of the machine before she could fuss with anything else. “Oh, wow, you're not kidding. That's worrisome. Maybe you just need practice at caring less about the small stuff. It's for your own good.” He attempted to close the door.

Playfully, she reached around his waist to stop the upward swing of the dishwasher door, practically wrapping her arms around him. That subtle buzz he'd been feeling before hummed loudly as she nearly hugged him from behind.

“Sorry,” she said. “My house. My rules. I get to load the dishwasher the way I want.” She pulled out the tray again.

“Your house, your rules,” he agreed, and he turned his back to the edge of the counter and let her redo his work. He was powerfully aware of her lithe body and its proximity to his. As if a switch had been flipped in his brain, he was suddenly aware of how pretty she was. Sexy. Desirable. Necessary.

When she straightened, she looked pleased and a little flushed. A shiny lock of her hair had fallen in front of one of her eyes and he reached to tuck it back behind an ear. The current coursing through him went hot as he looked at her mouth, and thought of kissing her.

Her expression grew wary when she returned his gaze, but she didn't step back. If she'd retreated he'd have been able to stop himself, as he knew he should. But she stayed frozen to the spot, and so he let his hand slip to the nape of her neck. And as he slowly urged her toward him, he also eased himself forward. The next thing he knew, his mouth was touching hers. In another instant, his tongue slipped delicately over her lips. And after that he was lost in the all-consuming experience of kissing Jayda.

K
ISSING IN THE
kitchen. It felt so very good to Jayda. She could have gone on doing it for a long, long time. But there was a glimmer of concern inside her head that wouldn't go away. She knew that they shouldn't be doing this. And once that thought had surfaced, she couldn't ignore it. Even though she wanted desperately to relax in Simon's arms, reality forced her to ease back. Damn.

He didn't try to keep her close, and she found that extremely comforting. If he'd tried to hold on, there was no telling what suppressed nightmares might have been unleashed. Nothing like having a close relative force you to submit to frequent molestations—even if he never actually managed to rape you—to make you terrified of being held too tightly.

Jayda found herself able to remain where she was and Simon kept his hands upon her, lightly stroking her upper arms.

“That shouldn't have happened,” he murmured. He didn't sound regretful, only bewildered.

“Let's agree it didn't happen,” she suggested, sounding more in control than she felt. Inside, she thought she'd never be able to forget the moment. Kissing him might have been a professional mistake, but for Jayda it had been a personal triumph. She'd enjoyed it unreservedly, and there hadn't been a single moment of fear or panic.

“Yes,” he said, nodding. But he still didn't stop slowly sliding his warm hands up and down her arms. “It never happened,” he agreed again, as his gaze returned to her mouth.

Reluctantly, she moved away and walked to the chair on which he'd neatly slung his suit jacket. She forced herself to smile and handed the jacket to him. His expression was pensive, unreadable. She'd noticed he did this whenever something weighed on his mind. Was he wondering if they would be able to go forward from here without awkwardness? She certainly was.

“Thank you for dinner,” he said evenly. He paused, saying nothing more, then he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. In another moment, he was gone.

After locking the door, Jayda rested her forehead on it and waited for the riot of emotions to subside. When they did, all that remained was a dull longing. She wanted Simon back. She wished she could have him in her arms again.

But he didn't knock on her door, and eventually she gave up her vigil in the foyer and began the methodical process of getting ready for bed. After slipping between the covers, she replayed the evening minute by minute. By the time she got to their passionate kiss, she was drifting between wakefulness and sleep. And when her dreams overtook her, they featured Simon's warm flesh, deft hands and talented mouth.

 

“S
IMON WILL MAKE SURE
I get a good jury,” Tiffany whispered to Jayda. They sat side by side at the defense table. Simon stood before a potential juror, asking questions that would help him determine if the woman could be fair.

“Shh,” Jayda said softly. “And you shouldn't be calling him by his first name.”

“He told me to,” she whispered back.

Barbara Johanson leaned forward and reached across the railing that separated the spectators' area from the lawyers' tables. She tapped Tiffany on the shoulder and gestured to her to hush. Tiffany smiled and nodded, unoffended. She'd taken to life with Simon's mother extremely well, despite the constraints of the ELMO. Jayda had been able to focus on some of her other kids once she'd grown comfortable that things would work out in Tiffany's new home. As an added bonus, she'd managed to avoid seeing Simon again. According to Tiffany, Simon had spent every evening with her and Barbara, sticking to his promise to be actively involved in the girl's care. But Jayda had scheduled her visits so they coincided with Simon's court appearances on other cases or when she knew he'd be busy filing or arguing motions for Tiffany. Until today, their paths hadn't crossed.

Her cowardice—and she had to admit that this was the appropriate word for her behavior—had been forced to take a backseat today. There was no way she could avoid seeing Simon on this opening day of voir dire, when prospective jurors would be interviewed until both the prosecution and defense were satisfied they had a jury that would fairly weigh the evidence. For Tiffany's sake, Jayda had set aside her reluctance to be near the man who was haunting her thoughts.

She looked at him now, freely gazing upon him while he was too busy to take notice. He stole her breath away. From his perfectly groomed hair to his dazzling smile, and from his precisely tailored Perry Ellis suit to his fine Italian shoes, Simon Montgomery captured the attention of everyone around him. Particularly the women. He used this extraordinary presence to his advantage as he interviewed juror candidates. Jayda observed his pattern—the boyishly disarming smile, the respectful address using “ma'am” or “sir,” the pointed questions politely phrased but intended to reveal prejudices, and then the sorrowful dismissal if the person revealed any bias. And on to the next one.

At last, the court recessed for lunch.

“I need to prepare for this afternoon,” Simon claimed. “You three go on without me and I'll see you back here in an hour and a half.” His expression remained neutral as he made the suggestion, but Jayda sensed that he was intentionally avoiding her. Odd that she would feel hurt by that, given that she'd been assiduously avoiding him for more than a week.

“We had a good morning,” Tiffany declared. “Thank you, Simon, for making sure I get a fair trial.” She got up from her chair and hugged the seated attorney around his neck.

Once again, he looked completely flummoxed by the show of affection from his young client. Awkwardly, he patted her on the shoulder a few times, as if he hoped that would be enough to make her let go. And she did let go, only to beam at him with that full-hearted smile that was unique to Tiffany. The fact that she hadn't had that smile beaten out of her during her time in the Social Services system seemed nothing short of a miracle to Jayda.

“Should we bring you something from the restaurant, Simon?” asked his mother.

“No, that's okay. But don't be late coming back. The monitoring people might send someone here to check that you're sticking to the schedule we worked out with them for the day.”

“Go ahead, I'll catch up with you,” Jayda said as she decided on the spot to confront Simon. It was time to end the standoff. Barbara put her arm around the girl's shoulders and led her away, whispering something to her that made Tiffany chuckle.

Jayda turned to Simon. “Are you avoiding me?” she asked him, shocking herself with such directness.

He looked at her with that cool lack of expression he seemed to adopt when he was guarding his intentions. “Yes,” he admitted.

She sat back in her chair, stunned by his honesty. “Because of…” She trailed off, remembering their agreement not to speak of that momentary indiscretion.

He couldn't seem to help himself and gave her a half smile. “Yeah. That.” His gaze dipped for a split second to her mouth, then quickly darted away. He focused on some papers lying on the table in front of him.

“This is ridiculous. For Tiffany's sake, we need to put that behind us and behave like adults.”

“Easier said than done. Even for you,” he said carefully. “You only come to the house when I'm at work. The truly ironic thing about that is you have to call my secretary to find out my schedule. Denise thinks we're having an affair.”

Jayda could feel the heat rising to her face and knew a blush suffused her cheeks. “Not even in your dreams,” she bit out, regretting the flippant remark as soon as it escaped her lips.

“Oh,
that's
certainly not true. My dreams are jam-packed with you.” Simon had the decency to wince at the forwardness of his comment. “I shouldn't have said that,” he admitted, but Jayda had already gotten to her feet. “Damn,” he said under his breath, and now color rose in
his
cheeks.

The only reasonable thing she could do was walk away. So she did. But as she left the courtroom, she couldn't help but acknowledge that her dreams, too, had been frequented by Simon. A part of her was highly gratified that Simon was similarly tormented.

 

B
Y THE END OF THE DAY
, tension had settled into Simon's neck, and no amount of rubbing the afflicted muscles seemed to help. It had been grueling to have Jayda watching him while he worked, her presence threatening his concentration every second. But he couldn't very well ask the guardian ad litem to leave the courtroom. She needed to be there, and he had to learn to control his reactions to her nearness. If only he could keep the images of her that slithered through his dreams from drifting into his mind, he would be able to cope.

As he packed up his notes at the end of voir dire, he wondered how this could be happening to him. Jayda Kavanagh was nothing special, he told himself. Just an ordinary woman. He'd been pursued by lots of extraordinary females over the years, and had slept with some of them without exerting himself all that much to get into their beds. So there was no reason whatsoever for his head to be spinning over this one woman.

Fortunately, she'd headed out the instant court had recessed for the day. Now only his mother and Tiffany remained beside him.

“Thank you, Simon,” Tiffany said. She launched herself at him once more, but this time he half expected the hug and so he endured the affection more stoically than before. “I know you have to go to Massachusetts for one of your other cases in the morning. Will we see you at home for dinner?” she asked.

He opened his mouth to agree, resenting the situation they were in, but determined to stick by the agreement he'd made with his mother. But his mom spoke first.

“I think we should give Simon some time off and just have a girls' night for once. That would be kind of fun, wouldn't it? And Simon can catch up with his friends and water his plants at home or do whatever he would ordinarily be doing on a Thursday evening.”

Relief washed over him. He felt exactly the way he used to on snow days when school would be closed. He was free for a whole evening.

“That would be great,” he admitted. “I can get a cab to take you guys home and then pick you up for court when I get back from Boston.” He'd been driving them in his mother's Honda—unlike his restored vehicle, it had full seatbelts. Barbara had held him to his promise of driving them around. But he really missed his Mustang, parked in his condo's garage.

“I can drive us home tonight and then back out when the trial starts again in a few days,” his mother offered. “You just take some time for yourself.” She gave him a motherly pat on the arm. “But don't get used to it.” She accepted the keys to the Honda when he fished them from his pocket.

It took him another fifteen minutes or so to get them on their way to the suburbs. Standing on the sidewalk in the mid-Atlantic humidity under the hazy sun, Simon felt a little giddy at the prospect of a free night. It would be a relief to be alone in his condo, watching a sports channel in his underwear while downing a beer and potato chips for dinner. But he knew the fun would fade as soon as thoughts of Jayda entered his mind. Then he'd pace the floor of his spacious place, trying to figure out why she claimed his thoughts so relentlessly.

What he needed, what would most certainly cure him of this Jayda malaise, was to get laid. And it had been just long enough since he'd last hooked up with Megan Barstow that he should be able to call her again without raising expectations. While the two shared ambition and a mutual regard, they'd so far kept their relationship reasonably shallow. Simon had liked it well enough that way, and Megan seemed to feel the same. If she was free they'd enjoy a nice dinner, a drink or two and then a few hours in her bed, where he'd erase Jayda from his thoughts.

As soon as he arrived by taxi at home, he called Megan. Inexplicable misgivings passed over him in waves but he ignored them. Megan willingly canceled her plans and they went to dinner at the Polo Grill. Over drinks, they gossiped about the follies of people they both knew. This was what he and his friends did when they were together—they talked about the mistakes of others and this made them feel better about themselves. But tonight, the chatter seemed mean-spirited. Simon tried not to think about that too hard, because the banter was familiar and expected. And he'd always been good at it, getting big laughs, sounding witty and sure of himself. Or so he'd thought. Now he felt vaguely ashamed.

“And Greg screwed up in court last week,” Megan said gleefully. “He was supposed to ask his forensic witness some specifics about the fibers found at the scene. Completely forgot.” She sipped her drink delicately and the ice clattered against the glass for a moment. “That might have been forgiven, but then he showed up late for a meeting with Matt Collins, of all people.” She glanced off and raised her little finger to the waiter when she caught his eye, indicating he could bring her another drink. “He was such a star for so long, I can't help but get a charge out of seeing him fall on his face.”

Normally, he would have nodded, smiled and agreed that Greg was an arrogant prick. Tonight, he wondered how Jayda would see things. He found himself saying, “Maybe something else was on his mind.”