“You have ketchup on your cheek.” He took a napkin and gently dabbed it at the corner of her mouth.
Desire flooded her veins followed by a wave of desolation. She could easily fall for a man like Jay. Smart, handsome, ambitious, successful, and yet she sensed a longing in him, a secret Jay waiting to be free.
“Is it gone?” Her voice came out in a whisper.
He leaned in and studied her with a serious intensity that took her breath away. He was so close she could see the gentle dip in his chin, the dark stubble of his five-o’clock shadow even though it couldn’t be much past four o’clock. His lips were firm and soft, his mouth the perfect size for kissing. She drew in his scent: pine and mountains and the rich, earthy scent of the soil she’d turned in the garden when her family was whole and she never had to wonder whose house she was in when she woke up in the morning.
But this wasn’t the time to be thinking about being held in Jay’s strong arms or what it would be like to kiss him, or how just being near him calmed all the wayward thoughts in her head. She was supposed to be concentrating on finding him a match and where she should get autographed when he made the promised celebrity introduction.
“We should go.” She jumped up so abruptly her half-eaten hot dog fell to the grass. “I have to get back to the office, and I don’t want to exceed your two-hour-and-forty-five-minute time limit.”
Jay picked up the hot dog and carried it to the nearest bin. “When do you want to meet again?”
His question sent a curious thrill rocketing through her veins. She hadn’t put him off with her rambling, or her quest for the perfect hot dog, or even the uncomfortable questions she’d asked as they lounged in the sun. She couldn’t have been more excited if he’d asked her on a second date. Except he wasn’t really interested in her that way, and she needed to keep that in mind. The last thing she wanted was to get into a Cyrano situation where she would be forced to help someone else win the heart of the man she loved. She made a mental note to rewatch the 1973 Broadway version of the play with its soaring ballads and rousing word-and swordplay as a reminder of the heartbreak that could result.
She pulled out her phone and pretended to study the screen to stop herself from saying something stupid like How about tonight? “Hmmm. I have a big settlement meeting on Friday so the rest of my week is shot. I’ll have to let you know.”
If he noticed her cool dismissal, he didn’t react. Instead, he said the one thing that would ensure she wouldn’t be able to sleep until she saw him again. “I’ll be waiting.”
? 10 ?
What the hell was he doing? Jay pulled open the door to courtroom 62 and slid into the rearmost bench, grateful for the high school students and court watchers who had filled the remaining seats in front of him. Zara had sent him a message letting him know she would be free on Friday after court to meet him for a drink at a nearby restaurant, but he’d been beset by curiosity. How did a woman who shot people in the ass and knocked them out of their chairs try a legal case? He had to know. Instead of going over the latest financial statements from J-Tech’s statewide branches, he’d asked Jessica to call an Uber to take him to court.
Plaintiff’s counsel put his client on the stand. Dressed in a 49ers football jersey and jeans, the middle-aged man limped to the witness stand, leaning heavily on his cane. Through his testimony, Jay learned that Zara’s client had allegedly gone through a red light and hit the plaintiff’s vehicle in the middle of a left turn. Severely injured, the plaintiff claimed he could no longer play football with his son, nor could he work at his job as a painter because the injuries to his back and neck had left him with restricted mobility, limited use of his arms, and chronic pain.
Poor guy. One chance encounter and his entire life had changed forever.
The plaintiff was offered up for cross-examination. For the first painful two minutes, Zara searched through her files. The judge sighed loudly and urged her to hurry while opposing counsel snickered. Finally, she pulled out a piece of paper and approached the witness box.
Her cross-examination was sharp and focused. She started with questions about the witness’s family life before drilling down into the details of the activities he claimed he could no longer do. The witness shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His lawyer objected but was overruled.
“You testified that your son was drafted for the NFL,” Zara said, the tone of her voice changing from demanding to conversational. “Did he get his love of the sport from you?”