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Boardroom Bride and Groom
Shirley Jump


Out of the office and into his arms… For gorgeous lawyer Nick Gilbert, after-hours with a woman usually means a romantic dinner – not a children’s charity picnic… But he’s game! Especially as his date is his rather prim but intriguing colleague, Carolyn Duff… Watching her with the little kids, Nick sees a new side to Carolyn. He suddenly understands the glimmer of sadness behind her dazzling green gaze.As the real woman behind the business-suit façade is laid bare, Nick has never seen anyone more beautiful…Nine to Five From city girl to corporate wife







New York Times bestselling author Shirley Jump didn’t have the will-power to diet, nor the talent to master under-eye concealer, so she bowed out of a career in television and opted instead for a career where she could be paid to eat at her desk—writing. At first, seeking revenge on her children for their grocery store tantrums, she sold embarrassing essays about them to anthologies. However, it wasn’t enough to feed her growing addiction to writing funny. So she turned to the world of romance novels, where messes are (usually) cleaned up before The End. In the worlds Shirley gets to create and control, the children listen to their parents, the husbands always remember holidays, and the housework is magically done by elves. Though she’s thrilled to see her books in stores around the world, Shirley mostly writes because it gives her an excuse to avoid cleaning the toilets and helps feed her shoe habit. To learn more, visit her website at www.shirleyjump.com

Praise for Shirley Jump…

‘Shirley Jump always succeeds in getting the plot, the characters, the settings and the emotions right.’

— CataRomance.com

About NYT bestselling anthology Sugar and Spice: ‘Jump’s office romance gives the collection a kick, with fiery writing.’ — PublishersWeekly.com

Shirley Jump’s THE OTHER WIFE: ‘Filled with humour and heart, this is a wonderful book.’

— Romantic Times BOOKreviews


Nick considered Carolyn for a long second. She felt as if he could see past every wall she’d constructed, every bit of armour she’d put in place over the years.

He leaned down until his mouth met her ear. His breath whispered past a lock of her hair. “You look beautiful today, Carolyn.”

Something hot and warm raced through her veins. She refused to react to him, though her hormones didn’t seem to be riding the same resolve wagon.

“Thank you.”

He was still close, so close she could see the flecks of gold in his eyes. If she leaned a few inches to the right, she could touch him. Feel his cheek against hers.

“Oooh, Miss Duff has a boyfriend,” the children sing-songed.



Dear Reader

My grandmother is nearly a hundred years old, and every time I see her it makes me think about all the changes she has seen happen during her lifetime. The invention of televisions, automobiles, airplanes, computers. Things that have become indispensable to you and me, and were not even around when she was a child. My husband and I tour museums with our kids, and show them things that were in use during their great-grandmother’s childhood. To them, it’s as if she grew up in the Paleolithic Era.

A hundred years. Just thinking about that much time has me in awe. When my editor told me that Mills & Boon is celebrating its 100th birthday this year, I was stunned. In an era when companies come and go with the winds, to hear that Mills & Boon has had such longevity is amazing.

I attribute that not to the great editorial staff or the wonderful authors—both of whom are a big part of making Mills & Boon what it is—but to you, the reader. Without our dear and loyal readers we wouldn’t have enjoyed such long-lasting success. Your commitment to these books, and to the written word, has made Mills & Boon into what it is today. A centegenarian. And, what’s more, even at 100, Mills & Boon is moving fast, with exciting new programmes and great new books every month.

Thanks to you. So, my hat is off to Mills & Boon and my gratitude is deep for our readers. And the next time I see my grandmother I’ll have to ask her if she remembers seeing these little books when she was young. I think she’ll be pleased to know they’re just a little older than her.

Shirley




BOARDROOM BRIDE AND GROOM


BY

SHIRLEY JUMP




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To my parents, who gave dozens of refugees a home in the United States and changed their lives forever. From them, I learned the value of opening your heart to those in need and that family is created, not always born.


CHAPTER ONE

CAROLYN DUFF had made one major mistake in her life—a whopping cliché of a mistake in a Vegas wedding chapel—which hadn’t, unlike the commercials said, stayed in Vegas.

It had followed her back here—and was working in an office just a few blocks down the street. All six-foot-two of him.

Most days she forgot about Nicholas Gilbert and concentrated on her job. As an assistant city prosecutor she barely had time to notice when the sun went down, because her days tended to pass in a blur of phone calls, legal precedents, Indiana case law and urgent e-mails. Her calendar might have said Friday, her clock already ticking past five, but still Carolyn stayed behind her desk, finishing up yet another flurry of work, even though tomorrow was the start of the Fourth of July weekend and the courts would be closed until Tuesday.

For Carolyn it didn’t matter. An internal time bomb kept ticking away, pushing her to keep going, to pursue one more criminal case, to see the prison bars slam shut once more.

To know she’d done her part again.

And yet it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

Carolyn rubbed at her temples, trying to beat back the start of another headache before it got too intense. Then she set to work, working on a negotiation for a plea bargain with a local defense attorney who thought his client—a petty thief—merited merely a ninety-day jail stint and a small fine. Carolyn, who could see the future handwriting on the wall, one that upped the ante to a felony charge—B&E with a deadly weapon—wanted years behind bars. The presiding judge, however, wanted a fast resolution that would clear his docket of one more hassle. He’d given the two attorneys the weekend to find a middle ground.

Mary Hudson popped her head in the door. Her chestnut pageboy swung around her chin, framing wide brown eyes and a friendly smile. “Everyone’s gone home,” said the paralegal. “Tell me you’re taking the holiday weekend off, too.”

“Eventually.”

Mary sighed. “Carolyn, it’s a holiday. Time to party, not work. Come on, go out for drinks with me. I’m meeting some of the girls from the other attorneys’ offices over at T.J.’s Pub.”

“Sorry, Mary. Too much work to do.”

“You know what you need?” Mary crossed to the coffeepot on the credenza, adding some water from a waiting pitcher, then loading in a couple of scoops of coffee from a decorative canister, intuitively reading Carolyn’s late-afternoon need for another caffeine fix. “A killer sundress and a sexy man—one always attracts the other.”

When it came to fixing Carolyn up, Mary was like a persistent five-year-old wanting candy before dinner—she’d try every tactic known to man and wasn’t above shameless begging. To Mary a woman without a man was akin to a possum without a tail—a creature to be pitied and helped.

“I don’t need a man, Mary.” Though the last time Carolyn had gone on a date…

Okay, so she couldn’t think of the last time she’d gone on a date.

Speaking of dates and men—the image of Nick sprang to mind, and a surge of something thick and hot Carolyn refused to call desire rose in her chest. What was it with that man? He’d been a blip in her life story, and yet he’d always lingered in the back of her mind like he was the one chapter in her life she wished she’d never written but couldn’t forget reading. Well, she certainly didn’t intend to check that book out of the library again. She already knew the ending.

One crazy weekend. One reckless decision. Four days later it was over.

Mary leaned against the mahogany credenza, arms akimbo, waiting for acquiescence. “Okay, so I can’t get you to leave early, but you will be at the fund-raiser for the Care-and-Connect-with-Children program, won’t you? These kids are all so needy, Carolyn. I’ve seen their files. Foster kids, kids living below the poverty level—they run the gamut. And don’t worry about having to get too involved or hands-on. We have a lot of activities planned to keep the kids busy all day, partly to give the foster parents a break, too. It’s pretty overwhelming, taking in strangers.”

And overwhelming for the children, living with strangers, but Carolyn didn’t say that. She kept her past to herself. When she’d left Boston three and a half years ago, she’d also left those memories behind. “I promise, I’ll be at the picnic on Saturday. But I don’t need a new dress. I can wear the one I wore to the office summer party last year. No one remembers what anyone wears at these things, and I can go stag because I am perfectly capable—”

“Of taking care of yourself,” Mary finished on a sigh. “Yeah, I know. So are hermit crabs, but you don’t see them smiling, now, do you?”

“They’re crustaceans, Mary. I don’t think they have smiles.”

“Exactly.” Mary nodded, as if that validated her point.

In the two years Mary had worked in the office, Carolyn had yet to figure out what stratosphere Mary’s mind was working on. Luckily, Mary typed at an ungodly speed and filed with an almost zenlike ability. As for the rest…

Well, Carolyn was twenty-eight and didn’t need anyone to tell her how to live her life. Or to tell her she needed a man to take care of her. Not when there were more important things on her desk, like a thief.

She opened the thick manila folder before her and began reviewing the facts in the case again. If she got distracted for one second, she could miss something. A guilty man, for instance. This time it was Liam Pendant, a career criminal with an unregistered firearm in the glove compartment of his truck. His lawyer wanted her to go easy on him, but Carolyn disagreed. What if Liam had taken his crime a step further? Entered the house instead of just stolen the lawnmower out of the open garage? What if he’d taken the gun along? Used it on the homeowner who had caught him running down the driveway?

Instead of a simple burglary charge, she could be looking at another senseless tragedy, the result of a bad temper mixed with a gun.

And Carolyn knew all too well where that could lead. How a family could be destroyed in the blink of an eye. No, she decided, reviewing Liam’s extensive rap sheet again, then closing the folder.

There would be no deal.

Mary took a seat on the edge of Carolyn’s desk, depositing a mug of coffee before her. Carolyn thanked her and went on working. Mary laid a palm on the papers, blocking Carolyn’s view. “Hon, an earthworm has more of a life than you do.”

“Mary, aren’t you paid to—”

“Assist, not direct you?” she finished.

Carolyn laughed and stretched in her chair. “I guess I’ve said that often enough.”

“And I’ve ignored you often enough. But after two years together, I consider us friends. And as your friend, I have to say you’re working too hard.” She rose, crossed the room and opened the closed blinds, revealing the brightly lit city outside. “In case you haven’t noticed, it’s summer. People are out there enjoying the sun. Not staying inside like vampires.”

For a second, Carolyn paused to turn around and admire the view. The burst of fire the afternoon sun cast over the downtown square, the busy stream of traffic leaving the city as people returned to their families or headed out of Lawford for the tranquility of the lakes that dotted the Indiana landscape.

“It’s a perfect day,” Mary said. “And it’s going to be a perfect weekend for the program for the kids. They’re going to love all the gifts and the—”

“Oh the gifts! Damn!” Carolyn rubbed at her temples. “I haven’t bought a single present yet. I promised to sponsor one of those children and I totally forgot to get to the store. I’m sorry, Mary. These last few cases have been eating up every spare moment.”

“There’s always going to be another case,” Mary said gently. “Will you please get out and enjoy the sunshine, Carolyn? I swear, all this climate-controlled air is frying your brain.”

Carolyn rose and crossed to the window. For a second, she felt the warmth of the day, felt the special magic that seemed to come with summer days wrap around her heart. Her mind spiraled back to her childhood, to those first days out of school, running to greet her father when he got home from work, the endless bike rides they’d take, the times he’d push her on the backyard swing—just one more time, Dad, please, one more time—the games of catch that went long into the twilight hours. Once in a while they’d stay up late, watching for shooting stars or playing catch-and-release with fireflies.

Her throat caught, a lump so thick in the space below her chin, she couldn’t swallow. Oh, Dad. How she missed him, the ache hitting deep and sharp, from time to time.

Every summer with her father had been…incredible. It had been just the two of them, after her mother had been killed in a car accident shortly after Carolyn was born. Because of that, Carolyn and her father had shared a bond. A bond she missed, missed so very much there were days when she swore she could touch the pain.

After her father died when she was nine, she’d lost that feeling of joy, that anticipation of warm days, of long, lazy evenings. She’d started staying indoors, avoiding summer because everything had lost its magic. Trying to forget the very season she had enjoyed so much.

Then Nick had come along a few years ago and reminded her of the fun she used to have. Reminded her that magic still existed.

For a while Carolyn had let loose and done something completely crazy—so crazy that it had led her to a disaster of a marriage. For five minutes she’d let go of the tight hold she’d had over her life, and when she had, the ball of control went rolling over the hill way too fast.

Thankfully, she’d fixed that mistake almost immediately, and everything was on the right path now. She was successful at her job. Sure, it had come at the cost of what other people had—a home, kids, the trappings of tradition—but for a woman like Carolyn, who had about as much experience with the traditional life as a swimsuit model did with dog sledding, it was just as well. Besides, neither she nor Nick had taken the marriage seriously, not really.

And when that face from her past appeared on the TV screen in the diner, blasting Carolyn’s history on national airwaves, she’d made her choice and walked away from Nick for good.

Carolyn pushed away the memories then returned to her desk, swallowed two aspirin with the black coffee, and went back to work. “I’ll leave early—er. I promise, Mary.”

Mary sighed. “Okay. See you tomorrow, then. You will be at the picnic, right? Not chained to this desk?”

Carolyn smiled. “I’ll be there. I promise.”

“I’m holding you to it. And if you don’t show up,” Mary said, with a warning wag of her index finger, “you know I’ll come right down here and drag you out of this office.”

Mary said goodbye, then headed out of the office, already exchanging her pumps for a pair of flip-flops in her purse. Clearly, the paralegal was ready to start her holiday weekend.

Carolyn thought of the last time she’d done something that carefree. That spontaneous. And she couldn’t remember. Somewhere along the road, it had simply become easier to spend weekends, holidays, Friday nights at her desk. Easier to ignore the invitations to dinners that were clearly fix-ups, the dates with men who didn’t interest her, the lonely evenings at home by herself.

Mary was right. Carolyn could almost feel her father looking down on her from heaven, tsktsking at all the sunshine she had missed, the sunsets that had passed behind Carolyn’s back as she’d worked.

Well, she did have shopping to do for the picnic tomorrow. What better excuse to leave early? She finished up the last few tasks on her desk, including leaving a voice mail for Liam’s attorney telling him no deal, then shut down her computer. Her gaze caught on the bright blue-and-yellow envelope for the Care-and-Connect-with-Children program. She tugged it out, stuck it in her briefcase, then headed out the door.

As she headed down in the elevator, she opened the envelope and pulled out the photo of the child inside. A paper clip held a four-by-six-inch picture of a five-year-old boy to the corner of a sheet of paper.

Her stomach clenched. Oh, he was a cute little thing—blond and blue-eyed, a little on the skinny side, and in desperate need, the sheet said, of almost everything. School supplies, clothes, sheets. His dream wish list was so simple, it nearly broke Carolyn’s heart: books to read and a single toy truck.

For a split second, she saw the future that could have been in the boy’s eyes. If she had stayed married to Nick—if either of them had made that bond into something real.

Carolyn traced the outline of the child’s face. What if…

But no. There were no what ifs, not where she and Nicholas Gilbert were concerned. Carolyn had made her choices, and made them for very good reasons—and exactly the one that made her happy.

By the time the elevator doors whooshed open, Carolyn was back in work mode. She’d deal with this sponsorship project with her typical take-charge attitude. Clutching the envelope tight, she ran down a mental list of tasks, compartmentalizing the entire process, treating it as simply one more thing to do. Distancing herself, keeping emotions out of the equation.

That, Carolyn knew, was the best way to protect her most valuable asset—the one she’d vowed never to expose again, especially not to another lawyer—

Her heart.

The last place Nick Gilbert expected to be on a Friday night was a toy store.

Yet here he was, standing in the center of a brightly lit aisle filled with pink and lace, trying to decide between a doll that cried and a doll that burped. To him, neither seemed to offer an advantage. Burping might be a cool and very funny option—but only if you were a teenage boy looking to crack up the algebra class. Nevertheless, given the way the little girls swarming around him were grabbing the toys off the shelves, both outbursts were wildly popular.

Cry…or burp?

He may have grown up in a big family, but everything Nick knew about children could fit on the back of an ant, with room left for an entire kindergarten class. Why had he agreed to sponsor a child for the Care-and-Connect-with-Children program? What was he thinking?

He’d been swayed by a picture. By the list of needs on the sheet inside the packet of information about the child. And he’d thought, with his typical can-do attitude, that he could handle this.

Ha. He’d have been better off trying to corral a herd of elephants.

And, truth be told, he’d also thought a trip to a toy store, a few gifts thrown into a cart and an afternoon at the Care-and-Connect picnic might fill the gnawing hole in his chest. It had grown more persistent lately, like a thirst he couldn’t quite quench. A crazy feeling, because he should be content. He had everything he needed. A good career. Great friends, a loving family who lived nearby. An easy lifestyle that demanded nothing.

And yet…

His grip tightened on the dolls’ try-me buttons, which made them let out a simultaneous bur-pcry. Two moms in the aisle turned to look at him, twin amused smiles on their face, coupled with looks of compassion. A man in the baby doll aisle. Apparently he was an object of pity.

“Trial run before I have a real kid,” he joked. “I think I like the burping better. It’s more entertaining.”

The moms shook their heads, then laughed and walked away.

Nick tossed both packages into his cart, then swung it around and headed down the aisle. He spun to the right, intending to get out of the store as quickly as he could. This was so not his forte. But as he rounded the corner, his cart collided with another, jostling the dolls, who complained with another burp-cry.

Nick barely noticed. Because he found himself staring at the one woman he thought he’d managed to forget.

Carolyn Duff.

She had deep-green eyes, so wide and dark, they were as inviting as placid lakes beneath a moonlit sky. A charcoal suit hugged her body, yet gave nothing away. Sensible pumps with kitten heels, not high enough to show off the real curves of her long legs, but enough to remind him of those gorgeous, long limbs. Blond hair, put back in a severe, tight bun, but Nick knew, when she let her hair down, it would be just long enough to tease around her features and whisper along her cheekbones, her jaw.

Everything about Carolyn on the outside was delicate, and yet on the inside she was strong—like a flamingo that could weather a hurricane.

She’d been the one woman who had intrigued him more than any other in law school. Her uppercrust, stiff Bostonian attitude had been a challenge to him—because when they’d met and he’d made her laugh, he’d glimpsed the Carolyn underneath, it had made him want to peel back the layers, get her to loosen up. Tease out the fun side of the severe, break-no-rules studier.

He’d done that, then done the most spontaneous thing in his life. Taken it to the next level and married her—the biggest mistake of his life.

And now that mistake was standing right in front of him.


CHAPTER TWO

“WHAT are you doing here?” Carolyn asked. Her heartbeat doubled with the shock of seeing him. She saw the same surprise reflected in the widening of his eyes, the way he seemed rooted to the spot. Nick Gilbert, the last man she expected to run into in the toy aisle.

Nick. Her…

Husband?

The thought ran through her in a rush, along with the embarrassing memory of when she’d said “I do” in a tacky Vegas wedding chapel and made promises she, of all people, shouldn’t have made.

No, he wasn’t her husband. Not anymore. Her ex.

Their marriage, their relationship was over now. They were over.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” he said.

She looked up at him, hating the disadvantage of being shorter. At six-two, Nick had always had a good seven-inch height advantage over her. Years ago she’d liked that. Liked that she could look up into his teasing blue eyes and be swept up into the humor of his smile.

But not anymore. Right now she wished she had on platform heels so she could go toe-to-toe with those blue eyes.

Blue eyes that no longer had any effect on her. Whatsoever. Despite the tingle she’d felt when she ran into him in the crowded courthouse elevator last week. And glimpsed him in the cafeteria from time to time.

She’d seen him off and on many times since their divorce, but never this close. Never had to have a real conversation with him. Even now, as she had for the past three years, she could turn away, walk down the aisle as if nothing had happened.

But something had. A little something inside her had zigged when they had zagged.

With a start, she realized he was staring at her—because she hadn’t answered the question. Heat filled her cheeks, which only left her more discomfited.

Carolyn Duff didn’t do discomfited. She never felt out of sorts.

“I’m buying toys for one of the children in the charity—” She glanced down at his cart and saw toys. Books.

“Me, too. I think the entire Lawford legal community got onboard with this one,” he said. “But maybe I should have stuck to business law. I haven’t the foggiest idea what the hell I’m doing.” He reached into his cart and pulled out the two dolls. “Burps or cries? Which is better? How am I supposed to know? To me, they’re both losing propositions.”

She laughed and when she did, it resurrected a part of her she’d thought she left behind long ago. A lightness she’d lost in the years she’d lived with her aunt Greta, then rediscovered when she’d met Nick.

A lightness she’d missed in the heavy work of being a city prosecutor.

She glanced at Nick. The poor man clearly had no clue when it came to kids—and neither did she. The two of them were stuck in the same shopping hell. What harm could come from a little talking? “I know exactly how you feel. I was standing in the next aisle with the same problem.” She reached into her cart and pulled out a selection of trucks. “Fire engine or police car? Dump truck or…what is this thing? A front loader? And what is a front loader anyway? And then there’s these things called transformers, but I can’t figure out why anyone would want a toy that transforms, or if it’s even what this boy would want.” Carolyn tossed the toys back into her cart and threw up her hands. She was babbling. She always did that when she got nervous—something that only seemed to happen outside the courtroom, and apparently whenever she got around Nick, who was a six-foot-two reminder of her biggest mistake. “Whatever happened to a bat, a ball and a catcher’s mitt?”

Nick chuckled. “It has gotten complicated, hasn’t it? Every single thing I see here has a computer chip in it, I swear. These aren’t just toys, they’re technological revolutions.” Nick shook his head. “Well, I’ll muddle through somehow. After all, I’ve got a college degree. How hard can it be? Just watch me.” He chuckled, showing the easy humor that had always been as much a part of Nick as his dark-brown hair and his cobalt eyes.

Did he remember that crazy decision to rush off to Vegas? The heady choice they’d made? One where they’d clearly not been thinking with brain cells, and only with the blush of lust?

Carolyn, out of Aunt Greta’s house for the first time since she was nine, so desperate to cast off the strangling structure of her past, saw escape in Nick. She’d married him for all the wrong reasons and had at least been smart enough to undo it the first chance she got.

Nick leaned forward, reading the boxes that lined the shelves, studying the facts and figures, researching his purchase. He was being the detail man that made him a good lawyer, but betraying none of the funny, spontaneous Nick she’d once known. Just as well. She didn’t need that man in her life. Because that man was the one who had—for a snippet of time—made her think she could be someone she really wasn’t.

“This says ages eight and up,” Nick read aloud, sounding as serious as a tax accountant. “I don’t think that will work. My paper says the child is six.”

“My—” She caught herself before she said “my child,” because this wasn’t her child. “The child I’m sponsoring is almost the same age. I have a five-year-old.”

“Someone wasn’t thinking. Giving you and me a couple of little kids like that. They should have assigned us two high school students. That we can handle. Buy them a couple calculators and some dictionaries. Sit them down, dispense some college advice.”

“Yeah.” She let out a little laugh. An uncomfortable silence filled the space between them, the kind that came from two people who used to know each other and now didn’t, who were pretending everything was cool—even when a heat still simmered in the air.

Leave, her mind said. Take this pause as what it was—an excuse to go. But her feet didn’t go anywhere and she couldn’t have said why.

“Maybe you should try this one.” Carolyn picked up a box that held a big white plastic horse designed for a doll to take galloping into the sunset. She flipped over the box, read the same age recommendation as Nick had seen and put it back on the shelf. That was all they needed—a choking lawsuit. “Forget it. Too many small parts.”

He gave her a smile. “When did you get so smart about toys?”

“I didn’t. It’s the lawyer in me reading the fine print.”

“You always were good at that part.”

Carolyn let those words go, knowing Nick meant more than the directions on a box. She’d been the strict one, always playing by the rules, where he’d been the opposite.

“What’s your kid’s name?” Nick asked, strolling further down the aisle, toward the dress-up clothes.

“Name?” Carolyn looked at him.

“Yeah. His or her name.”

“Uh…” Carolyn thought for a second. “Bobby.”

Nick grinned, and when he did, Carolyn was whisked back to those college days. “Nice name. My child is named Angela.”

“Your…your child? You’re married?”

“Are you kidding me? Could you see me with kids?” He chuckled. “You know me, Carolyn. I’m not the kind of guy who likes to have ties.”

That had been part of the attraction and part of the problem. Carolyn had gone for Nick because he’d been the complete opposite of the life she’d left in Boston, but when she’d needed him to be dependable, to listen, to be a true partner—

He hadn’t been there. He’d let her down.

“No, I never married again,” Nick went on. “Angela is the child I’m sponsoring.”

Carolyn released a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. Nick wasn’t married. He didn’t have kids. No other woman had laid claim to his heart.

She shouldn’t care. The days when she had any stake in Nick—or in anything about Nick—were long past.

“So, nope, no kids for me. This is as close as I get.” He gestured toward the basket of toys.

“A one-day commitment, huh?”

“Those seem to be the kind I’m good at.” Nick’s gaze met hers, and their shared history unfurled in the tension thickening the air between them.

A mother with two children, one strapped into the shopping cart’s seat, the other trailing behind and whining discontent about some toy she’d been denied, squeezed past them. On the overhead sound system, someone called for a price check in aisle three. Once again, the uncomfortable silence of two people who had essentially become strangers grew between Carolyn and Nick, like a tangle of thorny vines separating once-friendly neighbors.

“Well, it was great seeing you, Nick,” Carolyn said. “Good luck with your shopping.”

Before she could turn away, Nick reached out and laid a hand on top of hers. Carolyn took in a breath, the air searing her lungs, awareness pumping through her veins. Nick’s touch, so familiar, yet also so new after all this time apart, spread warmth through her hand. The scent of his cologne—the same cologne, as if nothing had changed, not a single thing. The sound of his heartbeat, his every breath—could she really hear that, or was it just her own, matching his?—time stopping for one, long slow second. “Wait. Don’t go,” he said.

“Why?”

“Why don’t we shop together?”

The mother and two children disappeared around the corner, the whine of the eldest child dropping off when she apparently spied a better toy. The store’s music droned on with its instrumental rendition of Seventies hits, a soft undertow of lounge melodies. “Shop together?” Carolyn repeated.

He grinned. “Do either of us look like we know what the heck we’re doing?”

She glanced down at her haphazard selection of toys. A complete zoo of stuffed animals. Every type and kind of truck carried by the store. Books that featured cartoon characters, superheroes, animals and dancing vegetables. She’d pretty much bought one of everything, hoping that a scattershot of presents would result in something the child might like.

She’d already spent three hours at this toy shopping and had almost nothing that said “Wow, great gift” to show for her efforts. Every item she picked up, she hemmed and hawed over, wondering if a little boy would like this or would prefer that. The truth was, she had no idea what little boys, or little girls, for that matter, really wanted. She could barely remember her own childhood.

When it came to buying presents for a little boy, who better to ask for an opinion than a male? A male who’d been the kind to enjoy playing Frisbee and catch on the college campus? The kind who clearly knew how to have fun?

She and Nick were both adults. Their marriage—which they’d both agreed back in that diner was a mistake—was far in the past. This was a charity mission. What harm could a few minutes of shopping do?

“This is a one-time offer,” he said. “One of the Lawford attorneys offering to help a prosecutor, pro bono.”

She laughed again, and right there, found herself caught in the old spell all over again. The one that had made her abandon her structured life and go along with Nick’s crazy Vegas plan. But this idea wasn’t crazy; it was merely a partnership. “How very charitable of you.”

“It’s not charity. After all, weren’t we always better together than apart?”

“Maybe in school, in classes, we worked well together, but not as a couple. You know that, Nick,” she said. “As far as I’m concerned, we’ve been happily divorced for three years.”

He arched a brow, cynicism written all over his features, and she wondered if maybe the end of the marriage hadn’t been the relief to him that she’d always told herself it had been. “Happily?”

“Divorce was what we both wanted. We agreed it was a stupid mistake and the best thing was to undo it as fast as possible. Tell no one, forget it ever happened. Pretend we’d never met. Remember?” Carolyn remembered those words, the argument that had accompanied that moment, and most of all, the look of pained disappointment in Nick’s eyes. It had surprised her, because she’d thought Nick hadn’t taken their bolt to the altar seriously at all—hadn’t thought Nick took anything seriously.

“I remember our ending as being more like removing a bandage, quick and a little painful.”

“Well, it’s over now, and we’ve both moved on, right?”

“Of course. And presumably, we’ve matured since then.”

“Have you?” she asked.

He grinned. “Not a bit.”

She chuckled. “I’m not surprised.”

“Ah, but that’s what keeps my life fun. And makes for entertainment in the courtroom.”

She just shook her head. Nick was exactly the same.

Over the years, Carolyn had managed to avoid seeing Nick, as much as was possible in the relatively small Lawford legal community. It helped that they worked in two entirely different areas of law—criminal and corporate.

When they did see each other, they exchanged nothing more than a simple nod, a few words of greeting.

Wearing a suit, he was devastatingly handsome. Powerful. In boxers and barechested, he was—

Irresistible. Sexy.

Luckily, today he was wearing a two-button navy suit with a white shirt and dark-crimson tie. It fit him perfectly, hugging over the broad shoulders and defined chest she knew existed beneath the fine fabrics. As did, apparently, the rest of the female population in the store, women who made little secret of staring at Nick. And why not? Nick Gilbert was the kind of man women noticed.

Carolyn returned to the matter at hand, drawing herself up. “I’ll let you get back to your shopping,” she said. “It was nice to see you again. Good night, Nick.”

She made moves to leave, but Nick took a step closer. “You don’t want to shop together? Are you afraid?”

“Afraid of what?”

“Working together. Don’t tell me the great Bulldog of Lawford isn’t up to the challenge of a little shopping trip with her ex. For a good cause, I might add.”

Her chin went up a notch. “I can certainly shop with you.”

“And not be at all affected by my winning personality.” He grinned. And damn if that smile didn’t whisper a temptation to take a dip in the pool of fun again. Just for a second.

“What winning personality?” She gave him a slight teasing smile back. “I heard you lost your last two cases.”

“Are you keeping track of my career, Miss Duff?”

“Of course not.”

“One might think you are. Otherwise, why would a city prosecutor care what a corporate lawyer is up to?”

Her chin rose a little higher. “Just making sure you’re staying in check, Mr. Gilbert, and not breaking any rules.”

He grinned. “And when have you ever known me to stay in check?”

The memory danced into the forefront of her thoughts. The first time she’d met Nick Gilbert. She’d been leaving the university library, overloaded and overwhelmed, books piled in her arms, preparation for a marathon study session for the upcoming bar exam.

She’d transferred to the Indiana school just a month earlier, and found the transition to be difficult, the adjustment harder than she’d expected. She’d made the best of the change, as she always had of every situation in her life—because she didn’t have a choice.

She’d been financially cut off in Boston and had opted for the only school that had offered her a partial scholarship and a tuition she could afford.

But she’d had difficulty fitting in among the informal Midwesterners who didn’t understand the stiff-upper-lip Bostonian. One month in, and Carolyn had yet to make any friends. As she’d crossed the campus, she’d felt the stares of the other students. Her step had caught on a bump in the sidewalk, the books began to fall—

And then Nick Gilbert came along.

He’d stood out in a sea of brown and navy like a neon sign. He’d rushed over, righted the books and done the most insane thing she could have imagined to set her at ease.

He’d made a quarter disappear.

But in that simple, unexpected magic trick, Nick had won her over and made everything Carolyn had to face seem so much less daunting.

“So, what’ll it be?” Nick asked. “Tough it out on our own in the wilds of the toy department or join forces?”

Carolyn met Nick’s gaze and smiled, caught up in the old magic once again. “All right, I’ll shop with you, but only because you are so clearly hopeless at this.”

“Oh, I see, take pity on the man. Is that it?”

A bubble of laughter escaped her, filling Carolyn with a lightness she hadn’t felt in weeks, months. How she craved that feeling, yet at the same time, felt the urge to flee. “Don’t you need pity, Mr. Burp-or-Cry?”

“Oh, I need more than that, Carolyn.”

The way he said her name, with that husky, all-male tone, the kind that spoke of dark nights, tangled sheets, hot memories, sent a thrill running through Carolyn, sparked images she’d thought she’d forgotten. But, oh no, she hadn’t forgotten at all. She’d merely pushed those pictures to the side, her mind waiting—waiting for a moment like this to bring them to the forefront, like an engine that had idled all this time.

How she wished she were in a courtroom instead of a toy store. That was the world she knew, could predict. But Nick Gilbert was about as predictable as a tiger in a butcher shop.

This was a bad idea. A very bad idea.

“Playing house,” Carolyn said, popping into action. “That’s what we need.”

Nick arched a brow. “You and me? Play house? I thought we already tried that and it didn’t work so well.”

“Not us. For…” Her mind went blank. Looking at Nick, thinking of playing house…oh, why had she thought she could do this? Just being here was a mistake. But she’d already made the deal and couldn’t renegotiate. Not with a lawyer and especially not with this one. “I meant for the child you’re sponsoring. Little girls, they like to play house. Pretend to go to the grocery store, set the table, all that.”

“But not you, right, Carolyn? Or did you ever have a moment when you did play house? When you imagined being a Mrs. for longer than a few days?”

“Me?” She snorted. “You know that is so not me. I don’t think I have a domestic bone in my body.”

“We still have that in common,” Nick said. “I’ve yet to become domesticated myself, though I am housebroken.” He grinned. “What about you? How have things been for you over the last three years?”

Carolyn reached for the nearest toy on the shelf. “How about this broom set for Angela?”

“I recognize this avoidance tactic. Divert attention from the personal and get back to work, right?”

“Nick, if you’re not going to take this seriously—”

“Oh, I’m serious, Carolyn.” He straightened, his demeanor slightly chilled. “As serious as you are.”

Then he started pushing the cart, heading down the aisle toward the faux food and make-believe vacuum cleaners. Now also all business and no play. Not anymore.

Carolyn wasn’t the least bit disappointed. Not the least.

“How about this for Angela?” Nick held up a pretend cooking set, plastic frying pans, spatulas, bright yellow faux eggs and floppy bacon. Little cardboard boxes of cereal marched up the side of the package, with cheery pretend names like Cocoa Crunchies and Corn Flakies.

“Perfect,” Carolyn said, coming up beside Nick and holding the other side of the package. Only a few inches separated them. When she inhaled, she caught the scent of his cologne again. She could sense the heat from his body, read the strength in his hands. She focused instead on the bright happy packaging, on the images of children sitting around a plastic table, pretending they were dining at a five-star mock-up restaurant. “When I was a little girl, they didn’t make toys like this. I was always taking the real thing out of the kitchen and if I didn’t have any friends over, I made my poor dad sit down for pretend meals. Oh, how I made that man suffer through tea parties with me and my bears.”

Nick chuckled softly. “My sisters used to try to do the same thing to me and my brothers but we were too fast. We’d steal the cookies and run like hell for the yard. Linda, Marla and Elise still think Daniel and I are the spawn of the devil because we ruined their plans to recreate the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party.”

Carolyn laughed. “I never did get a chance to meet your family. I wish I had. They sound so fun.”

“They would have liked you.”

The words hung between them. They’d been married too short a time for meeting families—not that there’d been anyone on Carolyn’s side to meet. Anyone who would have cared about meeting Nick, anyway.

Had Nick told his family about her? Had he told his sisters about the woman who had stolen his heart, then broken it, all in the space of a month?

Carolyn shoved the thoughts away. She’d had good reasons, reasons Nick had refused to see at the time, refused to listen. He’d fought her, tooth and nail, telling her it could wait, that they’d just gotten married—stay awhile, don’t go, not yet—and not understanding at all that she’d had to go—

Had to get on that plane. She couldn’t sit in Indiana, acting the part of the happy wife, while the man who had killed her father went on another rampage. By the time she came home, the divorce was final. Nick had done the filing, taking care of the details, cleaning up the mess.

It was all for the best, she told herself again

“Let’s get the rest of Angela’s gifts,” Carolyn said, returning to business. Nick seemed relieved to do the same, and they made quick work of filling the cart with toys for the little girl.

“My turn to help you,” Nick said a little while later. “And for your information, little boys don’t want to play house, so let’s pick a different aisle.”

Work again. Concentrate on the project. Not the man.

Carolyn led the way as they headed over to the aisle of trucks and cars. Nick directed her toward the larger, more indestructible options. “This is what Bobby wants.” Nick hoisted up a red plastic truck large enough to transport a puppy.

“How do you know for sure? There’s this one, and that one, and the one down there.” Carolyn gestured all over the aisle, as confused as she had been an hour ago.

“I know because I was once a little boy. And I had one of these, except mine sported the less-knee-and-elbow-friendly metal finish.” Nick turned the box over in his hands, lost in a memory. “I had a lot of fun with that truck. I remember the Christmas I got it. I was five. Daniel was three. He came charging at me, wanting to play with the truck. Cut his chin open on the coffee table and he ended up in the emergency room on Christmas day, getting stitches.”

“Oh, my goodness. That must have been awful.”

Nick shook his head. “My mother is a saint. She could raise all five of us and run a household blindfolded. She shot off directions to my dad and the rest of us for how to put together Christmas dinner, loaded Daniel in the car and drove to the hospital, calm as a summer breeze. We, of course, butchered dinner without her there.” Nick laughed. “But when she came back, with Daniel all stitched up, she somehow made it all right and saved Christmas.”

Carolyn spun the loose plastic covering on the shopping handle. She thought of how her aunt Greta would have reacted to such an event. For one, it wouldn’t have happened because there’d been no big happy family around the Christmas tree. No turkey to stuff. No hectic gathering. But if there had been, Greta simply wouldn’t have allowed chaos to disrupt her house. In Aunt Greta’s house, chaos never, ever visited. It didn’t even walk down the sidewalk. And secondly, children didn’t take chances. They didn’t run. They didn’t ride their bikes down the sidewalk. They didn’t do anything death defying. “Your family sounds like something out of a novel.”

Nick smiled, then put the toy truck into the shopping cart. “Sometimes I think it was.” Nick paused midstep, then met her gaze, and for a fleeting second she wondered if he was reading her mind. “Carolyn—”

“Let’s get this shopping done. I need to get home. I have a ton of work waiting for me.” Carolyn started down the aisle, cutting off Nick and the attraction she read in his gaze.

Then the look disappeared, gone in a simple blink.

“Yeah, good idea. We should concentrate on the shopping,” Nick said, joining her by the race cars. “I have work waiting for me, too.”

Carolyn gave him a sidelong glance but couldn’t read anything in Nick’s face. Maybe she had read Nick wrong. Or maybe he had changed, maybe he wasn’t the man she remembered.

They finished the shopping trip, agreeing on their purchases easily. Before long, they’d found several hundred dollars worth of toys, much more than they’d expected to find or spend. The shopping spree had been fun, almost like—

Like when they’d gotten married. Never before had Carolyn gone without a plan, running by the seat of her pants, working purely on desire.

She hadn’t been thinking that week, simply doing. And for a moment she’d thought she could do it all. Be a wife, and maybe…down the road…a mother.

What if today’s toy buying hadn’t been a charity mission? What if they’d been shopping for their own child?

Where would they be now? Living in a three-bedroom house in some subdivision in Lawford, kissing each other goodbye over a cup of coffee every morning? Or would they have ended up exactly where they were—divorced, scarcely cordial colleagues? Nick still acting a lot like a college frat boy, Carolyn still the stiff Bostonian?

“Those kids are going to need a truck to haul all this home,” Nick said, interrupting her thoughts.

Carolyn smiled. “I think I saw some of those in aisle three.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Nick said, and in his eyes, she read more than just the desire to buy a ride-on toy.

There was a lingering desire for her. Still burning in his gaze. Emanating from his skin, his nearness. And who was she kidding? She still felt it, too.

But the past was over. And for a good reason.

They’d made a big mistake once. Only an idiot did that twice.

“Well, I guess that’s it. I, ah, can run over to the department store and pick up some clothes and sheets, if you want to take care of this stuff,” Carolyn said, digging into her purse for money and then handing him half the cost of their purchases. Nick had agreed, since he had the bigger vehicle, to transport the toys to the picnic while she brought the other items. “See you tomorrow?” She tried to keep her tone as professional as it would be with a client.

As she turned to go, Nick took a step toward her, bringing them within inches of each other. Heat tingled down her spine, igniting a fire that had been dormant for a long, long time. For a second, she wondered if he were about to kiss her. Some crazy part of her wanted him to do just that. The same crazy side that had acted without thinking back in college.

Okay, probably not the best part of her brain to listen to.

“Carolyn,” Nick said quietly.

“What?” The word escaped her in a breath.

“Don’t go. Not yet. Grab a drink with me. Catch up on old times.”

Oh, how easy it would be to let herself get caught up in him again. But no, she was older. Smarter now.

“Why, Nick? What’s changed, really? You never really got serious about us. And I was always going to put my career first. Never the twain shall meet, isn’t that what Shakespeare said?”

“There was more to our breakup than just that, Carolyn. Much more,” he said, his eyes still on hers, his mouth inches away.

Despite her words, for a second she wanted very much for the twain to meet. For this pounding need to be quieted.

The rational half of her said this was desire, nothing more. At the same time, the feeling unnerved her, toppled her off her carefully planned and organized pedestal. She had no room in her days for a man like him—a man who would distract her, turn her from the very work that fulfilled her sense of self.

She hadn’t the time then, she still didn’t have it now. Sharing a drink with him wouldn’t solve that dilemma.

“You’re right,” Carolyn said. “And all those reasons are still there, Nick.”

The temperature in the aisle dropped a few degrees. “As always, you make a compelling case, Counselor. Well, tomorrow then.” He turned to go, heading for the cash register.

As she watched him disappear, Carolyn told herself she was glad she’d turned down Nick’s invitation. Because Nick Gilbert was a much-too-appetizing bowl of chocolate and cherry ice cream, and Carolyn was definitely feeling lactose intolerant.


CHAPTER THREE

NICK stood in the kitchen of his three-bedroom house and wrestled with the iron, cursing whoever had invented the damned thing. “Remind me again why I’m going to this shindig.”

“Because you’re a guy who cares about kids,” said his brother, Daniel, who was making his regular visit to Nick’s house. He’d already raided the fridge, complained about the dearth of acceptable meal choices, flipped through Nick’s DVD collection twice and taken two of the newer flicks, as if Nick’s house was Blockbuster. Nick didn’t complain. He liked the company, and tolerated his brother’s intrusions. Most of the time.

A writer, Daniel had the same dark brown hair and blue eyes as most of the Gilberts, but preferred a more relaxed approach to clothing, meaning anything fancier than jeans didn’t exist in his closet. “And you better,” Daniel added. “You grew up with four brothers and sisters.”

“I didn’t mean about the kids, I meant, why am I attending an event where Carolyn’s going to be?” Earlier, he’d told his brother about running into Carolyn at the toy store.

A coincidence? Or a second chance with the woman he had never really forgotten?

Nick cursed the iron again as the steam sent globs of water over his shirt. “What is it with these things?”

“Didn’t Mom teach you how to take care of yourself before she released you into the wild?” Daniel slid into place beside his brother. “Here, let me do it. For Pete’s sake, you’re making a mess of it.”

Nick stepped back, amazed that his younger brother could wrangle the machine into doing his will. In five minutes Daniel had the golf shirt pressed and ready to go. “How do you do that?”

“It’s called being a bachelor and being too poor to afford dry cleaning.” Daniel grinned and held out the shirt, then waited while Nick slipped it on. Then he unplugged the iron and set it on the ironing board to cool. “And I’m not distracted by thoughts of a woman right now.”

“I’m not distracted.”

Daniel arched a brow.

“Okay, maybe I am. A little.” Nick picked up his keys, slid them into his pocket, then faced his brother. “I thought I was over her. Over the whole damned thing. Then I see her last night at the toy store and—”

“It was Love Story all over again?” Daniel hummed a snippet of the movie’s famous theme song.

“Not at all. More a remake of our worst moments together.” But there had been one moment when he’d remembered why he’d been attracted to her. Why he’d married her. They’d had fun—for a few minutes—and then Carolyn had gone back to being the stuffy city prosecutor, the woman who was about as much fun as a bag of rocks, and Nick was reminded all over again why they’d broken up.

Yet guilt pinged at him still. She hadn’t been the only one at fault, and he knew it. He hadn’t exactly been Joe Sensitive, nor had he been Husband of the Year.

“I’m just glad I got out of that marriage after a few days instead of a few years,” Nick said. “Carolyn was always too damned straight-laced for me. I want a woman who can have a good time, make me laugh, live a little. Not drive me absolutely insane. And when I think of Carolyn Duff, driving me crazy is the term that comes to mind.”

Daniel bent down to pat Bandit, Nick’s German short-haired pointer. The spotted dog wagged his tail with furious joy, nearly knocking over the scraggly ficus tree beside him. A shower of dry leaves littered the floor. “There were some good times, too, from what you’ve told me. Some very good times.”

An image of one particularly good memory—with the neon lights of Vegas shining on Carolyn’s peach skin while they made use of every surface in their suite at the Mirage—flashed in Nick’s mind. He saw her smile, heard her laughter, could almost smell the scent of her raspberry bubble bath.

“Okay, maybe one good memory. Or two.” Another one popped into his mind, followed quickly by a third, slamming with a sting like pellets into his chest. Nick shook his head. As good as those times had been, the end had been fast and unforeseen, like a sneak guerrilla attack that came and ripped him apart in the middle of the night.

Carolyn had been stubborn about leaving him in that diner, adamant about ending the marriage as fast as it began, claiming he hadn’t cared, he hadn’t been listening.

And back then he probably hadn’t. But she hadn’t given him much of a chance, either.

Just as well. They’d been totally unsuited for each other.

Since the day of the divorce, Nick and Caroline had become nothing more than strangers, albeit strangers who had once shared a bed. And yet last night he’d sensed a vulnerability in her, a chink in the Carolyn armor, that made the lawyer in him see a flicker of doubt in the witness’s case.

He wondered—could he have been wrong in letting her go? Could they make it work if they tried again now?

Nick shook his head. He hadn’t changed much in three years, and from what he’d seen, neither had she. “We were insane to get married in the first place,” he said to Daniel. Definitely insane.

Still, at odd moments, Nick thought the exact opposite. Crazy thoughts, the kind that hit him in the middle of the night when he awoke from a dream that had featured a lot of neon lights and left him pacing the floors. He’d raid the fridge or pour a scotch, and still the memories would tickle at the edges of his mind.

He was a lawyer. Even though he’d had a lot of evidence, and a whole lot of facts in the case of his marriage, he knew when someone was hiding the truth. Carolyn most definitely had been keeping a tidbit or two in check when she’d handed back the plain gold band, sliding it across the table of the diner, then walked out of his life.

Until yesterday.

Nick shrugged it off. They were totally different people—and they were over. Two very good reasons to put Carolyn out of his mind.

Daniel straightened. Bandit let out a whine of complaint, then trotted off to find a toy for fetch. “Maybe this wasn’t just serendipity, you two running into each other. Both of you getting kids to sponsor for that picnic thing. Maybe it was a sign from the Fates or whatever.”

“Will you let it go?”

“Only if you tell me what made you two start talking to each other after all this time apart.”

“Desperation.” Nick chuckled. “We were both stuck in the toy aisle, me with a girl to buy for, her with a boy, and we didn’t know what we were doing. Forced allies, nothing more.”

“Uh-huh. You couldn’t have asked any of the moms there? Or called your sisters?” Daniel said. “All of whom would have willingly given you advice.”

“I, ah, didn’t think of that.”

“Told you. You were blinded by the pretty woman who still gets your car engine racing.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “If you weren’t my brother, I would stop talking to you. I’ve told you a thousand times that Carolyn and I aren’t any good together. You know that old adage about the bird and the fish?” Daniel nodded. “Well, try imagining that same fable with a hawk and a shark.”

“With you being the shark, I presume?” His brother gave him a good-natured jab in the arm. “Corporate lawyers, you’re all the same.”

“Hey, I take offense to that. You know I’m not like other lawyers. I’m more…unconventional. Fun.”

“You’re looking pretty conventional right now.” Daniel gave his older brother’s pressed golf shirt a light pat. Bandit took the opportunity to bound over and deposit an orange plastic bone at Daniel’s feet.

“Oh, but I’m still unconventional underneath.” Nick raised the left sleeve, baring his arm and the tattoo he’d had for the last three years. The still-vivid image of a cartoon shark—a joke he’d had put on his arm back in law school—never showed under Nick’s suits, but usually peeked out from under the hem of his short-sleeved shirts.

“Of course. I expected nothing less. And I still think that’s the most apropos image for you, big brother. You do realize, though, that both hawks and sharks are predators? That puts you two in the same class of animal.” Daniel grinned, then tossed the bone down the hall. Bandit took off after it, running too fast and skidding past the vinyl squeaky toy before scrambling back around to snatch it up. “So what are you going to drive this time? What was it for the senior prom? A backhoe? Took out a damned tree on your way home, I might add.”

“It was a tractor. My date about died, but no one forgot my entrance.” Nick took the toy from Bandit, repeating the same scramble, miss and skid pattern as before. “That dog never learns.”

“Neither do you,” Daniel pointed out. “You’re still as crazy as when we were kids. Sending your assistant on an impromptu trip to Jamaica—”

“To boost office morale.”

Daniel went on, ignoring Nick’s interruption. “Karaoke singing, without the musical accompaniment—”

“Just having fun.”

“In court?”

Nick shrugged, pleading no contest to the charges. “I won the case, I might add. Proved my client’s jingle was not offensive.”

“And hosting a birthday party for your nephew, complete with pony rides and a petting zoo in your backyard, for God’s sake. You know that you about made our sister have a heart attack. She is not the pony ride type.” Daniel shook his head. “It’s like you thrive on fun.”

Daniel was right. He did indeed thrive on having fun. After growing up in a hectic family, fun was what he knew. It was as familiar as his own face, and it gave him an odd sense of comfort. And it helped him feel like he hadn’t become too much of a grown-up yet.

But lately it had grown tired. He had a house—an investment property—but it was empty, except for Monday nights when his friends came over to watch the game. He’d dated women who laughed, women who were…fun. But not serious.

Carolyn Duff had been serious. The one serious girl on the Lawford U campus. So serious she’d offered a challenge, an exciting allure to Nick, who’d set out to make her smile, laugh. After their first date he’d found something in her he hadn’t found in other women, a depth of character that made him want to try harder. Be more than he had been up until then. She’d brought a sober touch to his life, the kind that had him toying with the idea of settling down, becoming a grown-up. And so he’d had that crazy idea of running off to Vegas and getting married.

Because he’d thought he could have it all.

But no.

Nick swallowed the bitter taste of disappointment. He was happier this way anyway. Unencumbered. Free. Answering to no one’s drum but his own.

He slid the directions to the picnic into his pocket, then checked again to be sure he had his keys and wallet, along with a deck of cards. “Well, I’m not doing anything like that today. I’ve had enough surprises for a while.”

Daniel walked with his brother to the door and waited while Nick locked up, leaving a dejected Bandit inside. “Where you and Carolyn are concerned, I think the surprises are just starting.”

“No, we’re over. Have been since she dumped me on the drive home from Vegas three years ago.”

“Uh-huh,” Daniel said, clearly not believing a word. “I’ll believe that when I see you two together and there’s no more electricity between you than two clods of dirt. Remember the day I stopped by for lunch last year? I saw the two of you in the hallway of the courtroom. I’m lucky I’m still alive.”

“What do you mean, still alive?”

Daniel clutched his heart and faked gagging. “The way you two looked at each other, it was like a couple of light sabers going at it. She wants you. You want her. If the math was any simpler, it would be preschool.”

“You forget everything else that goes into that equation. Like the fact that she ditched me to go off and put herself into the middle of a hostage situation, even after I begged her not to. That she also realized she didn’t have time for a marriage, not that and a career, too. That this had all been some crazy impromptu decision she made and just wanted to forget. Like buying a pair of shoes that didn’t match her dress.”

Daniel chuckled. “Aren’t we the jaded one?”

“Come talk to me when you make a commitment to something other than a car lease.”

Daniel raised his hands in surrender. The two men headed down the stairs of Nick’s front porch and paused at the end of the walkway. The July sun had already raised the temperature to the mid eighties, making Nick glad he’d opted for light khaki shorts to wear with the cream shirt. The event organizers had put “casual attire” on the invitations, not “business,” and for that, Nick was grateful. There was nothing worse than standing around all day in the heat in a suit.

“So, you’re still claiming you have no interest in her?” Daniel asked.

Nick shook his head. “There’s nothing between us. Not anymore.”

Daniel tick-tocked a finger at him. “Don’t lie to me, big brother. I grew up with you, remember? I know the signs of you getting ready for a date.”

“It’s a benefit picnic. For needy children.”

Daniel laughed. “And the children really needed you to wear cologne, trim your nails and press your shirt?”

“I wanted to look…” Nick cut himself off before he said the word good, which would imply that he cared what Carolyn thought of his appearance. And he didn’t care. At all. “Professional.”

“Let’s see how ‘professional’ Carolyn looks in your eyes today.” Daniel winked. “And like I said, how long the two of you resist each other.”

Carolyn sat at a picnic table on the fairgrounds of the Lawford City Park, surrounded by busy, chattering children, and did her best to keep her gaze off the park’s gaily decorated entrance and on the task at hand. The problem was, she wasn’t very good at either.

She’d bought a new dress—darn Mary and her suggestion—just that morning. She shifted on the bench, acutely aware of the bright-blue-and-white dress and how she had gone to an awful lot of work on her appearance for something that was supposed to be casual.

“Geez, Miss Duff, can’t you make an eagle?” a little girl with a name tag that read Kimberly asked. “I learned how to make birds in kindergarten.”

Carolyn cursed whoever had come up with the craft for this table. A bald eagle paper bag puppet, AKA a torture marathon with paper. There were wings and talons and a beak to make. Little pieces of construction paper to glue all over the place. One side had to be the front, and Lord forgive if she got it wrong because then, apparently, the eagle couldn’t eat.

The kids had already informed her, with a look of disdain, that her first eagle attempt would have died of starvation. So now Carolyn was making her second lunch bag bird.

And clearly mangling the thing into a version of roadkill. “There aren’t any rules decreeing we have to make an American eagle. What about a Monarch butterfly? Or a nice little robin?” She gave Kimberly an encouraging, work-with-me smile.

Kimberly returned a blank stare. “Isn’t this a birthday party for our country? And isn’t the eagle our country’s bird?”

The kid had her there. Darn, these third-graders were awfully smart.

This was one more reason why Carolyn hadn’t had children. Because she wouldn’t know what on earth to do with one after delivery. Why she’d been assigned to this table, she’d never know. It had to be one of Mary’s brainstorms.

Speaking of whom, Mary waved to her from across the field. Carolyn gave her a grimace back. Mary either didn’t see the facial gesture or chose to ignore it. She just went back to blithely setting up the food. The younger children were attending a puppet show put on by a local bookstore. The performance was due to end any second and thus the children would be arriving soon. Then the rest of the festivities would get underway. The third-graders at Carolyn’s table had pronounced themselves too “old” for such a babyish activity, so Carolyn had been asked to oversee them and keep them busy in the meantime.

A flutter of nerves ran through Carolyn at the thought of meeting her sponsored child. She chided herself. She was an attorney. She’d faced down threatening criminals. Blustering defense attorneys. Stern-faced judges. She shouldn’t be nervous about meeting a five-year-old, for Pete’s sake.

“Uh, Kimberly, let’s forget the eagle. And create another display of patriotism.” Carolyn crumpled the lunch bag into a ball and reached into the craft bucket for new supplies. “Here we are, children. Flags. The perfect Fourth of July symbol.” She handed each child squares of red, white and blue paper, then cut out red strips. This she could do. She hoped. Carolyn began gluing, drizzling the white Elmer’s along the edge of the red strips, then laying them on top of the white squares. The glue smeared out from under the red strips, turning it into a messy puddle, dampening the construction paper and turning the tips of her fingers pink.




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