by Cara Putman
Her phone beeped an alert. She had fifteen minutes to get ready for a “mystery date.” Jordan had been oblique about plans, telling her to be hungry and ready for entertainment.
She chewed her lower lip as she considered her wardrobe. Without knowing more, she could opt for overdressed or not. Her mother insisted one should strive to be the best dressed woman in a room. The advice usually served her well, so she flicked through her closet, bypassing dress after dress until her gaze landed on a black number she’d picked up at a Nordstrom Rack sale at least a year ago. She tugged it out and grinned.
Black silk with a hint of lace along the bodice, with a full skirt that hit above her knee in a flow of fabric. It was perfectly feminine, summery, and with a pashmina scarf would work about anywhere he took her. And if he took her canoeing, he deserved to paddle away all by his lonesome.
Her phone dinged at her again, and she jumped. She’d wasted ten minutes trying to decide what to wear. She flew through changing, teasing her hair into loose beach waves and swiping on enough makeup to give her eyes a sultry look.
She was slipping on her Kate Spade polka dot kitten heels when she heard a sharp knock at the front door. She grabbed her silver shawl and hurried up the stairs across the floor to open the door, stopping in her tracks when she spotted the black Lincoln Town Car waiting at the curb. It was a good thing she could slip out without Hayden seeing and teasing her about the ride.
One of the bodyguards from the basketball game stood outside the car, dressed in a black shirt and slacks. He opened the back door, and she peered into the interior.
Jordan grinned at her from the backseat, looking like an excited boy band singer. There was an enthusiasm in his expression that tugged an answering smile from her. He reached toward her, and she let him pull her lightly down beside him. “You look stunning.”
Warmth traveled up Emilie’s neck, and she wished the sunlight didn’t reveal everything. “Thank you.”
“I hope you’re ready for a night that will live up to you.”
“Where are you taking me?” Maybe she was beyond crazy to get into a car with a man she barely knew. No, he was the crazy one for chasing her.
“Some things are more enjoyable as surprises.”
“Hmm.” She settled back against the cool black leather, tugging the shawl around her shoulders to protect her skin from the shock.
He tugged the shawl down along her left arm, and she fought the shiver he’d released. “John, can you turn up the temperature? The princess is cold.” There was a teasing quality to his voice, teasing yet . . .
No, she was crazy. She couldn’t see a stalker behind every man, every shadow.
Dinner was an intimate corner table at Georgia Brown’s, the gold art scrolling along the ceiling twinkling in the light of the tea lights that matched the gold velvet of their booth. Emilie felt a tad overdressed, but kept her chin up as Jordan ordered for her, an act that left her wanting to protest she was more than up to the task.
However, as the fried green tomatoes arrived, followed by entrées of low-country shrimp for her and ribs for him, she couldn’t complain. Her companion kept up a charming stream of conversation, leaving small pauses for eating.
“Dessert?” The waiter stood expectantly, as if sure she couldn’t turn down any of the delectable offerings.
She placed a hand on her stomach and shook her head with a smile. “Not tonight. It was all so good, I forgot to save room.” She glanced at Jordan and was surprised to find a scowl on his face. “I’m happy to wait while you have something.”
He glared at her, then scrubbed the expression from his face and turned a charming smile on the young waitress. “I’ll take the check. We’ll return another time for your cobbler and homemade ice cream.”
“All right, sir.” The waitress scurried off, and five minutes later they stood on the sidewalk as the Town Car pulled to the curb. Soon they were gliding along Vermont Avenue and then, after a couple turns, on 15th Street. The Washington Monument pointed above the trees, and to the right the grass and park area led to the White House.
“Where are we headed?” There was something about the way Jordan was releasing information that struck Emilie as controlling rather than romantic. If it had been Reid, it would have seemed different, and she wondered if she was being fair. Maybe Jordan was one of those wealthy men who had created their fortune but didn’t have all the social graces to accompany it.
“To an experience I doubt you’ve had before.”
“Oh?” She slipped toward the door and angled toward him to cover the motion. “I’ve lived in the DC area for years.”
“True, but there’s a reason we say people are never tourists in their own backyard.”
The car turned along Constitution in the direction of Georgetown, slowly passing the monuments as it went. The sight of them reminded her how privileged she was to live in this great city. The monuments anchored her to the experience and reminded her that many issues bigger than those she managed were decided here.
“Do you remember the first time we met?”
“You mean at the Haven?”
“No, that’s not where I first saw you.”
His dark eyes held her gaze with an intensity that made her want to blink, but she couldn’t. It was like he mesmerized her, and she didn’t understand that hold on her.
“Don’t tell me you don’t remember.”
“Now I do.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him, feeling silly and coquettish, but relieved the car was slowing to a stop at the drop-off point. “You must mean the fund-raiser.”
“You were stunning, though not as beautiful as you are tonight. The emerald cocktail dress you wore made your eyes come alive. And your hair.” He reached up to touch a wave, and she refused to flinch. “It was up, but loose. Elegant and casual at the same time.”
She smiled but looked away. The weight of his gaze was heavy on her in the silence. “It was an amazing night.” She’d been focused on the clients who had come to share their stories. It had taken true courage for those women to stand in front of strangers and recount their stories and admit the fairy tale had been a nightmare. “What did you think of the event?”
“The Haven wasn’t a clear fit with my funding goals at that time.”
“That’s too bad, because those women’s stories touched many.”
He shrugged as he sank against the leather seat. “Just not me.” He frowned. “Looks like we’re here.”
Emilie nodded, uncomfortable both with the knowledge he’d paid such attention to her back then and that he still wouldn’t tell her what the night’s agenda was. In another setting the surprise might be romantic, but right now it unsettled her.
That feeling built as he guided her through the crowds inside the Kennedy Center, his hand firm on her back. She had to resist the urge to shiver and step away.
They strolled through the Hall of States with its flags soaring overhead as they hung in order of admission to the Union and then through the Grand Foyer, where the view of the river across the terrace was peaceful yet compelling. They wove through those chatting in small groups or flipping through program bills. “Are we on display?”
“It’s always good to be seen.” Jordan nodded to several people as they passed, but didn’t stop at any group.
He pulled two slim tickets from his jacket pocket and handed them to the attendant at the entrance to the Hall of Nations.
The young woman scanned the tickets. “Do you need help finding your box, sir?”
“Not tonight.”
“We’re in a box?”
“Of course. You’re with me.” He took the program the woman offered and then led Emilie to a staircase. A minute later he led her into a box that overlooked the Concert Hall from the back of the stage.
The red cushions contrasted with the gold and warm wood tones. Emilie couldn’t resist leaning over the edge of the box. “I’ve never watched a performance from this side.”
“Yo
u’ll enjoy it.” No question, simply a statement of fact.
CHAPTER 42
The show was a whirl of music, but no audience interaction. Emilie felt off balance as she tried to take cues from Jordan without being obvious. Once the music started he ignored her, and during intermission he disappeared, only to return with two wine flutes. She didn’t know how to tell him she didn’t drink, so she held it without taking a sip. He didn’t seem to notice, yet she had the sense he cataloged everything she did . . . and didn’t do.
As she watched him, something niggled at her mind. There was a detail she was overlooking.
He had a comfort with and knowledge of her she didn’t share of him. She normally remembered people she had interacted with for any length of time. So how had this happened? Had he done intensive research? Even in this high-tech world, who would get a full background on a potential date? Then again, if she had multiple millions of dollars she might do the same.
But she didn’t, and the thought that he had researched her was troubling.
When she shivered in the second movement, he took her shawl and placed it around her shoulders, a finger trailing the length of her arm. She looked at him, taken aback by the intensity in his gaze. It was as if he was hungrily looking for something in her eyes.
The ride back to her town house was quiet, but he kept her firmly at his side, then walked her to the door.
She tried to put space between them, because the thought of a good-night kiss made her feel as uncomfortable as her middle school self. Jordan was handsome, but he didn’t make her feel anything . . . nothing like Reid did. She pulled out her keys. “Thank you for an enjoyable evening.”
“We should do this again.” There was an eagerness to his expression that made her hesitant to refuse outright.
“I don’t know, Jordan.”
“I’ll call you, and we can set a time.”
She stared at him, noting his heightened color.
“We’ll be perfect together.” He leaned closer to her, and her breath caught.
“I’m really busy right now.” She backed into the door and felt for the doorknob. Tested it. Unlocked. She felt a release inside. “Thank you again.”
“Don’t make me mad, Emilie.” The quietness of Jordan’s words brought her up short.
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“Good.” He nodded to her. “Good night.” He pivoted on his heel and marched to his car.
Emilie watched until it pulled away, frozen in place.
Emilie woke up the next morning still feeling troubled. Before she got out of bed she Googled Jordan. He’d attended a local public high school before heading to college and his app success. She adjusted the pillows at her back while she thought about what little she’d learned. She could swear she’d never met him before the fund-raiser at the Haven. And now he was being courted as a top donor with instant access to Rhoda.
Could Jordan somehow be involved in the growing mess of her life? Even if it felt like a stretch, it was an idea she needed to pursue. The fact that the guy seemed very focused on her didn’t mean anything—maybe he did that with every woman he met. He had that accomplished yet stiff air that so many smart men had in relationships. It took one conversation to know he was brilliant . . . and awkward.
And much as she wanted to deny it, she had to admit there was an appeal to his attention.
With all the beautiful women in the city, why would he focus on someone like her who didn’t hit the top ten single women list?
Emilie was barely settled at her desk when Taylor appeared in her doorway, and without so much as a good morning launched into work.
“I’ve been thinking about your e-mail—about Kaylene coming once a week. Social work and counseling see clients more often than we do, but every week seems extreme.” She glanced down at the legal pad in her hand. “What made you ask about once a week?”
“Reid found a recurring note in Kaylene’s calendar. Every Thursday afternoon from four to five the girls had piano lessons in Old Town, and she had a notation for an accompanying appointment at ‘the H.’ He wondered if that could be here, but I didn’t see her anywhere near that often, even when we were actively engaged.”
“It strikes me as too often also, even if she received career counseling. I checked our corporate calendar to see if we were offering a class during that time frame, but I didn’t see anything that applied to Kaylene.”
“That was a good idea.” One she should have thought of. “What about job training?”
“I checked our database, and she received job-hunting and resume-building help, so that could explain some of the entries.”
“Maybe there’s another company or nonprofit she was going to.”
“That won’t be easy to determine.” Taylor held up a phone book. “I’ve gone through this, but with the way the communities in Northern Virginia blend together, it’s not a quick search.”
“Based on time constraints it would have to be close to Old Town, if not right here.”
“Still not easy to find.”
Emilie jotted a note on her own legal pad. “I’ll poke around some, but I agree that we’ll start by assuming she was meeting someone here.” The question remained who. She set down her pen and looked at Taylor. “New topic. What do you know about Jordan Westfall?”
“Other than he’s fabulously wealthy, hot, and a little odd? Not much.”
“Dig into his background for me, would you? Cautiously.” Emilie did not want to send signals to the man that someone was investigating him, though it seemed fair since he’d done the same to her. “He took me out to dinner and a concert at the Kennedy Center last night. I’m not sure what to think about him, but he’s an important donor. He is odd though. Something doesn’t feel right.”
“It never feels right to have a fabulous guy ask you on a date.” Taylor rolled her eyes. “If he asked me, I’d say yes in a New York minute.”
“What does that saying mean anyway? We’re not from New York, so why would we care about a New York minute?”
“I don’t know, but that doesn’t change my answer. There’s no reason to say no.”
“But there isn’t a reason to say yes.” Not all men were created equal, a truth this job highlighted in neon colors. Men like Reid were rare, and he reminded her that she could find a man who treated her like a treasure rather than a possession.
Taylor cleared her throat, and Emilie snapped back to the present.
She needed to shake distractions—like Jordan Westfall. Time was ticking away, and unless she was successful, Kinley would be irrevocably in the custody of her father. The more time that elapsed between the tragic events and a hearing, the more difficult it would be to prove to a judge there were exigent circumstances.
What she was doing wasn’t working. She had pieces of evidence, but not the key piece.
CHAPTER 43
The rest of the day passed in a blur as she finalized the motions she’d read to block Kinley’s departure from the hospital. It seemed every time she hit her stride, Taylor was in her office with another urgent question. The stress showed in her assistant’s hunched shoulders and tight face when she appeared again at five.
“I’m leaving if you don’t need me.”
“I’m good. What are you up to tonight?”
“Going swing dancing with a friend.”
“Sounds like a great way to let go of stress.”
Taylor’s face relaxed from its tense mask. “More than you know. There’s something about knowing I look like a fool out there, but not caring. My friend tells me I’m getting better each time.”
Emilie matched her grin. “I’m sure you are. Maybe I’ll come with you sometime. It sounds fun.”
Once the office was quiet again, Emilie quickly worked through the letters and motions Taylor had prepared throughout the day. If opposing counsel would cooperate instead of delaying until Emilie’s clients gave up, life would be better. Was the best lawyer the one who advocated h
ard for their client? Or could the best lawyer be the one who delayed? She wasn’t sure, but as she watched the stack of letters and motions move from the left-hand side of her desk to the right, she knew half of the pile would evaporate if she had an attorney on the other side who cared to do an efficient job. Still, she managed to get through the urgent matters and get good, clean drafts of the documents she needed for Kinley. She’d touch base with Reid and then sign the filings tomorrow so they could get to court before the hospital released the girl. As much as she’d love to have perfect evidence, she’d have to settle for what they had.
She rolled her neck, feeling the tightness that had settled there. Time to get a massage and release the tension her shoulders held tightly like a scarf.
Since she didn’t have time for that, she’d walk home and use that time when all was bright and crowds were still about to clear her head and find the equilibrium she’d need to finish preparations for filing the emergency guardianship petition in the morning.
When Emilie reached home, she could feel the sweat pooling in the small of her back. Even with tourists throughout Old Town, she’d hurried her pace, eager to get home. It had been a few days since she’d heard from her shadow. Maybe he had disappeared and she didn’t need to look over her shoulder all the time. Still, the walk hadn’t cleared her head as she’d hoped. Guess she’d get Hayden to drive her back to get her car, but first she’d change into something cool and sit on top of the air-conditioner vents. Then she’d have her head examined. Only someone who was incredibly distracted would think a stroll in the humidity would clear her mind.
The blast of air when she entered the town house was the cool dousing she needed. A shiver traveled up her back, and she hurried to the basement. After she set down her bag, she splashed cool water on her face and then patted a damp washcloth around her neck. Water droplets dotted the front of her crimson silk shell, and she froze. The water darkened the already rich blouse until it looked like blood.