Searching for Someday

by Jennifer Probst

  She tried to force him to kiss her without the words, sliding her tongue between his lips, but he refused entry, pressing gentle, nonsatisfying kisses across her jaw, her cheeks, while his hand lifted the back of her skirt, and his finger slid underneath to trace the wet lace of her underwear. Her clit throbbed for relief, and she twisted for more, knowing one dip of his finger could bring her off to a shattering release.

  He laughed low and dirty, teasing her through the damp material. "Oh, no you don't. I'm not letting you come this time until you beg. Invite me in so I can remind you what you're missing by sending me to another woman."

  Rage and frustration mingled and rushed like a choppy tidal wave through her body. "Fuck you and your games, counselor." He pushed his knee in the center of her pussy and her legs gave out.

  "Oh, I intend to fuck you all right. All day and all night, making you come in so many ways you beg me to stop. But I won't stop, Kate, I'll use my dick and my teeth and my tongue to make you scream."

  The shock of his words ripped a shudder from her weak muscles. She cursed him and hated him but gave him the words. "Kiss me. Put your tongue inside my mouth and kiss me properly."

  "About time."

  He ravaged her mouth, his tongue sweeping and licking and conquering every slick corner. He drank in her essence like a vampire draining her soul, and Kate tilted her neck back and gave him everything he wanted. She surrendered to the dark embrace with no thoughts of holding back, his raw male need a complete aphrodisiac to the empty, lonely corner of her soul. Her fingers dug into his scalp and tore at his hair. He ground her against the wall, into that musty corner, and showed her everything she was lacking and everything he intended to give her.

  Then stepped back.

  Her breath shuddered. A hazy mist of lust clouded her vision. His erection strained the fabric of his pants as he stared at her, jungle eyes wild with desire, a sheen of sweat evident on his forehead.

  She opened her mouth to tell him she made a mistake. That she wanted him, would take the chance, but it was too late.

  "Set me up with Emma for Friday night. Good night, Kate."

  He walked away.

  Kate turned her face to the wall, fighting back tears, and wondered why getting what she wanted was so painful.

  HOURS LATER, CUDDLED UP in her favorite chair, she stared at the television droning with infomercials. Robert snored beside her on his orthopedic mat, his doggy grunts and mild moans confirming some heavy dreams. A restlessness nipped endlessly at her nerves, driving her from her spot to her bookshelf. She couldn't sleep, and needed to get her mind off sex. With Slade.

  Kate grabbed a bunch of books she'd purchased from the secondhand store a few weeks ago and brought them back to her recliner. Maybe she'd do some research for Kinnections. She found many books with kernels of information that helped her clients or gave her a fresh direction to explore potential relationships. She skimmed a few, making mental notes, until an electrical shock jolted her fingertips. Kate jerked back, annoyed, and revealed the purple, fabric-colored book.

  The Book of Spells.

  She remembered discovering it in the stack, and the weird electrical thing had happened before. Strange. It had occurred before only when she met people, never with inanimate objects. A bit wary, she gingerly reached out and opened the cover. A mild tingle traveled up her arm but no pain.

  Kate relaxed and flipped through the book. The few illustrations were beautiful, and only one strange spell was contained within the faded pages. An odd scent of incense and smoke drifted to her nostrils, and she shook with a sudden need she couldn't make sense of. Crap, what if this thing had belonged to a real witch? It held some sort of spooky power. But the spell seemed . . . well . . . pure. Stripped down to the essence of what a woman craved in her lifetime mate. Make a list of all the qualities wanted in a soul mate. Write them down on two pieces of paper. Burn one in a fire and tuck the other under the mattress.

  Kate remembered reading about the power of the written word, the unconscious magic of dreams, and an empty craving squeezed her heart. God, she was so tired of being alone. What would it be like to meet someone who actually believed in love and commitment? A man to grow with in this lifetime and beyond? Someone who saw all of her faults and accepted who she was?

  Kate sniffed and rubbed her eyes. Ridiculous. She was a big baby. Maybe she'd bring the book to Kennedy and see if one of her clients would believe in it. Sometimes a woman needed a placebo to fight for love. If she thought a love spell could work, she'd be more open to opportunities in the dating world. She closed the book, deciding to bring it to Kinnections in the morning, when the idea crystallized before her.

  Complete the spell.

  The voice whispered in her ear, a lilting pleasurable rumble that gave her shivers. She huddled under the crocheted blanket and looked around. Very weird. She didn't believe in that stuff. It would be ridiculous to try a love spell. Right?

  She stared at the book and again the overwhelming urge to follow the instructions burned within. Kate hesitated, listening to Robert's snoring and the urging of the commercial to buy the latest ab equipment to get skinny and turn back the clock.

  Complete the spell.

  Loneliness swamped her. Maybe she needed her own placebo. Maybe if she did this silly spell, she'd believe in something she lost along the way. Her confidence and belief in true love. Somewhere. Someday.

  She moved quickly before she could question her sanity. Kate ripped out two pieces of paper, grabbed a pen, and wrote down all the qualities she dreamed of in a man. Her man. She didn't think, just let the pen scratch across the paper in a fury, tapping into the well of her unconscious. She folded the papers, trudged to the bedroom, and shoved one under her queen-size mattress.

  It took a while to find something that could contain a small fire, but she finally found a small metal bucket under the sink. She grabbed a lighter from the kitchen junk drawer, ripped up some papers, and lit the flame.

  Kate held the list over the fire and shut her eyes. Chanted a few words to Earth Mother. Took a deep breath, cleansing her energy to send it into the universe. And dropped the list into the bucket.

  She watched it shrivel and blacken. When it turned to ashes, she sprayed some water from the sink and doused the flames.

  A looming sense of premonition swamped her, and a shiver raced down her spine. As if she had done something she could never take back, stepped down a side road that would bring her into a new pathway of life, a journey she would never have taken if thinking clearly.

  Kate swallowed and pushed back the fear.

  Silly. There was no such thing as love spells, of course. But maybe by clarifying what she needed, she'd open a portal that had been previously closed.

  Damn, she was taking way too many yoga classes with Arilyn.

  She cleaned up the mess, turned off all the lights, and went to bed.

  ten

  SLADE PUSHED A hand through his hair, straightened his tie, and guzzled a glass of water before his next client. He was exhausted, barely sleeping most nights, and his work schedule exploded with a rash of bad karma. It still amazed him how many wealthy couples never thought of a prenuptial, and how many more spent millions to try and break them.

  He strode to the window and ignored his rumbling stomach. No lunch again. He liked the basic principles of helping others and loved the law. Fitting past cases together to complete a puzzle, the rich history of the American judicial system was something he was fiercely proud of--the cornerstone of equality and justice in rapidly declining institutions such as marriage.

  But divorces were sometimes a real bitch.

  Fog shrouded the skyline of Manhattan today, and the melting snow once blanketing everything in a sheen of white had turned dirty. Clumpy ice balls clogged the sidewalks and roads but didn't slow the frantic pace of the city. He gazed at where the beloved Twin Towers had reigned, a sadness always tingeing his heart at how the city landscape drastically changed after 9/11.
The new memorial downtown held hope, though, and soothed some of the emptiness and grief of New Yorkers.

  Slade finished his water, threw the cup in the waste-basket, and grabbed his notes. His office was fully equipped with a cherrywood desk taking up half the room, bookcases lining the wall, and burgundy matching chairs to inspire clients to tell all. Photos of George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, and the signing of the Declaration of Independence covered the walls and reminded people of justice. The thick burgundy rug was soft under the feet, and the smell of wood, lemon polish, and coffee hung in the air.

  If he got partnership, they'd move him to the penthouse, with floor-to-ceiling windows, a wet bar, and a private bathroom/changing area. Slade thought the extras were nice, but he didn't want the promotion for the perks or even the money. He knew that as a full partner, he'd get to pick more of his own cases and take on a bit more pro bono work. He'd have the power needed to make more important decisions. The rest was all extra.

  "Mr. Montgomery, your one o'clock has arrived."

  He crossed to the desk and hit the intercom. "Send him in, please."

  Slade took a deep breath for calm and to concentrate solely on his client. His schedule was overbooked, but when a friend from law school called to ask him for a favor, Slade never hesitated. Pete Troy came through the doors. Immediately, Slade pegged him as the beta in his relationship. He stooped over, and combed his thinning hair to the side in a desperate attempt to stave off baldness. Reed thin and dressed in jeans, a slightly soiled sweatshirt, and comfortable sneakers, he introduced himself and took a seat. His hands twitched on his lap, and his face was all angular lines, giving him a kind look, yet a bit off-center. His brown eyes filled with intimidation and a bit of fear.

  "Mr. Montgomery, I'm a bit out of sorts. I've never met with a lawyer before, but my friend Trent recommended you and said you could help."

  "Call me Slade. Trent and I go way back to Harvard--he's a good guy. He told me a few things about your case, but I'd like to get a few more details. Everything we talk about is confidential; I'm here to help you."

  Pete relaxed slightly. "My wife wants a divorce."

  Slade nodded, his gold pen poised on the paper. He always preferred writing his own notes longhand rather than on the computer; it gave the meeting more intimacy. "Can you give me the facts leading up to her request for a divorce?"

  He wiped his palms down his jeans and nodded. "She's a CEO of a major supply company, so she's the one who brings in all the money. Her job is really stressful, she does a lot of traveling, and I decided to stay home with the kids."

  "How many children?"

  "Three. My eight-year-old, five-year-old, and two-year-old. Two boys and finally the girl."

  "Nice. Have you stayed home since your first son was born?"

  "No, we had a nanny for the first few years, but I noticed too many problems. He'd complain about her, and finally I installed one of those cameras. Caught her drugging him with cough syrup to keep him quiet. I told my wife one of us had to stay home and agreed it would be me. My job was much less income, and with the savings from daycare, we came out ahead of the game."

  Slade scribbled more notes. "Many families are making those hard decisions. So you remained home when your other two children were born?"

  "Yes. My wife went back to work in four weeks because she was needed at the office. We've been drifting lately, I know we have, but I never realized how bad it was. She began staying later at the office, business trips on weekends. I felt like I was going crazy with no one for company but the kids, like my brain was getting fried. So I packed up the children and decided to surprise her in the Catskills. We rent a cabin there and she was staying to do some business in town."

  Slade knew where the story was going as millions had before Pete's. He watched the man wipe his brow, his mouth curving down in a slight grimace. "I caught her with someone. Thank God, the children were still in the car."

  "What happened?"

  Pete blinked, seeming to concentrate fiercely on the lines in his hands. "Nothing. She didn't stop. She--she stayed with that man, and when she finished she came out and yelled at me. Told me to get the kids home and we'd talk about it on Sunday. You know the worst part? I listened to her. Just like I always do. I don't know how I became this type of person--this complete shell of a man. My wife was screwing another guy and I quietly left to wait for her at home."

  Slade swallowed, his heart squeezing in pain for the man across his desk. He heard countless tales from women, but many fewer men admitted this type of pain. He carefully steered the topic back to the facts, knowing he wasn't a true counselor for grief. "I can't even imagine how painful that was. When she arrived Sunday, what did she say?"

  Pete dragged in a breath. "She wanted a divorce. Told me to move out and that she'd hire a new nanny for the kids. Said I was useless, and she refused to have me taint the children with my unambitious and lazy demeanor."

  "Hmm, interesting. I guess taking care of three children properly is lazy, huh?"

  "To my wife it is." Bitterness leaked like acid through his words. "She's missed every important event of my kids' lives and now she wants them because they're a possession to her. She doesn't want her reputation ruined."

  "What was your response?"

  "I told her never. I will never give up the kids and refused to leave the house, afraid I'd never get back in."

  "Excellent decision."

  "She screamed and yelled and threatened. You see, she has all the money. The accounts are all in her name. I never even thought of it--she pays the bills, gives me an allowance for the kids, and I never need anything else. Now, I don't have a credit card, a job, or money. She closed the main account and moved all the money somewhere. I don't know what to do, Slade. I can't lose my kids."

  His simple plea burned raw in Slade's gut. His fingers gripped the pen in a stranglehold. God, what people who supposedly loved each other do. And the kids were always the casualties in the ultimate battle of selfishness.

  Slade knew there was no way he'd let Pete get bullied. He was the main caretaker and had done what countless mothers had done--put his children first. He'd pull out the big stuff for this case and not rest until he got him full custody. Fathers were still rarely given full custody, but this case could be a turning point. Worse scenario at this point--partial, but with the right tools and contacts, Slade knew he could win.

  "Do you know who her lawyer is?"

  "Bronte Edwards."

  Slade winced. "Super hard-ass, but I've battled her in court many times before. She goes quickly for the jugular, but this is solid. I'm going to petition immediately for you to stay in the house. I'll need papers and proof on previous nannies, and anything you can get your hands on. I'll need to contact your previous employer also."

  "Do we have a shot? I'm a father with no job. Is this even a possibility?"

  Slade stared at the man, his stooped shoulders and tired face the symbols of broken relationships and lost hope. He carefully chose his words. "It's not going to be easy. Most judges still favor the mother, and if she presents a tearful, broken image in court, it may crucify us. I need to warn you, though. It's going to get nasty and hard. It's a marathon, not a sprint, and you'll need to dig deep and fight for those kids like you've never done before. If you commit, I promise to do everything in my power to get you custody. But there are no guarantees."

  Pete hesitated, hung his head. Slade waited, knowing this was key to the case. Too many of his clients couldn't take the long-term emotional abuse and surrendered early. He didn't blame them--many could not care less about what they left behind and just wanted a clean slate.

  "My kids are my life," he said simply. "I'm in."

  Slade worked with him for the next half hour and gave him a list of tasks, some to help focus, some to help in court.

  Pete stuffed his shaking hands into his pockets. "Thank you, I feel much more confident. Umm, I'm so embarrassed, I know about your standard fee, bu
t do you know how much this will take? I don't--don't have anything to give you right now."

  Slade shook his head. "If we win full custody and full alimony, my fee can be paid then. If not, this is pro bono."

  Pete frowned. "I don't understand? You mean free? You don't even know me--why would you do that?"

  Slade grinned. "Because you're a friend of Trent's. Because you're a man who's fighting for his family. Because you've been wronged. And I take a few of these cases on throughout the year, so I don't want you to feel guilty or like I'm doing it out of pity. I just want to make sure your kids are safe."

  Pete gave a jerky nod and turned his head quickly. "Thank you. Thank you."

  "I'll be in touch."

  His client hurried out, leaving him in silence. The buzz of the phone and low murmuring from conversations drifted in the air. A heaviness tightened his chest and constricted his breath. This was going to be a long battle and a ton of money. He'd have to kick in some of his own or his boss would go ape shit. Still, he'd be damned if he let Pete hire an incompetent attorney who only cared about getting his fee. Those children needed him.

  He groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. He craved his recliner, a cold beer, and his DVR. Instead, he had to go out on a date with Emma, a woman who might be perfect for him.

  A woman who wasn't Kate.

  Still, he swore he'd try. If someone else could dig Kate Seymour out from under his skin, he'd be eternally grateful. Stalking her in bars and stealing kisses wasn't his usual style. Of course, he'd never had to chase a woman this hard before either.

  Slade glanced at his watch and went back to work.

  TEN O'CLOCK.

  Kate absently rubbed Robert's head and tried to concentrate on Bridesmaids. She usually laughed her ass off, but the image of Slade on his date kept ruining her concentration. So stupid. She was so stupid.