They would have eventually met—his profession wouldn’t have changed his relationship with Toby. But her aversion to those who earned obscene amounts of money would have compelled her to keep her distance. She doubted she would have given Jonathan more than a passing glance if he’d remained an NBA star.
Ivana mentally chastised herself. She’d vowed to work on her prejudice against the rich after discovering just how many athletes, movie stars, singers and business owners contributed to the work they did in Haiti, many of them without ever making their donations known to the public.
Jonathan would have been one of those celebrities. Years ago, she’d accused him of being a selfish lawyer and nightclub owner, only to discover that he generously gave to numerous causes. That giving nature of his was the reason she found herself in his office today.
“LaKeisha said you could see me now?” Ivana said.
He looked up from whatever he’d been working on, his eyes rounding with surprise, as if he hadn’t been expecting her.
“Yes. I’m sorry, come in.” He shook his head and motioned for her to take a seat. “What can I do for you, Ivana?”
His brisk, businesslike tone was not unexpected. Still, it stung.
“I may have responded a bit too abruptly to your proposal yesterday,” Ivana said as she sat in one of two chairs facing his desk. “After taking some time to think about it, I recognize just how essential the program you’re seeking to put in place is for so many people in this city.” She folded her hands on her crossed knee. “If the offer still stands, I’d like to take you up on it.”
Jonathan sat back in his chair. He tapped the fountain pen he held against his palm. “Are you sure about that?”
She nodded. “I am.”
“What brought about this one-eighty? Just yesterday you said it wasn’t a good idea.”
“It’s not that the idea isn’t good—”
“No, it’s just the idea of working with me that you don’t like. That’s it, isn’t it?” He huffed out a humorless laugh, tossing the pen on the desk and leaning forward. “Is that your problem, Ivana? Working with me?”
“Well, yes. No. Goodness, Jonathan.” She shook her head. “I assumed you would have a problem working with me. You’ve made your feelings known. I didn’t want to cause any further harm than I have already by coming back here.”
He started to speak then stopped, his jaw tight with what she could only assume was anger.
“Why don’t you let me decide what I can or can’t handle when it comes to you being back,” he said.
As much as she’d prepared herself for his ire, being on the receiving end of it cut through her like a sword.
“I don’t know what it is you want from me, Jonathan.”
“I told you what I wanted from you yesterday. Your response was to tell me that it wasn’t a good idea.”
There was no getting through to him. That was more than obvious. Ivana braced her hands on the chair’s spindly arms, preparing to stand. But then she stopped.
If she walked out of here right now, that would be the end of it, the proverbial nail in the coffin of any involvement she could ever hope to have with him. There would be no chance to regain some semblance of a friendship. She wasn’t ready to close that door just yet.
“Jonathan, you have every right to be angry. I tried to apologize for what I did, because that’s all I can do at this point.” She lifted her shoulders in a hapless shrug. “If you want to go the rest of your life hating me, there’s nothing I can do about that. No one would blame you for feeling the way you do, least of all me,” she said, despising the way her voice cracked.
She should stop. The futility in trying to reach past his anger was evident. But now that she held this captive audience of one, she wanted to say everything that needed to be said.
And then, if he asked, she would walk out of here and never return.
“I was wrong to leave the way I did three years ago,” Ivana said. “I regret it more than I can possibly describe. When I decided to return to New Orleans, it was with the hope that I could earn your forgiveness, even though I have no right to it.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. She’d never seen him so angry, and this was after three years. She didn’t want to imagine the rage he must have felt in the days just after she left for Haiti.
“I have no right to your forgiveness,” Ivana repeated. “If it would make you feel better to tell me each and every day how much you hate me, then do it. You would be justified. If you want to flaunt your women in my face—” She paused. Swallowed. “That’s fine, too. Go right ahead. It’s nothing less than I deserve.”
She sat up in her chair, straightening her spine. “But it doesn’t change the fact that what you’re proposing to do with this new program is important and necessary for thousands living in this city, and I would like the chance to help you build it. I’ll learn how to deal with the…with the rest.”
Her words hung in the air, a dense weight on her skin. Jonathan continued to stare at her with eyes so intense Ivana could feel herself shrinking under the scrutiny.
“I don’t hate you, Ivana.” The words were spoken so softly she barely heard them. “I don’t—” He shook his head, his gaze now bouncing from one object to another. Anywhere but at her. “I don’t want to feel anything when it comes to you.”
He didn’t want to feel anything when it came to her? Did that mean that he felt something?
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him to clarify his words, but Ivana doggedly fought it. If his answer wasn’t what she wanted to hear, it would hurt worse than not knowing. She’d endured enough emotional turmoil for the day.
“What about the position?” she asked instead. “Is it still open?”
It had been less than twenty-four hours since he’d first approached her with his idea. She doubted he’d found someone else for the job that quickly.
But he remained silent. Was he wondering whether or not it was worth it to have her around? What if he couldn’t find anyone else for the job? Would he just abandon it? The thought of him deciding not to pursue something she could tell meant so much to him simply because he couldn’t stomach having her around made Ivana physically ill.
“I’ll ask LaKeisha to get the office down the hall ready for you,” he finally said, jiggling the computer mouse and directing his attention to the monitor on his desk. “It’s where I plan to place our new associate, but we won’t be hiring anyone in that position for another few months.” He looked at her, one brow cocked. “You’ll be back in Haiti by then.”
Ivana managed not to flinch at the hint of accusation that laced his statement.
“Do you have a framework for the program you’d like to set up?” she asked.
He clicked the mouse several times more, then once again reclined in his chair. “You’ll have full reign here. Go wherever the research takes you.”
His phone buzzed and LaKeisha’s voice came through the line. “Your two o’clock is here.”
“I guess that’s my cue to leave,” Ivana said.
She stood. So did he.
Jonathan rounded his desk, but he didn’t make any move to touch her. He simply waited while she gathered her purse, then he walked with her to the door and out of his office.
He spoke to LaKeisha. “Ms. Culpepper will be doing some contract work starting…” He looked to Ivana. “Is tomorrow too soon?”
She shook her head. “No. That’s fine.”
“Starting tomorrow,” Jonathan said.
With that, he turned to greet his two o’clock appointment. The handsome, astutely dressed South Asian man wearing a Sikh turban nodded at Ivana before shaking Jonathan’s hand and following him into his office.
She stared at the closed door, wondering if she’d made a grave mistake in offering to work here. She jumped when LaKeisha cleared her throat.
“Will you need anything specific for this job I had no idea even existed at Campbell & Holmes?”
“Just a computer and supplies for taking notes,” Ivana said. “I’ll bring whatever else I need.”
LaKeisha nodded. “It will be ready tomorrow.” She returned her attention to her computer monitor.
She’d been dismissed.
Swallowing past the ache in her throat, Ivana shouldered her crocheted hobo bag and left.
Chapter Seven
Jonathan flipped through the pages of the leather-bound tome he’d taken from the built-in bookcase behind his desk, his frustration growing as he continued to come up empty-handed. He clearly remembered making notes in the margins of a law book that dealt specifically with the state’s Usufruct and Right of Habitation law. He needed to find those damn notes.
He pulled another off the shelf and paged through it, but then stopped and shut the book. The usufruct law wouldn’t be in any of these. It fell under the Napoleonic Code, which was unique to Louisiana’s civil law.
“Shit,” he whispered as he slid the book back into place, rested his folded hands on the shelf and leaned his forehead against them.
All of the books on the Napoleonic Code were kept in their small library, which meant he would have to leave this office in order to search for it. Which meant he would possibly see her.
It was a damn shame that a grown-ass man would sequester himself in his own office to avoid running into a woman he’d asked to work here, but that’s exactly what he’d done for much of this week. What in the hell had he been thinking? Inviting Ivana to work at Campbell & Holmes was like a diabetic purposely choosing to work in a bakery. Nothing good could come from all that temptation.
He was disappointed in himself—disappointed and frustrated. And surprised. He’d spent the past three years building up a thick crust around his heart, yet after just one week of being near her every day, Jonathan found himself on the precipice of tumbling right back in love with her.
No. No, he wasn’t. There was absolutely zero chance of him doing anything that even remotely resembled falling back in love with Ivana Culpepper.
So why was he holed up in this office, afraid to walk around his own damn law practice?
He pushed away from the bookcase and attempted to bring the butterflies in his stomach under control as he strode toward the door. Butterflies. The woman had butterflies floating around his stomach.
The moment Jonathan stepped into the hallway, he heard her musical laugh drifting from the kitchen/break room. He shut his eyes tight, fighting off the wave of longing that threatened to pummel him. God, how was he supposed to function with her here?
She’d already charmed her way back into LaKeisha’s good graces. The two had taken their lunch break together yesterday, sharing a platter of hummus with all the fixings from his receptionist’s favorite lunch spot while talking about some British TV show they were both binge-watching. Jonathan had wanted to make a crack about misplaced loyalties, but this wasn’t about him versus Ivana. He was the reason she was here. How could he be upset that she was getting along with the staff?
The whiff of whatever spicy deliciousness they were having for lunch reminded him that he still hadn’t eaten.
He’d turned down two invitations to lunch this week, the most recent just a few hours ago. Marlee Jacobs, a former public defender he’d dated last year, had asked him to join her at Maspero’s for a goodbye lunch before she left for a new position in Birmingham. Jonathan didn’t want to look too deeply into the reasons why he’d turned her down.
As if you don’t know.
He knew exactly why he’d fed Marlee the lame excuse of having too much on his plate and needing to work through lunch. When he considered sitting in a restaurant with another woman across from him, all he could think about was the vulnerable, forlorn look he saw in Ivana’s eyes every time he caught her staring at him the night she came to The Hard Court.
Her hurt feelings were no longer his concern. Yet, Jonathan realized that he just couldn’t do it. He could not knowingly cause her pain, no matter how much pain she’d caused him.
For reasons he couldn’t explain, Jonathan walked past their office library and into the employee break room. What happened to avoiding her?
“There you are,” LaKeisha greeted. “I was wondering if you were ever going to come up for air. Are you still working on that case between those two brothers?” She looked over at Ivana. “Two filthy rich brothers out in Ascension Parish are fighting over land that doesn’t belong to either one of them. It’s a mess.”
“The problem is, they both have a leg to stand on because of an obscure Louisiana law,” Jonathan said.
“I believe Nicolas left the information you asked him to research on his desk. I’ll get it after I’m done with my lunch,” LaKeisha said. She gestured to her bowl. “You should try some of this. Ivana made it. I’ve never had true Haitian food before and I think I’m in love. It’s called mayi…what?”
“Mayi Moulen Kole ak Legim,” Ivana said, the words rolling off her tongue like a song.
“Yeah, what she said. It’s some kind of stew with beans and cornmeal that has me ready to turn vegetarian.”
The antique doorbell at the front entrance chimed, followed by the “smart” doorbell’s computerized voice alerting them to a visitor at the door.
“Let me get that. It’s probably the courier dropping off the package from D’Amico and Associates,” LaKeisha said.
“I can—” Jonathan said, but she’d already rushed out of the break room. She’d always been too damn efficient.
And just like that, he found himself alone with Ivana for the first time this week.
Needing to occupy his hands, Jonathan walked over to the coffee machine and popped in a pod. As he waited for the machine to brew the coffee he didn’t even feel like drinking, he rested his backside against the counter and decided to behave like a normal human being who was capable of making small talk with another human being.
“How is the work going so far?” he asked.
She dabbed at the edges of her mouth with her paper napkin before speaking.
“Good.” She nodded. “At least I think it’s good so far. I’ve been researching what some of the organizations in other states are doing. No use in us reinventing the wheel, right?”
Her use of the word “us” nearly killed him. Now that she was working at Campbell & Holmes, they were an “us” in a way, but not in the way he’d always pictured. That us consisted of the two of them as husband and wife. As mother and father to the children they created together. As soulmates.
He blocked the images from his mind as he focused on her words. She shared her current approach to developing the program he’d hired her to create, explaining how she’d spent the week delving into the various ways in which New Orleans’s immigrant population was not being served.
“I came up with a prioritized list based on matters of importance. Nicolas agrees that the issues I plan to tackle first are the most urgent,” she said. “He is fully onboard.”
The only thing that surpassed Nicolas’s gratitude when Jonathan told him about the program, was the young law student’s enthusiasm to work with Ivana on building it. Not that Jonathan could blame him. Even now, as he observed her passionate, detailed explanation about some organization she’d run across while researching, Jonathan couldn’t help but smile. Her eyes lit up with excitement.
“What?” she asked, her bemused tone communicating her confusion.
“Nothing.” He shook his head. “It’s just…look at you. All it takes is a worthy cause, and you’re right there, ready to take it on.” He sobered as poignant memories assailed him, reminding him of why he’d fallen so hard for her the first time. �
�Never change, Ivana. The world needs more people like you in it.”
That guarded, almost fragile look entered her eyes, as if she wasn’t sure how to process his simple compliment.
“Thank you,” she answered after a few moments, her smile both sweet and demure, and—God, help him—sexier than it had a right to be.
Myriad emotions reverberated throughout his being as he studied her features, but the one that struck the deepest chord was the longing that grabbed hold of him.
He felt it happening. He could feel himself falling for her again.
No. He would not allow her to climb so easily back into his heart after the way she’d broken it so completely three years ago.
Clearing his throat, Jonathan pushed away from the counter and dumped the full mug of coffee in the sink.
“I need to get back to work,” he said.
“Yes. Yes, of course,” she said, blinking several times as if startled. She covered the container of leftover soup with a plastic lid and stood. “Would you like to see what I’ve put together so far?”
“That isn’t necessary.”
The words rushed forth before he had the chance to consider how they would sound to Ivana’s ears. Shit, he didn’t want her to think he had no interest in the project now that he’d handed it off to her.
“You can send it in an email,” he added, tempering his tone. “I’ll look it over when I have some free time.”
She paused, then after a brief nod, said, “You’ll have a summary by the afternoon.” There was a hint of austerity to her voice that hadn’t been there a minute ago.
He should probably say something. Maybe apologize for his harshness?
Or maybe he should just stick to his original plan and try to avoid these awkward encounters with her altogether.
Jonathan headed for the door, but stopped when Ivana called his name. He counted to three before turning to face her.
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