Let's Make It Legal

by Patricia Kay

  “Hello, John,” she said.

  “Hi. Are you busy?”

  “Not too busy to talk to you.”

  “Have things settled down since yesterday?”

  “Yes, thank goodness. I don’t think I’d like being a celebrity. Being hounded by reporters isn’t much fun.”

  “Good for business, though.”

  “Yes.” She thought about Francis Folger and his edict concerning the Geneva show.

  “Did you have a good time last night?”

  “It was nice.” I wish I’d been with you, instead.

  “Good. Now that the trial’s over, do you think you might have some free time this weekend?”

  Sydney smiled happily. “I’ve got a lot of free time this weekend.”

  “Good,” he said again. “Do you like to dance?”

  “Well...”

  “Well what?”

  “I like the idea of dancing, but I’m not a very good dancer.”

  “Is that your opinion, or did someone tell you that?”

  “I didn’t need anyone to tell me what is painfully obvious.”

  “Maybe you just need the right partner.”

  “Maybe I do.”

  “What about me?” His voice was light and teasing.

  “What about you?” she countered, grinning.

  “Do I fill the bill?”

  She waited a couple of seconds before saying, “I think you probably fill the bill perfectly.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  * * *

  John decided that dancing with Sydney was as close to being perfect as anything could be. Contrary to what she’d told him, she wasn’t a bad dancer. In fact, he thought she was pretty good.

  He had brought her to a favorite spot—a small Village club he and Andrea had frequented. The club featured a live band on Friday and Saturday nights. The band played mostly popular ballads from the forties, with a few more contemporary pieces interspersed throughout the evening.

  He had wondered about bringing Sydney somewhere that held so many memories, but found it was okay. He didn’t feel sad at all. The realization was bittersweet. Some part of him didn’t want to let go of his past, even as the other part of him was reaching toward the future.

  “This is nice,” Sydney said, as they did a slow foxtrot.

  “The club? Or dancing with me?” John pulled her closer and breathed in the jasmine scent she wore.

  “Both.”

  He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of her body moving against his. After a moment, he murmured in her ear, “When we get back to your place, it’ll be even nicer.”

  “Is that a promise?” There was a funny little catch in her voice.

  “It’s definitely a promise.”

  For the rest of the evening, making love to Sydney was all John could think about. And he knew she felt the same way. Each time he looked into her eyes, he saw the awareness and the expectation. Finally, he said, “Let’s go home.”

  “Yes,” she said.

  He drove too fast because he couldn’t wait.

  When they reached her condo, they barely made it inside the door before John hauled her into his arms and began kissing her greedily.

  They undressed each other standing right there, and their lovemaking grew so frenzied they didn’t make it to the bed before John was driving into her, listening to her moans and cries, which only fueled his desire.

  When Sydney’s body contracted around him, John exploded. He held her tightly, her legs locked around him, as pleasure assaulted him.

  Afterward, while their breathing slowed and their bodies cooled, he held her close. He could feel her heart beating against his, and he stroked her slowly. He kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry I was so rough with you,” he whispered.

  Her hands tightened around him and she buried her face against his neck. Her warm breath feathered him as she said, “You weren’t rough.”

  “I wasn’t exactly gentle.”

  “We were in a hurry.”

  He chuckled. “Yes, I guess you could say that.” He gently disentangled her, then propped himself up on one arm so he could look at her. Her eyes gleamed in the moonlight, and her skin looked like porcelain. He traced the curve of her jaw with his forefinger, then slowly trailed it down to her collarbone. “Let’s go slow this time, okay?”

  “This time?” she said, her voice husky.

  He smiled, his hand closing over her breast. As he gently rubbed his thumb over the peak, he felt her quick intake of breath as it hardened into a tight little nub. “If you don’t want to,” he murmured, “just say the word. I’ll stop.”

  She reached up and pulled his head down to meet her mouth. “If you do, I’ll kill you,” she whispered, and then they stopped talking entirely.

  Much later, after Sydney had fallen asleep in his arms, John lay there and wondered what was going to happen to them. Making love to Sydney tonight, especially the second time, when it had been slower and he had been intent on giving her pleasure, had made him realize that he’d been lying to himself.

  Not only would it not be easy to walk away from her when the time came to call it quits.

  It would be one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do.

  Chapter Nine

  Since his children were away, John stayed the night, and the next morning they decided to drive to Galveston for the day, something Sydney hadn’t done in years.

  She wondered if she should call her parents and tell them she would not be coming by for dinner. She decided not to. After all, it wasn’t as if she had to be there. If she didn’t show up, they would assume she was working. She ignored the twinge of guilt as she pictured her father’s disappointment. He was probably looking forward to hearing what was next on her agenda.

  I don’t care. For once, I’m going to do exactly what I want to do.

  “Do you think it’ll be cold?” she asked John, putting her family out of her mind.

  “Yes. I’d wear something warm,” he called from the patio. “It’s windy, and it’s bound to be even windier on the beach.”

  Sydney put on a favorite blue warm-up suit and her Reeboks.

  Then they drove to John’s house so he could change into casual clothes, too. Sydney went inside with him.

  “Would you like to see the rest of the house?” he asked after he’d checked his office messages.

  “I’d love to.”

  But once they were upstairs, and Sydney saw all the homey touches, all the evidence that a woman had lovingly chosen the furnishings and decorations, she was almost sorry she’d come up. And when he showed her his living room, the first thing she noticed was the silver-framed portrait sitting on top of a small cherrywood table. A laughing, redheaded woman with clear green eyes looked out from the frame.

  Sydney knew the woman was Andrea.

  John followed her gaze. Sydney watched as his face changed and softened. “My wife,” he said.

  Sydney nodded. “She was lovely.”

  “Yes.” His gaze didn’t meet Sydney’s.

  She swallowed. What was he thinking? Was he still in love with Andrea? Would he always be in love with her? Was he comparing Sydney to her?

  Sydney knew in any comparison, she would probably come up short. How could she help it?

  She could hear her father’s oft-repeated assertion: Sydney, you should have been a man, and that old taunt from that old boyfriend, Sydney, you’re boring and one-dimensional.

  Was John thinking about how inadequate Sydney was? Wishing Andrea was here with him, instead? Suddenly, even their lovemaking seemed suspect. Was he just using her because he needed sexual gratification? All these thoughts, and dozens of others, whirled through her mind.

  “Sydney.”

  She slowly looked up.

  His dark gaze was thoughtful. “Come here.”

  Unable to resist his lure, she walked toward him. He opened his arms, cradled her head against his chest and stroked her hair.

&n
bsp; “Andrea will always be a part of me,” he said. “She was the mother of my children. And I loved her very much.”

  “I know.” That was the trouble. She did know.

  “But she’s dead. And I’m finally getting over it, and a lot of that’s due to you.”

  Sydney’s heart beat faster.

  He lifted her head and kissed her—a long, lingering kiss that set her pulse racing. Then he smiled and said, “Feel better?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. Now, if we’re going to get to Galveston and back before the kids return, we’d better get started.”

  That evening, after a wonderful, lazy day of walking the beach, window-shopping on The Strand and eating fresh seafood at Gaido’s, they headed home. As they drove north on the Gulf Freeway, Sydney said, “I’ve been meaning to tell you—I’m flying to Chicago tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Oh? New case or something?”

  “No, I, uh... I’m going to appear on the Geneva Ward Show.”

  She could see the surprise on his face. “You are? Because of the Montgomery case?”

  “Yes. Stupid, isn’t it?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just that this thing has turned into a three-ring circus. I hate the idea of being on the show.”

  “If you hate it so much, then why are you doing it?”

  “It’s a command performance,” she said, grimacing.

  “Whose command?”

  “Francis K. Folger, the fearless leader of Folger & Hubbard.”

  “I can see why he’d want you to do it. It’s quite a coup.” There was an undercurrent to his voice that gave Sydney a funny twinge. “When will the show air?” he continued. “Tuesday?”

  “No. It’ll be taped Tuesday morning and shown Wednesday. I think it comes on at four in Houston.” When he said nothing, she added, “Will you watch?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  Somehow, his answer wasn’t satisfying, but she couldn’t have said why. She only knew she felt uneasy, and she wished she’d never brought up the subject.

  * * *

  John brought the nine-inch TV set he kept in his bedroom down to his office. At four o’clock Wednesday, he shut his office door and turned on the Geneva show.

  The opening music was just fading.

  “Last week,” Geneva said, “a little girl in Houston, Texas, was granted a divorce from her mother. This case has stirred up a lot of controversy all over the country. Many people are frightened by this decision, feeling that, on a whim, their children could decide to divorce them.”

  She explained some of the details of the case, then went on to introduce all of her guests: Kara, the McKinseys, Sydney and two psychologists. Sydney had explained to John that Shanna Montgomery would appear via a remote camera—the only condition under which the McKinseys would permit Kara to be on the show.

  John had mixed feelings about Sydney’s appearance today. Part of him was proud of her and knew that an appearance such as this one was going to do big things for her career. The other part of him wondered what the hell he was doing getting tangled up with someone like her—a woman whose career path and future life-style was going to be completely opposite to the kind of life he had chosen for himself.

  Even so, he was filled with admiration as he watched her. Sydney fielded questions from Geneva and then from the audience with aplomb, her replies logical and succinct. She seemed completely self-possessed and confident. Sometimes it was hard for John to reconcile this professional persona of hers to her personal, much more insecure self.

  “How do you answer those critics who say what you did in the courtroom is going to set a disturbing precedent, one parents are right to be wary of?” Geneva asked Sydney.

  “I say as long as parents accord their children respect, they have nothing to worry about,” Sydney countered. “Perhaps those parents who consider their children possessions are right to be wary. Their children may not ever go to the extreme lengths forced upon Kara, but they may cut their parents from their lives, nevertheless.”

  One of the psychologists interrupted. “I think Miss Wells has made an important point,” he said. “When a child feels a lack of respect from his parent, he often distances that parent from his life when he becomes an adult.”

  He then turned to Sydney and asked her another question.

  Just as Sydney began to answer, there was a knock on John’s office door.

  “John?” The door opened, and Janet walked in. “John, Kate MacAllister just called—” She stopped and stared at the screen. “Isn’t that Sydney Wells?”

  John nodded. “Yes.”

  “Is that the Geneva show?” Janet’s voice had taken on a note of incredulity.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What’s she doing there?”

  “She was invited to appear because of the decision in the Montgomery case.”

  Janet gave him a blank look.

  “Don’t you ever read the newspaper?” John asked.

  Janet shrugged. “I hate to read depressing things. You know that.” She sat on the comer of his desk and watched for a while. Then, heaving a sigh, she stood and said, “Listen, about Kate Mac—”

  “Can it wait, Jan? I’d like to hear the rest of this.”

  Janet frowned. “This is important, John.”

  “This is important, too.”

  Janet didn’t answer for a few seconds, then, in a tight, disapproving voice, said, “You’re seeing a lot of her, aren’t you?”

  John stiffened and told himself not to lose his temper. “Yes, I am,” he said evenly, continuing to watch the show. Maybe she’d take the hint and leave his office. When long moments passed, and she didn’t, he looked at her. “What’s wrong?” He’d hoped to avoid another pointless discussion, but he could see his sister wouldn’t be satisfied until she’d said her piece.

  “She’s what’s wrong,” Janet said, pointing to the screen.

  “And just what do you mean by that crack?”

  “Oh, come on, John. You know what I mean. She’s all wrong for you.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” John said. He willed her to leave the office. Drop the subject. He didn’t want to discuss Sydney, and he was getting damned sick and tired of Janet’s unsolicited advice.

  What was wrong with her, anyway? She never used to be so bossy and interfering. In fact, they’d had a terrific relationship while Andrea was alive. But the minute John found himself a widower, Janet had seemed to feel as if it was her job to take care of him. She’d acted—still acted—as if he were incapable of making his own decisions.

  “I don’t understand you,” she said. “What is it about that woman? Is it sex? Is that what—”

  John stood abruptly, slamming his hand down on his desk. “Dammit, Janet! That’s enough!”

  “I-I’m sorry,” Janet said, eyes wide as she backed away. “I didn’t mean—”

  “I know damn well what you meant,” John said through gritted teeth. “Get this through your head. I don’t have to explain to you or to anyone else why, when or how much I’m seeing Sydney. It’s nobody’s business but mine.” He glared at his sister, his anger like an erupting volcano, impossible to stop now that it had started. “You know what your problem is? You need a few kids to worry about. Then you wouldn’t have time to try to run my life.”

  Janet bit her bottom lip, and her hazel eyes filled with tears. “John...” She swallowed, her throat working. “I didn’t mean... I only meant...”

  “Oh, God,” he said, bowing his head in frustration. He felt like a heel, especially after that crack about her needing kids. She and Mike had been trying to have kids for years. It was the big disappointment in their lives that they’d had no success. John ran his hands through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. But you crossed the line and—”

  “I know,” she said, and he could see how hard she was trying not to cry. “You’re right. It�
�s none of my business. I just, well, I just care about you, and I hate to see you getting so involved with someone like her.”

  “Jan...”

  “I know I’m the one who kept telling you to go out more, to start to date again,” Janet persisted, her eyes beseeching him to understand. “But not with someone like her. You need someone who wants to be a stay-at-home wife and mother, who will be a help to you and the children.”

  “Look, I don’t want to argue with you. I think it’s best if we drop the subject, otherwise we’re both going to say things we’ll be sorry for later.” John sat down again and turned his face toward the TV set. He ignored his sister.

  A few seconds later, he heard her leave. When the door shut behind her, he sat there staring at the screen, but he was no longer listening or seeing anything except a replay of his argument with Janet.

  He sat there for a long time. Long after Geneva was over. He only stirred when Emily knocked on the door and said, “Daddy, aren’t you coming upstairs?”

  He looked at the clock. It was five-thirty. “I’ll be up in a few minutes, honey. Did you finish your homework?”

  “Yes. I’ve been finished for hours.” Emily always sounded like a prim little schoolteacher with her precise diction.

  “What about your brother? Is he finished?”

  Emily shrugged. “I guess so. He said he was done.”

  After she left, John shut off the TV. He closed the ledger he’d been working in before the Geneva show started. He felt depressed. He wondered if his depression was entirely due to his anger over Janet’s interference.

  Or could it just possibly have something to do with the fact that Janet had only said the things he’d been thinking all along?

  Maybe he should break it off with Sydney. Wouldn’t it be easier on everyone if they called it quits now, before things got too complicated, before they began to care too much?

  Yet the thought of the lonely existence he’d led before Sydney had come into his life was intolerable. He couldn’t go back to that.

  He just couldn’t give her up.

  Not yet.

  * * *

  Because Sydney had a college friend living in the Chicago area, she stayed over after the taping on Tuesday and spent the evening and following morning with Ann. On Wednesday afternoon, Ann took her to the airport and Sydney boarded a plane to Houston. The two-hour flight gave her a lot of time to think. About John, and about her life and where it was going.