A Gentleman's Kiss Romance Collection

by Ginny Aiken

  “I couldn’t choose between defending them or not—it was my job.“

  “It may be your job, but is it what God expects from His own? Does it rise to the level of integrity Jesus exemplified?”

  Jase clenched his jaw. He’d argued that point with himself—and his late father—many times, but he now chose to reiterate reality. “The law requires equal representation and due process for all.”

  “Then that law should be changed.”

  “How would you change it? And how would you decide who deserves legal representation? Only the innocent? Then perhaps you should remember Jesus’ admonition about casting stones.”

  She bit her lower lip. “I can’t judge,” she answered, a troubled expression on her face. “But you, as a Christian, can choose another career or to practice another branch of the law. You don’t have to help criminals escape the consequences of their crimes—their sins. You don’t need to betray the cause of Christ.”

  The memory of heated arguments with his father, of endless nights on his knees in prayer, of interminable wrangling with himself flooded Jase and brought the anguish back. “You’re right,” he said. “I betrayed the cause of Christ. But then I walked away.”

  He walked away again, difficult though it was.

  You’re right.

  Two simple words, yet they bore an impact Rissa didn’t expect. They followed her through the remainder of the reception as she sought but failed to find Jason Easton.

  Evidently, her questions chased him from the event.

  She avoided thinking about it as long as she could. But by the time she stood in her bathroom removing the remnants of mascara from her lashes, she could no longer dodge the queasy feeling that started when he left her.

  Water dripping from her chin, she met her gaze in the mirror. Jase mentioned casting stones. Was she without flaw? Without sin?

  No.

  Her conscience forced her to avert her gaze. She wasn’t sinless, especially in view of her judgmental attitude toward Jase. The Father alone had the right to judge His children.

  She’d put herself in His place.

  If that wasn’t the height of pride, she didn’t know what was. Pride was sin, the log in her eye. No wonder her stomach lurched all evening long. Faith in Christ honed one’s conscience to a fine point.

  She sopped up the mess on the vanity top, finished her ablutions with a light coat of moisturizer, then turned off the light and picked up her Bible on the way to her prize piece of furniture.

  The soft sage green chaise by the window was her one and only brand-new purchase. Its chenille upholstery felt like pure indulgence against her skin, and the down filling molded itself to her body in a comforting embrace. Although new, it didn’t look out of place in a shabby chic room full of antiques and flea market treasures.

  She prayed for guidance from tonight’s passage and opened God’s Word. She found she couldn’t concentrate at all.

  She had to confess her sin, not just acknowledge it to herself. She also had to ask forgiveness, of God, and of Jase. Sliding to her knees by the chaise, she figuratively crawled into her Father’s lap and let her troubles flow from within. She confessed, sought absolution, praised, and worshipped her Master and King.

  And, eventually, acknowledged she had to swallow her pride and seek Jase. The sooner, the better.

  Feeling more at peace, she devoured the Bible passage and spent time meditating on its teaching. Then she went to bed.

  Taking her cue from her mistress, Soraya approached the padded dog bed Rissa kept next to the nightstand, spun tonight’s requisite turns, nosed the rim in various spots, and finally plopped down with a heartfelt sigh.

  Turning off her bedside lamp, Rissa knew how she would approach Jase. Soraya and the newborn pups gave her the reasons she needed—and another chance to see him again. Despite their argument, he appealed to her. Honesty made her admit she wanted to know him better, even though she’d rather deny the fact.

  With a clearer conscience, she dropped off to sleep, her dreams filled with beautiful sleek baby Affies, rolling and tumbling under their mama’s watchful eye.

  Chapter 4

  After church the next day, Rissa retrieved her pet from her condo. Butterflies churned her stomach as she drove to SilkWood, while Soraya, as usual, simply enjoyed the drive.

  “You lucky dog,” Rissa said to the Affie strapped in the front passenger seat of the car with a canine safety harness. “You don’t have a bellyful of trepidation about this visit.”

  Soraya turned loving eyes toward her. At a red light, Rissa reached out and rubbed the silky head. The dog closed her eyes and leaned into her owner’s caress.

  “Yep,” she said, “you’re innocent, Soraya, but I’m not. I have to apologize. Apologies never come easy, but this one promises to be harder than most.”

  The need for honesty made Rissa acknowledge that today’s difficulty came from the height of the fall for which her pride had set her up. “Oh, yes, the bigger we are, the harder we fall.”

  Soraya then yipped her response—she would remain noncommittal.

  Rissa added, “Funny how when one’s at the receiving end of a cliché, it becomes an unfunny truism.”

  The Affie tipped her head, shot her a quizzical look, and added a soft yap.

  “Hey, that’s why you’re lucky. You don’t have to worry about sticking your foot in your mouth. For you, that’s fun. Me? I made a very dumb move.”

  Then Rissa faced the moment of truth. She’d reached SilkWood. As she turned onto the long gravel drive, her pulse raced and the butterflies became dive-bombing buzzards. She stopped at the parking area in front of the office building and opened her door.

  The heavy throb of hip-hop’s bass line buffeted her ears. Soraya’s excited if outraged yowls at her restrained condition set Rissa’s already rattled nerves on edge. She hurried to the passenger-side door and released her hound. With the ease of familiarity, Soraya ran to the kennel run closest to the car. She sniffed up and down its length, stuck her long, slender muzzle in and out of various links in the fence, and barked in exuberant joy.

  The hip-hop beat mercifully stopped at the end of the song.

  Rissa approached the office, a prayer for courage and humility on her lips. She pushed the door inward, shivered at the blast of arctic-conditioned air, and called, “Anyone here?”

  “I am,” Jase answered, “but why are you?”

  Oh, great. He wasn’t going to make this easy. “Umm … I—well, I felt …” She cut short her stammered efforts when she failed to see him. Rissa needed a face by which to gauge the effect of her apology. “Where exactly are you?”

  He sighed. Something scraped across the floor. Then, with obvious reluctance, he rose on the opposite side of the laminate-covered divide. His chiseled jaw jutted and a muscle in one lean cheek twitched. “So you’re the kind who likes to lob attacks eye-to-eye.”

  Rissa winced. “That’s a fair jab, considering my actions last night, but it’s not why I came.”

  He stared, arms crossed over his ratty T-shirt.

  She didn’t blink. “I came because I had to.” A deep breath and another quick prayer gave her courage. “After you left—at least, I assume you did, since I didn’t see you again—I couldn’t forget what I’d said, and believe me, I tried.”

  He arched a brow.

  “By bedtime, my conscience burned hotter than the sun”—Rissa gestured toward the window—”and the Holy Spirit’s convicting worked.”

  The jaw eased by a hint—just a hint.

  She leaned on the counter. “I owe you an apology. I was wrong. I had no right to set myself up as your judge and jury, never mind convicting you. I know only God can do that, but I let pride take over. I put myself in the Father’s place, and … well, we both know that’s sin, plain and simple.”

  His shoulders relaxed a fraction.

  She’d hoped for more, the uncrossing of those arms or a gentler light in his blue eyes. He offered noth
ing more.

  “Last night I asked the Lord’s forgiveness,” she continued, “and now I ask yours. I know I don’t deserve it, but I hope you can forgive me at some point. I’m sorry for what I said and for hanging onto an opinion without even hearing your side.”

  Then his demeanor changed. He exploded out of his internal constraints. He flung his arms to his sides. He looked away. He ran a hand through his dark blond hair. He turned and walked to the desk at the right rear corner of the office. He didn’t say a word.

  Still, Rissa sensed that she’d reached him. “What’s worse,” she added, her voice soft, “I did to you what my family has done to me for years. I boxed you in by my preconceived notion. I expected you to be a sleazy lawyer out to make a buck, and then you sent me and my expectations on a roller coaster ride when you said you were a—”

  “Christians can’t be lawyers?” he asked, spinning to face her again. “Or are they only supposed to follow the law when it’s convenient? God called us to respect the earthly rule under which we live, and last time I looked, in America we live by the rule of law.”

  Rissa bowed her head. “Yes, He did, and if I’d listened to what you tried to say instead of only my judgmental thoughts, I would have heard you. I didn’t want to hear it, just as my family doesn’t want to hear what I have to say about my life and my choices. As wrong as it is for them, it’s equally wrong for me.”

  A shudder racked her. “You said you walked away from the law—”

  “I did walk away. That’s why I’m—”

  “Give me a chance, please.” She dropped her purse on the counter and reached out as though to touch him, but he was too far on the other side of the chasm. “If only I’d given some thought to your actions—which I only did later on—I probably would have seen the truth. You haven’t represented anyone in nearly a year, have you?”

  “No, I’ve—”

  “Wait! Let me finish. You spent a fortune buying out Mrs. Gooden, right?”

  At his nod, she continued. “You can’t litigate while mucking out runs, and I’ve never heard of a lawyer who wears torn jeans and T-shirts to court.”

  He glanced down at himself, groaned, and to her amazement, blushed. “I suppose I could wear my three-piece suit to feed and walk the dogs, but that wouldn’t make much sense. I changed when I got home from church.”

  Rissa gave a tentative chuckle. “I’d judge you a raving lunatic if you hadn’t.”

  He smiled back. “You’d have every reason to.”

  As he rounded the counter and came to her side, Rissa allowed herself a measure of relief. Then she noticed the unusual sparkle in his blue eyes.

  “You weren’t exactly dressed for labor and delivery the other day,” he said. “You reminded me of illustrations of fairylike beauties in old, Victorian storybooks.”

  His words stole her ability to respond. She stared at him, stunned by what he’d said. He’d called her a beauty.

  Her silence seemed to make him bolder. “You look like that again today. This lacy dress you’re wearing looks very old-timey, and your hair …”

  His words died as he reached, paused, then caught the lock of hair resting on her arm. Twirling it around a finger, he reeled himself right up to her, a look of wonder on his face. Rissa’s breath caught in her throat, and his intense eyes snagged her gaze.

  “Beautiful….”

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, the thought of panicking wafted in and out—mostly out, since right then she felt more than thought. The frigid air in the office suddenly turned sultry, weighty. Time paused. Seconds drifted rather than passed. All the while, Jase continued to stare, his face approaching.

  She suspected he hovered just a breath away from kissing her, and she didn’t know how she felt about it. She merely felt the warmth of his nearness, the excitement of his interest, the pull of their attraction, the beginnings of—

  “Hey, Jase—Oops!” Paul careened to a stop in the open doorway.

  Jase and Rissa turned, virtually cheek to cheek.

  “Bummer,” the blushing teen said. “I’m sorry. I just—umm, well, I’ll be seein’ ya! Later, much later.”

  As Paul turned, Jase tore himself from Rissa’s side. “Hold it. What’s up?”

  The teen stopped, but kept his face averted. “Nothing much. We were just with Mahadi and the babies, and her pooch”—he pointed at Rissa—”flipped for the pups. She’s crazy for them. You should see it. But it’s not important, you know.” He sidled along the door he still clutched in one hand. “I’ll be getting back now. You’re cool. Just go back…. Never mind.“

  He ran out as though the Hound of the Baskervilles had set its sights upon him and licked its chops.

  Rissa smiled. Then she chuckled.

  Jase turned and sent her a questioning look.

  She laughed. “It’s—he’s just too funny!”

  A lopsided grin widened Jase’s lips. He ran his hand through his hair, then shook his head. “Kinda killed the mood, didn’t he?”

  Rissa only laughed harder.

  He joined in.

  Moments later, when they both caught their breath, Jase opened the door and gestured for Rissa to precede him outside. “We may as well join them, don’t you think?”

  Stepping into the late afternoon heat, she said, “I’m a dog lover and Affie crazy in particular. I’d love to take a look at that cutie I met the other day.”

  They went to the building of runs, hurried down the center aisle, and met up with four teens, a curious Soraya horning in on the action, an anxious, defensive Mahadi, and her litter of sweet pups.

  “Oh!” Rissa exclaimed, looking at the wriggling infants. “They’re beautiful.” She turned to Jase. “Do you think she’d let me come close? Pick one up?”

  Jase tipped his head, studied the canine family. “I don’t think she’ll mind if you come into her kennel and go right up to them, but you may have trouble touching. She’s a fantastic mother, and she might take a snap since she doesn’t know you.”

  “I was afraid of that,” Rissa said. “It’s disappointing, but I should know better. Soraya’s mother went crazy when I came to visit her and her litter.”

  “Affies are very protective of their pups,” Paul stated with surprising certainty.

  Stepping around him, Rissa placed a hand on his shoulder. “Looks like you’ve learned a thing or two about dogs.”

  The shoulder rose in a shrug as she dropped down to his side. “They’re pretty cool,” he said. “Just watch them play. They roll all over each other, and they don’t even have their eyes open. Yeah, they’re cool.”

  Rissa turned her attention to the “cool” dogs. A soft rumble rolled from the new mother’s throat, warning Rissa away from the infants. Remembering her experience with Soraya’s mother, she sat quietly, not moving, letting the dam get used to her scent. In the meantime, she watched the puppies romp.

  The plump little wigglers wore soft fuzz quite unlike the long, silky hair they would later grow. Mahadi’s litter promised a variety of traditional Affie colors. One sported silvery fuzz, very much like its mother’s. Two were dark, and their coats would probably grow in glossy black or rich brown. Another looked like it would be red, and two had blond fuzz, similar to Soraya’s coloring.

  Rissa heard a sniffle behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw tears on the stocky brown-haired girl’s face. Jase placed a hand on the teen’s shoulder.

  “You okay, Tiff?” he asked.

  Tiffany drew a shuddery breath. “Yeah. It’s just that … well, it’s kind of hard. I can’t forget, you know?”

  Jase placed an arm across her shoulders, and with the ease of familiarity, Tiff turned into his chest. He held the girl as she sobbed, patting her back with a fatherly tenderness that brought a lump to Rissa’s throat. There was just something about Jase….

  When Tiff’s anguish lessened, he said, “You were so sure you were doing the right thing. Do you regret it now?”

  “Yes—
no….” She met his gaze. “No, I don’t regret giving my son away. The O’Malleys really wanted a baby, and they have what mine needs. I don’t, not now.”

  Rissa’s throat burned and tears filled her eyes.

  “But you will someday,” Jase stated.

  “You bet. The next baby I have will have a mother and a father who want it and are ready to really take care of it.” She lifted a shoulder and rubbed her wet cheek. “It’s just that a baby is a baby, dog or human, and a mother feels. I’m really glad you helped me find the O’Malleys. I don’t know if I could have done the right thing if I’d just had to hand him to just any old couple.”

  So Jase had done more than represent crooked rich guys. She was glad she’d apologized—God didn’t convict without reason.

  The slam of the kennel door put an end to the emotional moment. “Well, howdy-dowdy-do there, counselor,” crowed a familiar voice.

  Rissa stood. Wem? Here? She glanced at Jase.

  He said, “I’m surprised to see you, Wem. I meant to call, since I hope to debate some points you made last night, but I never expected to see you so soon.”

  “Ah-ha ha ha!” Wem said. “Even the pretty, red-topped chickadoodledee is here, too.”

  Rissa voiced a weak “Hi.”

  Wem removed his snappy tartan golf tam, grabbed her hand, enveloped her in the aroma of liniment and aftershave, then kissed her fingers. “You’re a better sight and scent and sound than even my dear, sainted great-aunt Gertie’s lively Sunday chicken dinners.”

  Rissa didn’t know whether to run for her life or laugh. She glanced at Jase and recognized the error in that. The mirth in his eyes made chuckles bubble up from her middle. She clamped her lips tight.

  Wem noticed nothing. “I reconfiggered that, having nothing better to do today, I could come and pick your jurisprudicious brain, sonny-boyo.”

  Jase groaned.

  Tiffany giggled.

  The boy named Matt snorted.

  Paul sidled behind Rissa, making for the great outdoors.

  The movement caught Wem’s attention. He looked at Paul, narrowed his gaze, and lost his amiable expression. “You!”