The Way Home

by Irene Hannon

  “Then maybe we should cancel tonight. Because between the two of us, I guarantee we’re going to attract attention.”

  He frowned. “Well, I have an idea, although it’s not much of a date for five hundred dollars,” he said slowly.

  “What?”

  “Let’s have dinner here.”

  She stared at him. “Are you serious?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Amy hesitated, then shrugged. “Okay.” She took a quick mental inventory of her freezer. “I think I have a couple of frozen microwave dinners. And I might have a—”

  “Whoa!” He held up his hands. “I wasn’t asking you to supply the food.”

  She frowned. “Then what did you have in mind? Pizza?”

  He grinned. “Hardly. Will you trust me on this?”

  She shrugged. “Why not? Nothing else tonight has turned out the way I expected.”

  “Look at the bright side. The evening has to get better, because it can’t get any worse.”

  Amy had to admit that he was being an awfully good sport about the whole thing, and she smiled in return. “Too true.”

  “I’ll just need to use your phone again.”

  “Okay. I’ll set the table.”

  “We’ll salvage this evening yet,” he promised with an engaging grin as he reached for the phone.

  As Amy got out plates and silverware, she glanced once or twice toward Cal. He was mostly turned away from her, but she caught a glimpse of his strong profile now and then. He wasn’t exactly handsome in the classic sense, but there was something about his face, some compelling quality—call it “character” for lack of a better term—that touched her. It was odd, really. In an evening full of surprises, this was the most surprising of all—the discovery that she was actually starting to like Cal Richards. It didn’t make any sense, of course. She was still convinced they were polar opposites in many ways, not to mention at odds professionally. Nevertheless she had a strange feeling that somewhere deep inside, at some core level, they were more alike than either had suspected. It was an intriguing, unsettling and surprising thought.

  But the surprises for the evening weren’t over yet, it seemed. When she returned to the living room, Cal had put on one of her favorite jazz CDs.

  “I like your taste in music,” he commented.

  “Thanks.”

  “Dinner will be here shortly.”

  “Can I ask what we’re having?”

  He grinned. “I think I’ll surprise you.”

  She tilted her head, a small smile lifting her lips. “I like surprises.”

  “Really? I’ll have to remember that.”

  She started to say “Why?” then caught herself. It was just a meaningless remark. After tonight, the only time their paths would cross would be in the courtroom, she reminded herself, surprised at the sudden slump in her spirits. She forced herself to focus on the present, reminding herself she had a job to do tonight. That was what this evening was all about after all. With an effort she smiled. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “That would be great.”

  “Would you like a soft drink, or something stronger?”

  “Do you have any wine?”

  Amy bit her lip. She was pretty sure she had some wine left from a gathering she’d had at Christmas-time. “I think so.”

  “It’s not something I indulge in often, but I could use a glass tonight.”

  Amy returned to the kitchen and rummaged around in the refrigerator, triumphantly withdrawing a bottle of merlot. She had just enough for two glasses, which she carried back to the living room, handing one to Cal.

  He waited until she was seated, then lifted his glass. “May the rest of the evening be better,” he said.

  She raised her glass. “I’ll second that.”

  Amy wasn’t sure if it was the toast or the wine or just the fact that they both seemed to let their guard down, but from that moment on, the evening took a decided turn for the better.

  By the time they’d finished their wine, dinner arrived, and it was like no “carryout” Amy had ever seen. It came via courier—two gourmet dinners from one of the city’s finest restaurants, on china plates inside domed food warmers, complete with salad and a chocolate dessert to die for.

  Amy could only stare in awe as Cal arranged the food on the table, shaking her head in wonder the whole time. “Well, if you can’t go to the restaurant, bring the restaurant to you,” she murmured finally. “I’m impressed. You must have good connections to get this kind of treatment. I didn’t think ‘carryout’ was even in their vocabulary.”

  Cal shrugged. “The owner and I go way back. Trust me. I’ll owe him for this,” he said over his shoulder with a grin. Then he stepped back and surveyed the table. “Now, all we need is a little candlelight, and we can pretend we’re actually at the restaurant.”

  “That I can supply.”

  As they leisurely made their way through the dinner, Amy realized that she was truly enjoying herself. Cal was a good conversationalist, moving with ease from topic to topic, displaying an impressive knowledge and insight on everything from world events to Broadway musicals. The more they talked, the more she realized how much they had in common. Their tastes in art and music were similar, and they were surprisingly in sync politically. It wasn’t until they started talking about more personal things, especially their careers, that their differences emerged.

  “So tell me why you went into broadcast news,” he said as they sipped their coffee and dug into the rich dessert.

  Amy cupped her chin in her hand. “For the glamour. And the excitement. Not to mention it pays well,” she said with a grin.

  “Is money that important?”

  “It is when you don’t have it.”

  “So I take it you don’t come from a wealthy background.”

  She made a face. “Hardly. I grew up on a farm in Ohio. We weren’t poor, but there was never any money to spare. It never bothered my sister, Kate. She was perfectly content with that life and had no desire to leave the farm. I, on the other hand, was drawn to the lights of the big city. I figured there was more to life than cows and plows, and I was determined to find it.”

  “Have you?”

  She looked surprised. “Sure. I mean, this—” her arm swept the room, with its panoramic view of the city lights “—is what I’ve always wanted.”

  “And you’ve never looked back? Never questioned your decision?”

  Amy shifted uncomfortably under his suddenly intense gaze. Funny he should ask that, when she’d done that very thing not long ago. But as she’d told herself then, it was too late for second thoughts. And anyway, she did like her life and her job.

  “Not really. Sure, there are some parts of my job that I don’t particularly care for. But someday, if I play my cards right, I’ll snag an anchor slot and have the freedom to pick and choose the kind of stories I cover.”

  “Such as?”

  “Human-interest pieces. Stories about ordinary people who do extraordinary things. Feature reporting, more in-depth than what I do now, where you have the time to do stories that leave people uplifted and inspired. I get to do a bit of that now, but not nearly enough. It’s really satisfying to shine the light on good, decent people instead of the dregs of humanity who usually dominate the news. There are good people out there, and I like to find ways to give them their moment in the spotlight. I think it would also help young people to see that nice guys don’t always finish last.”

  Amy had gotten more and more passionate as she spoke, and Cal’s attentive—and approving—gaze, as well as the sudden warmth in his eyes, brought a flush to her cheeks. She didn’t usually get so carried away, nor did she typically reveal so much about her personal feelings. She had no idea why she’d done so tonight. She did know it was time to shift the focus. “So now you know all the reasons why I left the farm and never looked back,” she finished lightly. “And how about you? What’s your background? How did you get into law
?”

  He gave her a quick smile. “I guess turnabout is fair play. I grew up in Tennessee, in the shadow of the Smoky Mountains. Unlike you, I had to think long and hard about leaving.”

  “Why did you?”

  He shrugged. “A lot of reasons. For one thing, law seemed like a career where I could do some good, help people, advance the cause of justice. I was pretty idealistic in the early days.”

  His reasons for his career choice made many of Amy’s sound shallow and self-serving, she realized, and she took a sip of coffee while she mulled over his answer—especially the past tense in the last sentence. “And you aren’t idealistic anymore?”

  His eyes grew troubled. “When the system works the way it’s supposed to, when I can really help someone and justice is served, it’s incredibly satisfying,” he said slowly. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t happen nearly often enough.”

  “Is it happening in the Jamie Johnson case?”

  “I guess we’ll see when the verdict comes in.”

  “But you think he’s guilty.”

  “I’m prosecuting him.”

  “You’re avoiding the question, Counselor.”

  “That’s right.”

  She sighed. He’d easily deflected her few subtle probes about the trial during the evening. So far, she had nothing usable, no lead that would give her the edge she so badly wanted. Then again, she hadn’t pressed all that hard. For some reason, her heart just hadn’t been in it. Besides, it had quickly become apparent to her that while she was a good reporter who knew how to ask the right questions, he was an even better attorney who knew how to avoid answering them.

  “I’m still going to try and find an angle to make my coverage stand out,” she warned.

  “I wish you luck.” He took a final sip of his coffee, then glanced at his watch. “Well, for an evening that almost ended before it began, we’ve managed to make a night of it.”

  She checked the time and her eyes grew wide. It was after eleven. “I had no idea!”

  He smiled, then rose and began clearing the table. “I promised Joe I’d have all this stuff back safe and sound tomorrow.”

  She stood also. “Let me help.”

  When everything was carefully packed, Cal lifted the box and Amy followed him to the door. He turned to her, but the simple good-night he’d planned to say stuck in his throat. Suddenly he didn’t want to leave the softly lit room, where the candles cast flickering shadows on the wall in the dining alcove and sensuous jazz played quietly in the background. He drew in a slow, unsteady breath, inhaling the faint, pleasing fragrance that emanated from Amy’s hair. Suddenly Cal felt warm. Too warm. He cleared his throat and shifted the box.

  “Well…”

  “The evening didn’t turn out exactly as we planned, did it?” Amy said softly, her green eyes luminous in the golden light.

  “Not quite.”

  “Take care of that eye.”

  “I will. Listen…thanks for being a good sport about the dinner.”

  “You were the one who was a good sport. And I had a great dinner.”

  “You can’t go wrong with Joe’s food.”

  Amy had enjoyed the food. But the dinner had been great for a lot of other reasons, she realized as she stared up at Cal. The assistant prosecuting attorney had turned out to be an incredible date, even if she hadn’t gotten the hoped-for lead. In fact, this evening had been well worth the five-hundred-dollar price tag. It had been a very long time since she’d enjoyed a date this much. And the truth was, she was sorry it was over. Mostly because she knew there wouldn’t be a next time.

  “Well…” Cal repeated. “I guess I’d better go. It’s late.”

  “Right.”

  Still he hesitated. Cal wasn’t sure why. For some reason the unexpected events of the evening had thrown him off balance. And he wasn’t thinking only of the mugging, he realized, as he looked into Amy’s appealing green eyes. Their gazes locked for several eternal seconds, and he wished he knew what she was thinking. Was she suddenly as confused as he was? Had her pulse lurched into overdrive, too? His gaze dropped to her lips. Was she fighting the same surprising and powerful urge he was?

  Cal had no idea. All he knew was that he was glad he was holding the box of dishes. Because as he said a very rapid good-night and escaped into the hall, he knew that if his arms weren’t otherwise occupied, he would be very tempted to put them to another use. And he didn’t think that would be wise at all.

  Chapter Four

  “Amy? Have I caught you at a bad time?”

  Amy smiled and grabbed her tea as she headed for the couch. “Not at all. It’s great to hear your voice, Kate.” She sat on the couch and tucked her feet under her. “How’s St. Louis?”

  “It’s too soon to tell, after only a week. But it doesn’t matter where we live, as long as I’m with Jack.”

  “Still crazy in love with that handsome hunk you married, I see,” Amy teased.

  “Absolutely. You should try it sometime.”

  “Well, when I meet the right handsome hunk, I just might do that.” For some reason, an image of Cal flitted through her mind, and she frowned. How odd. If ever two people had different philosophies of life, it was them. Though they did agree on some things, their basic priorities and motivations were at opposite ends of the spectrum. Not a good omen for a long-term relationship—even if they were interested in pursuing one. Which, of course, they weren’t.

  “I’m sure you meet all kinds of handsome men in your business,” Kate scoffed.

  “With egos to match, too,” Amy countered dryly.

  “Oh, come on. You must meet some guys who aren’t self-centered.”

  Again Amy thought of Cal. “Actually, I did meet one recently.”

  “Well, that’s more like it! Tell me all.”

  “I bought a date with him.”

  There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line before Kate spoke. “Do you want to explain that?”

  Amy grinned. “I bought a date with him at a charity auction.”

  “You’ve resorted to buying dates? Things must be worse than I thought!”

  This time Amy laughed. “I had an ulterior motive. He’s the prosecuting attorney in a high-profile case I’m covering, and I was hoping he’d let something slip that would give me an angle.”

  “Oh.” The disappointment in Kate’s voice was obvious. “So it was just a business thing.”

  “Yeah. But I actually had a good time.”

  “Did you get your angle?”

  “Unfortunately, no. But he was surprisingly pleasant, considering that we’d clashed in every previous encounter. And he was a really good sport.” Amy recounted the story of the mugging.

  “He sounds nice,” Kate commented. “Are you sure you don’t want to pursue this?”

  “Trust me, Kate. I am the last person Cal Richards wants to see again. He admitted himself that he was dreading our date, so the odds of—” The ringing of the doorbell interrupted her. “Can you hold a minute? There’s someone at the door.”

  “Sure.”

  Amy set her mug down and strode toward the door, pausing to peer through the peephole. All she could see was a large, green blob, so she cautiously cracked the door, leaving the chain lock in place.

  A face appeared around the blob, which Amy now realized was a flower arrangement wrapped in green paper. “Amy Winter?”

  “Yes.”

  “These are for you.”

  Amy gave the young man a puzzled frown. “Are you sure?”

  He recited the address, and her frown deepened. “Well, you’ve got the right place,” she conceded. She closed the door and slid the chain across, then opened it. The young man grinned and placed the vase in Amy’s hands. “Enjoy.”

  As he disappeared down the steps, she stared at the cloud of green tissue. Who in the world would be sending her flowers?

  Suddenly she remembered that Kate was waiting. Shoving the door shut with her foot, she moved quickly
back to the couch, placing the vase carefully on the coffee table.

  “Kate? Sorry.”

  “Do you need to hang up?”

  “No. It was just a delivery. Flowers believe it or not.”

  “Flowers? Okay, sister dear, you’ve been holding out on me. Who are they from?”

  “I haven’t a clue,” Amy confessed.

  “There must be a card.”

  Amy poked at the tissue, discovered a small white envelope and rapidly scanned the note inside.

  “Please accept my apologies again for the change in plans last night. And thanks for being such a good sport. Cal.”

  Amy stared at it, stunned. “I don’t believe it!”

  “What?”

  “They’re from Cal Richards!”

  “No kidding! And this is the man who was never going to contact you again, huh?”

  Amy ignored Kate’s jibe and tore the paper away from the vase, letting out a soft exclamation of pleasure. “Oh, Amy, you should see this arrangement! It’s gorgeous! A dozen peach-colored roses with baby’s breath and fern. It’s stunning!”

  “Sounds like there could be potential here after all,” Kate mused.

  Amy looked at the card again. “It’s just an apology, Kate. For the change in plans. That’s what the card says. After all, I did pay five hundred dollars for that date.”

  “Five hundred dollars!” Now it was Kate’s turn to sound incredulous. “Wow! Still, he could have sent carnations and daisies. Or just a note. Or nothing at all.”

  Amy fingered the card thoughtfully. “He told me last night that he always pays his debts. I guess he felt he owed me more than an eat-in dinner.”

  “He sounds like a very nice man, Amy.”

  “He is. He’s just not for me,” Amy declared, refusing to read more into the gesture than she was sure Cal intended. “Now tell me more about you. Are you adjusting okay since the move?”

  “That was a pretty abrupt—what do you call it again in your business? A segue? But I can take a hint. Pretty well, actually, though the move is only the first in a series of adjustments.”

  “What do you mean?”