“Well, he obviously succeeded.” Which was an understatement, she thought. The man not only looked like a he-man but he behaved like one, too. A double threat, she mused.
“Lucky for both of us,” he said, getting in. He closed his door.
Lucky.
The word echoed back to her in the recesses of her mind. She didn’t know about that. Sitting inside the car, the doors closed, something softly playing on his radio, she found herself very aware of him. Aware of his presence, his body and the heat that he was giving off because he’d exerted himself with the mugger.
And she was more than a little aware of the fact that she wasn’t as immune to good-looking men as she wanted to believe she was. But then, he had just saved her from things she couldn’t bring herself to think about right now. He was the stuff that heroes were made of and her reaction to him was only natural.
It was time that she cut herself a little slack, Sarajane thought.
“By the way—” Jordan put the key into the ignition “—if I’m going to take you home—”
Okay, here it came, she thought, a wave of cynicism returning. The payoff. He was going to say something charming, all the while getting ready to take advantage of the situation he found himself in. And of her.
Sarajane braced herself, a sense of disappointment beginning to flow through her. So much for the accolades she had been heaping on his head.
“Yes?”
Why was she looking at him that way? he wondered. Was she in shock? Should he be taking her to the hospital? “I’m going to have to have your address.”
“My address?” she repeated dumbly, staring at him.
He nodded. “You haven’t given it to me. Unless you want me just to drive around aimlessly, hoping to get lucky.”
He wasn’t looking to take advantage, she thought, almost laughing out loud. God, when had she gotten so paranoid? The answer to that, she realized, was easy. Right after her misadventures with Rocco and Andrew.
She did her best to muster an apologetic look. “Sorry, maybe I am a little more shaken up than I thought.”
“Do you want me to take you to the emergency room?”
Her eyes widened. “Oh God, no. I’m fine, really. Just take me home.”
“Home it is,” he agreed.
Damn but his voice sounded soft, kind. For two cents…
Too high a price to pay, she warned silently.
Sarajane rattled off her address, simultaneously telling herself to get a grip. At this point, it was a tall order. She felt as if she were a giant washing machine, her cycle stuck in spin. Everything inside her was all jumbled. She was surprised that she wasn’t throwing up.
The trip to her apartment took next to no time at all, despite the cluster of traffic lights that were against him. As they drove, he tried to coax her to talk, which he found rather ironic, since during the course of the day, the sound of her voice was everywhere. But he was trying to put her at ease, to get her to distance herself from what had happened, at least for the night.
He discovered that contrary to his belief, she did have a car. She told him it was in the shop with a cracked engine block. Since that ran to over a thousand dollars, a sum she was only mildly acquainted with, it was going to be a while before she had enough money to bail it out. Until such time, she was going to have to continue to ride the bus.
“It’s right there, that building in the middle of the block,” she pointed out. She was still pointing to it as Jordan drove right by it. “What are you doing?” She twisted around in her seat, watching the building grow smaller again.
He squinted into the darkness. “Looking for a place to park.”
She didn’t see the need. She’d put him out enough already. “Why? You can just let me out here.”
“Do I need to stop the car?” he asked her cryptically.
A hint of a smile curved her mouth. “If you slow it down enough, I can just jump out.”
That was the kind of answer he figured she’d give. “Forget it. I’m walking you to your door, Sarajane.”
He hadn’t said her name up to this point. She liked hearing him say it.
Oh-oh, warning signs. Mayday. Mayday.
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes,” he answered firmly, “I do.”
Okay, he was giving her flack. She welcomed flack. Flack she could handle. It was kindness that undid her. She straightened in her seat, ready to argue.
“Look, what happened tonight has never happened to me before. Ever,” she emphasized. “Lightning doesn’t strike twice in the same place.”
He gave her a look she found annoying.
“Slept through high-school science, did you?” he quipped. Seeing a space on the next block, he headed for it. “That’s just an old saying to make little kids feel safer than they really are. Lightning most certainly does strike twice in the same place,” he informed her. “Sometimes even more.”
Where was this heading? She crossed her arms. “And you’re going to do what—be my escort for the rest of my life?”
That was a tall order, one he had no desire to fill. He wasn’t a masochist. “Why don’t we take it one evening at a time? Just until you bail out your car.”
In other words, forever, she thought, fighting a wave of dejection.
Parking, he pulled up the hand brake and turned off the ignition. But instead of getting out, he turned to look at her. “Have you always been this bitchy, or did the mugging bring out the worst in you? Or is it me?” he added for good measure.
She sighed. He was right. She was behaving badly. That he had pointed it out didn’t make it any easier to own up to, but she knew she had to. “I’m sorry. You’re only trying to be nice.”
Her apology instantly smoothed over all the waves she’d created. He smiled at her. “Well, at least you noticed.”
Sarajane forced a smile to her lips, one she didn’t feel. But he wasn’t to blame for this. “I don’t like being afraid.”
“Most people don’t,” he agreed, then added, “unless there’s something really wrong with them.”
And then, suddenly, it just came out. The thought that had been drumming in her head, giving her no peace as it grew in size. Haunting her. It was a hard thing to swallow, given how she had always believed in the basic decency of humanity.
“Nobody else was stopping,” she blurted out, doing her best not to cry. “A couple of cars went by and nobody stopped.”
He saw that this bothered her. A great deal. He tried to make it more palatable for her. “They probably thought you were just having an argument with your boyfriend.”
She shrugged. “Yeah, probably.” But she really didn’t believe that. Pressing her lips together, she looked up at him. “Thanks.”
He’d been wondering when she’d get around to that. Or if she intended to continue snapping at him because she hadn’t been able to handle her own situation. “You’re welcome. Glad I was there.”
She offered him a small smile, one filled with the gratitude she felt. “Yeah, me, too.”
He knew it cost her a lot to say that. That he sensed this about her surprised him. But then, he chalked it up to being a day of surprises.
Getting out of the car, he went around the front and came to her side. Jordan opened the door. “C’mon,” he urged quietly, putting his hand out to her, “I’ll walk you to your door.”
Taking his hand, she slid out. “You could have been hurt, you know.”
“It crossed my mind.”
Actually, it hadn’t. When he’d seen her being threatened, all he could think of was protecting her. More than his day in the office today, this brought home the way of the world that he preferred keeping his distance from. For the most part, he was securely insulated from the day-to-day struggles and dangers that existed just beyond his plush penthouse and even more plush offices.
He didn’t much care for this world. It was too harsh, too heartless. He couldn’t help wondering how people did it, how t
hey managed to exist in a world that was bent on sucking out their souls at any given opportunity.
How did she do it? he further wondered, looking at Sarajane.
Opening the heavy iron-and-glass front door, Jordan took her into the building. There was an elevator in the small lobby, one that took its time arriving. It creaked ominously all five flights up.
“Why don’t you move?” he asked suddenly.
“It has a certain charm,” she countered.
He thought it best not to get into it with her right now. She was in a frail state, otherwise he doubted if she could have possibly said what she’d just said. This place wasn’t charming, it was run-down. He wondered if Jenny knew of a better place for Sarajane, one that she could afford and that hadn’t been built pre-World War II.
When they got out on her floor, the smell of disinfectant immediately assaulted him.
Sarajane saw him wrinkle his nose and felt another flutter in the region of her heart before she shut the sensation down.
“Janitor got around to washing the floors,” she explained. She led the way to the end of the corridor. “Here it is…” she announced “…5 E. My apartment.”
He nodded. “I’ll wait until you get inside—and lock the door.”
He said it so straight-faced, despite what had happened tonight, she couldn’t help smiling. “You take your responsibilities seriously.”
He smiled at her then, and she felt something loosen in her kneecaps. Rigidly, she locked the same knees into place. There was no way she was going to let herself start traveling down a road to nowhere again.
“That’s what makes them responsibilities,” he told her.
Get out of here! a small voice ordered, fighting the onset of panic. Locating her keys, she opened the door to her apartment. “Well, good night. And thanks again.” Impulsively, she brushed her lips against his cheek. The next second, she immediately pulled back, looking at him uncertainly.
The woman was nothing if not full of surprises, he thought for the second time today. He was almost looking forward to tomorrow. Almost.
“Lock the door,” he instructed.
In an attempt at levity, Sarajane saluted, and then let herself in. She paused for a moment after shutting the door.
His voice came through from the hall. “Lock it.”
Only after she flipped the locks did she hear the sound of his footsteps receding. And only then did her heart stop pounding.
Chapter Five
The squeak of sneakers running and pivoting on the highly polished gym floor competed with the loud whack of the ball hitting against the concrete wall. The smell of well-earned sweat permeated the small enclosed court, some of that sweat dripping into Jordan’s eyes as he fought Eric for game point in their weekly round of racquetball.
Eric had been waiting for him at the fitness club, dressed and ready to play, when he’d arrived. Usually, Jordan was the first one there. Hurrying had put him off. He lost the first two serves, but his natural sense of competition had him rallying and now he was in the lead.
“So,” Eric finally said, after a few words of aimless small talk had been exchanged. “How’s it going? With Advocate Aid,” he added when Jordan didn’t answer.
“It’s…interesting,” Jordan finally said. Whether he drew out the sentence because he was trying to return a shot or because he was searching for the right word was unclear.
Eric spared him a quick look before breaking away to corner the ball and return it.
“Well, you don’t look any the worse for wear. Your game’s certainly gotten more intense.” He took a long breath as Jordan lobbed the ball against the wall, sending it off at an angle that made him stretch to the limit. “Any connection?”
“With what?” Jordan wanted to know, never taking his eyes off the ball.
“With the cases you’re handling these days.” Jenny had always seemed consumed with helping each and every person who came through Advocate Aid’s doors. But Jordan had always struck Eric as someone cut from a different cloth. Jordan was more like him. Competitive, accustomed to the best and to dealing with people who could pay for it. He didn’t really see his best friend as capable of fitting into a place like Advocate Aid.
Jordan thought for a moment. It almost cost him the next shot. He supposed he was a little tense and that translated itself into the way he was playing.
“It might be because of the amount of cases I’m looking at,” he admitted. “It just never lets up.” From the moment the doors opened every morning, people just came pouring in. “I had no idea there were that many people who couldn’t afford legal advice.”
Eric laughed as he dove to return a serve and wound up crashing on the floor. He was up the next second, like an old-fashioned jack-in-the-box. “Think about what you charge an hour, Jordy. Not that many people can afford you.”
That wasn’t his point. He scrambled as Eric returned the play, making the ball’s trajectory go high. Jordan leaped in the air to return it. “Yes, but there are less expensive firms than Morrison and Treherne,” he pointed out.
Eric considered himself better versed in this world, thanks to Jenny, than Jordan was. “Hey, when you’re trying to decide which bills you can put off paying until next month, a lawyer is just another luxury you really can’t afford.”
After four and a half days at it, Jordan begged to differ with Eric’s assessment. “Listening to the legal bind some of these people have gotten themselves into, a lawyer is something they don’t have the luxury of going without.”
Eric tried to hide the fact that Jordan had him panting as he dashed for another return. The ball resounded loudly as it made contact. “Example?”
Leaping up, Jordan just caught the ball with the tip of his racket, sending it back. “First day, there was this woman, Ada McCloskey, whose landlord was trying to evict her because he found someone else who was willing to pay twice what she was for her apartment. He raised her rent accordingly, she couldn’t pay and he had served her with papers.”
Breathing hard now, Eric chased after the ball, just barely getting it. He wiped perspiration off with the back of his hand. “So? Don’t keep me in suspense. What did you do, Dudley Do-Right?”
Jordan ignored the jibe. “Had that Energizer Bunny who runs the office do a little research for me. Seems that the apartment was rent-controlled, a little fact that the client didn’t know and the landlord conveniently neglected to tell her.” He grinned, a feeling of triumph telegraphing itself through him. When he’d told her, the grandmother of three had thrown her arms around him and nearly cut off his air supply in her enthusiasm. “Bottom line was, she didn’t have to move.” As he said it, he whacked the ball even harder than before. Eric dove for it and failed to return the shot as he crashed to the floor. “She gave me a tea cozy.”
This time, Eric lay where he was for a minute, gathering his breath. “A what?” he mumbled against the floor.
Jordan walked over to him and extended his hand. “A tea cozy.”
Eric grudgingly took it and hauled himself up to his feet. “What the hell is a tea cozy?”
Jordan laughed. “I haven’t figured it out yet, but it’s what she makes. She has her own mail-order business, making and shipping them out.”
Eric frowned, shaking his head. “No wonder she doesn’t have enough money to get a lawyer.” When he saw Jordan picking up the ball, he raised his racket in the air. “Uncle,” he cried. Walking over to the side where he’d left his bottled water and a towel, he picked up the latter and draped it around his neck, dabbing at his forehead and face before looking at Jordan. “You’re certainly on your game today.”
Riding high on the victory, Jordan asked, “Best two out of three?”
Eric wiped the perspiration from his forehead again as he shook his head. “What do you think I am, a masochist?”
Jordan went to the opposite side of the room and picked up his own towel. He peeled off the navy-blue sweatband he wore. “I thought you li
ked this game.”
“I do.” Eric paused to drain half the pint bottle before continuing. “I just don’t like losing and I don’t know what it is about you today, but you’re playing like you’re possessed.”
“It’s tension,” Jordan decided. For a second, he leaned against the wall and took a long drag from his own bottle.
“Tension?” Eric scrutinized his friend. “These people giving you trouble?”
The people were more or less interchangeable in Jordan’s opinion. He viewed them as an assignment, a challenge, pieces of a giant puzzle that he was solving. Dealing with them was different, but it wasn’t actually what he found unsettling at the end of the day.
Jordan shook his head, screwing the cap back on. “Not the people.”
Eric narrowed his eyes, puzzled. “Then what?”
Instead of answering, Jordan asked a question of his own. “What do you know about Sarajane Gerrity?”
“Who?”
Jordan laughed to himself. “I guess that answers that question.”
Eric held his hand up to keep his brother-in-law from moving on. “No, wait a minute. The name’s familiar. Let me think.”
“She’s the office secretary,” Jordan prompted, although that word hardly began to cover what the woman did. She was more like the office manager. And a Grade-A pain in the butt, he added silently.
The light dawned in Eric’s eyes. “The Energizer Bunny.”
Feeling dehydrated, Jordan took another swig from his bottle. “One and the same. What do you know about her?” he asked again.
Eric shrugged, picking up his racket. “Not too much. Jenny introduced us once, at the last Christmas party,” he recalled. “She’s a looker.” It was meant as a passing observation, but as he said the words, it dawned on him just what his friend’s source of “tension” might be. “Is that it?” he wanted to know.
Jordan had no idea what he was talking about. “Is what it?”
“Are you putting moves on the woman?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but, knowing Jordan, went with his assumption. “Jenny’s not going to like that. She thinks the world of Sarajane, said the office would fall apart without her.” He thought of Jenny’s reaction to Sarajane’s possible departure. She’d drag herself to the office. Jenny was nothing if not committed. “Don’t you dare do anything to make that woman leave Advocate Aid, do you hear me?”
Mr. Hall Takes a Bride Page 5