All right, so he was a lawyer, and when somebody said something like that, he, of course, couldn’t let it be. “Are you thinking about whether or not you might lose the baby?”
“Sure. But mostly I’m trying to be positive. I just…couldn’t get to sleep right away so I checked my e-mail. I received a letter from my parents—my mom. But as I said, it’s nothing you have to be concerned about.”
He moved her laptop and sat on the bed. “If something stresses you out, that’s not good for the baby. Stress isn’t good for you. So, yes, your e-mail is my concern. Did you tell your parents you’re pregnant and they’re appalled by the idea?”
“No, nothing as serious as that. They’re not coming back to the States for Thanksgiving. I was so hoping they would and I could tell them about the baby in person. But I should have known better than to hope for that.”
“What if you asked them to come back?”
“Our relationship isn’t like that, Ben. I learned a long time ago that just because I needed something from them doesn’t mean they can give it to me.”
“But aren’t you going to give them the chance?”
He knew the answer as soon as he asked the question. It was obvious Sierra had been rejected by her parents over and over again in all the little ways that mattered.
“Do your parents know about your life here?” he asked.
“Do they know I own a shop and I’m living with my aunt? Sure. They know I make jewelry, but I don’t think they have any idea what it means to me, to create, design and sell it. They haven’t been back here for three years so they’ve never seen the shop.”
“You haven’t seen them for three years?”
“Summer, a year ago, I flew to London to meet them while they took a few weeks’ R & R.”
Her voice quivered slightly, and Ben had the urge to pull her to him and cuddle her close. But he fought it, distracting himself with the rose scent in the room. Earlier, he’d noticed a dish of dried petals on the dresser that Camille must have brought from Sierra’s bedroom at her aunt’s. Studying Sierra in the humongous bed now, he noticed not only her outward beauty, but her sweetness, which had been so lacking in many of the women he’d dated. She was making a valiant effort to be upbeat, to take everything in stride, including being alone here with him.
“With parents like you had, why aren’t you all messed up, afraid of your own shadow, afraid to reach out and hesitant to look to anyone for support?” he asked, curious.
“Your mom left you. Why aren’t you messed up?” she returned, her voice strong again.
“Because I always had my dad and my brothers.”
“And I always had my aunt. Sometimes she was thousands of miles away, but I always knew she was there. That mattered so much. When I went to high school, I met Camille. We clicked and knew we’d always be best friends.”
Ben so wanted to reach out and kiss her again. But under the circumstances, that would be a mistake.
What if they did lose their baby?
He was truly beginning to believe this baby was his. Sierra didn’t have the artifice to pull off deception. Taking her hand in his, he intertwined their fingers. “I know it’s not the same thing at all, but you’re welcome to share my family.”
“I’d like that,” she admitted. “My aunt will be home soon. I can’t speak for her, but it would be great if we could all have Thanksgiving together.”
“You’d better not volunteer her before you talk to her.”
“She can be blunt, and annoyingly forthright sometimes, but I think she’ll like the idea of a lot of people around the table at Thanksgiving. That’s the way it should be.”
Sierra had so many qualities he’d never really looked for in a woman—an eye on something deeper than a career, an outlook that made the best of whatever she had to face, a vulnerability that came from being her own person at a young age.
The intimacy of the shadowed room, the attraction he’d felt for her from the first moment he’d seen her, the slip of moonlight drifting in urged him to lean close and touch his lips to hers. She gave a startled little gasp and her hands went to his shoulders, not to push him away, but to bring him closer.
But before the kiss could get out of hand, he put on the brakes, leaned away and got to his feet.
She didn’t say anything and neither did he.
What was there to say? He hadn’t been looking for a relationship. He didn’t know if he could ever trust a woman again. Sierra still wasn’t over her first love. Between them, they had a lot of baggage. They wouldn’t be here together tonight if it weren’t for her pregnancy and the chance she might lose the baby. There was nothing permanent about this situation.
He went to the dresser and opened a drawer.
“Ben,” she called softly.
He knew her parents’ e-mail had upset her. He didn’t want to upset her more. “It’s late, Sierra. Let’s just table everything until tomorrow.”
He stacked his clothes in his arms and added his sneakers to the top of the pile. “I’ll be out at first light and back before you know I’m gone. I’ll take my cell phone. Are you okay with that?”
“Yes. Camille said she’d be here about eight, so if you need to leave before that, don’t worry about it.”
They’d both be bending over backward while she stayed with him. That’s because they were still strangers who didn’t know each other well enough to be comfortable. Maybe by the end of two weeks…
Nope. Two weeks wasn’t enough time to get to know a person. He and Sierra really had little in common, and that would become more obvious rather than less so as time went on. But for now, he would do whatever he had to do for the well-being of their baby. For now, he’d try to be a good host, and he damn well better stop kissing her or he’d learn for sure what trouble really meant.
The sky had just started to lighten when Sierra heard Ben’s cell phone beep in his room across the hall. She’d slept fitfully, thinking about the kiss and everything she and Ben had talked about, thinking how close she felt to him sometimes, how far away at others.
Five minutes later, Ben knocked, then came into her room. He saw her sitting up in bed. “My phone wake you?”
He was already dressed, not in running gear, but in a suit and tie. “Yes, but I wasn’t exactly sleeping. Were you called into work?”
“Not exactly. One of the teenagers I befriended down at the church has a friend who’s in trouble. He was a lookout for an attempted robbery. Diego wants me to see if I can help him. His friend doesn’t have any other strikes against him, so I thought I’d try. Are you okay with me leaving now? I don’t want you to feel you won’t have anybody here if you need someone.”
“I’m feeling good. Camille will be here soon.”
“Promise me you won’t get up until she arrives.”
“Ben—”
“Sierra, I mean it. It’s the only way I’ll leave.”
It was obvious he was torn by all his responsibilities, which now included her. “I promise.”
He was standing about a foot from the bed and not coming any closer. Even at that distance, she could feel the current between them and wondered if he could, too.
Clearing her throat, she asked, “So what do you think you can do to help this boy?”
“I’ll be there in an unofficial capacity unless the case lands on my desk. He didn’t have a weapon, and as I said, he hasn’t been in trouble before. That’s all in his favor.”
“But you’re really going because of—”
He filled in the name. “Diego.”
“Are you afraid he’s involved?”
“My guess is he knew what was going to go down, maybe not when, but he knew. I’ll see that he gets home safe and give him another pep talk so he doesn’t end up in his friend’s shoes.”
She was struck again by how much Ben cared, the same way Travis had cared for men, women and children who couldn’t get help with the simplest of diseases. Ben really didn’t have time in
his life for her, and maybe not even for their baby, whether he realized it or not. That was the best reason why their relationship should stay platonic while she spent this time with him. After that, she’d worry about what came next.
A week later, Ben was sitting in his bedroom with Sierra, digging into a carton of General Tso’s chicken and trying to keep his gaze away from her pretty face when the doorbell rang.
Sierra wound a lo mein noodle around her fork and asked, “Are you expecting someone?”
“Not that I know of.” He set his meal on the dresser and went to answer the door. When he opened it, he found a woman, about five-eight, in jeans and a colorful poncho. Her gray hair was cut in a no-nonsense, chin-length style and her dark brown eyes stared straight into his.
“Are you Ben Barclay?” she asked in a clipped but not unfriendly tone.
“Yes, I am. And you are?”
“I’m Gina Ruiz, Sierra’s aunt. I’ve come to take her home.”
Ben absorbed the woman’s words, not liking the empty feeling they gave him. Usually he analyzed a situation, debated the pros and cons, then made a conclusion. He never just blurted out his opinion. This time he did. “I don’t think that would be advisable. She’s supposed to be on bed rest. She only has four days to go and it doesn’t seem like a practical, good thing to disrupt it at this point.”
Gina tilted her head and studied him more thoroughly. “Can I see her?”
“Of course you can. Come on in. She’s down the hall to the right.”
Sierra’s aunt’s stride was quick and graceful, much like Sierra’s. She didn’t hesitate, but walked right into Ben’s bedroom.
He heard Sierra’s joyful “Aunt Gina! You’re not supposed to be home for another week.”
Ben stepped into the room as Sierra’s aunt sat down on the bed to hug her. “I decided to cut my trip short. I was just telling Mr. Barclay I’d planned to take you home with me.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “He seems to think that will disrupt your doctor’s orders.”
Sierra looked from Ben to her aunt and he knew what she was thinking. She was thinking she was a burden to him, a responsibility he didn’t want, that she should go with her aunt if it would make life easier for him.
He vetoed the idea before Sierra could even consider it. “The doctor told you you shouldn’t get up except to go to the bathroom. If you go home now, then you’ll have the trip home, you’ll have to gather your things, and once you’re there, at your own place, will you stay in bed like you’re supposed to? We have a routine set up, Sierra. I don’t think you should change it until your doctor’s appointment on Friday. Then if she says all systems are go, it won’t be an issue.”
It was obvious that Sierra also didn’t want to hurt her aunt. “I’d love to come home with you, Aunt Gina, but I do think Ben’s right.” When she saw her aunt’s disappointment, she added, “But I think Camille might need a break. You could keep me company during the day and she could go back to being a newlywed.”
Gina thought that over. “Do you have Camille’s phone number? I can call her and work something out.” She nodded to the containers of Chinese food. “While you two finish supper.”
Sierra flipped her cell phone open, brought up Camille’s number and handed the phone to her aunt.
Gina stepped outside the bedroom to make the call. Ben heard her footsteps down the hall and into his living room.
“She’s all-business, isn’t she?” he said in a low voice.
“That’s Aunt Gina. She’s a get-the-job-done kind of person.” Sierra looked down at her papers and laptop and bead board on the side of the bed, then her gaze met Ben’s. “Are you sure you want me to stay? I really do feel fine. A trip home in the car shouldn’t hurt anything.”
When she looked at him like that, her eyes big and vulnerable, he couldn’t stay away from her. He went to the bed and sat down beside her. “I think we should stick with our plan. It’s worked so far and you haven’t disrupted my life. I know you’re probably bored in here while I work most nights.”
“I can always find something to do. You’re within yelling distance. It’s nice to know someone’s out there. I’m not here for you to entertain me. I’m here so I don’t lose this baby.”
On that, they were in one-hundred-percent agreement.
A few minutes later, Gina slipped back into the room, her poncho gone now. Her red cotton blouse was crisp, without a wrinkle. “Camille was agreeable to my idea. I’ll be coming over to make you breakfast and stay with you throughout the day. As a bonus, I’ll even make supper. That way Ben won’t have to worry about it. Is that all right with you, Ben? I can call you Ben, can’t I?”
“Ben is fine, Ms. Ruiz.”
“Gina’s good for me. We’ll get to know each other this way.” She patted Sierra’s hand. “After all, we’re all going to be involved in this baby’s life. We might as well figure out how to get along.”
Ben wondered exactly what Sierra had told her aunt about the engagement party, about getting pregnant, about staying with him now. But Gina Ruiz was giving nothing away. She was just stating the obvious and he respected her for that. He wasn’t sure she approved of him or of Sierra staying with him. That bothered him. It had been a very long time since he’d wanted anyone’s approval.
After Gina stood, she collected the cartons of Chinese food. “I disrupted your supper. I’ll take this out to the microwave and warm it up. Then you can start all over again.”
“If you’d like to join us…” Ben offered.
“Oh, no. I ate before I came over. I’ll just sit with you so we can get that awkward first conversation out of the way. Then I’ll leave you to your evening.” She swept out of the room, their food in hand.
Ben didn’t know whether to laugh or to wish Gina Ruiz gone.
“She takes some getting used to,” Sierra admitted, “but once you get to know her, I think you’ll like her.”
“Can she cook?” he teased.
“Sure can. She makes an egg-and-salsa casserole that’s to die for. Her steak and peppers is great, too, not to mention her quesadillas. You just might be glad she came home early. We won’t disrupt your life, Ben, I promise.”
Ben knew Sierra’s words were heartfelt. The thing was—she had already disrupted his life and he was trying to get used to the idea that it would never be the same again.
On Friday morning, the press conference for the Children’s Art Project had proceeded according to schedule, but Ben was glad it was over. This endeavor, a legacy from a former district attorney, was worthwhile. The project spotlighted children’s talent and showed what they were feeling and thinking about what was going on in the city around them. But Ben had stood to the rear of the crowd waiting for his phone to vibrate, waiting for Sierra’s call after her doctor’s appointment.
From across the crowded room, he suddenly spied a man trying to get his attention. Ben knew who he was, a defense attorney from one of the large partnerships in town. They’d been opponents more than a few times in the courtroom, but maintained a civil relationship because they respected each other. Cord Whitmore was a few years older than Ben, his own height, with green eyes that were sharp and intelligent.
Cord finally got within shouting distance. “Can we talk?”
They both angled toward a corner where they’d have a modicum of quiet.
Cord started off, “I was going to make an appointment with you, but this will do.”
“About a case?” Ben was surprised Cord would want to talk in a public arena.
“No, not this time. I’ve become involved in a project you might like.” He held his hand up before Ben could say anything. “This isn’t something after hours that will take more of your time.”
“What kind of project?” Ben asked warily. After all, he was a prosecutor and Cord was a defense attorney.
“I suppose you heard that John Alvarez passed away last month?”
John Alvarez had been a prominent businessman in the Al
buquerque area, was wealthy beyond most men’s dreams and had lived to a ripe old age of eighty-seven. There had been a few articles in the paper about his passing and his life.
“Yes, I knew,” Ben replied.
“Well, it turns out he left an endowment. With this money we’re supposed to set up a law firm that would specialize in juvenile cases—kids who get in trouble for the first time and can’t afford good representation. We’re searching for the right person to head it up. We have a list of possibilities, but I believe you’re the most qualified and you’re an attorney who would be the most interested in helping kids. I know a few you’ve kept from joining gangs.”
“I’m a prosecutor, Cord.”
“Yeah, and a damn good one. If you filled a spot like this, you’d actually have time for each case and the opportunity to seek out remedial action for a first-time offender. Isn’t that the kind of work you might want to do instead of constantly settling for plea agreements that eat at you because you know justice isn’t being served?”
Cord had gotten to the crux of what Ben disliked most about his job. He’d been a prosecutor for nine years now. Did he really want to think about changing his focus?
“You have time to think about it,” Cord told him. “We’re just in the preliminary stages of setting this up. I know you wouldn’t have any trouble securing the position of head counsel if you wanted it.”
“Who makes the decision?”
“Alvarez named five people to a board—his son, who owns businesses all over the state, a retired judge, two retired schoolteachers and a college professor who teaches ethics. They’ll make the final decision on who’s hired. My recommendation will go a long way. Besides that, they know the kind of work you do. Will you seriously consider it?”
Ben turned the idea of this kind of work over in his head. “I’ll seriously consider it.”
In his trousers’ pocket, Ben’s phone vibrated. He slipped his hand in and pulled it out. To Cord he said, “I’ve got to take this call.”
Cord nodded. “I’ll be in touch. If you have any questions, call me.”
As Cord moved away, Ben inched closer to the wall and jammed a finger in one ear so he could hear Sierra better.
The Daddy Verdict Page 9