by Peggy Jaeger
From her vantage point, she could tell he had several tabs open at the same time. He’d move from one to the other, then back again, typing. At one point, he sat back in the chair, crossed his arms over his massive chest and spent a few minutes reading. Then he sat forward and stretched those arms over his head, arching his back and giving her a little peek at his flank when his shirt rode up with the movement. That little flash had her mouth going desert-dry again, forcing her to drink. When he lifted his shoulders and dipped his head side to side, stretching his neck muscles, her toes curled and she wound up gulping the water. When she started to choke and cough, Rick shot up from the table and planted himself next to her on the couch in a heartbeat.
“Take a breath,” he commanded, his gaze zeroed in on her face.
“Sorry.” She patted her chest. “Went down the wrong way.”
Rick felt her forehead, then cupped her neck. Without thinking, she pressed into it like she would to a lover’s embrace. For a moment, he tightened his grip, his thumb rubbing against her neck pulse.
“Your fever’s still gone.” When he pulled his hand away, she had to stifle a moan of protest. “I’m making lunch. You hungry yet?” he asked, standing and moving to the kitchen.
With some surprise, she realized she was.
“Kandy made chicken soup. Josh told me I should pour some into you the minute you got your appetite back. He mentioned something about the soup’s magical healing powers.”
“He’s not lying.” Abby kicked off the blanket and moved to the kitchen. Moonlight threw her an annoyed pout at being jostled. “Kandy took Grandma’s old recipe and Kandy-fied it. I don’t know what she added or changed, but whenever one of us has been sick, one bowl of it re-energizes our immune system.”
She pulled a pot from a cabinet, then found a ladle.
Rick poured the contents of the container into the pot and placed it on the stove. “Go sit down. I’ll bring it when it’s done.”
“I’m not an invalid, Bannerman. I can help reheat soup. Plus, I’m tired of sitting and doing nothing.”
He shook his head. “You must be feeling better. Your stubborn streak is rearing its head again.”
He pulled bowls down from her upper cabinets, and it struck her he’d become very familiar with her kitchen. With her entire place, actually. She usually kept her living space organized and clutter-free. In reality, most days she rarely used any rooms except for the kitchen and bath since she was at work. The place didn’t get messy. But glancing around she could tell it was more than its usual tidy. It looked…clean. As if it had been dusted and vacuumed, the kitchen floor washed. The recycling box was empty, and a new trash bag was in the kitchen garbage can. The counters sparkled.
“Did you clean my apartment?”
While he stirred the soup, he nodded.
“And you did my laundry.”
He nodded again, then shrugged. “Like I said, I needed clean clothes, too. Seemed like a waste of water not to throw yours in with them.”
“And now you’re cooking.”
This time he shook his head. “Reheating. Kandy cooked.”
When she didn’t respond, he glanced up at her. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re looking at me, assessing me like a witness on the stand, and with your lips pursed together like you’re trying to figure something out. You can’t tell me it’s nothing. What’s going on in that curious mind of yours, Abigail? Spit it out.”
He ladled the soup into the bowls.
Abby pulled two spoons from the utensil drawer and considered what she wanted to say.
“Sit,” Rick commanded. When they were both settled, he said, “Answer me. What’s got you so curious.”
“How do you know I’m curious?”
He spooned a heaping of the soup in, swallowed, all the while his gaze aimed at her. “I’m a trained investigator. It’s my job to read people.”
She let that statement settle in for a moment. “Okay, I buy that.” She sampled the soup and closed her eyes when the myriad of flavors hit her taste buds. “I love my sister.”
One corner of Rick’s mouth hitched upward. “I think we’ve been here before.”
Abby opened her eyes and stared across the table at him.
“I can hear the gears cranking in your head, counselor.”
“Were you ever married?”
His grin died. “That’s what’s been running around in your brain? My marital status?”
“You don’t need to use that snippy tone. I ask because I simply don’t know anything about you.”
“You know a boatload about me.”
“No. I don’t. Other than you and Josh have been friends since the cradle and you were in the army at one point in your life, I know nothing.”
“What does being married have to do with anything?”
“Because you seem so at ease with all this household chore stuff. Doing laundry, cooking—”
“Reheating, mostly.”
“—taking care of someone who’s sick. Heck, even straightening up my apartment. That all speaks to some kind of domestic relationship in your past. Since you’re obviously single right now and were four years ago, I want to know.”
He stared across the table at her for a few beats, as if measuring what he wanted to say.
“Why is it so important you know all about me?”
“Because friends know things about one another, duh.”
“Is that what we are, Abigail? Friends?”
“Why are you being so obstinate? And why is it so difficult for you to share?” she threw back at him. He flinched at the question. “You’ve been singlehandedly taking care of me for the past few days,” she continued. “You’ve seen me in a state no one but my family ever has, and some of them haven’t even been privy to what it’s like when I’m sick. You’ve done my laundry, which is an insanely intimate thing to do for someone, so yes, dammit, I’d like to think we’re friends. You’ve even cared for my cat despite not liking cats—”
“I never said I didn’t like cats. I said dogs are more fun.”
“Stop interrupting me!”
“There’s no need to yell.”
Abby threw her hands up in the air. “Oh, for pity’s sake. You know what? Forget I ever asked.” She lifted her now-empty bowl and stood. After dragging in a deep, calming breath, she took it to the sink and turned on the faucet.
Rick’s hand snaked around her to shut it off. She hadn’t even heard him move from the table.
“Getting a weird sense of déjà vu, here, Bannerman.” She turned and crossed her arms as she leveled a heated glare at him. “You gonna give me another come-to-Jesus lecture like the last time?”
The memory of how that lecture ended played across the front of her mind, fast and furious. From the scowl darkening his brow she wondered if he was thinking the same thing.
The scowl deepened, the crease between his eyebrows indenting so deeply she made a mental bet with herself she could shove a penny in it and have it stick. His chocolate-drop-colored eyes glistened in the afternoon light filtering in through the living room windows as he stared down at her. There was some kind of internal debate shouting through him, but she couldn’t tell if it was because he was mad at her, or himself. Suddenly, his forehead calmed, the groove smoothed. He nodded once, and said, “Okay.” Backing away, he leaned against the opposite counter, holding her stare and crossing his arms in the same manner she was. “Okay.”
“I don’t speak in code, Bannerman. What’s ‘okay’?”
“Never married. Never involved in a long-term relationship. Never lived with a woman. No children. What else do you want to know?”
“Why not?”
“Why not what?”
“Why haven’t you ever been married or in a relationship?”
“I said I’ve never been in a long-term relationship.”
“Semantics.” She waved her hand in the air. “Why not?”
�
�Being married while you’re on active duty is tough on the person left at home. You’re a couple but living apart most of the time. Plus, I didn’t want a wife worrying I’d get sent home in a box.”
“When did you get out?”
“Seven years ago.”
“So your excuse doesn’t hold true anymore. It’s been long enough to find someone, don’t you think?”
He remained silent.
“So?” she pressed.
“Haven’t found anyone.”
“Are you even looking?”
“Abigail.”
The little warning tone in his voice had her saying, “Fine. What about family?”
“What about them?”
“Do you always have to answer a question with a question? It’s wicked annoying.”
He bit down on a corner of his mouth, humor crossing in his gaze. “Sorry. It’s the investigator in me.”
“I tend to think it’s your innate obnoxiousness, not your career. So. Family. Any siblings? Parents still alive?”
Some of the humor danced away. “Mom’s dead. Only child.”
“What about Dad? Do you see him?”
“No. We don’t…speak.”
There was a story there, one he didn’t want to talk about. Since she was making such progress, she let it slide for the time being. “You were in the army.”
He nodded.
“Did you go to college?”
“Graduate school, too.”
“Really?”
“Close your mouth. Your surprise is insulting.”
She tucked her tongue against the inside of her cheek. “What’s your degree in?”
“Computer technology. Masters in programming and research.”
“What kind of research?”
“The kind I need for my job.” He huffed out a breath. “Found out enough to satisfy your curiosity for a while? Because I’ve got some work I could be doing.”
“No.” When his eyes narrowed, she added, “For now, though, yes. Besides, I’m tired again.”
It was true. Just standing upright and sparring with him had sapped her of the little energy the soup had given her.
“You going back to bed?”
“No.” She rubbed her eyes. “I’m gonna sit on the couch and watch a movie.”
She moved back to the living room sofa. When she pulled at the blanket, Moonlight let out an irritated rumble.
“It’s my couch, you spoiled thing.” She lifted the cat, then settled her down on her lap. Moonlight immediately scooted back to the couch and turned her back to Abby.
“Fine.” Abby sat back and flipped through the television channels with the remote while Rick washed their dishes. “You don’t have to do that,” she told him. “Leave them. I’ll clean up later.”
“It’s already done.”
He came and sat next to her, two bottled waters in his hands. “Ellie said you need to keep drinking.” He shoved one of the throw pillows behind his head and plunked his unshod feet on her coffee table. “What are we gonna watch?”
Abby stared at him.
“What?”
“Didn’t you say you had work to do?”
“I said I had work I could do, not that needed my undivided attention.” He grabbed the remote from her hands and fiddled with the buttons. “Chilling with a movie sounds good. Comedy or chick flick?”
Still staring at him, she answered, “Neither. I hate chick flicks, and I’m too tired to laugh.”
“I never met a woman who didn’t like a good cry-your-eyes-out movie.”
“You have now.” Abby snatched the remote back and flipped to the sci-fi network.
“You’re kidding.”
“Oh, goodie. The original black-and-white Invasion of the Body Snatchers is about to start. I love that one. It’s so much better than the later version.” She huddled under the blanket, pulling it up to her chin, and settled in. The intensity of his gaze had her turning toward him. Absolute befuddlement branched across his open mouth and widened eyes. She wanted to giggle at how stunned he looked. “What?”
Rick swallowed. “I’m…surprised. I never took you for a sci-fi fan.”
“Card-carrying member.” She turned back to the television. “No more talking. It’s starting.”
Hours later, after a marathon of Star Trek movies and a heated debate about who was the best Captain Kirk—Rick was a die-hard Shatner fan, Abby preferred Chris Pine—and another bowl each of Kandy’s chicken soup, Abby felt herself being carried in arms the size of planks.
Rousing slightly, she tilted up her head and breathed in the scent of fresh soap and man.
“Did I fall asleep?” she murmured.
“An hour ago.” The soft, deep rumble of his voice reverberated from within him, tickling her chin and ear. “I thought you might wake up, but when it looked like you were down for the count, I figured you’d be more comfortable in your bed.”
“Mmm.” He was so warm. She gave in to the simple desire seeping through her and nuzzled her nose along the column of his throat.
His breath hitched.
“You smell good,” she whispered, eyes closed. “Clean and fresh and…manly.”
“Manly has a scent?” He dragged the blanket up over her.
“Mmmm.” She let her eyes drift open. He was leaning down, his hands on either side of her shoulders on top of the covers. “Soap.”
Why was that half grin so undeniably appealing? She was too tired to figure it out right now. She’d think about it later when her brain wasn’t so tapped out.
“Go to sleep, Abigail.”
“Mmmm. ’K.”
He pushed off the bed.
“And don’t call me Abigail.”
His quiet laughter was the last thing she heard before drifting off.
Chapter Ten
“You look better,” Rick told her the next morning.
“I feel better.” She accepted the mug of tea he handed her, knowing it would be prepared exactly as if she’d done it herself. She took a sip and closed her eyes, savoring the first sip.
Rick’s low laugh forced her eyes back open. “I fed your cat in the hope it would dampen some of the noise. No such luck. She’s loud when she’s eating and when she’s not.”
“You get used to it. Thanks for the tea. I could get used to service like this.” She said it playfully, but when she saw the heat cross in his gaze, watched his eyes as they trailed down to where her mouth was poised above the mug, she realized how much she meant it.
“Your phone’s been buzzing,” he said. “Nonstop since you went in the shower.”
“You didn’t answer it?” She swiped the screen to open it. “I’m stunned.”
“You’re definitely better.” He grinned into his coffee mug. “And to answer your pithy question, no, I didn’t answer it. The calls are for you, not me.”
“Shocking,” she said. “They’re all from Verna and Phoebe. Something must be wrong.”
She dialed her secretary’s number.
“Abby. Thank God you finally called me back. Phoebe and I have been trying to get through to you.”
“What’s going on?”
“Have you caught of any of the morning news?”
“No. I just got out of the shower. Why?”
Verna inhaled sharply. “Judge Aaronson’s been attacked. Stabbed on her way in to court this morning.”
“What?”
Rick slammed his mug down and grabbed her forearm. His gaze sliced through hers.
“Where did this happen?”
“When she came up from the subway across from the courthouse.”
“Is she…” Dread spread through her system.
“The last report said she’s alive, but barely. Her neck was sliced in the attack. The minute I heard, I tried your cell. You’re scheduled to appear in front of her this morning.”
“The Hampton case, I know.”
“Should I call Magda Hampton? Apprise her of what’s happened?”
“Yes, and please call the courthouse as well. I need to know if the case will still be heard by another judge. I don’t think it will, but I want to make sure.”
“Will do. I’ll call back when I know anything.”
Verna went on to tell her the name of the hospital the judge had been transported to.
“It’s the same as Lila,” she told Rick when she disconnected. She sat down at the counter and dropped her head into her hands. “What’s going on? First Marty, now Aaronson.”
“What do you mean?”
Her breath caught when she looked up at him. The only words that came to mind to describe the intense, piercing glaze in his eyes were probing and predatory.
“What do you mean, Abigail? First Marty, now Aaronson? Are they connected?”
She nodded. “Marty appeared before Judge Aaronson dozens, if not hundreds, of times over the years. She’s one of the best family court judges in the city. Maybe the state.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe this happened.”
“Have you appeared before her?”
“A few times. I was scheduled for an appearance today with a client. Preliminary work for a grandparent adoption.” She glanced down at her phone, then back up to him. “I want to go to the hospital.”
“I’m ready whenever you are,” Rick told her.
****
Twenty minutes later, Rick pulled into the visitors’ lot. The hospital entrance was packed with media. Two uniformed security guards, flanked by two NYC uniformed police officers stood vigil outside the doors, checking identification badges of every one trying to enter.
Abby and Rick both flashed their licenses.
“I need to see Lila first,” she told Rick. “Can you try and find out anything about Judge Aaronson’s attack?”
“I’ll call Pecorrini, but I’m not leaving your side, Abigail.”
“Fine. Get me anything you can, please.”
The CCU was agog with hospital personnel. They stopped at the nurse’s station and Abby asked after Lila Genocardi.
“You’re her lawyer, right?” the receptionist asked. “She’s been moved to the surgical step-down unit down the hall.”