Even Eaton James and his family had ridden down the elevator to the first floor of the California Superior Court. Still, though he had no real logical reason for doing so, Blake stood there at the bank of elevators and waited.
He was done here. Unless called for further testimony, he’d been dismissed and wouldn’t be back. He’d lived in the same town with Juliet McNeil for five years and found no reason to be in touch with her. Had had nothing to say to her.
Voices came from down the hall. Male. And one very distinctive female. The men came around the corner from the courtroom. Nodded at Blake, pushed the down button. Juliet must have stopped off in the women’s room at the juncture of the two hallways.
An elevator came. The two men, apparently attorneys on Juliet’s staff, held the door, looking at him. Blake shook his head. And they were gone.
It was better this way, with no one around. Just a quick acknowledgment, for old times’ sake. Something he might not have bothered with if not for the funeral he’d attended over the weekend—and all the memories aroused by the past week.
Hearing the swish of a door, Blake stood upright, hands in the pockets of his gray slacks, facing the hall. Her head pulled back a bit when she saw him, but her step didn’t falter. She had to be the most confident woman he’d ever met.
That confidence had attracted Blake nine years ago. And attracted him now.
“I thought you’d be long gone.” That was another thing he remembered quite clearly about that foggy night so long ago. The woman had a habit of saying what was on her mind rather than couching her thoughts in platitudes. Disconcerting.
And yet, delightfully refreshing in that he’d known where he stood with her. There’d been no game playing. No social dishonesty.
“I never had the chance to say hello.” He pushed the down button. “And didn’t want to go without at least saying goodbye.”
“Oh.” Her hair was still long—the gold-streaked auburn color striking—and curled past her shoulders. “Well, I wish it could have been under different circumstances, but it was nice seeing you,” she said. She didn’t avoid looking at him, but gave equal attention to the lighted bar atop the elevator, indicating the car’s current floor.
“You look good.”
“You, too.” Except that she wasn’t really looking. And then she did. “I watched your office building go up. Impressive. You’re doing very well.”
Blake nodded. “I had good teachers.” Including his father, the man he’d spoken of so harshly that night just before he’d left the country. Was that what this was about? A need to correct any misconceptions? He’d been a kid then. Too concerned with his own rights and far too insensitive to those of others.
“I’m…uh…sorry.” She tilted her head in the direction of the courtroom from which they’d come. “For back there.”
“We were on opposite sides of the fence,” he told her—as though neither of them could have expected anything different.
The elevator came. Blake held open the door while she stepped inside, then joined her. Standing against the side wall, her briefcase held with both hands down in front, she’d already pushed the first-floor button.
“Still,” she said, glancing over at him, “I wouldn’t blame you if there were some hard feelings.”
“Oh, there are definitely those,” he admitted, thinking of James. “Just not directed at you.”
The quick tilt of her chin, more even than the light in her eyes, gave away her surprise. “Well, thank you.” She smiled.
And he knew he wasn’t done yet.
“How would you feel about getting a bite to eat?”
The elevator stopped and she got out, frowning. “Tonight?”
“Doesn’t have to be.” He followed her over to a decorative column off to the side of the building’s entryway and leaned against it.
“I…”
Blake could sense a refusal coming. “Or just a drink sometime,” he offered. “For old times’ sake.”
“You’ve been home five years. Old times have taken quite a while to come calling.” The easy grin on her face took any sting out of the words.
She was right.
“I…my ex-wife died last week.” Blake was uncomfortable with the personal admission. “I hadn’t seen her in years, but that, plus the whole Eaton James thing, has brought up a lot of old memories. I feel like I have some things to set straight. Unfinished business, maybe.”
“We finished our business.” Her head tilted up at him, those green eyes with their mysterious brown flecks, had him thinking otherwise.
“I’m not arguing with that,” he offered. “I guess I’m just looking for some closure on that whole phase of my life. Think you could humor me long enough for a conversation?”
“I guess.”
He wondered at her hesitancy. “You have a significant other out there who might not understand?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m not married or otherwise significantly, uh, connected.”
“Because you’re still afraid that a relationship would take away your freedom?”
When he’d married Amunet, he hadn’t thought he’d robbed his wife of her liberty, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. Their marriage had certainly trapped her. Or changed her, anyway. Enough so that she’d eventually been driven to suicide?
“Not really,” Juliet said, her gaze clear. “Anyway, it wasn’t my freedom I was protecting back then. I just needed to know that I could provide for myself before I relied on anyone else. I needed to believe in me.”
He nodded. That he understood. It had taken four years away and more time back home before he’d discovered that.
“Are you dating someone?”
She shook her head, lower lip protruding slightly. “No. You?”
“No.” He couldn’t tell if his reply had any effect on her. Not that it mattered.
“So what about that drink?”
“If you can make it early, say, four o’clock or so, I can do Thursday this week. Just once. For old times’ sake.”
Right after court.
Blake nodded. “Thursday it is.”
HAVING BUILT a successful career on finding different ways to present the truth, Juliet failed miserably, over the next two days, to come up with a truth that would suffice as a plausible excuse to cancel her drink date with Blake Ramsden.
She just couldn’t find a way to say, “I don’t want to see you ever again because you’re the father of my daughter and I don’t want
