It was obvious that Justin was making a play for her. She knew the signs and normally she was able to fend them off with a joke or another drink or deflect it with banal conversation. All of her tactics escaped her. She felt as if she’d been sucked in quicksand and couldn’t grab on to anything to pull herself free. The music floated into the restroom.
Damn, damn, damn. She turned on the faucets and splashed cold water on her face and neck, snatched up a paper towel and dabbed the water away. She stared at her reflection. Get it together, girl. She sucked in a breath of determination and returned to her station.
* * *
Justin tried to concentrate on his meal, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Bailey. He could have been eating cardboard because he was only going through the motions. He wasn’t sure what it was about her that had him thinking things he shouldn’t be thinking. She was pretty. No doubt about that. But he’d seen and been with plenty of pretty women. That wasn’t it. It was something that seeped from her pores and wrapped around him like a longed-for hug. It held him, soothed him and yes, excited him. She wasn’t working him like so many of the women that he ran across. She had no idea who he was, who his family was. He wanted to keep it that way. He wanted—no needed—to find out what she was about, and maybe that discovery would answer the question that was hovering on the edge of his consciousness. Was she the one?
* * *
The evening moved on. The dance floor filled and emptied. The soft lighting tucked away in hidden places in the floor and pillars offered a seductive ambiance that was not lost on the patrons. Heads and bodies leaned close. Bubbles of laughter mixed with the music. Drinks flowed. Food satisfied the hungry palates. And Justin and Bailey teased and talked.
“So how long have you been working here?”
Bailey leaned her hip against the bar. “Going on three years.”
“You must like it.”
She smiled. His belly stirred.
“I do. You meet a lot of interesting people.”
“Rumor has it that bartenders and hairdressers are like going to a confessional.” His eyes caught the light and gleamed.
Bailey tossed her head back and laughed. Justin memorized the long curve of her throat.
“So I’ve heard. What about you? What do you do?”
He gauged his answer. “Attorney.”
Her brows rose. “Really?”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Not at all. Actually, I’m working on getting back into law school.”
He rested his forearms on the counter. “Getting back?”
She lowered her gaze. “I had to drop out for a while.”
“Oh.” He nodded his head. “It can be hard.” He paused. “Do you know what kind of law you want to practice?”
“I know that I don’t want to work for a big corporate firm. My passion is to work with those wrongly accused and that don’t have the means for high-priced attorneys. I’m thinking the nonprofit sector.” She watched his expression and was pleased that he didn’t seem turned off by her altruistic vision.
“The business can certainly use more lawyers like you will be one day.” He reached for his drink.
“I hope so. What about you? What kind of law do you practice?”
He smiled. “The kind that you don’t want to be involved with, unfortunately.”
“Why do you say unfortunately?”
“I’ll put it this way. Sometimes we have to do things we don’t necessarily want to in order to get where we want to go.”
Bailey nodded.
“Tell me about law school Where did you go?”
“LSU.”
He hummed approval deep in his throat. He sipped his drink. “Good school. Is that where you’ll be in the fall?”
Bailey averted her gaze. “That’s the plan.”
Justin tried to reconcile her upbeat voice with her troubled expression—and couldn’t. He wanted to ask her what was really going on, but he had experience with reluctant clients. It was clear that she was hesitant and could have been for any number of reasons. What he also knew was that if asked the right questions and given enough space, a client would tell you everything you wanted to know.
“Law school, even under the best circumstances, is rough, especially if you have to take a semester off.” He casually glanced at her.
Bailey’s lips moved as if she would respond, but she didn’t. He tried again.
“My second year my best friend Carl had to drop out—family issues. In solidarity I took off a semester, too. My family had a fit. But Carl and I made a pact when we started that we would enter together and leave together.”
Her expression softened. “A man of your word.”
“I try to be.”
She offered a tight smile. “I better get back to work. Can I get you anything else?”
“No. I’m good. Just the check.”
She nodded. “Be right back.” Once he had his check there would be no reason for him to stay. She could only stall for so long. What if she didn’t see him again? Why was it even important if she did? She punched in the information for his bill. There was a solidness about Justin, a confidence and warmth that couldn’t be manufactured. She stole a look in his direction. She wanted to get to know him, and she knew deep in her soul that he was feeling the same vibe.
“Here’s your check.” She placed the bill in front of him.
He took a look at the bill. If he paid with his credit card, she’d know who he was. He wasn’t ready to cross that line yet. He wanted to get to know her on his terms without the distraction of the Lawson name. Bailey seemed down to earth, a regular woman with a good head on her shoulders, but they all did in the beginning. He needed to give this some time. He plucked his wallet from his inside jacket pocket and took out a fifty and a twenty.
“I’ll bring your change.”
“Keep it.”
Her brows flicked. “Thanks.”
“Sure,” he said quietly.
Justin pushed back and stood. “How many nights are you here?” he asked.
She blinked. “Oh, um, most nights, except Sunday and one Saturday a month.”
“In that case, I’ll see you again. If that’s okay.”
“Sure. I’d like that.”
He gave her the full benefit
