as an opening. “That’s the spirit.”
She looked his way, as if seeing him for the first time. Another announcement stopped him from introducing himself.
“Please fill out the jury questionnaire as best you can,” a clerk said through the piercing feedback of a microphone. “Don’t lose it. You’ll have to hand it to the bailiff when you’re called. And, if you’re eligible, don’t forget to request a reimbursement form. It’s only fifteen dollars, but times are hard. In the meantime, enjoy the movie. Julia Roberts—she’s always fun. The snack bar is open. Plus, there’s the quiet room if you prefer to read. All in all, it’s going to be a long day, folks! So why not make a friend?”
She immediately shot to her feet. Jon figured he’d scared her away, but she only went as far as the front desk to request the forms. Then for five minutes or so, she sat quietly, brows drawn, filling in each document using a pen retrieved from the depths of her bottomless purse. It was a fountain pen with some weight to it. The ink was a brilliant indigo blue. When she was done, she carefully replaced the pen’s cap, and he noticed her fingers, long and slim with deep red lacquered nails.
She turned in one form, kept the other, returned to her seat and folded those beautiful hands on her lap. Without looking at him, she said, “You’re nosy.”
“Observant,” he said. “And so are you, but you’re better at it.”
She swiveled in her seat and studied him, her wide brown eyes taking him apart and stitching him back together. He waited, counting the seconds for her to draw her conclusions. Women either loved him or hated him. There was never any middle ground. If she fell into the wrong camp, he had ways to drag her across the line.
Her eyes narrowed. “Have we...?”
“Slept together?” he asked. “I don’t think so. I would’ve remembered.”
If he was hoping to rattle her, it didn’t work.
“I remember you,” she said drily.
There was little evidence that the memory was a pleasant one.
“I knew we’d met before,” he said. “Now clue me in. It’s been driving me crazy.”
She reached into her purse for earbuds and plugged them into her phone. “Sorry. Not trying to be rude, but all I want is to get through jury duty in peace.”
“You heard the clerk. Let’s be friends. My name is Jon—in case you’d forgotten.”
“I have enough friends.”
“Your friends are not like me.” He got up and buttoned his suit jacket. “I’ll get us coffee. Then you can tell me the story of us.”
She surprised him by rising to her feet. Even on impressively high heels—the sexiest pumps he’d seen in a while—she only reached his chin. “I can get my own coffee.”
“Let’s each get our own coffee together,” he proposed. “My treat.”
She grunted and took the lead. He happily followed, feeling like a winner. In a room full of dull and disgruntled people, she had brought light and something else that he needed: a challenge. Ten minutes in, he didn’t know her name or their shared history. He was going to have to work for it.
The snack bar offered Cuban coffee, Cuban toast, Cuban breakfast pastries and a Cuban breakfast special priced at $3.99. While they waited in line, he asked her what she’d like.
“Coffee with lots of milk. But don’t worry. I’ll order.”
“I’m not worried.”
The woman at the register took one look at him and made a suggestion. “American coffee?”
“No,” he said. “Un cortadito y un café con leche bien claro.”
He paid and stuffed a five-dollar bill in the tip jar. She watched him with an amused smile.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“Do you really speak Spanish? Or just know how to order coffee?”
He wanted to stay on topic. “You were about to tell me how we met.”
“No, I wasn’t,” she said. “If you can’t remember, it’s best to leave it in the past.”
“Who said that? Aristotle?”
The cashier tapped on the glass partition to get his attention. Their order was ready. Jon grabbed both cups and held hers up and out of reach. “Here you go...” He gave her a chance to fill in the blank.
She folded her arms across her chest, her generous chest. “My name is Sofia.”
The name didn’t ring any bells.
“Nice to meet you again, Sofia.” He handed over her coffee. “Should we check out the quiet room?”
“Too much quiet and I’ll start crying,” she said wearily. “Let’s just find a place to sit.”
Slot machines in Vegas weren’t as loud as those going off in his mind.
She led him to the far end of the auditorium to an empty row of chairs under a window. Sunlight exposed the dust in the air, like so many microscopic angels. They sat closer this time, shoulders touching, and he wondered what she’d have to cry about. Instead, he asked why she’d filled out a wage reimbursement form.
She shot him a look. Her brown eyes sparkled in the sunlight. She was very lovely.
“You are observant,” she said.
“We’ve established that.” It was no mystery. She’d filled out two forms and he’d filled only one.
“My time is worth money. That’s why. Not that it’s your business.”
“We’re talking fifteen dollars for an eight-hour day, right? You’ve got to be worth more than that.”
He was aware that he sounded like an elitist ass. Fifteen dollars was plenty for anyone who needed it. As the clerk had said, times were hard. But her sunglasses were Tom Ford, and that enormous purse was Louis Vuitton.
“I’m self-employed,” she said. “And to be honest, I’ve got a couple of toll violations. The state of Florida might as well pay for them.”
He laughed. She was a hustler. He could fall in love with this girl.
“You know what?” she snapped. “I hope you get stuck in jury duty all week.”
“Not going to happen. They won’t pick me.”
“Why not?” She took a sip of coffee. “Are you a felon? If you tell them, they’ll let you go home. It’s unfortunate, but it’s the law.”
Jon carefully lifted the lid of his mini Styrofoam cup and blew on the frothy surface. “Do I look like a felon?”
“Honestly?”
