that way at night, due to medical problems that she’d never shared with her boss. She worried about her child constantly. There were good medications for his condition, but the ones she used didn’t seem to work, especially in the spring and fall of the year. The leaves were just starting to fall in San Antonio as the weather turned cooler, and Markie was having more trouble than usual. It was no wonder that she had dark circles under her eyes and was late to work. Especially after a night like last night …
“… I said, did Riley Blake call?” Jon repeated.
Joceline jumped and dropped the small plastic photo insert she’d been holding.
Frowning, Jon picked it up. He stared at the child in the photograph with curiosity. “He looks like you,” he said finally as he handed the insert back to her.
She put it away quickly. “Yes,” she stammered. “Sorry, sir.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at her with open curiosity. “We have those bring-your-child-to-work days here, but you never bring your son with you.”
“It would be inconvenient,” she said. “Markie is a bit of a pirate when he’s in company. He’d be making hats out of files and standing on the desk,” she added with a laugh.
His eyebrows arched. Cammy had said that Jon had been singularly mischievous as a young boy.
Joceline glanced at him. “They think he may have attention deficit disorder,” she said. “They wanted to put him on drugs….”
“What? At his age?” he exclaimed.
She shifted. “He’s in preschool,” she said. “He unsettles the other children because he’s hyperactive.”
“Are you going to let them medicate him?” he asked, with real interest.
She looked up, her blue eyes troubled. “I don’t know,” she said hesitantly. “It’s a hard issue to deal with. I thought I’d discuss it with our family doctor and see what he thinks, first.”
“Wise.” He drew in a long breath. “That’s a decision I’d have a hard time with, too.”
She managed a smile. “Times have changed.”
“Yes.”
She searched his black eyes and her body tingled. She looked away quickly. This would never do. She fumbled her purse back under her desk. “I was going to print out that brief for you,” she said, opening a file on the computer. “And you’re having lunch with the deputy sheriff in that potential federal kidnapping case.”
“Yes, we thought we’d discuss the case informally before lawyers become involved.”
She gave him a droll look. “I thought you were a lawyer.”
“I’m a federal agent.”
“With a double major in law and Arabic studies and language.”
He shrugged. His dark brows drew together. “How did you manage college?”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You work endless hours and you have a small child,” he said. He didn’t add that he knew her finances must have been a problem, as well.
She laughed. “I went on the internet. Distance education. I even got a degree that way.”
“Amazing.”
“It really is,” she agreed. “I wanted to know more about a lot of subjects.” Her favorite was sixteenth-century Scotland. One of her other interests was Lakota history, but she wasn’t telling him that. It might sound awkward, since that was his ancestry.
“Sixteenth-century Scottish history,” he mused. He frowned. “You didn’t have a case on my brother, did you? That’s his passion.”
She gave him a glowering look. “Your brother is terrible,” she said flatly. “Winnie Sinclair must have the patience and tolerance of a saint to live with him.”
He glared at her. “My brother is not terrible.”
“Not to you, certainly,” she agreed. “But then, you’ll never have to marry him.”
He chuckled.
“My mother was a MacLeod,” she added. “Her people were highland Scots, some of whom fought for Mary Queen of Scots when she tried to regain the throne of Scotland after being deposed by her half brother, James Stuart, Earl of Moray.”
“A loyalist.”
She nodded. “But my father’s family were Stewarts with the Anglicized, not the French, spelling, and they sided with Moray. So you might say they united warring clans.”
“Did your parents fight?”
She nodded. “They married because I was on the way, and then divorced when I was about six.” Her eyes became distant. “My father was career military. He remarried and moved to the West Coast. He died performing maneuvers in a jet with a flying group.”
“Your mother?”
“She remarried, too. She has a daughter … a little younger than me. We … don’t speak.”
He frowned. “Why?” he asked without thinking.
“I had a child out of wedlock,” she said. “When she found out, she disowned me. She’s very religious.”
He made a rough sound. “I thought the purpose of religion was to teach forgiveness and tolerance. Besides all that, didn’t you just say she was pregnant with you when your father and she got married?”
“Well, it doesn’t work out that way sometimes with religion, and the important point to her was that she was married when I was born. We were never really close,” she added. “I loved my father very much.” She cleared her throat and flushed. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to speak of such personal issues on the job.”
“I was encouraging you to,” he replied quietly. He studied her with open curiosity. “You love your son very much.”
She nodded. “I’m glad I decided not to end the pregnancy …” She almost bit her tongue off. She grabbed the phone and pushed in numbers. “I forgot to make your lunch reservations!”
Which she never did, considering it a menial chore. But he didn’t mention that. He’d upset her by asking personal questions. It hadn’t been intentional. He wondered about her private life, about the child.
While she was talking, he went back into his office. He’d meant to apologize to her for Cammy’s rudeness, which he was certain that she’d overheard. Then he’d been distracted by the photo of her child. She had thought of ending her pregnancy. Why? She seemed very maternal and conscientious to him, but perhaps she’d never wanted to be pregnant. Accidents did happen. It was just that his clearheaded administrative assistant didn’t seem the sort to have amorous accidents, of any type. In the past four years, he didn’t recall seeing her date anyone at all.
He
