Hard To Handle. Jamie Denton
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along with love, forever and all that happily-ever-after bullshit. Especially when she should’ve known better than to believe in any of it.
“Married.” He completed the sentence for her, his tone wry. “Say it, Mikki. You won’t choke on it.”
“Wanna bet?”
A fresh wave of couples flooded onto the deck, drowning out the sound of his warm chuckle. After a quick glance over his shoulder, he narrowed the small space that separated them. Rather than reveling in the illusion of privacy, she felt as exposed and raw as the night she’d sent him packing.
“Well?” she prompted, tucking away yet one more unpleasant memory. Her specialty. “Why are we only learning about this now?”
He let out a sigh. “I found out during a routine background check.” He kept his voice low so they wouldn’t be overheard by the growing crowd. “It’s firm policy for all partnership candidates under consideration.”
Nolan? A partner? A stuffed shirt more interested in the bottom line than the complexities of the law? His last name might be Baylor, but her soon-to-be-again former husband hadn’t ever been the least bit conservative. Although he easily had the arrogance market cornered, she thought derisively.
“You’re joking, right?”
He frowned, his expression once again framed in irritation. “Is that really so hard for you to believe?”
She folded her arms. “Actually, yes,” she said uncharitably.
His lips thinned.
Guilt immediately pricked her conscience and she let out a long sigh. Why did they always bring out the worst in each other? Couldn’t they, just once, have a civilized conversation without going for the short hairs? Better yet, why couldn’t she at least pretend to behave like a logical, rational adult around him?
Because, she thought, when it came to Nolan, there was nothing reasonable about the way he made her feel. Around him, every emotion, each response, became magnified with brilliant intensity. Whether five or fifty years had passed, she doubted that aspect of her life would ever change.
The throbbing in her temple increased, the tempo sliding right into a double-time staccato of pain. “I’m sorry.” She apologized—again. “It’s just that you never were all that…”
“Serious?” He tucked his hands into the pockets of his trousers. His frown remained in place. “So you’ve said before.”
She inwardly winced at the reminder, but could he really blame her? They’d once had their electricity shut off for a weekend because they’d come up short that month and hadn’t been able to cover all of their expenses. Nolan hadn’t been all that concerned, whereas she’d freaked. Her need for security and stability clashed with his go-with-the-flow methodology. She planned. Nolan never thought beyond the moment. A miserable combination that had been destined for disaster.
“People do change, Mikki,” he said quietly.
Not in her experience. Her caseload alone supported her belief. Every abused, neglected or abandoned kid she represented was more than enough of a reminder that very few people possessed the strength to turn their lives around and keep them that way. The best she ever hoped for was a safe place for her juvenile clients, away from their abusers or their addicted parents who cared more about their next high than their own children. If she could convince the family court judges and social workers to place the child in the home of someone who at least provided an illusion of caring, then she considered the case a victory.
Oh yeah, people changed, all right…just not anyone she knew.
So what if Nolan had miraculously matured in the years they’d been apart? They would still be all wrong for each other. And she’d do well to remember that, too, and not the way he’d kissed her, as if he’d missed her as much as she’d missed him.
Exhibiting no willpower whatsoever, her gaze zeroed in on his mouth. Just because she’d responded to that kiss didn’t mean a damned thing. Well, she amended, except for a poorly timed reminder that she hadn’t had noteworthy sex in a while.
Now there was an area where she and Nolan had been incredibly compatible. And then some. The passion between them had always burned hot. Definite chemistry, the combustible kind. Despite the passage of time, from one little ol’ kiss, she didn’t doubt for a second that making love to him would be nothing short of pure perfection.
And damned satisfying, she silently added.
“Why are you here, Nolan?” she asked bluntly, anxious to tamp down the treacherous trail of her thoughts. “Surely you didn’t come all the way to San Francisco just to tell me our divorce isn’t legal when a letter from your attorney would have been sufficient.”
“I’ve moved back.”
Dread settled in her stomach like a lead weight. “Back?” she exclaimed, uncertain which had her more stunned—the news they were still married or that he’d returned to San Francisco.
To her dismay he nodded. “To San Francisco.”
“Why?” she blurted. Why here of all places?
“I transferred from the L.A. office.”
“California’s a big state, Nolan. Couldn’t you have transferred to San Diego or Ventura?” she asked desperately.
“I’m needed here.”
Well she sure as hell didn’t need, or want, him here. She’d worked too hard to get over him. Odds were, since they both practiced family law, they were bound to eventually stumble over each other in the courtroom, either opposing each other or perhaps even on the same side, but that made little difference. Her reaction to that stupid kiss was more than enough reason for her to want to keep her distance.
It doesn’t matter.
The reminder fell sadly short and she knew it. It didn’t matter that she was supposed to have stopped loving Nolan ages ago. Where he lived, worked, his interests, none of it was supposed to make a bit of difference to her.
It doesn’t matter.
He could move into one of the first-floor units of her building for all she cared. She wasn’t supposed to give a damn.
It doesn’t matter.
Only, it did matter. Dammit, he mattered—a helluva lot more than he should.
While she struggled to digest the fact that Nolan had actually returned to San Francisco for good, he reached into his pocket and withdrew the small white-gold key she’d seen him with earlier. She gave serious consideration to taking a flying leap over the railing and diving headfirst into the frigid ocean below. With the way her luck had turned tonight, risking her neck had to be the lesser evil.
A scoundrel’s grin curved his lips as he reached for the locket around her neck.
She swatted his hand. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“What does it look like?”
As though he was about to turn her life even more upside down. She attempted to take a step back, but the stucco wall behind her prevented a clean getaway. Now would be an excellent time to take that hike over the planter.
Undeterred, his long fingers brushed against the slope of her breast as he lifted the small trinket. His smile turned downright devilish. “What do you say we test our luck?”
“Not even fate can have that much of a sense of humor.” No way in hell was she going on a date with Nolan. She’d drink antifreeze first.
Her breath caught. The soft click of the key unlocking the fourteen-karat miniature suitcase sealed her fate.
She should’ve taken her chances with the Pacific.
His reckless, heart-stopping grin deepened. “What are the odds?” He laughed, as if he’d known all along he held the key to