A Perfect Pair. Jen Safrey
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what? You’re always right. So, no excuses. I’ll stop by in about two hours. I’ve got a few more things to handle here, then—”
“Nate, I’m serious. I’m sorry. I really can’t do it tonight.”
“All right. Don’t worry about it. I’m not insulted. Just tell me why you’re canceling.”
Josey began pacing in a slow circle, wrapping the phone cord around her body. “Why do you sound so worried?”
“Because I am worried. No one likes to go out and have fun more than you, Josey. You wouldn’t ditch a night out on the town unless something was up.”
“Nate,” Josey insisted, “I’m fine. Okay? I just have to—well—I have to stay here and…think for a while.”
Not normally one for spontaneous good humor, Nate laughed out loud. “That, I have to say, is a new one. Do you usually go through life not thinking?”
“Nate, please. I’ll talk to you tomorrow about it, okay? Don’t get on my—”
“I’m not, I’m not.” Nate was suddenly serious again. “I didn’t mean to laugh. Whatever this is with you, I hope you figure it out. Do you want a rain check for tomorrow evening? It’s a Saturday night. I wouldn’t want to impose on any big date plans.”
As it happened, Josey didn’t have a date. “I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know. That should be fine,” she added, distractedly.
“Hold on.” The sound was suddenly muffled, as if Nate had covered the mouthpiece with his hand, and she heard voices. Then he came back. “Josey, listen, I have to run. One crisis after another around here.”
“Yeah.”
“So I’ll speak to you tomorrow. Don’t forget to call.”
“I won’t, Nate.”
They said their goodbyes and hung up, and Josey rested her hand on the receiver for a moment, trying to get control of her thoughts again.
But despite her effort, all that went around in her head was I want a family.
Well, she thought, why fight it? My mind is made up.
She glanced up at the framed poster on the far wall, of the Patriots’ quarterback. Nate had bought it for her birthday last month, in remembrance of their first meeting. Her mouth turned up slightly at the memory of tall, dark, handsome, subdued Nate crashing into her apartment, afraid all hell was breaking loose, and intending to do something about it. Sweet, reliable, responsible Nate.
Nate, Josey realized with a start, would be perfect to help her.
When she had told Nate she’d call him tomorrow, she had said it automatically, so that he’d stop worrying about her. But, she thought now, he was the perfect person to help out.
If anyone would understand what she was going through, it would be him. He didn’t have a wife and kids—hadn’t even dated anyone seriously since Josey had known him—but he was goal-driven and ambitious, and she needed someone like that now that she was planning to restructure her own life around a new objective. A family.
Besides, Josey thought, walking down the short hall to her bathroom and shedding her work clothing on the way, good old responsible Nate ought to be able to help her figure out how to do a responsible thing like settle down. She’d just ask for his help. Tomorrow.
Chapter Two
A light tapping on Nate’s door startled him.
“Come in!” he called, leaning back in his chair in an authoritative position. The door creaked open, and David Jeffers strode in, his footsteps muted on the soft green pile rug.
“Nathan Bennington,” Jeffers said, taking the seat across from Nate without waiting for an invitation. He wouldn’t have needed one, of course. To Nate, David Jeffers was the closest thing he’d ever had to a mentor. He was the first assistant district attorney Nate had met and worked with upon arriving at the D.A.’s office two years ago, fresh out of law school. Jeffers was someone Nate strove to impress—even now, after they’d become friends.
“Sir,” Nate replied with a smile.
Jeffers picked up a glass paperweight on Nate’s desk and studied it closely for a moment before replacing it. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you about a new opportunity you might be interested in. As soon as I heard about it, I had a feeling you might want to be in on it. Kind of a new challenge.”
“Yes?” Nate’s interest was already piqued. And it was a good thing, because it took his mind off Josey and that weird little phone call earlier. For Josey to say she wanted to sit inside and “think” on a Friday night was odd, and for the last hour, Nate had been a little distracted by worry. Which was something he was rather talented at. So now he focused his full attention on what Jeffers was saying.
“A small group of attorneys in this office is getting together to work in a specialized area—domestic violence. The number of local cases is skyrocketing, and it’s all you ever see in the media anymore. The D.A.’s decided to expand the domestic violence unit—with some additional lawyers. Talented ones. Ones who can handle the type of cases that come through here.”
Domestic violence. “What kind of cases?” Nate asked, his lips suddenly dry. It was a silly question, really. He knew the answer full well. But it was all he could think to say.
“Just about anything you’d conceive of. But the boss wants to specifically—and more publicly—target spousal abuse and child abuse.”
Nate stared at Jeffers’s face for a full minute, his heart beating fast, suddenly paranoid that his colleague knew about him, knew— No, his rational mind quickly insisted. Jeffers could have no idea of the kind of gift he was offering. Close as he was to David Jeffers, Nate had never told him—or anyone—about his father, or about the demons that had haunted him ever since he and his brother had run away from home.
He had considered the possibility of getting child abuse cases eventually. He wasn’t entirely sure that it hadn’t been in the back of his mind all along when he’d applied to Harvard Law School. But this “task force” would make prosecuting abusers a main focus. He would be personally responsible for throwing abusers behind bars.
With this new position, Nate could confront his demons. And spit in their faces.
Trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice, he said slowly, “That definitely sounds like something I would like to be involved in. But why me, Jeffers? I haven’t even gotten a chance to prosecute an abuse case yet.”
“You’ve been very successful here so far, with an excellent record, and it’s important we have the city’s best prosecutors on these cases, which can become very high-profile. But you may want to think about it. I’m handing over to you a case involving assault on a child. You can work on that and see how you do.”
“I assure you I can handle the work.”
“Oh, I’m certain of that. I don’t doubt your ability in the slightest. Quite the opposite—that’s why I thought of you. But I think you should feel out what it’s like to see abuse, and deal with it day in and day out, before you actually make a commitment to become part of this team. It’s rough stuff, very ugly.”
Nate’s mouth twisted at the irony of the attorney’s words, for he remembered, long ago, dealing with pain day in and day out under his father’s roof without any choice at all. But all he said was, “Thank you very much.”
“No problem.” Jeffers stood and stretched his head and arms back, groaning a little in fatigue or weariness. “Look at this damn place, Nate. It’s neat as can be. My office looks like my file cabinet exploded. Do you get a maid to come in here or what?”
Nate forced out a smile, forced himself to look normal. “I can come in and do your office. For a fee, naturally.”
“No