Chapter 8
Now
Emma hoisted the strap of her large tote bag onto her shoulder, picking up her walking pace. Her class at the Jackson Byrne Memorial Shelter started in ten minutes, and she still needed to set up. A last-minute phone call from a client had held her up at the office.
She was glad she’d changed from heels into flats. On her tight schedule, the walk was a workout, especially with her heavy supply bag in tow.
Around a dozen students were already at work when she walked in, and Emma smiled at their creased brows and looks of concentration as they painted. Teaching this class always gave her a high. The students ranged from young to old, but helping someone discover art at any age was a feeling like no other.
“Hi guys,” Emma said as she unpacked supplies on a beat-up card table. “How’s it going?”
There were murmurs and grunts in response, and Emma walked over to look at the canvases on the row of makeshift easels.
“Really nice, Will,” she said softly, squeezing the shoulder of an older man with wild gray hair. He’d put in a lot of work on the landscape of the farm he’d grown up on. Emma enjoyed hearing him talk about it while he worked.
“Jordan,” she said, grinning at a young boy who stood on a step stool that boosted him up high enough to reach his canvas. His pearly white smile was bright against his dark face as he smiled at her.
“Do you like it?” he asked eagerly.
“I love it,” she said, admiring the creature on his canvas that looked half-dog and half-superhero. “Tell me about it.”
“He’s a super hero who got bit by a dog and now he’s turning into one!” Jordan said, his brown eyes wide with enthusiasm.
“You’re so creative,” Emma said, patting his back.
Emma wrinkled her face with concern when she saw a girl she’d been teaching since she started at the shelter six months ago. Maddie was 11, and she was always eager to paint. Today she stared at an empty canvas, looking lost in her thoughts.
“What’s up, Maddie? Not inspired yet?” Emma asked as she approached. Maddie shrugged. “Is everything okay?”
“She’s sad cause her Mom’s going to jail tomorrow,” Jordan said, looking over at them. Emma’s heart broke for the dark-haired girl she’d become so fond of.
“I’m sorry, Maddie,” she said softly.
“I’m not sad because she’s going to jail,” Maddie said in a small voice. “She did what they said she did. My Mom says the worst thing you can do is lie, and she isn’t going to lie and say she didn’t do it. I’m sad because if she goes to jail she’ll lose custody of me. I don’t want to live in a foster home. I can’t stay here without her. I’m scared.”
Emma sighed heavily as some of the adult students looked over. She brushed her hand over Maddie’s hair, unsure what to say.
“Okay guys, this is a free painting day,” she finally said. “Just paint whatever you’d like and remember to line them up on the windowsill to dry when you’re finished. I have to step out for a minute but I’ll be right back.”
She headed for the office of Scott Lansing, the shelter’s manager, considering how fortunate she’d been to grow up in such a stable home. Maddie would probably have bigger things to consider than just a crush on a boy when she became a teenager.
When she saw Scott staring at a spreadsheet on a computer screen, Emma wasn’t surprised he was working so late. He practically lived at the shelter.
“Hey,” she said, rapping lightly on the wall since his office had no door.
“Emma, come in.” He smiled and pushed the papers on his desk into a stack. Emma had always liked Scott, a gangly man with dark glasses and a blond ponytail. He was warm and thoughtful, and always made time for her.
“Hi, I’ll be quick,” she said. “What’s going on with Maddie’s Mom?”
Scott’s brow furrowed as he exhaled deeply.
“It’s pretty sad, actually,” he said. “Jana’s got court tomorrow because she stole some stuff back when she was still using drugs. It happened before they came here, and she’s been clean for 60 days now. I made a call to the DA’s office, but I didn’t get anywhere. If she takes the plea deal, she’ll get 30 days in jail, and she’ll have to give up custody of Maddie while she’s there. I’m confident we can help her get Maddie back when she’s released, though.”
“Jail time? What did she steal?” Emma asked with disbelief.
“I’m not even sure, but she has priors,” Scott said. Emma gave him a puzzled look.
“Prior convictions. Drug addiction can make people do some crazy shit.”
“I just hate this for Maddie,” Emma said. “She’s such a great girl.”
“I do, too. And Jana’s a good Mom. She’s on the right path now. She’s just sick about this, but she’s trying to stay strong for Maddie.”
“Does she have an attorney?” Emma asked.
“Just a lousy public defender who brought her a lousy plea deal,” Scott said, rolling his eyes.
“What if …” Emma considered. “What if I could get an attorney to help her for no charge?”
“It couldn’t hurt,” Scott said, shrugging. “But there’s not much time. The hearing’s tomorrow afternoon.”
Emma pulled out her phone. She looked at Cole’s number, remembering he had dinner with a partner. That left only one other attorney she knew.
***
The sight of her sister rushing down the halls of the homeless shelter in designer heels made Emma smile.
“Em, are you okay?” Layla asked breathlessly. “You sounded upset in your message.”
“Sorry, yeah, I’m okay. I just need your help. Well, someone else does,” Emma said.
“Okay … what’s up?”
Emma relayed Jana’s legal situation, and Layla nodded thoughtfully.
“I’d help if I could, Em, but I’ve never done criminal work,” Layla said. “And if she has an attorney, I can’t do any work on her behalf.”
Emma groaned helplessly.
“Layla, you can do anything you put your mind to. Please. There has to be something you can do.”
“Okay,” Layla said. “I’ll meet with her and explain some things and if she wants to drop her p.d., I’ll see what I can do.”
“What’s her p.d.?” Emma asked, confused.
“Public defender. I’m assuming based on what you’ve told me she doesn’t have a private attorney.”
“Oh, right,” Emma said. “No, public defender, like you said.”
“We can probably get a continuance tomorrow,” Layla said. “I’ll do my best on it, okay?”
Emma lunged for her sister with a hug.
“You’re the best,” she said. “And I hope you realize you have to do this for free.”
“Of course I do.” Layla laughed.
“I have to go finish up my class,” Emma said.
“Okay. Can you help me find Jana so we can talk? Then I’ll wait for you to finish so we can get some dinner. I’m starving.”
“Layla, don’t say that here,” Emma said softly. “Some people here have actually been through that.”
Layla’s hand flew to her mouth.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“I’ll have Scott take you to meet Jana,” Emma said. “And don’t worry, the secret of your kindness will be safe with me.”
“That’s good, because I have a reputation to uphold,” Layla said, smiling.
***
Her gaze wandered over his light coat of stubble, and Emma marveled at the way Cole always managed to look rugged and polished at the same time. His dark, tailored suit was a perfect counterpart for his unshaven face. Even his hair pulled off both looks: cropped short, but mussed more than styled.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he said, focused on the bumper-to-bumper traffic they were in as they headed away from the city for dinner at Leo Stanford’s home in the suburbs.
“I’m a little nervous,” Emma admitted, hugging her arms around herself. “The only attorney I’ve ever spent any time around is my sister. I think this is how you felt when we were going to the gallery. I’m worried everyone will be discussing legal precedents and I’ll be lost.”
“Don’t worry.” He skimmed his hand across her bare thigh in reassurance. “None of the partners are married to attorneys, and I don’t think any of the junior attorneys coming are, either. No one wants to talk about work, anyway. I should tell you, though, that Leo’s married to Teresa Pine. She’s the heir to a huge manufacturing fortune. Their house is incredible.”
“Now I’m even more intimidated.”
“Don’t be. They’ll all love you. But, uh …” He plowed his hand over his hair, which Emma knew was his nervous habit.
“What?” she asked skeptically.
“I need a favor.”
“That sounds a little ominous.”
“No, it’s not, it’s just … I went to dinner at Leo and Teresa’s house right after I started at the firm, and it was quite an evening. There’s another partner, Tom Warner, who’s in his 70’s, and his wife Lindsey is maybe 40. She cornered me and came on to me. It was bad, because I didn’t want to offend her, but I’d never mess with a partner’s wife. So I’m wondering if you’ll stick really close by me and not object if I maybe make it sound like we’re … really serious.”
“Okay.”
Spending the evening with Cole Marlowe pretending we’re seriously involved. What a sacrifice.
When they made their way into the suburbs and he pulled into a long, winding stone drive, Emma realized what he meant. She’d never seen such a lavish, ornate home. It went on and on, with a dozen different roof peaks. The stone exterior of the house had an aged, distinguished look.
“That fountain is the size of my apartment,” she mumbled. Cole pulled up near the front, where a uniformed attendant stood by to accept his keys and park the car.
“Did I tell you how magnificent you look tonight?” Cole asked Emma as he offered his arm.
“You did, but thanks for telling me again.” She smiled and gripped his forearm as he led her up to the tall front door. Flanked by potted topiaries, there was something about the old-world design of the door that made her nostalgic for the architecture of Europe.
When they entered, she handed over her trench coat, feeling overly exposed in her dark gray, form-fitted dress. The silky fabric skimmed over her curves, and she wondered if she’d been too bold in her choice. The natural waves of her long, thick hair covered part of the open back, and the neckline was high. She’d only considered Cole seeing her in it, though, not dozens of people she’d never met.
Layla always said that 99 percent of looking hot was being confident. Emma took a deep breath and smiled, taking the hand Cole held out to her.
Being in the spectacular home as his escort and meeting one beautifully dressed person after another made Emma feel like royalty.
“Cole,” a round man with silver hair said, grinning as he extended his hand.
“Kevin,” Cole said warmly. “Haven’t seen much of you. This is my girlfriend, Emma.”
“Emma,” Kevin said, shaking her hand. “It’s great to meet you. Cole, I won’t tell the others you’re managing a life outside the office. Junior attorneys get worked to death at our firm.”
Kevin was pulled away, and Cole reached up to a passing waiter’s tray, grabbing two flutes of champagne. When he handed one to Emma, she sipped it gratefully.
“Cole Marlowe,” a woman’s sultry voice said from behind them. Emma turned to see an attractive, middle-aged blonde approaching. The low neckline of her black dress revealed tan lines on her chest.
“Mrs. Warner,” he said, whipping Emma into him with an arm around her waist. “This is my girlfriend Emma.”
A momentary flicker of distaste passed over Lindsey Warner’s face.
“Lovely to meet you, Emma,” she said as she studied her. “Cole, it’s nice to finally see you with a girl who’s got some meat on her bones.”
“Emma’s amazing,” he said, pulling her tightly against him. “Is Leo here? I was hoping to talk baseball with him.”
“He’s sitting out back. Why don’t you go find him while Emma and I get to know each other better?”
Cole paused, looking unsure, and Emma jumped in.
“Go ahead,” she said. “I’d like some girl talk.”
He looked skeptically at her, and Emma wanted to laugh at his apparent belief that she couldn’t hold her own against Lindsey Warner.
“Come out in a little bit,” he said, bending to plant a soft kiss on her neck. “You know I don’t like to be away from you for long.”
His intimacy warmed Emma from head to toe. She glanced at Lindsey, whose gaze was locked on Cole as he walked toward the wall of glass doors. Emma hoped the champagne would infuse courage if she needed it.
“Have to keep your eyes on a man like him all the time,” Lindsey said lightly.
“I don’t know that I have to, but I sure like to,” Emma said.
“Cole’s not the kind of man you want to get emotionally attached to. He can switch to a new flavor anytime he wants.”
Emma resisted the temptation to roll her eyes.
“It’s funny with us,” she said, smiling. “I’m the one who wanted to keep it casual, but he wanted more. And he can be very persuasive.”
When guests started making their way toward the dining room, Emma excused herself and headed that way herself. She wondered if Cole had even made it outside. She gasped when an arm wrapped around her waist from behind. She turned and looked up into the blue-gray eyes that were becoming downright habit-forming.
Cole held on, not moving into the dining room with the rest of the group. His gaze was intense, and she felt her body heating in response.
“You’re so sexy,” he said softly, his eyes locked on hers. “Did you wear that dress for me?”
She considered denying it, but something about his expression made her change her mind.
“I may have,” she said, shrugging and tossing back the last swallow of champagne in her glass.
“Tell me,” Cole said, a note of wanting in his low, sexy tone.
“Yes, I wore it for you,” she said softly, reminding herself to breathe as she gathered her confidence. “I want you to want me.”
He groaned and tightened his grip on her waist.
“I do, Em. And not just tonight. Every time we’re together. I want you so bad it makes me crazy. I want —”
The clicking of heels on the stone floor made them both turn toward the room’s large doorway, where their hostess Teresa Stanford approached and glared impatiently.
“Everyone’s waiting,” she said, snapping her fingers.
Cole flashed his boy-next-door grin and led Emma toward the dining room with a hand on her back. As they walked, his fingers slowly made their way lower and Emma pursed her lips to suppress her squeal as he kneaded his fingers against her ass. It sent a charge of desire through her body, making her want more.
Cole pulled out her tall, dark wood chair at the dining table, and she reached for her water glass when she sat down, hoping to cool her desire. Instead she warmed further at the feel of his palm resting on her bare leg, hidden beneath the table cloth, his fingers grazing her inner thigh.
“I don’t think we met earlier. I’m Marley Brandt,” said the polished, pretty woman next to her. “And you’re Emma, Cole’s girlfriend?”
I am? Emma grinned, loving the sound of the words Marley had spoken.
“So, Emma, what do you do?” Marley asked.
“I’m a graphic designer and an artist.”
“Really? That’s fascinating.”
“I love it,” Emma said. “What do you do?”
“I’m a partner at the firm.”
“That’s great. You must work hard, you look young to be a partner.”
Marley laughed and reached for her wine glass.
“I’m not as young as I used to be. It took me quite a few years. I don’t think it’ll take Cole as long as it took me. He’s off to an impressive start.”
A small swell of pride rose within Emma. This was what being the girlfriend of someone like Cole would feel like. She glanced at him, wishing their story was the truth. She’d had a lot of casual sex in Paris, but only one relationship, with a Parisian artist named Matthew. It had been nice at first, but then just draining. Matthew had quit art school a few years before they got together and was struggling to make a living. It created tension between them until Emma kicked him out of the apartment they shared. His resentment and lack of motivation had dragged her down.
The cheesy bisque, crusty bread and deep red wine she was enjoying reminded Emma of eating at small cafes in Paris. She wished she could roam around the city with Cole, showing him her favorite haunts and sampling all the best foods.
The electricity between them was increasingly charged each time they were together, and tonight it was all Emma could think about. Though it looked like she was engrossed in the story Marley was telling, she was focused entirely on the sensation caused by Cole’s fingers stroking her thigh. The higher his hand roamed, the more eager she became.
She felt her eyes widen when his fingertips reached the seam of her satin panties. When she glanced at his face, it was a picture of polite attention to the story Leo Stanford was telling about a trial he’d just finished. Nothing about Cole gave away the fact that he was brushing a knuckle over Emma’s panties, likely feeling the wetness his attention was causing.
Knowing what was passing between them under the table made Emma’s pulse thunder. It was blissfully forbidden, and she was shocked by how arousing she found it. As she reached for her glass of water, she slid her legs apart slightly. No one else seemed to notice Cole’s sharp inhale.
She had a small, kind smile on her face, but when Cole’s fingertips skirted beneath the seam of her panties, Emma gasped involuntarily. Marley turned to her, concerned.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Oh, I, uh – forgot to feed my cat,” she said, clearing her throat nervously.
“Do we need to go, babe?” Cole asked, looking at her. His fingers were still, but they were there, and knowing it made Emma sure everyone at the table must notice the flush she felt warming her face.
“No, it’s fine. He’ll just have to be patient and wait until we get home,” she said, giving him a pointed glance.
“Ah, but he’s really impatient sometimes,” Cole murmured to her, raising his eyebrows in amusement.
“It’ll be worth his wait,” she said, reaching for his hand under the table. She boldly drew it to her lips and kissed his fingers. Those fingers.
Cole’s eyes closed briefly for a second and Emma smiled sweetly at him. Emma heard Marley chuckle and wondered if she knew what was going on. The others at the large table were absorbed in their own conversations.
The intensity on Cole’s face empowered Emma in a way that reminded her of those one-night stands in Paris. It was hard to adjust to feeling like a sexy woman in Cole’s presence, instead of an awkward teenager.
Is it even possible I can drive him as crazy as he drives me? God, this feels good.
By the time dinner was finished, she was only thinking about how much longer it would be until they could leave. Emma wanted to be alone with Cole, and soon.
His hand never left her back or her waist as they stood talking to others, its warmth a constant reminder of what was to come. When Cole announced they were leaving, Emma wanted to run from the house.
They said their goodbyes, and as they walked to the waiting car, Emma gathered her courage, taking a deep breath.
“Do you want to go back to my place?” she asked.
“Yes,” Cole said quickly, a small smile on his lips. He looked like he wanted to say more, but the valet stood just a few feet away.
When his hand returned to her thigh during the ride home, Emma wished he would drive faster. She’d been waiting for this much longer than just one evening. The air was filled with longing and expectation, and she forced away lingering thoughts of Layla and Cole being together nine years earlier.
“You sure you want me to come up?” Cole asked as he parked. Emma’s heart fell at his earnest expression.
“Don’t you want to?” she asked.
“More than you know. I just want to make sure it’s what you want.”
“It is,” she said softly, melting when he smiled and leaned close to kiss her. He made his way around the car to open her door, and Emma wished she could text Layla and tell her about the evening. She forced her sister’s image away, knowing it would ruin an otherwise perfect night.
Emma pushed her front door open, running through a mental image of her apartment from that morning. Bed unmade, clothes on the floor, a few dishes in the sink…
Ugh. He’ll think I’m a slob. Why didn’t I clean up the damn kitchen?
The bachelor style of her apartment left no place to hide a mess. It was one giant, open room, with only the bathroom offering seclusion.
“This is nice,” Cole said when he stepped in. He glanced at the corner where her easel and art desk were surrounded by paints and other supplies. Emma felt a flutter of anticipation as he walked over to examine the canvas she had been working on for a couple weeks.
“I like this,” he said. It was an abstract of reds and oranges, swirling around each other in imperfect, circular patterns.
“Thanks.” Emma tried to force the flush from her cheeks, reminding herself Cole had no way of knowing the painting had been inspired by their first kiss. Her passion, uncertainty and joy had all spilled onto the canvas the next morning.
“This place really feels like you,” Cole said as he studied several shelves of art, design and history books. Emma’s collection of antique vases was perched on top.
“You think I’m disorganized and second-hand?” She laughed.
“No. It’s bright and comfortable and so … real,” he said, looking at her intently. “It’s beautiful.”
“Do you want some wine?” she asked, piling her hair over one shoulder nervously.
“Sure.” He made his way to her worn navy blue sofa as Emma went to the kitchen to get the drinks.
“What the fuck?” she heard him mutter. Her eyes snapped toward him, a look of disgust on his face as he stared at a sheet of paper.
“What?” she asked, walking over to look. Her heart hit the floor as she scanned the curved, feminine words.
An epic, mind-blowing fuck took place here today!
A smiley face and a hand-drawn arrow narrowed down precisely where it had happened. Cole looked pissed and a little hurt when his gray eyes found Emma’s.
“Oh, shit,” she said, her face burning. “That isn’t my note, Cole.”
“Really? Other people fuck on your couch?” he clipped, suspicious.
“Not usually, no. But Layla has a key.”
Some of the anger drained from his face.
“Are you seeing anyone else?” he asked, still sounding put off.
“Anyone else? Other than … who? I told you it’s not my note, Cole.” Emma met his eyes.
“I know it’s not your note. But I just mean in general, are you seeing anyone else?”
“You mean besides you? I didn’t know I was seeing you,” she said defensively. She instantly regretted it when his jaw tightened in anger.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll take a rain check on the wine.”