Let's Make It Legal (7 page)

He nodded. “Thanks.” He took a sip of his drink, then set the glass down. “I still miss her.”

Sydney swallowed. It was obvious that he had loved his wife very much. She could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. What must it be like to have someone love you like that? Miss you like that? A funny kind of emptiness slid into her stomach.

“To go back to your question,” John said, “Janet had worked as a counselor for a temporary employment agency, and she got the idea of an agency specializing in legal temps. We decided to go into business together, and I converted the bottom floor of my house into our offices.”

He had shaken off his momentary sadness, Sydney could see, and she struggled to shake off her own nameless yearning. “And it’s worked out well?”

“Yeah, we’ve done okay. We’d like more business, of course, but we’re holding our own.”

“Do you like the work?”

He hesitated. “Most of the time.”

“Who did you work for when you practiced law?”

“I was a partner at Chasan & Jeglinski.”

Sydney was impressed. Chasan & Jeglinski was one of the top five law firms in Houston, only slightly smaller than Folger & Hubbard. “Good firm,” she said.

John nodded. “Yes. Andrea—my wife—was a partner there, too. In fact, that’s how we met, when we both went to work for them straight out of law school.”

Just then, their waiter came up to take their order. Once he was gone, John said, “Tell me about you.”

Sydney shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. You know most of it already. I’ve been a partner at the firm for five years, and my specialty, actually my passion, is children’s rights. I occasionally take on other kinds of cases, but not often.”

He smiled. “No kids of your own?”

Normally, Sydney felt uncomfortable talking about her private life, but his dark eyes were so warm and he seemed really interested, and she suddenly found herself saying things she’d never intended to say. “No, I’m single and a big disappointment to my mother.”

“How can you be a big disappointment to your mother? You’re successful and the work you do is worthwhile, admirable even.” He ate a few chips while he waited for her answer.

Sydney felt a warm glow at his praise. She shrugged. “Well, that’s how I feel, but my mother’s idea of success is marriage and children.”

He nodded. “And it’s not yours.”

“No.”

“Do you want to get married someday?”

It was on the tip of Sydney’s tongue to say no. Instead, she shrugged again. “I don’t know. I suppose if I met someone I wanted to marry...”
What on earth made me say that?
She took another swallow of her margarita. “Actually, I don’t think marriage and being the kind of lawyer I am mix very well.”

John nodded thoughtfully. “It takes time and work to make marriage successful.”

“And I barely have enough time now.” For some perverse reason, she wished he’d disagree with her.

“You’re wise to know yourself so well.” He smiled. “Of course, your mother may never accept that. Mothers want grandchildren.”

“My mother already has six grandchildren with another on the way. She doesn’t need any from me.” Sydney hated feeling the bitterness that talking about her mother’s expectations always produced.

“So you’ve got siblings...”

“Yes. I’m the youngest of four girls. My sisters are very traditional, not like me at all. Sometimes I wonder if...”

“Wonder if what?” John prompted.

“I don’t know. My father always wanted a boy, and when I was born, he finally realized he wasn’t going to get one, so he named me after himself and raised me like the son he never had.” Sydney drew circles in the condensation on her glass. “And I, well, I’ve always wondered if I would have turned out the same way if I’d been treated like my sisters, or if the way I am is my natural state.”

“And how are you?” John said quietly.

“Driven. A workaholic. Not... feminine.”

“What!” He made a sound of disbelief. “That’s ridiculous. Driven, yes. A workaholic, probably. But
unfeminine?
No way.”

Something hot and sweet twisted through Sydney at the warm glow in John’s eyes, the unmistakable gleam of admiration and sincerity she saw and felt. She knew her cheeks had flushed and was grateful for the subdued lighting in the restaurant.

What was it about John Appleton that had caused her to tell him things she never admitted to anyone? She hoped John didn’t think she’d been fishing for a compliment, because that had been the farthest thing from her mind when she’d said what she’d said. In fact, she couldn’t imagine what had even possessed her to admit that she felt unfeminine. Had always felt unfeminine.

“Why on earth would you think you’re not feminine?” John said.

Sydney waited until their waiter, who had approached with their plates, served them. She chose her words carefully. “I’m too tall, for one thing.”

“I happen to like tall women.”

Sydney shrugged. “Most men seem to be intimidated by tall women.”

“You don’t hang around with the right men.” John took a forkful of his Chile Relleno and ate it. “Okay, so you’re tall. What else?”

Sydney ate some of her enchiladas before answering. “I don’t know how to talk to men.”

John laughed out loud. “Seems to me you’re doing just fine.”

“I feel comfortable with you,” Sydney blurted out, then wished she could take the words back. What if he thought she was flirting with him?
Well, would that be so bad?

“Good.” His eyes were warm as they met her gaze. “I feel comfortable with you, too.”

Shyness attacked Sydney, and she had to look away. She ate some rice and beans, then more of her enchilada. When she looked up again, John’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Stop laughing at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you,” he said softly. “I’m just wondering how someone as obviously intelligent as you are can possibly think of yourself as unfeminine. Don’t you ever look in the mirror?”

Sydney blushed. Once again, she was thankful for the dim lighting. “I look in the mirror all the time. That’s the problem.” Besides, she didn’t need to look in the mirror. Men’s reactions to her told a much more accurate story.

“You must be blind, then, because you’re a beautiful woman.” He hesitated for a moment. “With, may I add, gorgeous legs.”

“Could we please talk about something else?” Sydney said, completely embarrassed by the turn the conversation had taken. It was sweet of John to try to make her feel good about herself, but enough was enough. She wasn’t beautiful, not by a long shot, and she knew it. She was too tall, her feet were too big, her hair was too straight and she had no feminine wiles whatsoever. And as for her legs . . . well, she guessed they were okay.
They’re more than okay, and you know it. Why else did you buy those red heels?
Sydney squirmed uncomfortably, thinking about the Manolo Blahniks she hadn’t been able to resist the last time she’d had to go to New York on a case.

“Okay,” John said agreeably. “If that’ll make you less uncomfortable. What do you want to talk about?” He ate some more of his food.

“You. What kind of law did you practice?”

“I was a tax law specialist.”

“Tax law!” Somehow, John didn’t fit the role.

He grinned. “Sounds boring, doesn’t it?”

“Actually, yes.”

“It wasn’t. I really enjoyed it. I was good at it, too. What kind of law did you think I practiced?”

“You look like a criminal lawyer.”

“That was Andrea’s specialty.” At the mention of his wife, the grin disappeared.

Sydney hesitated a moment, then said, “Your wife must have been very young when she died.”

“Thirty-six.”

Only two years older than Sydney was now. “What happened?” she asked softly.

He sighed and laid down his fork. He took a final swallow of his margarita, then set the empty glass down. “We always jogged together. Every morning. I ran ten miles a day, but Andrea could never run more than six miles at a time, no matter how hard she tried. I always teased her about it, because she was so competitive, and she hated me to best her at anything.” Sydney watched his face as he talked. Although his voice was impassive, his eyes mirrored his emotions.

“On that particular morning, I said something like, ‘Why don’t you admit it? There are some things a man can do better than a woman, like run.’ She said she’d never admit that, that she’d run as far as me that morning if it killed her.”

Sydney’s heart seemed to stop. She knew what was coming and she wanted to tell him it was okay, he didn’t have to say the words out loud.

“I egged her on. That’s what I can’t forget. I egged her on, and fifteen minutes later, about mile eight and a half, she collapsed,” he said tonelessly. “She was dead before the ambulance arrived.”

“Oh, God,” Sydney said. “How awful for you.”

“The doctors said it was an aneurism. That it didn’t matter that she was pushing herself. That it could have happened even if she’d been sitting quietly.” He laughed, the sound ragged. “I know they were telling me the truth, but that doesn’t help. I still feel guilty. I still feel responsible.”

“Oh, John, surely you don’t blame yourself!”

“Who else is there?” he said bitterly. “I’m alive, and Andrea’s dead. And how can the doctors be so sure the jogging had nothing to do with what happened?”

“John, even I, who know very little about medicine, know that an aneurism doesn’t just happen. If a person has one, it can remain stationary for years, causing no harm, and then one day. . . boom. It’s all over.”

“Look, I know you mean well, Sydney, and I appreciate it, but let’s change the subject, okay? I really don’t want to talk about this. I usually don’t. I don’t know why I did tonight.”

Sydney impulsively reached across the table and touched his hand. “I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me.”

He turned his hand palm up and closed it around hers. Their gazes met and held for several heartbeats. Sydney didn’t even realize she was holding her breath until he released her hand after first giving it a little squeeze.

It was only then that she admitted to herself how very much she wanted John Appleton to keep trusting her.

And how very much she wanted to keep seeing him.

John wasn’t sure what was wrong with him, but no matter how he tried, he couldn’t get Sydney out of his mind. All week long, whatever he was doing, his thoughts kept straying to Monday night.

He kept picturing her as she’d looked sitting across the table from him. Her hair swinging softly around her face, shining honey gold in the candlelight. Her eyes, dark blue and intense, as they watched him. Her slender fingers wrapped around the stem of her glass. The vulnerable sweep of her jaw. Her soft mouth-just a little too wide, but appealing, nevertheless.

Where had she ever gotten the idea she wasn’t feminine? From her mother?

John had known Sydney was trying to hide her femininity, but he’d thought the reason had something to do with her profession. He’d figured Sydney thought she had to look tough to succeed. But she really
believed
she wasn’t attractive.

The woman was beautiful, in his opinion. True, she might not be everyone’s type. She certainly wasn’t fragile and clinging, and she didn’t bat her eyes and act helpless, like some women. But John had never been attracted to women like that, anyway.

No, he liked women who were smart and strong, witty and confident. A match for him. A challenge for him.

Sydney was all of that... and more.

But Monday night had only reinforced John’s decision that, just as he’d suspected, it would be foolhardy to entertain any idea of an involvement with Sydney. The two of them were on completely different courses in life.

Sydney had as much as admitted she wasn’t interested in marriage and children. Sure, she’d
said
if the right man came along she might be, but she hadn’t fooled John. She was obviously consumed by her career, just as driven and competitive as he had once been. And that was not the kind of life John intended to ever lead again—no matter how much he might miss the stimulation of his law practice. His kids deserved more than that. And he would give them more than that.

It was a shame, though, he reflected with regret. He had enjoyed himself Monday night. He had forgotten how satisfying good conversation and good food and the company of an attractive woman could be.

Sydney had reminded him of all that, of how much he was missing, of how much he had lost.

It was actually kind of funny. All of Janet’s and Mike’s and his mother’s reminders and lectures hadn’t been able to do what one evening in Sydney’s company had accomplished.

John smiled, remembering how Janet had acted when he had arrived home after saying good-night to Sydney and seeing her off in her car.

“Well?” she’d said with undisguised curiosity as he entered the house. “How was it?”

“Nice.”

“Nice?” She looked skeptical.

“Yes, nice. I enjoyed myself. She’s an interesting woman.”

Janet made a face. “Oh, she’s interesting, all right.”

John didn’t like her tone of voice. “Why do you say it that way?”

Janet shrugged. “I don’t know.” Her hazel eyes met his. “Yes, I do know. I don’t like that woman, John.”

“You don’t even know her.”

“I know that she acts as if she’s better than other people.”

He frowned. “No, she doesn’t.”

“Why are you defending her?”

“Because you’re not being fair to her. You’ve seen her exactly once, and you’ve already formed an opinion. That isn’t like you, Jan.”

Janet’s eyes widened. “Why,
you’re attracted
to her, aren’t you? I can’t believe it.”

John rarely got angry with Janet. Being twins, the two of them were generally on the same wavelength, plus Janet was a non-combative person with a sunny disposition. Yet now he could almost feel his blood pressure going up. “Just what is it you can’t believe, Jan? Is it so hard to believe that I might be interested in a woman? Hell, you’re the one who’s been so hot to get me to start dating again.”

“Yes, but, my God, John, not with someone like Sydney Wells.”