Trouble (3 page)

“Don't trust women?” That was a new one on him. “I don't have any problems with women.”

“Not with sexing them up, no.”

He froze, his cheeks and ears burning. “Language, Mama.”

“It's the letting them get close part that throws you off.”

Before he could think of a response to that uncomfortable bit of psychoanalysis, his phone pinged. Grateful for the interruption, he checked it and saw he had a text.

“Jury's back. Gotta go.” He jumped up and kissed Mama on the cheek. “Sorry.”

“You silly boy.” Grinning, she watched him grab his briefcase. “I don't know why you're so excited. I don't think you've ever lost a case.”

“Don't jinx me.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “Listen, about the doctor. I don't want you to worry because—”

“I wouldn't have a worry in the world if I knew you were looking out for Sean.”

Mike shook his head in disbelief. As if he didn't feel guilty enough that his life and career were on track while Sean floundered every chance he got.

“Wow. Pushy, much?”

“You're so blessed, Michael. Would it hurt you to give a little back?”

“I've already given till it hurts.”

“Give some more,” she said flatly.

He sighed. Tried one last time to find an escape hatch and came up empty. Sighed again.

“I'll see what I can do,” he told her. “Professor Stallworth is giving a party Friday night for the first-year law students. I'll probably see Sean there.”

Glorious smile from Mama. “Good.”

As he dropped some money on the table and left the restaurant to hurry back to court, his mind shifted to Sean and his new girlfriend, the distraction. If Sean held true to form—and Sean always held true to form, having dated a cougar, a heavy drinker and a rabid party girl in recent memory—the woman would be nothing but trouble to him, an unnecessary complication to his fledgling law school career. And whoever she was, she'd aroused Mike's curiosity.

What kind of woman could she be?

“Dara? Dara! Over here!”

That Friday night, Dara Williams turned around in time to see Monica, her best friend since junior high, weave her way toward her through Professor Stallworth's enormous great room.

Monica waved and smiled. “I made it!”

Dara held her glass of merlot in one hand and pulled Monica close for a hug with the other. “Late as usual.”

“Don't start! You know I'm time-management challenged.”

“Yeah? Well, until they feature that condition on
60 Minutes
, I'm going to keep calling you chronically late.”

Laughing, they both looked around the crowded room. A pianist played something jazzy on a gleaming black grand piano on one side of the room. People milled around the buffet and two bar areas.

Monica whistled. “Some house.”

“Some crowd.” Dara discreetly tipped her head toward a woman sitting on the hearth. “See her? She's with the prosecutor's office.” She turned and indicated a man shoveling spaghetti onto a plate. “And he's with the U.S. Attorney's—”

Monica's mouth twisted. “Can we at least eat dinner before you start in on your plans to conquer the legal world?”

Dara frowned. Conquering the legal world was the legacy bequeathed to her, as Monica well knew. Dara's father was a federal judge, and her grandfather had been a prominent civil rights attorney. She'd wanted to be a lawyer since she was seven.

“The whole point of this party is for law students to network with alumni,” she reminded Monica. “Don't you want one of them to hire you for your internship?”

Monica snatched a piece of cheese from a passing server's tray and popped it in her mouth. “You need to work on being a little more well-rounded,” she said, chewing.

“I'm perfectly well-rounded, thank you. I read. I practice yoga. I cook.”

“You study. You go to class. You talk about getting a good internship. You talk about making law review in the spring. Do you ever accidentally think or talk about anything else?”

Dara had to laugh. “Fine. What do you want to talk about?”

Monica gleefully rubbed her hands together. “Where's Sean, and has he asked you out yet?”

“He'll meet us here, and no.”

“Because he's going to. It's just a matter of time.”

“For the millionth time: I'm not about to date anyone now.”

Dara spied an empty stool by the piano and grabbed Monica's arm to steer her to it.

“But why?” Monica asked as she sat down. “He's a law student. He's handsome. He's crazy about you. What more do you want?”

Dara looked heavenward. “I want to be a lawyer. That's it.”

“I'll never understand you. Men trip all over you, and you never notice. It's insane. Meanwhile, you're practically a virgin.”

“Shut. Up.” Dara quickly glanced around. When she saw that no one was in earshot, she relaxed a little. “I'm not a virgin. As you know.”

Monica lowered her voice. “You've had sex, what? Twice? One night two years ago?”

“Yeah … so?”

“Antonio was a rotten jerk. It's past time you got over him.”

Dara winced. Yeah, he'd been all that and more. Her so-called first love, the guy who'd sworn eternal devotion, then bragged on the phone to his friends that he'd “tagged it” the morning after she slept with him. She could still remember the sickening shock she'd felt when she stepped out of the shower, floating in the afterglow, and heard his laughing voice through the thin walls of his apartment. The incident had pretty much ended her brief foray into the world of romance.

Still, she wasn't pining over him. In fact, she hadn't thought about him in months.

“I
am
over him.”

“If you're so over him, why don't you ever date anybody?”

“There's always time for men later,” Dara said.

The first person Mike ran into when he walked into Professor Stallworth's kitchen was his brother Sean, who stood by the counter, studying the food. Sean looked up, saw Mike heading his way and grimaced as though as though a zombie with rotting skin, half a face and trailing innards was lurching toward him.

Typical.

Trying his best to honor his promise to Mama, Mike hung on to his game face and extended his hand. “What's up, man?”

Sean shook warily and nodded. “Mike.”

“What's going on? How's school so far?”

“Not too bad,” Sean said with a marked lack of enthusiasm.

Mike flashed back to Sean's college days, when Sean had made the dean's list exactly … never.

“Let me know if you need any help with anything,” he offered.

Sean's lips thinned as if Mike had offered him a steaming and runny pile of horseshit. “I'm going to give that a pass.”

Of course he would. Because Sean was just that foolishly stubborn.

Resisting the urge to shake Sean until his semifunctional brain got better reception, Mike decided to change the subject. “Been here long?”

“Just got here.” Sean reached for a shrimp. “Before I forget to ask, what about basketball next week?”

They'd played together in a league for a while, and on court they managed to have fun, probably because there was no opportunity for conversation.

“Yeah,” Mike said, surprised and gratified by the suggestion. “Good.”

“Good.”

Having exhausted almost all his idle chitchat, Mike steered Sean toward the great room, where they found a quiet corner off the main hallway. “Mama says you met someone.”

“Mama's got a big mouth,” Sean said, lapsing into a shit-eating grin.

Mike watched him closely, intrigued. “So who is she?”

“Another first-year. She should be here somewhere.” Sean craned his neck, apparently trying to see her over the crowd, before turning back to Mike. “Wait'll you see her, man. She's tight. The whole package.”

Mike nodded, wished he'd been born with the ability to keep his mouth shut when it came to trying to steer his baby brother out of trouble, and plowed ahead.

“Sean,” he began cautiously.

To no one's surprise, Sean's back stiffened. “
What?
You think I'm going to mess up school, don't you?”

“I just remember how tough the first year of law school is and—”

“And
what
? With me being a big screwup, you thought I couldn't handle two things at once? That it?”

Mike held up a hand to slow Sean down. “Sometimes I get sidetracked myself, and I—”

“Sure you do,” Sean said, sneering.

With that, Mike's good will toward Sean, what little there'd been of it, went up in flames, burned to a crisp and flew skyward like the cinders currently disappearing up Professor Stallworth's fireplace flue.

“Know what?” he snapped. “Forget I ever said anything, Sean.”

“Know what? I will.” Sean jammed his hands in his pockets, wheeled around and stalked off down the hall to the screen porch, muttering as he went.
“Jackass
.
”

“Jackass,” Mike muttered, turning away from Sean.

Skirting the crowd, he headed for the buffet table in the corner and wondered why he'd ever promised Mama he'd reach out to that maniac loser. Like he and Sean could ever see eye-to-eye on anything, much less establish a workable relationship. Please. And why had he thought—

Whoa. Who was
that
?

He stopped dead, his attention snagged by a woman standing over by the piano and talking to another woman. While his feet struggled with sudden paralysis, his heart rate pounded into overdrive, threatening to set a new land speed record.

He tried not to stare, but it was like he'd never seen a woman before this very moment. She was taller than average, with a tiny waist, curvy hips and long legs. White shirt. Big titties. Face of an angel, the kind that made a man forget to breathe. Big, beautiful dark eyes. High cheeks. Juicy lips.

Then she laughed at something her friend said and, honest to God, something in his brain snapped and went offline.

Ah, man.

Need spiraled inside him, tightening in his gut. He wanted to be the one to make her laugh. He wanted to feel the shine of her smile on his face. He wanted to hear her voice and breathe her air.

She was sweetness and light, his reward for hauling his tired ass to the party tonight and he
wanted
her.

There was no question of
if
in his mind, only when. Not tonight, probably, so he needed to dial his surging hormones back and be patient. And she wasn't quick hookup material, either; she just didn't give off that vibe, which was fine. A couple of nights with this woman wouldn't do it for him.

He doubted it would even scratch the surface.

She was very young, though. Mid-twenties at the oldest, not that he cared. If she was over eighteen, and she had to be, or she wouldn't be a law student, then she was his. If he had to make it his life's work to get this woman in his bed, then so be it. He didn't care if she was here with someone, or if she had a boyfriend or was engaged.