Trouble (32 page)

He pressed his eyes shut, dropped his head, and ran his hands roughly over his forehead and temples. What was he going to do? This kind of romantic entanglement was the very last thing he needed at this phase of his life. He should be spending all his time developing his practice, finding clients, billing hours and figuring out how he'd make payroll this month and finance the new roof. He needed to focus on his cancer-stricken mother and his idiot brother, not wonder when Dara would arrive at the office.

Before he'd had sex with her, he'd deluded himself into thinking sex would get her out of his system. Only now he wanted her more than ever. He'd always had plenty of sexual stamina, but with Dara last night, he'd ventured into uncharted territory.

Worse, he wanted to be in the room with her, to see her smile, make her laugh, watch her sleep.

Whipped.

W-H-I-P-P-E-D.

Whipped
.

Whipped was a scary place to be, he was discovering.

When he heard voices a few minutes later, he started down the stairs to the reception area. Midway, he stopped dead in his tracks and watched the scene unfold.

Dara, still in her jacket, greeted Aidan Sullivan, their client, in his high-tech, sturdy wheelchair.

“Mr. Sullivan.” She smiled warmly and reached down to touch his arm. “I'm Dara Williams, Mike's intern. I've been working on your case. It's so nice to meet you.”

Mike watched, mesmerized, as Dara turned to greet Sullivan's wife, Audrey, and relieved Audrey of a smiling baby of about six months while Audrey took off her coat.

Dara held the baby high over her head, laughing. “Hi, precious boy!” she sang while the baby laughed and gurgled at her. “How are you, sweet thing?”

An overwhelming, unwanted and undeniably primitive instinct contracted in Mike's chest—the last thing he expected to feel at this stage of his life:

He wanted to make love with Dara, get her pregnant and see her holding
their
baby.

He wanted
her
, and no one else, to be the mother of his children.

Dara grabbed her coat and hustled down the hall, pausing outside Mike's office long enough to see that he wasn't there. They'd been so busy with Aidan Sullivan this morning, they hadn't had a word alone together, and now she needed to get to class. She really hoped she wasn't forgetting something, she thought as she hurried downstairs. Her thoughts were so scattered today—oh, who was that older woman with Mike?

Dara slowed, took a closer look and realized, with a kick of nervous adrenaline, that it was his mother.

She was beautiful and petite—Mike must have gotten his height from his father—with her salt-and-pepper hair styled in a short, smart cut. Laughing up at Mike, she looked great and showed no sign of being sick that Dara could detect.

Just then, Mike glanced up and saw Dara, forcing her to stop lurking in the shadows and come all the way down.

“Leaving already?” he asked, smiling broadly.

“Yes. Time for class.”

She looked expectantly at Mike's mother, who regarded her with warm, speculative eyes.

Mike touched his mother's arm. “Mama, this is …”

Smiling, Dara held her breath.

“My wonderful intern, Dara Williams.”

Dara blinked, hanging on to her smile with the tips of her fingers.

So there it was. Not “my girl” or “my girlfriend” or any other loving and possessive title that men gave the women they were serious about. The night after they made love for the first time, he introduced her to his mother as his freaking
intern
.

Yeah, that was going to leave a bruise.

Dara extended her hand. “How are you?”

Mrs. Baldwin wrapped Dara's hand in both of hers. “Dara! Sean's mentioned you so often! I didn't realize you worked for Mike! Why don't you come to lunch with us?”

The pain in Dara's chest intensified. So Sean had mentioned her to his mother, but Mike hadn't, eh? She darted a glance at Mike and saw his face had darkened perceptibly at the mention of Sean's name.

“Thanks for asking, but maybe next time.” She slid her arms into her coat. “I need to get to class. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“And you, Dara,” said Mrs. Baldwin.

“I'll talk to you later,” Mike told Dara.

It was a statement, but Dara saw the question in his eyes.

She also saw Mrs. Baldwin looking intently back and forth between them.

Somehow she summoned another breezy smile as she left. “Bye.”

She made it all the way out to her car before she realized she'd forgotten her keys.

Mike watched Mama settle herself in the chair opposite his desk. “You look like you feel pretty good today.”

Mama waved a hand. “Forget about me. That was her, wasn't it, Michael? Dara?”

He should have known she'd figure it out, he thought, smiling wryly. His entire life, he'd never gotten away with so much as a filched chocolate chip cookie.

“That was her.”

“She's beautiful!”

“I know.”

Mama beamed as if he'd been invited to the White House for dinner. He half expected her to start clapping. “Are you in love with her? Do you want to marry her?”

The L- and M-bombs sailed through the air and hit him squarely on top of his shocked head.

He got up from his chair as if the seat had caught fire. Mama's questions cut a little too close to his possessive thoughts today, especially since he'd seen Dara with the baby.

“
Marry?
Where'd that come from? I don't know what I'm going to have for dinner tonight. I don't even know where I'm taking you for lunch.”

Mama's face fell. “But you love her … I could tell by the way you smiled at her.”

You love her
.

Panic woke up and flexed inside him, cracking its knuckles menacingly.

Love
.

Stalling for time, he rearranged some files on his desk.

“There you go with your fairy tales again,” he said, his forced laughter dying on the vine.

Mama's smile finally evaporated.

“Why can't I enjoy a relationship with a beautiful woman for as long as it lasts without you”—he flapped a hand—“booking a church and picking out china patterns?”

“Michael—”

“My private life is not up for further discussion.” He reached for his jacket, desperate to get out of there before the walls finished closing in and suffocated him. “Are we going to lunch, or not?”

Hearing a scuffling sound outside his office, he poked his head out the door and looked up and down the hall, but no one was out there. Weird.

“Because if this is about Sean,” Mama continued, twisting at the waist to keep him in sight.

Irritated, Mike wheeled back around to face her. “Yeah, what about Sean? What do you think he'd do if he knew I was involved with the woman he wants? That would kind of ruin your whole little family reconciliation setup, wouldn't it?”

Mama stared at him.

“If you love that girl, don't you let her go, Michael,” she said sternly. “Not even for Sean.”

“Now really isn't a good time, Sean,” Dara told him.

I don't know what I'm going to have for dinner
.

Somehow she'd made it through her afternoon classes when what she'd really wanted to do was curl up in the fetal position and die. Miraculously, she'd driven home without killing herself or anyone else, and now she needed to drink her way through the bottle of Riesling she had chilling in the refrigerator, or, at the very least, take a hot shower and try to numb her body, if not her brain.

Another Baldwin brother was a complication she did not need at this juncture.

Sean nodded morosely, then leaned against her apartment door frame and shoved his hands in his back pockets.

“I thought we could talk for a minute. You didn't stick around after class, and I had a rough morning.”

Rough mornings. Well, now, that was something they had in common, wasn't it?

Why can't I just enjoy a relationship with a beautiful woman for as long as it lasts?

The room swirled in and out of focus, and she pressed her hand to her temple, trying to pretend everything was fine when really nothing was.

“Dara?” Sean's worried eyes skimmed over her face. “Are you okay? You look a little … pale.”

This is my wonderful intern
.

Nodding, she motioned him inside, shut the door and followed him into the living room, where they sat on the sofa.

“What's happened?” she asked.

“I got fired from my internship today.” He looked incredulous. “My boss said he'd counseled me enough. He said we were wasting each other's time. That racist bastard never did like me.”

Dara gaped at him, surprised out of her own misery. “Sean, your boss has several black lawyers working for him. I don't see how you can call him a racist.”

“Well, you didn't know him,” Sean snapped irritably. “He's been trying to get rid of me from the beginning.”

Something told Dara to just keep her mouth shut, but she couldn't sit silently by while Sean rewrote history.

“Sean, he's invested a lot of time in you. I don't think—”

“I thought you were on my side,” he cried.

She held her hands up. “I'm just pointing out that your boss isn't the Antichrist.”

Sean got up to pace. “Yeah? Well, what'm I going to do now? I'm probably going to get an incomplete and have to do another whole internship.” He thumped his fist on the wall. “I can't believe this shit.”

Dara watched him dispassionately. She felt bad for him, but his little firing seemed like a fun day feeding the camels at the zoo compared to the mess her life had become in the last few hours.

Once again, she'd foolishly slept with a man who cared much less for her than she cared for him. Once again, she was just another notch on a bedpost—a hookup. Once again, she'd trusted her heart only to have her stupid fucking heart betray her.