Trouble (7 page)

Disgusted with herself, she dropped Sean's arm just as Mike's car shot out of its parking space and hurtled down the street like a felon trying to escape the police on some cop show.

“Sean, I—I'm sorry. I'm not going to dinner with you. We should be friends. That's all I can really deal with right now.”

Hurt and bewilderment flashed across his face. “But I thought …”

“I'm really sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. But I just … Can we be friends, Sean?”

His eyes held hers for a long minute, searching. “Yeah,” he said finally, ruefully, “we can be friends.”

“Really?” she said, relieved and filled with a sudden longing to go home for a nice bath with her gardenia soap. She needed something—anything—to help her come down from the state of agitation she'd been in since she first saw Mike. As much as she tried to focus on Sean and letting him down gently, Mike was still with her, hovering around her thoughts, demanding her attention. “Good.”

“For now,” Sean added.

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

The intensity of his stare made her fidget uncomfortably. He seemed to realize it and smiled a reserved but warm smile full of dreams and expectations.

“I can hope, can't I?”

Dara's heart fell, but she smiled gently to soften her words. “I wish you wouldn't.”

The shining light in his eyes flickered out. He looked away. A long, awkward moment passed. Sean shoved his hands in his jacket pockets; Dara studied her shoes. The night air had grown cool around them, making Dara shiver. She waited.

Finally, Sean looked back at her, all emotions safely shuttered. “See you Monday in civil procedure?”

She smiled, the weight of a thousand elephants lifted from her shoulders. “See you then.”

Two days later, on Monday morning, when the civil procedure professor at the law school had an emergency surgery, Mike subbed for him. He was writing something on the dry erase board at the bottom of the amphitheater-shaped classroom full of a hundred first-years—none of them Dara; yeah, he'd checked—when the door creaked behind him.

He knew it was her even before he put the marker down, turned around and saw her skulking to a seat in the back row like a fox sneaking into a henhouse for a few eggs.

He watched her, his mood simmering along at the mad-at-the-world level. Her waltzing into class twenty minutes late pissed him off, but so had the strange thud of disappointment he'd felt when he'd thought she wasn't coming at all.

He'd spent the whole weekend thinking about her and picturing her engaged in various physical activities with Sean, which was a great way to give himself an ulcer. And then, this morning, he'd been so engrossed during his jog, he'd run an extra mile and a half before he'd realized what he was doing.

Now his knees were killing him, and it was all her fault.

He wasn't glad to see her. Not the least little bit.

And he had no idea why his heart was pumping out a thousand beats per minute.

All of his jumbled feelings churned to the surface.

Bottom line? She'd fooled him. She wasn't the woman he'd thought she was—not on any level. Besides the whole Sean thing, she obviously didn't appreciate the importance of working hard and making the most of her education. Not surprising, really, since her father—yeah, he'd Googled him—was a federal judge and before that had been an extremely successful attorney in Chicago. The man had obviously spoiled Dara and raised her to believe she was a beautiful princess who could float through life on her looks alone. She'd probably never done a hard day's work in her life.

“Ms. Williams,” he barked. “Glad you could join us.”

“I'm so sorry I'm late.” Her voice dripped with honey as she started to ease into a chair. “It won't happen again.”

“Come down front.” He waved at some empty seats. “Plenty of room down here.”

For some inexplicable reason, he wanted her close, where he could get a better look at her.

She hesitated before flashing an insincere and tight-lipped smile, marching down the steps and sliding into a seat.

Satisfied, Mike turned back to the board and picked up the marker again.

“Where's Professor Appleton?” he heard Dara whisper to her neighbor.

“Are you volunteering to discuss the
Erie
doctrine with me, Ms. Williams?” he asked.

“Absolutely not.”

The class tittered.

Mike swung around and raised his eyebrows at her in a direct challenge.

“Do I need to call on you, then?”

“I wish you wouldn't.”

More tittering.

Mike knew he was being a childish jerk—again!—but he didn't care. This was what she'd reduced him to.

He folded his arms and leaned against the lectern. “Are you passing on discussing the case with me?”

She glared at him for a long second, giving him a look best described as unadulterated hatred with generous sprinklings of malice and spite.

“Yes.”

Well, there. He had his little victory. He waited for the surge of satisfaction he'd expected, but disappointment was the only thing that came.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” he said, holding her gaze and no longer talking about anything remotely law-related. “I'm sure it would have been interesting.”

When class was over, Dara left the room with her classmates. But instead of going to the library, she lingered in the corridor outside the doors, probably because she knew Mike was still in there.

Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike
.

Arrogant bastard.

She was sick of thinking about him. If she was smart, she would just forget the humiliating classroom incident and pretend he didn't exist or, better yet, that a massive sinkhole had suddenly appeared and swallowed him alive.

But when her feet began to walk, they led her back into the classroom.

Alone now, Mike lounged against one of the desks in the top row by the door. His knowing, moody eyes didn't seem at all surprised to see her as she approached him.

He raised an eyebrow. She glared. They studied each other in silence.

In the light of day, his eyes were lighter than she'd thought, his hair blacker. His eyes, in fact, were a striking honey color. He wore a simple but expensive dark suit with a white shirt and gray tie. Bottom line? He was a breathtaking example of well-dressed masculine perfection.

Too bad he ruined the effect every time he opened his stupid mouth.

“Ditched Sean already?” he said finally.

“Nothing better to do today than terrorize poor first-year students?”

He shrugged and shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “I fill in sometimes when professors are out. And I only terrorize students who are twenty minutes late for class. I hope you don't make that a habit.”

The unexpected note of concern in his voice touched her.

“I don't. I overslept and I didn't have a chance to review my notes before class.”

He snorted. “Late night with my brother?”

White-hot anger took over her brain. “Listen, you self-important jerk, I know you don't like me—”

Mike took an aggressive step forward, crowding her space, but she stood her ground.

“But you have no right to embarrass me in public or to talk to me like that!”

“Well, since you brought it up,” he said, getting in her face, “I'll tell you exactly what I think of you. I think you're lazy and undisciplined. And I think my brother can do much better than you. He deserves someone who doesn't throw herself at strange men every chance she gets.”

“I … you …” she sputtered, speechless with rage. “I didn't
throw
myself at you! And not that it's any of your business, but Sean and I are just friends, so you need to get your facts straight!”

Mike snapped his mouth shut and dropped his hands to his sides while his searching gaze held hers as though determined to catch any flicker of her lids that might reveal her as a liar. But then he huffed out a breath and looked away.

“If Sean had his way, he'd be a lot more than just friends with you.” He looked back at her with expressionless eyes. “And you're right. None of my business.”

Stung, she tried to find some glimmer of the admiring warmth he'd shown the other night, but there was none.

So that was it, then.

Without another word, she headed for the door.

“What's this? Cat got your tongue?”

She refused to look at him again. “You're wrong about me. Everything you just said. I want you to know that.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw him open his mouth—she almost had the idea he wanted to call her back—but suddenly the door swung open, and Professor Stallworth walked in.

“Mike!” she said, beaming. “I was hoping you were still here. I've found a great student to be your intern for the semester. She's bright, hardworking and enthusiastic. You'll love her.”

“Excuse me,” Dara said, edging toward the door. “I'll let you two talk in private.”

“For your public service internship,” Professor Stallworth announced to Dara, “I've assigned you to work with Mike at his firm.”

Dara froze and rewound that through her brain. When she confirmed what she'd heard, her jaw hit the floor. She backed up a step, shaking her head while she tried to hide her unmitigated horror. At this point, she'd rather defend the free speech rights of the Ku Klux Klan than work for Mike Baldwin.

“But … I requested the public defender's office,” she tried.

“You don't work for city council if there's a job available at the White House, Dara,” said Professor Stallworth.

“But—”

“It looks like Dara has her heart set on working in the PD's office,” Mike interjected smoothly. “Why don't you place her there and give me another intern?”

Professor Stallworth's face was now pinched with irritation. “Because I've already awarded those internships to other students, and because you insisted you wanted the best student. Dara is the best student. She's done an excellent job here so far, and she was in the top five percent of her class at Michigan. What more do you want?”

Mike frowned.

Hearing no further opposition, Professor Stallworth clapped her hands. “It's all settled, then!” she boomed, turning to Dara. “Mike is the best criminal defense attorney in the city. This is a great opportunity for you.”

Dara swallowed hard. “When do I start?”

“Talk to Mike. Bye.” Professor Stallworth waved over her shoulder as she left.

“You've certainly got her fooled,” Mike muttered as the door clicked shut behind her.

Dara turned on him in a fresh fury. “Why didn't you tell her you wanted someone else?”

He shot her a humorless grin. “I'm looking forward to firing you when you screw up.”

“You won't fire me!” she snapped, too angry to care who heard her. She stiffened her back and raised her chin, determined now that, if nothing else, he would respect her work ethic and legal skills. “I'm going to be the best intern you ever had!”