Authors: Barbara Delinsky
"Well, he didn't," J.S. blustered, "and now we have an even greater embarrassment on our hands
than your doing your thing with Theodora."
"I'm not embarrassed about Leigh and Jon," Sam said, raising his chin.
"I'm proud."
"You would be. You don't understand the ramifications of these things."
"What ramifications? They'll get married, she'll have a baby, we'll have a grandchild, you'll have a great-grandchild."
"They're not getting married until May. May. She'll be blown up like a balloon. It's a disgrace."
"Leigh has always had her heart set on having a real wedding. Real weddings take time to plan."
"She'll look ridiculous."
"You won't even know she's pregnant. Fancy gowns hide a world of sins. She wants a wedding, and that's what we want her to have."
"At my son's expense."
"J.D. agreed to all this. Have you brought him in here and skewered him like you're skewering me?"
"He told me to mind my own business."
"Maybe you should."
"My friends will be sitting at that wedding, talking behind their hands. They'll all know the truth."
"Let them talk. All they are is a bunch of self-righteous hypocrites."
J.S. came away from the window with steel in his eyes. "Those self-righteous hypocrites are my friends and my clients. You've made me look like a fool in front of them. Well, I've had it. My association with you is through. Either you withdraw from this firm, or I will."
It was a new twist on the "I'll vote you out" theme. "Withdraw?" Sam asked cautiously.
"You won when it came to a vote. Each time I called for one, John David either walked out or missed the meeting. He's a coward."
"He's not being put in the middle, that's all."
"He should cast his vote with me, no questions asked. You ruined his marriage."
"No, J.S. I didn't ruin his marriage. Try again." John Stewart drew himself to his full height. His features were as stiff as the starched collar of his shirt. "Withdraw. Resign from this partnership, or I will, and if I do, I'll take every one of my clients with me. This firm will fold."
"I doubt that," Sam said, but he was shaken. If J.S. meant what he said, a major change was imminent and unavoidable. J.S. claimed the firm would fold; Sam scrambled for counter arguments "You aren't the only rainmaker around here. We all have our client lists."
"You and Will, maybe. As for Martin and J.D." with few exceptions, their clients originated with me. Those clients will follow me if I ask them to."
Sam didn't think they all would, but enough would to seriously wound the firm. John Stewart's threat wasn't empty by a long shot. "Would you do that to your own son, J.S." whip his practice out from under his feet?"
"If it meant freeing myself from you, I would," J.S. informed him.
"Besides, he could always come with me. So could Martin. I suspect both would. That will leave you and Will here with a hefty four-year lease to complete."
Sam's thoughts raced. He knew that the lease would be a killer if the firm was suddenly pared down. Then again, since winning Dunn v. Hanover, his practice was thriving. But enough? There were no more six-million-dollar fees on the horizon.
Alternatively, he could leave Maxwell, Roper and Dine and open his own firm, but that would require a huge commitment of time, money, and thought. He would be spread more thinly than ever, with less time for Annie and the kids than he'd had before.
In the silence, J.S. grew smug. "I'd start making other plans if I were you. Join another firm. There are some that aren't as principled as we are. You'll find a place. It's either that or stay here and pick up the pieces once I've left."
Goaded by the man's arrogance, Sam shook his head in disgust. "Right now I can't begin to fathom why I ever wanted to be associated with as cold, hard, and heartless a bastard as you." He turned on his heel.
"Let me know your plans," J.S. called pleasantly. Sam walked out the door without a backward glance. He strode down the hall, around the corner, and down the next hall to his office. Once inside, he went straight to the credenza and pulled out the application Joe Amarino had sent. Of all the possibilities, this was the one that piqued his interest. No matter how often he told himself that he wasn't ready to leave active practice and go on the bench, he couldn't shake the idea of a judgeship. It had its merits. Very definitely. All the more so with J.S."s latest ultimatum.
He studied the application, then put it back in the credenza, only to take it out again a minute later. A judgeship might be nice. If he could get it. Which he would never know unless he applied. No one had to know he was applying. Not even Annie. If he didn't pass the first round, no one would be any the wiser. It might be interesting, a judgeship. A new challenge. A chance to make his mark. Fair hours. Good benefits. Security. Respect.
Sinking down at the desk, he uncapped his fountain pen, then drew the application front and center and began writing.
J.D. was reading the newspaper in bed at ten o'clock on Saturday morning when his phone rang.
It was the doorman, announcing Virginia Clinger's presence in the lobby and asking permission to let her in. J.D. hadn't seen Virginia since the day she had popped into his father's office. He was as wary now as then. He had no idea what she wanted, had been rather enjoying lying in bed, being lazy, something new for him. He wasn't sure he wanted an intrusion, least of all one in the form of Virginia. She was an unwelcome reminder of Constance.
But he was curious.
Relaxing his shoulders, he slipped into a robe and opened the front door just as she emerged from the elevator wrapped in a fur parka. She gave him an admiring once-over and a brilliant smile.
"I wasn't sure I'd catch you at home," she purred. "Late night?"
"You could say that." He had rented the first three Star Trek movies and watched each one. It was four in the morning before he'd gone to bed.
She presented him with a neatly tied bakery box. "This is perfect, then. I brought goodies, kind of a housewarming gift. Can I come in?"
He stood aside and watched her sashay past. She shrugged out of the fur, revealing a winter white slacks outfit, and eyed him innocently.
"Shall I make breakfast?"
"Why were you at my father's office that day?" he asked because it was foremost on his mind.
She didn't blink. "What day?"
"The one after Thanksgiving,"
She smiled prettily. "To find out how my father was. John Stewart had seen him in Florida. Daddy tells me nothing over the phone. I was in Boston for another meeting, so I thought I'd stop by."
"Without knocking?"
"Mary told me to go right in."
J.D. supposed Mary might have done that, given
that Virginia was a close family friend. And Virginia had presented her story smoothly enough. Granted, she was normally trouble, but he was feeling mellow. He guessed he could take her word on as small a matter as this.
"Breakfast?" she prompted, raising the box.
"Sure." He pointed in the direction of the kitchen and followed her there.
"Great place," she said, looking around. "Are you enjoying it?"
"Uh-huh." More and more, he was. He knew just where everything was now, had mastered the mechanics of the dishwasher and disposal. He had found a maid he liked and a laundry he liked, had found local spots where he could take out great Italian, French, or American, had found plenty of restaurants to eat in, at his leisure and at peace. Some were off the beaten track, unusual for John David Maxwell, but refreshing.
Refreshing. It was something new, like being lazy.
Virginia had found a can of coffee and was setting up the coffeemaker. She kept darting him smug little glances. "You didn't think I could do this--don't deny it--I know you didn't. But I can. I'm not a total waste."
"I never said you were."
"People think it. Blondes are supposed to be ditsy. One who has had her nose done is positively hopeless." She finished with the coffee and struggled with the knot holding the pastry box shut. J.D. came forward, took an easy grasp of the string, and snapped it in two. "Wouldn't want you chipping a nail," he teased, but good-naturedly. Virginia's nails were actually pretty. So were her hands. She added an element of softness to his kitchen. "You're looking good, Gin," he remarked, lounging against the wall with his arms folded on his chest.
"So are you." She took a plate from the cupboard and opened the pastry box, but she paused to look at him. "You really do look good. I thought you'd be falling apart. But you look calm. Relaxed. I don't think I've ever seen your hair messed before. It's very appealing that way." While he soaked up the compliment, she turned back to the plate and began arranging the Danish. "I thought you'd be in a stew about Leigh. I was coming to console you." He felt an inkling of unease. This was the Virginia he had expected, the woman who would do almost anything to find grist for the gossip mill.
"What about Leigh?"
"Isn't she pregnant?"
"Where did you hear that?" No one was supposed to know just yet.
"My kids. Leigh confided it to her best friend in the bathroom at school, not realizing that another girl was in a stall. Needless to say, word spread."
"Swell," J.D. grunted.
"It would have come out sooner or later."
"Better later. I don't want my daughter pointed at."
"She won't be," Virginia assured him, "not with Jon anywhere around. He's a school leader. People respect him. Besides, everyone knows they've been going together forever. It's not so bad, J.D." One part of him wanted to shout at Teke again, or at Jon, or even at Leigh. The other, newer part wasn't sure what shouting would accomplish. He could get on his high horse like John Stewart and blast people for not being as perfect as he was--or he could cool it. Being perfect wasn't all it was cracked up to be. There was something to be said for watching videos until four in the morning and lazing around in bed the next morning or answering the door in a bathrobe with his hair messed from sleep. There was something to be said for talking back to his
father, which he was doing with greater frequency and increasing conviction. Maybe there was something to be said for Leigh and Jon getting married and having their baby.
"Yoo-hoo," Virginia sang, "anybody home?" J.D. took a breath. "Things change. It takes some getting used to." She wiped her hands on a napkin. "You really do look good. Better than I can ever remember." She approached him. "Very appealing."
"More so than the trainer at the health club?" he asked.
"Definitely." She looped her arms around his neck. "I always had a thing for you. You know that."
He saw the heat in her eyes. "Is that why you came?" He wondered if her underwear was lacy.
"Actually, no. Well, maybe it was in the back of my mind. I miss having you across the street." She planted a small kiss on his cheek.
"Virginia." He wasn't sure he wanted this.
She kissed him again, on the corner of his mouth this time. He was surprised when he felt a small tightening in his groin. He breathed in her perfume. "You smell nice."
"That's my Obsession," she whispered.
"That bad?"
"Oooh, yes. What are you wearing under this?"
"Shorts." He still wasn't sure if he wanted what she had in mind, but between her scent and her softness, he was weakening. He didn't stop her when she slid her hands down from his neck, opening the robe as she went. When she reached his waist, she pushed the robe aside and looked at his chest, his legs, his shorts.
J.D. felt a deeper tightening. Her appreciation was a turn-on. He decided that what she had in mind might not be so bad after all.
"What would you do," she asked in another whisper, "if I took off my clothes? Would you call me names? Make me put them back on and leave?
Have my father cut me off?"
J.D. considered the possibilities, but not for long. He was no eunuch. In a voice that had grown heavier, like his breathing and that part of him covered by his shorts, he said, "I'd do what you want. Good and hard. And I'd let you do it to me." He liked aggressive women. Virginia stepped out of her shoes. She eased the slacks off her long, long legs and slipped off her sweater and underwear, which was all of one piece and lacy indeed. Before he could ask whether she really had screwed the trainer at the health club, she was naked, raising her arms, tugging a pin from her hair, spreading the thick blond stuff over her shoulders.
He looked his fill. Artificially molded or not, her body was enticing. His breathing grew more harsh. When he grabbed her wrist and gave a little tug, she came to him. He opened his mouth on hers in a hard, wet kiss, then shut his eyes, braced his head against the wall, and enjoyed the sensation of her tongue and teeth on his chest, his middle, his belly. She might have been any woman, but he didn't mind. While she knelt before him, he held handfuls of her hair and moved his hips to the rhythm of her mouth. Seconds before he came, he pushed her to the floor and slammed into her. Her cry of surprise was followed by one of pleasure, but that was all he heard. His own release drowned out all else.
Later, with Virginia dressed and his robe back on, they had coffee and Danish. The coffee was hot and strong, the Danish fresh and sweet. He was working on his second when he realized that she had stopped eating..
"It didn't mean much to you, did it?" she asked quietly.
"It meant the world. This Danish is great. You were sweet to bring a housewarming gift."
Her eyes narrowed. "What we did just now, J.D." He started to take another bite of Danish. Thinking better of it, he set it down. He should have known she would say something. But, damn, he hated that question. It always came from the insecure ones and suggested that clinging would follow, which was all very flattering, but confining. "It was nice, Gin," he said, and sat back, "but do I want you here tonight? No."
Her eyes grew intense. "I could satisfy you again."
"I'm sure you could."
"Then why can't I stay?"
"Because I don't want you here."