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CHAPTER THREE

NICK stood in the kitchen of his three-bedroom house and wrestled with the iron, cursing whoever had invented the damned thing. “Remind me again why I’m going to this shindig.”

“Because you’re a guy who cares about kids,” said his brother, Daniel, who was making his regular visit to Nick’s house. He’d already raided the fridge, complained about the dearth of acceptable meal choices, flipped through Nick’s DVD collection twice and taken two of the newer flicks, as if Nick’s house was Blockbuster. Nick didn’t complain. He liked the company, and tolerated his brother’s intrusions. Most of the time.

A writer, Daniel had the same dark brown hair and blue eyes as most of the Gilberts, but preferred a more relaxed approach to clothing, meaning anything fancier than jeans didn’t exist in his closet. “And you better,” Daniel added. “You grew up with four brothers and sisters.”

“I didn’t mean about the kids, I meant, why am I attending an event where Carolyn’s going to be?” Earlier, he’d told his brother about running into Carolyn at the toy store.

A coincidence? Or a second chance with the woman he had never really forgotten?

Nick cursed the iron again as the steam sent globs of water over his shirt. “What is it with these things?”

“Didn’t Mom teach you how to take care of yourself before she released you into the wild?” Daniel slid into place beside his brother. “Here, let me do it. For Pete’s sake, you’re making a mess of it.”

Nick stepped back, amazed that his younger brother could wrangle the machine into doing his will. In five minutes Daniel had the golf shirt pressed and ready to go. “How do you do that?”

“It’s called being a bachelor and being too poor to afford dry cleaning.” Daniel grinned and held out the shirt, then waited while Nick slipped it on. Then he unplugged the iron and set it on the ironing board to cool. “And I’m not distracted by thoughts of a woman right now.”

“I’m not distracted.”

Daniel arched a brow.

“Okay, maybe I am. A little.” Nick picked up his keys, slid them into his pocket, then faced his brother. “I thought I was over her. Over the whole damned thing. Then I see her last night at the toy store and—”

“It was Love Story all over again?” Daniel hummed a snippet of the movie’s famous theme song.

“Not at all. More a remake of our worst moments together.” But there had been one moment when he’d remembered why he’d been attracted to her. Why he’d married her. They’d had fun—for a few minutes—and then Carolyn had gone back to being the stuffy city prosecutor, the woman who was about as much fun as a bag of rocks, and Nick was reminded all over again why they’d broken up.

Yet guilt pinged at him still. She hadn’t been the only one at fault, and he knew it. He hadn’t exactly been Joe Sensitive, nor had he been Husband of the Year.

“I’m just glad I got out of that marriage after a few days instead of a few years,” Nick said. “Carolyn was always too damned straight-laced for me. I want a woman who can have a good time, make me laugh, live a little. Not drive me absolutely insane. And when I think of Carolyn Duff, driving me crazy is the term that comes to mind.”

Daniel bent down to pat Bandit, Nick’s German short-haired pointer. The spotted dog wagged his tail with furious joy, nearly knocking over the scraggly ficus tree beside him. A shower of dry leaves littered the floor. “There were some good times, too, from what you’ve told me. Some very good times.”

An image of one particularly good memory—with the neon lights of Vegas shining on Carolyn’s peach skin while they made use of every surface in their suite at the Mirage—flashed in Nick’s mind. He saw her smile, heard her laughter, could almost smell the scent of her raspberry bubble bath.

“Okay, maybe one good memory. Or two.” Another one popped into his mind, followed quickly by a third, slamming with a sting like pellets into his chest. Nick shook his head. As good as those times had been, the end had been fast and unforeseen, like a sneak guerrilla attack that came and ripped him apart in the middle of the night.

Carolyn had been stubborn about leaving him in that diner, adamant about ending the marriage as fast as it began, claiming he hadn’t cared, he hadn’t been listening.

And back then he probably hadn’t. But she hadn’t given him much of a chance, either.

Just as well. They’d been totally unsuited for each other.

Since the day of the divorce, Nick and Caroline had become nothing more than strangers, albeit strangers who had once shared a bed. And yet last night he’d sensed a vulnerability in her, a chink in the Carolyn armor, that made the lawyer in him see a flicker of doubt in the witness’s case.

He wondered—could he have been wrong in letting her go? Could they make it work if they tried again now?

Nick shook his head. He hadn’t changed much in three years, and from what he’d seen, neither had she. “We were insane to get married in the first place,” he said to Daniel. Definitely insane.

Still, at odd moments, Nick thought the exact opposite. Crazy thoughts, the kind that hit him in the middle of the night when he awoke from a dream that had featured a lot of neon lights and left him pacing the floors. He’d raid the fridge or pour a scotch, and still the memories would tickle at the edges of his mind.

He was a lawyer. Even though he’d had a lot of evidence, and a whole lot of facts in the case of his marriage, he knew when someone was hiding the truth. Carolyn most definitely had been keeping a tidbit or two in check when she’d handed back the plain gold band, sliding it across the table of the diner, then walked out of his life.

Until yesterday.

Nick shrugged it off. They were totally different people—and they were over. Two very good reasons to put Carolyn out of his mind.

Daniel straightened. Bandit let out a whine of complaint, then trotted off to find a toy for fetch. “Maybe this wasn’t just serendipity, you two running into each other. Both of you getting kids to sponsor for that picnic thing. Maybe it was a sign from the Fates or whatever.”

“Will you let it go?”

“Only if you tell me what made you two start talking to each other after all this time apart.”

“Desperation.” Nick chuckled. “We were both stuck in the toy aisle, me with a girl to buy for, her with a boy, and we didn’t know what we were doing. Forced allies, nothing more.”

“Uh-huh. You couldn’t have asked any of the moms there? Or called your sisters?” Daniel said. “All of whom would have willingly given you advice.”

“I, ah, didn’t think of that.”

“Told you. You were blinded by the pretty woman who still gets your car engine racing.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “If you weren’t my brother, I would stop talking to you. I’ve told you a thousand times that Carolyn and I aren’t any good together. You know that old adage about the bird and the fish?” Daniel nodded. “Well, try imagining that same fable with a hawk and a shark.”

“With you being the shark, I presume?” His brother gave him a good-natured jab in the arm. “Corporate lawyers, you’re all the same.”

“Hey, I take offense to that. You know I’m not like other lawyers. I’m more…unconventional. Fun.”

“You’re looking pretty conventional right now.” Daniel gave his older brother’s pressed golf shirt a light pat. Bandit took the opportunity to bound over and deposit an orange plastic bone at Daniel’s feet.

“Oh, but I’m still unconventional underneath.” Nick raised the left sleeve, baring his arm and the tattoo he’d had for the last three years. The still-vivid image of a cartoon shark—a joke he’d had put on his arm back in law school—never showed under Nick’s suits, but usually peeked out from under the hem of his short-sleeved shirts.

“Of course. I expected nothing less. And I still think that’s the most apropos image for you, big brother. You do realize, though, that both hawks and sharks are predators? That puts you two in the same class of animal.” Daniel grinned, then tossed the bone down the hall. Bandit took off after it, running too fast and skidding past the vinyl squeaky toy before scrambling back around to snatch it up. “So what are you going to drive this time? What was it for the senior prom? A backhoe? Took out a damned tree on your way home, I might add.”

“It was a tractor. My date about died, but no one forgot my entrance.” Nick took the toy from Bandit, repeating the same scramble, miss and skid pattern as before. “That dog never learns.”

“Neither do you,” Daniel pointed out. “You’re still as crazy as when we were kids. Sending your assistant on an impromptu trip to Jamaica—”

“To boost office morale.”

Daniel went on, ignoring Nick’s interruption. “Karaoke singing, without the musical accompaniment—”

“Just having fun.”

“In court?”

Nick shrugged, pleading no contest to the charges. “I won the case, I might add. Proved my client’s jingle was not offensive.”

“And hosting a birthday party for your nephew, complete with pony rides and a petting zoo in your backyard, for God’s sake. You know that you about made our sister have a heart attack. She is not the pony ride type.” Daniel shook his head. “It’s like you thrive on fun.”

Daniel was right. He did indeed thrive on having fun. After growing up in a hectic family, fun was what he knew. It was as familiar as his own face, and it gave him an odd sense of comfort. And it helped him feel like he hadn’t become too much of a grown-up yet.

But lately it had grown tired. He had a house—an investment property—but it was empty, except for Monday nights when his friends came over to watch the game. He’d dated women who laughed, women who were…fun. But not serious.

Carolyn Duff had been serious. The one serious girl on the Lawford U campus. So serious she’d offered a challenge, an exciting allure to Nick, who’d set out to make her smile, laugh. After their first date he’d found something in her he hadn’t found in other women, a depth of character that made him want to try harder. Be more than he had been up until then. She’d brought a sober touch to his life, the kind that had him toying with the idea of settling down, becoming a grown-up. And so he’d had that crazy idea of running off to Vegas and getting married.

Because he’d thought he could have it all.

But no.

Nick swallowed the bitter taste of disappointment. He was happier this way anyway. Unencumbered. Free. Answering to no one’s drum but his own.

He slid the directions to the picnic into his pocket, then checked again to be sure he had his keys and wallet, along with a deck of cards. “Well, I’m not doing anything like that today. I’ve had enough surprises for a while.”

Daniel walked with his brother to the door and waited while Nick locked up, leaving a dejected Bandit inside. “Where you and Carolyn are concerned, I think the surprises are just starting.”

“No, we’re over. Have been since she dumped me on the drive home from Vegas three years ago.”

“Uh-huh,” Daniel said, clearly not believing a word. “I’ll believe that when I see you two together and there’s no more electricity between you than two clods of dirt. Remember the day I stopped by for lunch last year? I saw the two of you in the hallway of the courtroom. I’m lucky I’m still alive.”

“What do you mean, still alive?”

Daniel clutched his heart and faked gagging. “The way you two looked at each other, it was like a couple of light sabers going at it. She wants you. You want her. If the math was any simpler, it would be preschool.”

“You forget everything else that goes into that equation. Like the fact that she ditched me to go off and put herself into the middle of a hostage situation, even after I begged her not to. That she also realized she didn’t have time for a marriage, not that and a career, too. That this had all been some crazy impromptu decision she made and just wanted to forget. Like buying a pair of shoes that didn’t match her dress.”

Daniel chuckled. “Aren’t we the jaded one?”

“Come talk to me when you make a commitment to something other than a car lease.”

Daniel raised his hands in surrender. The two men headed down the stairs of Nick’s front porch and paused at the end of the walkway. The July sun had already raised the temperature to the mid eighties, making Nick glad he’d opted for light khaki shorts to wear with the cream shirt. The event organizers had put “casual attire” on the invitations, not “business,” and for that, Nick was grateful. There was nothing worse than standing around all day in the heat in a suit.

“So, you’re still claiming you have no interest in her?” Daniel asked.

Nick shook his head. “There’s nothing between us. Not anymore.”

Daniel tick-tocked a finger at him. “Don’t lie to me, big brother. I grew up with you, remember? I know the signs of you getting ready for a date.”

“It’s a benefit picnic. For needy children.”

Daniel laughed. “And the children really needed you to wear cologne, trim your nails and press your shirt?”

“I wanted to look…” Nick cut himself off before he said the word good, which would imply that he cared what Carolyn thought of his appearance. And he didn’t care. At all. “Professional.”

“Let’s see how ‘professional’ Carolyn looks in your eyes today.” Daniel winked. “And like I said, how long the two of you resist each other.”

Carolyn sat at a picnic table on the fairgrounds of the Lawford City Park, surrounded by busy, chattering children, and did her best to keep her gaze off the park’s gaily decorated entrance and on the task at hand. The problem was, she wasn’t very good at either.

She’d bought a new dress—darn Mary and her suggestion—just that morning. She shifted on the bench, acutely aware of the bright-blue-and-white dress and how she had gone to an awful lot of work on her appearance for something that was supposed to be casual.

“Geez, Miss Duff, can’t you make an eagle?” a little girl with a name tag that read Kimberly asked. “I learned how to make birds in kindergarten.”

Carolyn cursed whoever had come up with the craft for this table. A bald eagle paper bag puppet, AKA a torture marathon with paper. There were wings and talons and a beak to make. Little pieces of construction paper to glue all over the place. One side had to be the front, and Lord forgive if she got it wrong because then, apparently, the eagle couldn’t eat.

The kids had already informed her, with a look of disdain, that her first eagle attempt would have died of starvation. So now Carolyn was making her second lunch bag bird.

And clearly mangling the thing into a version of roadkill. “There aren’t any rules decreeing we have to make an American eagle. What about a Monarch butterfly? Or a nice little robin?” She gave Kimberly an encouraging, work-with-me smile.

Kimberly returned a blank stare. “Isn’t this a birthday party for our country? And isn’t the eagle our country’s bird?”

The kid had her there. Darn, these third-graders were awfully smart.

This was one more reason why Carolyn hadn’t had children. Because she wouldn’t know what on earth to do with one after delivery. Why she’d been assigned to this table, she’d never know. It had to be one of Mary’s brainstorms.

Speaking of whom, Mary waved to her from across the field. Carolyn gave her a grimace back. Mary either didn’t see the facial gesture or chose to ignore it. She just went back to blithely setting up the food. The younger children were attending a puppet show put on by a local bookstore. The performance was due to end any second and thus the children would be arriving soon. Then the rest of the festivities would get underway. The third-graders at Carolyn’s table had pronounced themselves too “old” for such a babyish activity, so Carolyn had been asked to oversee them and keep them busy in the meantime.

A flutter of nerves ran through Carolyn at the thought of meeting her sponsored child. She chided herself. She was an attorney. She’d faced down threatening criminals. Blustering defense attorneys. Stern-faced judges. She shouldn’t be nervous about meeting a five-year-old, for Pete’s sake.

“Uh, Kimberly, let’s forget the eagle. And create another display of patriotism.” Carolyn crumpled the lunch bag into a ball and reached into the craft bucket for new supplies. “Here we are, children. Flags. The perfect Fourth of July symbol.” She handed each child squares of red, white and blue paper, then cut out red strips. This she could do. She hoped. Carolyn began gluing, drizzling the white Elmer’s along the edge of the red strips, then laying them on top of the white squares. The glue smeared out from under the red strips, turning it into a messy puddle, dampening the construction paper and turning the tips of her fingers pink.