A Case for Love (18 page)

For the next thirty minutes, Alaine tried to occupy herself by thinking of all the possible avenues of research she might have missed in the Internet search she’d done yesterday. She should have spent more time working on that and less time in the film archives at the studio looking for sound bites from Lawson or Mairee Guidry about their company or about the community that could be construed as negative.

She’d found a couple that, taken completely out of context, could be seen as Lawson Guidry saying Moreaux Mills on the whole was an eyesore and should be demolished. But only after she edited off enough of the beginning of the sentence to take out the part that proved he was actually talking about the old paper mill being the eyesore that should go.

She glanced across the room at Forbes, looking at his feet again, and guilt pressed in. He was so sure his parents were innocent. Was she letting her own emotional involvement get in the way of being objective about the facts? Or was he?

“Sorry.” Again.

Her toes were going to be black and blue after this. “That’s okay.” She stiffened her arms more to try to put more distance between herself and her stranger-partner. Even though Forbes occasionally lost count and got off rhythm, at least he didn’t step on her toe almost every downbeat.

“And return to your original partners.”

Thank goodness. She gave Mr. Stompy Toes a tight smile, then hustled back down the line to rejoin Forbes. She never thought she’d be so glad to see him.

They fit better. Even though Ruth had said something about dancing being easier for partners closer in height, the fact that even in her heels Forbes was almost a foot taller than Alaine didn’t seem to matter.

“How’d your guy do?” Forbes cast a glare down the line.

“My toes hurt. How’d you do?”

“I’ve danced with Anne before—at her wedding a few months ago, as a matter of fact. She tries to lead. She can’t help it.”

Alaine giggled and turned her attention to the couple to her left. Anne and George glided together with almost as much poise and ease as Ruth and Ian.

“Now we’re going to work on moving around the room in a circle.”

“Oh, boy.”

Alaine bit her bottom lip and wrinkled her nose in a grin at Forbes. His tongue stuck out slightly between his teeth and everything around his eyes and forehead had tightened. Could he be any cuter?

No, no. She wasn’t supposed to be thinking that way about him. Until he proved otherwise, his status of enemy hadn’t changed.

In another half hour, when the lesson ended, Alaine’s sides hurt—from holding in her laughter as much as she could at Forbes’s formidable frown. For a man used to having things go his way, trying not only to remember the one-two-three but also the quarter-turns and extra steps that moving around the room in a circle required had been an exercise in frustration for him. And the more frustrated he got, the cuter he became.

“We’ll work on that more next lesson—which will be in two weeks. Don’t forget the studio is closed next Monday for the Fourth of July.”

Alaine dropped into the chair she’d sat in earlier and downed what remained of her water. “Do you have plans for the Fourth, Forbes?”

“What? Oh, we do a family barbecue at Schuyler Park and watch the fireworks there.”

“Is that an all day thing or just in the evening?”

“Just the evening. Why?”

“I thought maybe, if you didn’t have plans already, you might want to come out to the Mills that afternoon for the street festival. It is the most culturally diverse area of town. There’s tons of food and lots of different stuff going on. It would give you a good idea of what it’s really like over there.” And it would mean she wouldn’t have to go a full two weeks without seeing him again if her father couldn’t get the meeting set up for this week.

Forbes’s exasperated expression vanished. “What time and where should I meet you?”

Her heart did a little twirl. “I’ll e-mail you the details.” Her phone beeped. She picked it up to read the new message. “It’s from Daddy. They’ve gotten the meeting scheduled: Thursday evening at eight o’clock.” She looked up at Forbes. “Does that work for you?”

He glanced at his cousin, talking with a few potential customers several feet away, before looking at Alaine. “Yeah. That should work. Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.”

Alaine oscillated between euphoria and consternation walking out to her car. She wanted to skip, wanted to tell all the young women who’d come because they’d seen the segment on her show and who were now whispering about her that yes, she was here
with
Forbes. But she wasn’t here
with
Forbes. It was just a convenient cover for them. Right?

Then why had the thought that she might not see him for two weeks struck her like a bucket of ice? Unbidden, a Bible verse floated through her mind:
Love thy enemy.

Forbes swiped at the sweat pouring down the sides of his face. “I can’t go tonight.”

“Dude, you made me a deal. I’d be your sounding board, and you’d go out with the women I set you up with.” Shon bent over, hands braced on his knees.

“It’s not that I’m backing out on the deal—it’s that I already have plans tonight. A business meeting.”

“Okay. Brunch Saturday morning. I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Fine. Send me the details.”

Shon pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped on the screen a couple of times. Forbes’s phone vibrated in his pocket.

“Thanks. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“I look forward to it.”

Forbes raised his hand and waved off his client. “Later.”

“Later.” Still full of the youthful energy of twenty-nine, Shon jogged up the stairs to the front door. Forbes went in through the garage, preferring to climb to the main level in the air-conditioning.

In the shower, while getting dressed, and in the car on the way to work, Forbes rehearsed what he wanted to say to the Moreaux Mills Business Owners’ Association tonight. Alaine had finally texted him the details on the meeting yesterday—he’d been in the middle of presenting the nominating committee’s report during the business meeting and, fortunately, had remembered to silence his phone before getting up to speak.

He sent Meredith an e-mail as soon as he got into the office, telling her he’d had a meeting come up and wouldn’t make it to the Fishin’ Shack for dinner. He could have mentioned it to her or to Anne at church, but he preferred doing it by e-mail in such a way that it looked like this was an urgent, last-minute meeting so they wouldn’t question him further. They usually didn’t, when it came to his job, but he didn’t want to risk it.

He groaned when Samantha went over the day’s schedule with him. Meetings all day, with barely enough time between each to return to his office to get the files for the next one. Maybe it would help to stay busy—to keep his mind occupied with all of these other cases instead of having time to make himself overanxious about tonight.

Rubbing his eyes, he stifled a yawn.

“You look tired, boss.”

“Haven’t been sleeping well the last couple of nights.” He waved his hand over the stack of files on his desk. “Lots on my mind.”

She glanced at the paper cup with the Beignets S’il Vous Plait logo on the outside. “Need me to bring you more coffee?”

“I’ll get it. You just work on those briefs we discussed.”

“Will do.”

He followed her out of his office and headed down the hall to the break room. Four people stood staring at the coffeepot, which dripped the black stuff about as fast as an icicle melted at the North Pole in January.

Though he didn’t usually make use of the executive kitchen, today called for desperate measures. He left the employee break room without disrupting the other caffeine zombies and took the stairs up to the fourth floor, bypassing the large conference room and partners’-only file room to the walnut-paneled executive dining room and into the kitchen beyond.

Mary looked over her shoulder, then turned to stare at him in surprise. “What’re you doing up here?”

“I am a partner, and I do have the privilege of making use of the executive areas—even if my office isn’t up here.” He waved his coffee cup. “Besides, there’s a line for the java downstairs.”

The executive secretary’s expression said as clearly as words,
I hope you don’t plan to make a habit of this,
but she shuffled out of his way, two mugs of coffee clutched in her claws. “Have at it. But if you empty it, you’ll have to start a new pot. Or send that secretary up here to make one, if she knows how.”

“Samantha is a very capable assistant. And she makes great coffee.” He toasted Mary with his mug and turned his back on her to remedy its empty state.

He drank more than half of what he fixed standing there in the kitchen. Once he’d topped it off, he returned to his office to face the first meeting of the day.

By late afternoon, his record for being able to get most of his cases resolved without having to result to courtroom litigation had stayed intact. He passed the files and paperwork off to Samantha and prepared for his last meeting of the day, down at the courthouse.

“I won’t be coming back afterward.” He signed several documents Samantha handed him. “Just leave everything else in my box. You’re off tomorrow?”

“Unless you think you’re going to need me. A temp from the pool will be filling in for me. I’ve left notes on everything she’ll need to do to keep you operating at peak efficiency.”

“You make me sound like a robot.”

“Well...” She grinned and shrugged.

“I know. Don’t get you started. Your fiancé is coming in town this weekend?”

“Boyfriend, not fiancé.”

Forbes steepled his fingers and rocked in his tall-back leather chair. “Mark my words, he’ll be your fiancé before he heads back to Denver Sunday night.”

Samantha’s face contorted as if she was trying to look skeptical instead of giddy. “You’ve never even met him. You hardly know anything about him. As a matter of fact, you probably don’t even know his name.”

“Jared. He’s a computer geek, and you met him at your best friend’s wedding. He was one of the groomsmen, and you were the maid of honor.” Pride—and a touch of indignity—struck him at Samantha’s incredulous look. “You see, I do listen to you when you talk about your life outside the office. You just have a tendency to keep most of it to yourself.”

“But still ... it’s just wild speculation on your part that he’ll propose to me. I’m not sure we’re to that point in our relationship, since it’s only been six months and this’ll be the first time we’ve seen each other since then.”

Forbes arched his left brow. “If you insist. But I have a feeling....” He looked at his watch. “I’ve got to go if I’m not going to be late. It’s taking longer and longer to go through security every time I go down to the courthouse.”

“Okay. Have a great weekend, Forbes.”

“You, too.” He packed up his files and left the building. On the way to the courthouse, he called his favorite florist to see if they could deliver an arrangement to Samantha before the end of the day. Even though she’d never know it, teasing her had been just the distraction he’d needed to clear his head from his previous meetings and allow him to refocus on his next two meetings—the official one and the unofficial one.

Maybe he should have called Delacroix Gardens—but if they were so short staffed that Alaine had to help out on the weekends, they probably couldn’t do a one-hour turnaround on an order for him.

He arrived at Judge Duplessis’s chambers with about five minutes to spare. Russ LeBlanc sat waiting in the secretary’s outer office.

“Hey, Forbes.” He stood and extended his hand.

Forbes grabbed it, then pulled Russ forward to clasp him around the shoulders in a back-pounding hybrid handshake-hug.

“You know,” Forbes stepped back, “you could have asked for a continuance. I’m sure Plessy would have been more than happy to give you a few more weeks.”

“Are you kidding me? My mom, Carrie’s mom, and Carrie’s sister are all at our house. I couldn’t wait to get away. Besides, I have four more mouths to feed—not to mention a bunch of medical bills to pay.”

Forbes nodded and infused his frown with as much sympathy as he could muster. Next week once all members had a chance to donate, the president of the Bonneterre Bar Association would be presenting Russ and Carrie with a check that would not only cover their medical expenses—Forbes had seen to that with the donations he’d drummed up—but also be substantial seed money for college funds for all four children.

“Well, it’s good to see you, even if we are about to go head-to-head in there.”

“Hey, that reminds me—did anything come of that case I sent your way?”

“I’m meeting with a group of potential clients tonight.” In a way, it was a good thing Russ hadn’t been able to meet with Alaine. This case had the potential to become something that could destroy a legal aid lawyer without the money to pour into it.

“Hope it works out well for you.”

Judge Duplessis opened his office door. “LeBlanc—you better have brought pictures, young man, or I’m ruling in Guidry’s favor on everything today.”

Forbes and Russ exchanged smiles, even as Russ reached into his pocket. “Of course, your honor.”

Alaine paced the lobby of the community center, watching the parking lot through the windows as she passed them. She’d told Forbes to be here at six thirty so he could meet her family before everything got crazy.

She jumped at a loud squeal of feedback through the PA system in the auditorium, followed by a few choice expletives—at least, she assumed that’s what they were, since they were in what sounded like Farsi.

“Joe, you shouldn’t use language like that,” she called and stopped in the door at the back of the auditorium. Nikki, up on stage, checked the wired microphone attached to the podium, while Joe wheeled around, checking the wireless mikes on stands in each of the three aisles.

“Y’all are sure people are actually going to show up for this?” Alaine leaned against the doorframe.

“Everyone’s been chattering about it on the association’s e-mail loop. Quite a few have confirmed they’re coming.”

The squeak of the front door caught Alaine’s attention. Mother and Daddy entered, each carrying a pot containing a fully bloomed azalea bush.

“What’re those for?” Alaine asked.

“This place is so old and worn down, I wanted something to look nice for your little friend.”

Alaine tapped her back teeth together a couple of times. “He’s not my friend, Mother; he’s a lawyer.”

“Eh.” Mother swept past her into the auditorium. Daddy just shrugged and followed her.

“Mother, Voula Pappas told me to let you know she’s in the kitchen and could use your help, because everyone else is still at the restaurant and won’t be here until later.”

“Okay.” She set her azalea to the left of the podium and showed her husband where to put his, then exited stage right toward the kitchen and reception hall.

“Have I missed anything?”

Alaine shivered at the sound of Forbes’s voice, at the tickle of his breath on the side of her neck.

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I can be sneaky like that—like a tiger in stealth mode.”

Yes. Sneaky. She had to remember—she couldn’t fall for him. She couldn’t trust him. Not until he’d proven himself worthy of her trust and affection.

More feedback—more swearing from Joe, only this time it sounded like it might have been Russian or Polish or something.

“Joe!” Nikki snapped upright, her fists popping onto her hips so fast it looked like it hurt.

Alaine’s brother muttered something under his breath in another language—which could have been Greek or Latin for all Alaine could tell—and turned his chair so he was facing away from his wife.

Seeing Forbes’s gaze fall upon Joe, she hurried to explain. “Joe was a linguistics specialist for the Army for almost fifteen years—until his convoy in Iraq was hit by an IED. He prides himself on being able to swear in twenty languages.”

“Twenty-eight, Al. If you’re going to apologize for me, make sure you get your facts straight.”

Forbes’s gray blue eyes twinkled, and he mouthed,
Al?

“You
so
do not have permission to call me that.” She poked him in the middle of his expensive silk tie.

“You need a nickname. Everyone should have one.”

She crossed her arms and cocked her head. “Oh yeah? What’s yours?”

He had the good grace to look sheepish. “Does Control Freak count as a nickname?”

She’d have to remember to call him that to his face sometime. “In your case, yes.” She tried to make her eyes twinkle like his. Not that she had the first clue how to make it happen.

The moment stretched, and Alaine leaned closer, then cleared her throat and broke eye contact. The enemy, remember?

Love thy enemy.

No. She had to stay objective because if he ended up betraying them to support his parents, she didn’t want to be hurt. She’d managed to live almost thirty-two years without suffering a broken heart—sure, bruised a couple of times—and she didn’t intend on letting Forbes Guidry be the one to break it.

“I’ll be at the podium?” Forbes walked past her down the aisle toward the front.

“Yes. And Joe’s setting up the mikes out here so everyone can hear during the question-and-answer part.”

“You’ll be on stage with me?”

She shook her head. “My father’s going to introduce you. I’m supposed to be keeping a low profile, remember?”

“But you’re staying, right?”

Was that a touch of vulnerability in Forbes’s voice? “Of course. I may not be a claimant in the case, but I’m still concerned about what’s going on in the Mills.”

“Okay.” He joined her midway up the center aisle—just in time for her to hear his stomach growl.

“Why don’t I take you back to the kitchen so you can meet my parents before everyone else shows up?” Without waiting for a response, she led him out the same way Mother and Daddy had gone.

As soon as she stepped through the side stage door, a delicious aroma overwhelmed her.

Forbes inhaled deeply. “That smells like ... like the Greek restaurant we ate at the other day.”

“You have good scent memory. Mrs. Pappas is catering the refreshments for after the meeting.” She stopped and leaned closer when he halted beside her, as if telling him a secret. “I’m hoping to go ahead and grab a snack. I’m starving.” She wasn’t really. She’d eaten supper less than two hours ago. Why she felt the need to spare his ego, she wasn’t certain. But his smile made it worthwhile.

Mother’s eyes widened when she looked up at Alaine and Forbes’s entry into the kitchen. Alaine grabbed a Danish wedding cookie from a tray and popped it in her mouth—taking a brief moment to close her eyes and enjoy the sheer bliss of the way the confectioners’ sugar and the crumbly cookie mingled together as they melted on her tongue.

When her mother’s expression turned from surprised to questioning, Alaine quickly chewed the cookie and swallowed it. “Mother, this is Forbes. Forbes, my mom, Solange Delacroix.”