Trial Courtship. Laura Abbot

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СКАЧАТЬ sports do you like on TV? Pro football, basketball, hockey?” Tony felt a foot gently prodding his leg beneath the table. He looked up into Andrea’s troubled eyes, then glanced at the boy. The poor kid was stymied for an answer. He continued, “Me, I’m a big soccer and basketball fan. Baseball, too.”

      “Do you play?” Nick asked in a small voice.

      “Yeah. City league soccer. Softball in the spring. Maybe you’d like to come with me to one of my games sometime.” Now, why had he said that? The last thing he needed was some droopy kid on his hands.

      Nick bit off the end of the bread stick and with a full mouth managed a weak “Yeah, maybe.”

      Looking ill at ease, Andrea changed the subject. “Shayla told me she talked with her brother. He used to be a police detective. He said the trial could last anywhere from three or four days to a couple of weeks.”

      “A couple of weeks!”

      “I know. It’s a long time. At the shop we’ll be right in the middle of the holiday rush.”

      “You don’t sound that upset about it.” Lord, he was supposed to be in New York by then.

      “Well, there’s not much we can do about it. I hate putting this kind of pressure and responsibility on my manager and the clerks, but what choice have I?”

      “You’re a heck of a lot more patient than I am.”

      “A young man’s life is at stake,” she said quietly.

      “I know, but—”

      “Tony—” The tangy aroma of the pizza preceded the waiter as he placed the hot pan between Nick and him. Andrea put her napkin in her lap as she was served her spinach salad. She waited until Tony dished up the pizza before continuing. “We are blessed to live in a free country. Somebody has to be on juries. It can’t always be the other person.”

      “I wish I could view this thing as positively as you do. I know you’re right, but it’s the timing—”

      “Would there ever be a right time?”

      He paused, his fork halfway to his lips, then grinned. “Probably not.”

      She laughed at his grudging admission. “Then hush up and eat your pizza.”

      Over dinner he found out a great deal about her store. She’d taken a chance launching the business in such a high-rent location. But, as she explained, to make money, you had to do market research, believe in your vision and be willing to venture. Funny, she hadn’t struck him as a risk-taker—more as a softly feminine, tenderhearted and undeniably sexy woman. But tonight he was hearing another side. She was also one smart cookie. That business of hers was no cinch. And even though this evening hadn’t gone according to plan, he’d decided to ask her out again. This time without her “chaperon.”

      “How’s the pizza, Nick?” he asked.

      The boy nodded enthusiastically. “Good.”

      Andrea gave Tony a go-figure look. “Tony, I—”

      “I’ve been thinking—” He gestured at her with his hand. “You first.”

      The candle flame underlit her face, making her eyes luminous. “I wondered...I mean, tonight this probably wasn’t exactly what you had in mind... Would you let me cook you a meal tomorrow night at our place?”

      His heart raced, then his brain engaged. “Our place?”

      “Nicky’s and mine.”

      “Nicky’s?” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the boy shaking his head and thought he heard him mumble something that sounded like “Dumb.”

      “Nicky lives with me,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’m his guardian.” She found his eyes as if to warn him not to ask any questions.

      “Well, I...sure. That’d be good.” Watch it. Don’t get in over your head. He became aware Nick was studying the two of them intently. “Maybe Nick and I can talk some soccer.” The kid looked simultaneously guarded and pleased.

      Later, strolling back toward his own vehicle after walking Nick and Andrea to theirs, he replayed the evening. Nick was a complication. And whatever had happened to his parents was obviously a sensitive issue.

      Did he want to pursue this? What did he know about kids? Or want to know? But Andrea—she was something else. And, hey, this wasn’t the romance of the century or anything.

      For the first time, he found himself wishing the trial would last more than a few days.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      ANDREA HURRIED INTO the jury room, breathless from her dash across Public Square and down the street to the courthouse. The bailiff was already assembling the jurors. Shayla waved and shot her a big smile. Leaning against the conference table, Tony, his brow furrowed in concentration, studied a sheaf of papers in his hand. As she brushed past him on her way to the coatrack, he reached out and grabbed her by the elbow. “Hey, good morning. What’s your rush? He’ll wait for you.”

      “Who?”

      He nodded in the bailiffs direction. “Our tortoise look-alike.”

      She suppressed a grin. “Only because he has to. He’s not happy with me.”

      Tony helped her out of her coat, then watched her as she hung it up. “That’s his loss.”

      His twinkling eyes and approving glance made her feel buoyant. She pointed to the papers in his hand. “Cramming?”

      He closed the folder decisively and laid it on the table. “In a sense. I’m here because duty calls, but I still have to attend to business.” A grim expression settled over his features. “Not enough hours in the day.”

      With a feeling she only belatedly recognized as disappointment, she said, “Perhaps, then, it was presumptuous of me to ask you to dinner this evening. If you’d prefer to postpone—”

      “Postpone? To put it crassly, I have to eat. That being the case, I’d definitely prefer to eat a home-cooked meal in the company of a beautiful woman. I’ll be there.”

      The compliment both warmed her and made her vaguely uncomfortable. She really didn’t know this man very well. “And in the company of a nine-year-old boy, don’t forget.”

      “Oh, yeah.” From his tone of voice, she had the distinct sense that he had forgotten.

      “Listen up, people.” The bailiff’s drill-sergeant voice cut off their conversation. “Her Honor is ready for you. Quiet, now.” He marched them into the jury box.

      Judge Blumberg removed her half glasses and smiled. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, be seated, please.”

      Hoping there would be less technical forensic evidence today, Andrea picked up the pad and pencil in her chair and settled between Dottie Dettweiler and Roy Smith, the timid young man from the restaurant. The courtroom’s СКАЧАТЬ