Brenda Harlen - McIver's Mission

“Approximately?” she prompted.

“Half an hour.” He grinned. “It was…informative.”

“I’ll bet.”

He bit into the cookie, finished it off in two bites and reached for another. “These are fabulous.”

“I’ll send some home with you,” she promised.

“Thanks. Mrs. Fields can’t compare to Mrs. Dempsey.”

Arden smiled and took a cookie for herself. “I’ll be sure to tell her you said so.” She pulled a couple of mugs out of the cupboard and filled them with fresh-brewed coffee. Then she carried both cups to the table, setting one in front of Shaun.

“I didn’t only stop by to take measurements,” he told her.

Arden sipped her coffee, waiting for further explanation.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay—after yesterday.”

After her breakdown in the park? Or after his kiss? Her answer would be the same in either case, but she chose to accept the first interpretation. Just because she was obsessing over that kiss, she wasn’t going to delude herself into thinking that he was. Shaun McIver probably went around kissing women all the time; she just happened to be the only one in the vicinity last night. What bothered her more than the way he’d kissed her was the way she’d kissed him back. Her response to him had been disproportionate and out of character.

“I’m fine,” she told him.

He nodded. “Good. You look good.” His gaze skimmed over her and he smiled. “A little on the skinny side, but good.”

“You might want to think about whose cookies you’re eating and whose coffee you’re drinking before you start throwing the insults around.”

“I apologize,” he said with mock solemnity.

Arden pushed the cookie plate a little closer to him.

“I was a little concerned when you weren’t here this morning,” Shaun told her.

Arden frowned. She wasn’t comfortable with other people worrying about her. “I told you I was okay.”

He nodded. “Mrs. Dempsey guessed that you were at the women’s shelter. She said that you spend a few hours there a couple of days a month.”

“That’s true.”

“Visiting clients?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes just to talk to the women about their legal options.”

“Can you bill for that?”

“Not everything is about billing,” she said testily.

“It was just a question,” he said. “There’s no need to get defensive.”

She sipped her coffee, considered another cookie.

“I think it’s admirable that you’re willing to share your time and expertise. Not many lawyers do pro bono work anymore.”

“It’s surprising, and depressing, how many clients I get from the shelter.”

“It’s probably reassuring, though, for those clients to meet you in an informal setting. Most people don’t like having to see a lawyer at the best of times. I imagine it would be a lot worse for a woman who’s been abused, having to face someone she’s never met and share the horrors of her life—particularly if the lawyer is a man.”

His insight surprised her. Most people didn’t want to hear about the work she did, didn’t understand her commitment. Still, his sudden interest confused her.

“I’m sure you don’t want to talk about my career, or my crusade, as some call it.”

“Everything about you interests me, Doherty.”

She tilted her head. “Are you hitting on me, McIver?”

“If you have to ask, I’m doing something wrong.”

She laughed softly. “Don’t bother. I don’t date lawyers.”

In fact, she hadn’t dated at all in a long time. But even if she was looking to date someone, even if she was willing to bend the rule, it wouldn’t be for Shaun McIver. Shaun was everything she didn’t want in a man.

“Neither do I,” he admitted, contradicting his earlier statement.

“Your fiancée was a lawyer, wasn’t she?”

“Yes,” he said shortly.

She nodded. “I could give you a speech about how you shouldn’t let one bad experience disillusion you against a whole profession—but I’m not sure it’s true. Life is a hard lesson, and we should learn what we can from it.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” he said, his dark green eyes intent on her.

She wasn’t happy that the conversation had taken such a personal turn. She didn’t mind talking about his life and his past, but she had no interest in rehashing her own sordid history. “No one lives thirty-one years without having some experience,” she said lightly.

Shaun finished his coffee and pushed away from the table. To Arden’s surprise, he came back with the coffeepot in one hand and the carton of milk in the other. He refilled both of their mugs, then added a splash of milk to her cup.

She stared at her coffee, then at Shaun’s back. It was only the second time he’d been in her kitchen, and yet he moved around as if he was comfortable there, as if he belonged there.

“So tell me about this wealth of experience you’ve acquired in your thirty-one years,” Shaun suggested, when he was again seated beside her.

She gestured around the spartan apartment. “As you can see, it’s not the only wealth I’ve acquired.”

He grinned. “Smart, sexy and a sense of humor.”

“Can you turn off the charm, or does it always flow that easily?”

“Maybe you bring out the best in me.”

“Is that your best?” she challenged.

“Not even close.”

Her lips curved in a reluctant smile.

“If you won’t succumb to my endless charm, how about desperation?”

“Do I look desperate?”

“Not you, me.”

She cupped her mug in her palms and raised an eyebrow. “What do you want, McIver?”

Before he could respond to her question, the kitchen window exploded in a shower of glass and Arden was on the floor.

Shaun didn’t have time to think or plan. It was pure instinct that had him leaping from his chair, knocking Arden from hers and rolling with her to the floor as glass sprinkled down around them.

“Ow. Dammit.” She rubbed the back of her head, her eyes wide with confusion. “What are you doing?”

He felt her shift beneath him. The subtle movement made him all too aware of each and every curve of the body pinned beneath his, causing his to respond in a very predictable fashion. “Stay down.”

“I can’t go anywhere with you sprawled on top of me.”

He felt his lips curve, marveled at the fact that she could make him smile at a time like this. “Don’t move,” he said, slowly levering his body off hers.

Glass crunched beneath his feet as he crouched beside the window and cautiously peered out. People were starting to converge on the sidewalk below, questions and explanations exchanged through a mixture of agitated voices and frantic hand gestures. In the distance he heard the low wail of a police siren.

He returned to Arden, offered a hand to help her to her feet. “Are you okay?”

“I think so. What happened?”

“Somebody took a shot through your window.”

“A shot?” She sounded more puzzled than concerned.

“With a gun,” he clarified, and watched as her cheeks drained of all color. “What did you think that sound was?”

“I thought it was a car backfiring.”

“This is reality, not the movies.”

“This is Fairweather, not Philadelphia,” she countered. “Why would someone be shooting through my window?”

“I’m sure that’s a question the police will be asking you,” Shaun said as the sirens grew closer.

She lifted a hand to push her hair away from her face, and her fingers trembled. She dropped her hand quickly and tucked it into the front pocket of her pants.

“It’s okay to be scared,” he said softly. “And to admit it.”