Because of You (11 page)

Jordan didn't tell Christiane she was right, that he couldn't change what had happened in the past. But as someone in control of his own destiny, he would never lie to his child or children. He would tell them the truth whether it hurt or if they chose not to accept it.

Estrangement from Wyatt had served one purpose—it had put the tyrannical reprobate on notice. He could not and would not control Jordan Wyatt Wainwright.

T
he tension that had filled the Town Car until it was palpable was missing once Jordan seated Aziza at a table in the restaurant with panoramic views of the East River and the buildings along Manhattan's east side. When he'd called to make the reservation for dinner, Jordan had requested a table near the window. The fluctuating early January temperatures had returned to normal, a brisk cold wind had swept clouds from the nighttime sky, and stars littered the heavens like a sprinkling of diamonds on black velvet.

Rounding the table, he sat, watching Aziza staring out the wall of glass.

“Beautiful.”

She turned and smiled at him. “Yes, it is.”

“I wasn't talking about the view.”

Aziza hesitated, replaying his compliment. It was apparent he was referring to her. She looked away again. “Thank you.”

Jordan leaned over the table. “Did I embarrass you?”

“No.”

“If I didn't, then why won't you look at me?”

Her gaze swung back, and she gave him a long, penetrating stare. “What are you doing, Jordan?”

“What do you mean?” He waved away the waiter approaching their table.

“Why are you sending me double messages? We claim not to be dating, yet you tell me to wear something nice because you're taking me out to dinner. To me that translates into a date. You also tell me you want to spend the next four days together so we can plan strategy for my case, but one of those nights we'll attend a dinner party together. Please answer one question for me.”

“What do you want to know?”

“What role do you want me to play, Jordan? Are you going to introduce me to your friends as your girlfriend or just a
friend?
”

The beginnings of a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I'll leave that up to you. If you feel comfortable enough with me to pretend I'm your boyfriend, then boyfriend it is. Otherwise a good friend will do.”

Propping an elbow on the table, Aziza rested her chin on the heel of her hand. “I've never been good at pretense. What you see is what you get.”

Jordan's expression stilled, becoming almost somber. “I like what I see, Aziza.”

“Aren't you coming on a little strong, Jordan?”

“No, Zee. You just don't know how hard it is for me to keep my hands off you. And because I know what you went through with Kenny Moore, I'm in a quandary how to pursue you.”

Lowering her arm, Aziza reached across the small
space separating them to hold Jordan's hand. “How would you pursue me?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

Reversing their hands, Jordan's thumb caressed the silken skin on the back of hers. “I would court you, Aziza Fleming. I'd call and ask you out to dinner and escort you as my date to fundraising events. I like museums, walks in the park, drives in the country and watching action movies. You say you love tropical islands. We could visit one where we'd wear next to nothing, sip tropical concoctions and dance on the beach under the stars. I'm not the world's best cook, but I can make breakfast and serve you in bed. Does that answer your question?”

Aziza fought to control her swirling emotions. A man she'd known less than a week was willing to give her what a man she'd known all her life hadn't or couldn't.

She and Lamar had become an unofficial couple in junior high school, joining kids their age when they hung out at the mall or went en masse to the movies. It wasn't until she was a high school junior that her father had permitted her to date. And what he'd meant by dating was her seeing other boys and not Lamar exclusively.

But it was not to be. She'd continued to see Lamar, lost her virginity to him the night of prom and believed herself totally and inexorably in love with him. They had been inseparable throughout college and law school. Eight months after passing the bar, they'd exchanged vows. However, that was when her world as she'd known it at that time had changed forever. Instead of a fairy-tale romance, it had become a macabre horror show.

“What you're proposing sounds wonderful but…”

Jordan lifted his expressive eyebrows when she hesitated.

“What's bothering you, baby?”

Aziza smiled. The endearment had rolled off his tongue
as naturally as breathing. “I'm not looking for anything that's too serious.” And by serious she meant declarations of love that would lead to marriage.

“We don't have to get serious. All I want is for us to have fun. A lot of fun.”

“Is that a promise?”

Jordan stared at the lowered lids, sweep of lashes grazing silken cheeks and the lush parted lips that called to him like a beacon on a moonless night at sea. She was like a powerful magnet that pulled him in, refusing him respite from her hypnotic sensuality. He'd met a lot of women, known some intimately, but none had affected him the way Aziza Fleming did. Within minutes of meeting her for the first time he'd known there was something special about the tall, attractive woman who'd become an unwilling victim for a predator boss.

He'd promised Alexander Fleming that he would help his sister prepare and win her lawsuit, but what he hadn't anticipated was being captivated by her wit, ambition and sensual warmth.

“I know you don't put much stock in my promises,” he said in a quiet tone, “but this one time I know I can follow through. We're going to have crazy fun together.”

Aziza lowered her gaze, staring at their entwined hands. She felt a shock of electricity sweep up her arm when the pad of Jordan's thumb made circular motions on her palm. She'd lied when she'd told him that she wasn't a good actress, because she'd given an award-winning performance when interacting with Jordan Wainwright.

Coming face-to-face with him for the first time had been not only exciting but also shocking. Television cameras had failed to capture the sexual magnetism that made him so self-confident. They also hadn't revealed the brilliant colors of his eyes or how he looked as good as he
smelled. The cologne was clean, subtle and undeniably masculine like the man who wore it.

When Jordan admitted not being able to keep his hands off, it was as if he'd been reading her mind. Although she'd been alone for several years, she wasn't lonely. Aziza had filled the empty hours decorating her home, setting up a private practice, visiting her parents in Florida, nieces and nephews in California and Arizona and socializing with friends from her childhood.

Most of the girls she'd grown up with were either married, divorced or a few had elected to remain single. The tightly knit trio planned a Girls' Week each summer and for the past two years had piled into cars and driven to New Jersey's Cape May, reverting to teenage girls when they “acted a fool.” They returned home tanned, exhausted and a lot heavier than when they'd arrived. Everyone complained about going on a diet or undergoing detoxification from the calorie-laden foods and alcoholic libation, but no one said they wouldn't do it again.

Yes, her life was predictable and uneventful, and the only thing missing was a man. Aziza was aware that if she wanted to meet a man, she knew where to go. Al was a professional football player, and if she'd asked him to set her up with somebody, he would. Dating Jordan wouldn't change her mind about marriage, but he would serve to fill up some of the empty spaces on her social calendar.

“I want to warn you about one thing, Jordan Wainwright.”

“What's that, Aziza Fleming?”

She leaned closer. “I'll let you know when it stops being fun.”

“What are you going to do if it does?”

“Walk away and not look back.”

Jordan stared, complete surprise on his face. Aziza
hadn't issued a warning but a challenge. The proverbial ball was in his court, and he was expected to play hard or go home. But that wasn't to going happen because he wasn't going home. Not when he'd gotten Aziza to agree to come out and play.

“Point taken, baby.” He let go of her hand and signaled their waiter. “I don't know about you, but right about now I'm hungry enough to eat half a cow,” he drawled. The server approached the table, placing menus in front of them.

Aziza stared at Jordan's head as he studied the menu. The black hair covering his head reminded her of the silky black feathers she'd seen on a raven. It wasn't jet-black but blue-black.

You could do a lot worse.
The voice in her head was right. Jordan Wainwright was a rare find, and if she'd wanted something more permanent, then a keeper.

He'd been blessed with jaw-dropping good looks, a hot body, intelligence, excellent taste in clothes, and he wasn't a baby daddy. Jordan had everything women looked for in a man and then some.

Without warning, he looked up and caught her staring. “Do you see anything you like?”

Aziza wanted to say
you
but glanced down at the menu instead. “The macadamia nut crusted wild salmon looks good.”

Jordan smiled. “It is.”

“What are you having?”

“I have to decide between the duck and halibut. Would you mind if I order a bottle of wine and appetizers?”

“Not at all.”

The waiter returned and Jordan ordered a bottle of white zinfandel, crispy rock shrimp, fanny bay oysters,
baby spinach Caesar salad and their entrées. He'd decided on the duck breast.

“That's a lot food, Jordan,” Aziza whispered when the waiter left to put in their order.

He winked at her. “I told you I was hungry. I got so wrapped up in listening to your tapes that I didn't stop to eat.”

“Do you cook for yourself?”

“Not really.”

She gave him a narrowed look. “What do you mean by not really?”

“Last summer I hired someone to cook for me. Occasionally we would cook together, and I learned to make a passable brunch and how to grill meat, chicken and fish.”

“Where is your personal chef now?”

Jordan wondered how much he should tell Aziza about Natasha before divulging they'd also become lovers. “She went back to culinary school. She had a year before graduating.”

“After she graduates, will you hire her back?”

“No.”

“Why not, Jordan?”

“She'll probably look for a position in New Jersey where she can be close to her husband who was seriously injured in a vehicular accident with a drunk driver.”

Aziza blinked. “So, she's married?”

Jordan stared at the smirk on Aziza's face under hooded lids. “Why would you say it like that?”

“Something in your voice changed when you mentioned that you'd cooked together. I'd thought perhaps you'd been a couple at one time.”

Jordan wanted to tell Aziza that she'd thought right. He and Natasha had been a couple, albeit temporarily, but still
a couple. He'd brought her with him to backyard cookouts at Kyle's and Ivan's homes, and he had invited Kyle and his fiancée to his place where Natasha had prepared dinner, while stepping in as his hostess for the night.

“We weren't a couple in the real sense of the word.” He decided to be truthful. “I didn't know she was married until she told me about the accident. It came as quite a shock because there's one thing I don't do, and that is sleep with a married woman.”

“Were they living together?”

“No. They'd been separated for years. I suppose I would've felt better if she'd been divorced.”

“If she was, would the two of you still be together?”

Jordan shook his head. “No. We knew it was going to be just for the summer.”

Aziza wanted to ask him how he'd been able to sleep with a woman, then walk away completely detached from what he'd had with her. Maybe it was different for a man? Or maybe it was because she'd only slept with one man that she wasn't as open-minded about sex as she should've been.

“Were you in love with her?”

Leaning back in his chair, Jordan crossed his arms over his chest, a gesture she interpreted as defensive.

“No, Aziza. I wasn't in love with her. If I had been, then I wouldn't have let her go.” It was the same thing he'd said to Noah.

“For richer or poorer. In sickness and in health,” Aziza intoned.

“Why so cynical, Zee? Don't you believe in the institution of marriage?”

“I'm ambivalent. Most of my cases over the past two years have been divorces. All but one involved women who were married to extremely wealthy men, who were
prisoners because their husbands were quick to remind them that he'd bought them.”

She told Jordan about a client whose millionaire husband couldn't achieve an erection unless he physically abused her. Her screams and moans had become a sexual turn-on for him. However, he'd always countered the violent act when he'd come home with a diamond necklace, emerald ring and other expensive baubles. He'd compounded his physical brutality with emotional abuse when she was expected to come to him on hands and knees to ask for money.

It all had come to an end when he'd beaten her so severely that her mother had called the police when she'd shown up unexpectedly and saw the welts and bruises.

“I took on another case when a former client pleaded with me to save her cousin, who was too frightened and intimidated to press charges. A ninety-minute consult at the woman's hospital bedside ended when I got her to press charges against her husband for assault. I also talked her into asking for a restraining order. As soon the restraining order was executed, I started divorce proceedings asking for sole custody of their preschool twin sons.

“The benign-looking batterer was arrested as he chaired a board meeting, led out in handcuffs and charged with multiple counts of assault and battery. The judge set his bail at two million and he was ordered to surrender his passport because he posed a flight risk. He was given half an hour to pack what he needed from his four-million-dollar home and ordered to stay away from his wife and children until his trial or his bail would be revoked and he'd be remanded to the Westchester jail to await trial.”